Knowledge is learning something every day. Wisdom is letting go of something every day.

- Unknown Master



I may not like it, but it no longer affects me. The ones who mock me just fail to grasp the truth.

It is a phrase Phillip often murmurs to himself like a quiet mantra, usually when he senses others whispering behind his back. He is an odd figure, after all. A bookworm. A walking encyclopaedia.

And then there is the habit of talking to himself.

Today is no different. He sits among his friends, his books, surrounded by the one mystery he has yet to unravel: people.



If only one of you were ready, truly ready, for initiation. This goes far beyond a handful of words or a stack of bound pages. These books hold realms you wouldn't dare imagine.

And abysses deep enough to devour the unwary.

He scratches behind his ear, unnoticed. The people around him remain absorbed in the very objects whose hidden lives he speaks of.

Your gaze drifts across precious thoughts, fragments of brilliance scattered on a page. With a mere snap of your fingers, you could cast them off, leave them behind.

But the thoughts I speak of… the words I carry… they are something else entirely.

They breathe. They shimmer with magic. They are not just ink and parchment. They are a bridge, arching between spirit and matter.



And where there is power, there is always shadow.

From that shadow, monsters are born. Shaped by fear, pride, and the hunger to control. Creatures with immense strength, ready to set our world ablaze.

This cycle, this mechanism, is ancient. As old as existence itself.

And still, we pretend to be surprised when it begins anew.

Because we simply don't want to see it...



We must act before our cities turn to ash.

Before the fire spreads beyond control.

Before the monsters we allowed to grow consume everything we hold dear.

There is still time. But not much.



Each day, I ask anew:

Do you exist?

Is there anyone out there who can pierce the darkness? Who can bring even a flicker of light into this endless night?

So if fate brings you to me, my precious friend, let's talk about books first.

As always, his words drift into the void, unnoticed, unheard. Like pages turning yellow in the silence of time.

Or perhaps... not?