Chapter 8: "Two Faces, One Truth"

I didn't answer.

I just stared at the coin in my hand.

Wait—

I never picked it up.

It was just… there.

Cold. Heavy. Whispering.

Two faces. One truth. One lie.

I didn't know which side I was on.

I turned it over.

The first side: smooth, unmarked.

The second: scratched with a single word.

> "REMEMBER."

---

Something shifted in the air.

The forest got darker. Not in light—

In meaning.

I took a step back.

Leaves crunched behind me.

But I didn't dare look.

> "Choose," a voice whispered.

"Flip it. Let it decide."

I clenched the coin tighter.

No.

No more games.

I threw it.

It didn't land.

Didn't fall.

It just vanished—into the dark.

---

I ran.

Not toward anything. Just… away.

Away from whatever wanted me to believe I had a choice.

The trees stretched endlessly.

Twisting. Repeating.

Like the forest was folding in on itself.

I stumbled.

Fell.

When I looked up, I was outside the library.

---

Fairhill's library was always closed at night.

Except tonight.

The door creaked open.

As if… waiting.

Inside: silence.

Rows of books. Shadows moving where light should be.

And in the center—

A man.

Tall. Pale. His back to me.

Rearranging books that weren't there.

---

> "Mr. Thorne?" I asked.

He didn't move.

Then slowly… he turned.

But his eyes were wrong.

Empty.

Like mirrors that refused to reflect.

He smiled.

> "Ah. You made it."

---

I stepped closer.

> "What is this place?"

He tilted his head.

> "You're still pretending this town is real?"

"The hill isn't fair. The fare… is hell."

I froze.

That sentence—

I've heard it before.

Somewhere.

Long ago.

---

> "Why are you here?" I asked.

> "I stayed. That's all."

"Someone had to."

I felt the pendant in my pocket pulsing.

Hot. Alive.

> "Stayed for what?"

He walked past me—whispering:

> "To watch who would break first."

---

Suddenly, the lights flickered.

The books began to shake.

A low hum filled the room.

I turned to ask him more—

But he was gone.

And on the floor where he stood—

The coin.

Spinning.

Spinning.

Then it stopped.

Face down.

The scratched word now changed:

> "TOO LATE."

---

To be continued...

© Qussai – All rights reserved.

Do not copy or repost without permission