The Book

The old bookstore had always been Cal's escape, but today it felt different, somehow. She didn’t really know why, it was just a feeling she had. She’d lost her job a week before. She had ditched her boyfriend of three years a week before that having found out that he was having a series of affairs with bookmakers, coke dealers and other women. Things had not been going well for Cal. She felt downtrodden, beaten. But for some reason this morning she’d got up and decided that it was time to change. She would make a positive move out of the gloom.

The bookshop was always her ‘go to’ place for an hour of simple, easy pleasure. She always felt better for visiting, even if she hadn’t found a book she liked. Just the browsing was enough. And today, well maybe it was the dust motes dancing in the early morning sun that slanted through the small shop window, or the way the silence calmed her, or the  energy of storytelling encased in the thousands of books on the shelves. Whatever it was, she felt a strange pull, a sense of anticipation that prickled the hairs on her arms.

Pushing open the creaking door, the familiar scent of aged paper and writers’ dreams washed over her. It was never brightly lit in the shop, and today the usual dimness seemed somehow deeper, the towering shelves of books casting sharp edged shadows. She wandered further in, drawn by curiosity and the simple joy of the hunt for a good story, her fingers trailing along the spines, their worn leather and linen like the skins of ancient beasts, poised or sleeping, waiting for their moment.

She browsed the shelves and found herself running her fingertips along the spines of travel books. She loved travel books, especially old ones that guided through places that were long changed from all recognition. Advice for trains that no longer rattled the rails, buses that no longer ran. Cafes long closed and charming little areas of towns long since redeveloped. They were all real still, enduring in her mind during those moments she was reading them. Then she saw it. Tucked away in the corner of a shelf, three books in from the end. Travel ending and poetry collections beginning.  It was a plain book. Its cover was blank, devoid of title or author, bound in what appeared to be rough brown leather. Its very anonymity compelled her to reach out, to pull it from its dusty pine shelf.

As she touched the cover, a warmth spread through her fingertips, tingling up her arm. The air around her shimmered, and the bookstore somehow dissolved into a swirling vortex of colours and sensations. Tingling, lurching, then heaving uncomfortably. She felt as though her whole self was being stretched like warm chewing gum stuck between the sole of her shoe and the pavement. It was not exactly painful. Neither was it pleasant. Just very, very strange. When the world solidified again, she found herself standing in a sun-drenched meadow, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. A thousand bees toiled amongst the flowers.

Towering above her stood a magnificent oak, its branches reaching towards the endless blue sky. Beneath its shade sat a woman, dressed in a light grey robe edged with a golden trim. Her long silver hair shimmering like moonlight on snow. Her eyes, the colour of deepest tanzanite, held Cal captive in her gaze.

"Welcome, child," she said, her voice didn’t seem to be exactly audible, it didn’t compete with the droning of the bees and Cal was convinced she had imagined it, but nevertheless knew she had been spoken to. It reminded her of the rustling of leaves in a spring breeze. "You have been chosen."

"This book," she continued, holding up the very same one Cal had found in the bookstore, "holds the stories of forgotten worlds. Each page is a portal, a doorway to a different reality."

Cal didn’t say anything and didn’t really know what to say, but her heart hammered in her chest. She couldn’t be sure if it was fear or excitement or even just plain madness, yet she couldn't deny the  book was now the centre of focus and seemed to  pulse with a power, a promise. A promise of what though, Cal wasn’t sure.

"But be warned," the woman said, her voice turning grave. "These stories are not for the faint of heart. They will challenge you, change you. Are you ready?"

Cal looked at the book, then back at the woman. The world she knew, with its mundane routines and predictable anxieties, it's grim realities of dull grey sadness and longing for what only ever existed in stories suddenly felt suffocating.

“I am," she whispered, surprising herself. Her voice barely audible.

The woman smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

"Then take the book, child. Open it, but remember, every story has a price."

With trembling hands, Cal opened the book. The first page was blank, but as she turned it, words began to appear, swirling into existence like ink dancing on water. They formed a sentence, a single line that sent shivers down her spine:"Welcome to the Library of Worlds."

And just like that, she was gone, swallowed whole by the story, another nameless adventurer stepping into the unknown, forever changed by the magic of books.

The world blurred into a kaleidoscope of colours and sensations. That same tingling, lurching stretchy feeling as before and then solidifying into a scene ripped from a nightmare. A desolate, barren landscape stretched before her, the ground littered with the scorched remains of metallic structures. This was not home. This was a fantasy place, a vast empty place. A bluish sun in a dark cloudless sky, and an enormous planet, dimly lit in another part of the sky, like pictures she’d seen of Saturn but closer and bigger than the biggest full moon. And a green colour. The air around her, smelled strange and thrummed with a powerful humming sound. It was deafeningly loud and reminded her of power stations and school experiments with transformers. Her short hair stood on end.

She looked up and above her, directly above her there was a sight that stole her breath: an armada of colossal warships, their sleek, obsidian hulls dwarfing anything she had ever seen. They hovered menacingly, casting long, ominous shadows across the ravaged landscape. Her heart hammered against her ribs as Cal realised the woman's words. This was decidedly scary and not at all like the sunlit meadow she had just left. For a moment Cal wondered if she just tapped her heels together she could be back home.

Panic threatened to consume her, but a voice, calm and collected, cut through the fear.

"Welcome to Xar'thos, traveller," a figure emerged from behind some of the wreckage that lay everywhere, an android, its metallic body gleaming in the harsh sunlight. “I am glad that I alone am not the last survivor of the attack."

“Attack?” said Cal, not having a clue what was happening. The android, tilted its head to one side and looked at her through its multiple lensed eyes and made a clicking noise.

“Ah,” it said, “you truly are a traveller. I should explain.”

The Android, named Aiko, explained how their civilisation had been caught unaware by the sudden invasion. This armada, it pointed to the sky, known as the Devourers, had swept in from across the galaxy, consuming entire planets on its way with a ruthless efficiency. Xar'thos was just the latest one of their many victims.

“And now you are sent, traveller."

The book, the Library of Worlds, pulsed faintly in Cal’s pocket, a silent reminder. Perhaps within its pages lay this story. The key to stopping the Devourers. Surely there would be a weapon, an alliance, a key, anything that could turn the tide. She pulled out the book and opened it and she looked. There was nothing but a blank page. But then the words “Aiko, despite its emotionless demeanor, shared her resolve. Together, they scoured the ravaged landscape, searching for any remnants of Xar'thos's technology, anything that could aid,” began to solidify on the page.