Kael followed Dubium, still unable to digest his defeat.

  He said nothing. He walked forward, fists still clenched, jaw tight.

  They crossed the silent ground floor of the library, heading toward the back.

  Suddenly, Dubium spoke without turning around:

  “You are mature enough now to withstand — at least in part — what comes next.”

  Kael lifted his head, still irritated, still somewhat lost.

  “You could be more specific.”

  Dubium clasped his hands behind his back and slightly turned his head to look at him.

  “My presence here served a very simple purpose. It unfolded in four stages.”

  He paused before enumerating slowly:

  “First, I had to initiate in you a new way of thinking… or rather, of no longer thinking as you once did.

  Second, to strengthen your discernment.

  Third, to lead you to develop a thirst for victory. That is done.

  And finally, the last stage… the most important one. You will understand later.”

  Kael’s thoughts collided.

  Who is this man? I still don’t have an answer. What purpose is he speaking of? Who is he, truly?

  His hands were damp. His throat dry.

  “Who are you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  Dubium did not answer.

  They arrived before a door, set between two tall bookshelves.

  The same door Kael had tried to open during his very first visit here. In vain.

  Dubium grasped the handle.

  “When this door opens, you will experience terrible headaches. A violence unlike anything you have ever known.”

  Kael gave a faint, ironic smile.

  “I think I’ve had my share of suffering these past weeks.

  A ‘terrible headache’ isn’t going to change much.”

  Dubium began to open the door.

  “Very well.”

  And the door opened.

  Kael was instantly assaulted by a violent light. It struck him so fiercely that he shut his eyes in a panicked reflex, convinced they were about to burn.

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  And then the worst came.

  An unimaginable pain pierced his skull. The worst he had ever known.

  Images flashed through his mind in relentless loops. Illegible. Too fast.

  He couldn’t make out what they were— everything passed at an unbearable speed.

  It felt as though his brain were melting.

  He collapsed to the ground. The pain would not allow him to stand.

  He convulsed violently.

  White foam frothed at his mouth.

  His bloodshot eyes rolled back into his head.

  His entire body refused to obey.

  And yet, within the absolute chaos, one thought remained clear:

  I am going to die…

  The images continued to surge. Incomprehensible.

  An avalanche of impossible visions, fragments of unknown universes, stolen memories.

  I am going to die. Or perhaps I am already dead…

  His joints screamed from the force of the convulsions.

  Blood ran from his nose.

  Or was it his brain escaping? He no longer knew.

  Then, suddenly, everything stopped.

  The spasms ceased.

  His body slackened.

  The images evaporated.

  The pain remained. But now it was bearable.

  He could think again.

  “Ah… fuck…”

  He remained on the ground, gasping.

  If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that this guy doesn’t lie…

  He tried to open his eyes.

  The light was still unbearable.

  But little by little, his pupils adjusted.

  He rubbed his eyes for a long time.

  And then, he saw.

  A field. An infinite field made only of flowers — every color imaginable.

  As far as the eye could see.

  Kael lay among them.

  He tried to stand.

  His stomach betrayed him. He vomited everything it contained.

  Then, in a strained, sarcastic breath:

  “I’ve never thrown up somewhere this beautiful…”

  Dubium stood beside him.

  Upright. Imperturbable. No trace of pain on his face. No sign of headache.

  He extended his hand.

  Kael took it and rose, unsteadily…

  And the true wonder revealed itself before him.

  The field of flowers had no limit. The horizon did not exist.

  Above him, an uncanny sky:

  It was filled with books.

  Thousands. Millions. Floating freely in the air like suspended stars.

  Some drifted close enough that Kael could hear the soft rustle of their pages in the cool breeze.

  The sky was white.

  The light erased all contours. No sun. Only a constant radiance.

  And at the center of this dream — a small wooden house.

  Planted there, in the heart of the field, surrounded by a low wall of dry stones. Motionless.

  Kael vomited again. He fell to his knees.

  And then, he saw.

  On one of the flowers, swaying gently in the wind… he distinguished letters.

  Words.

  Inscribed upon the petals.

  His eyes widened. He could not look away.

  His voice trembled, caught between horror and incomprehension.

  “It’s… a book.”

  He stepped back, panicked. But the words were still there. Inscribed. Alive. As if they were watching him.

  “That flower… it’s a book!”

  His breathing was short, broken, on the verge of hyperventilation.

  “Take the time to breathe, Kael. Slowly,” Dubium said, still as calm as ever.

  Kael obeyed. He forced himself to inhale deeply, to follow a rhythm his body refused to find on its own.

  A few seconds passed.

  They felt like an eternity.

  Little by little, he calmed.

  He struggled to his feet.

  Dried blood and saliva stained his face.

  His blue-gray uniform clung to his skin in places. A strip of red fabric hung from his collar — something he had learned was called a “tie.”

  Dubium, with a smooth and measured gesture, withdrew a white silk handkerchief from his pocket.

  He handed it to Kael.

  “Thanks,” Kael murmured, taking it.

  Dubium placed his hands behind his back once more. His hair moved softly in the wind. He stared at the wooden cabin in the distance, impassive.

  Meanwhile, Kael slowly wiped his face. His tone, when he spoke, carried deep exhaustion.

  “Where are we?”

  Dubium turned toward him.

  His nearly colorless eyes settled on Kael.

  “Welcome… to the Garden of Confluences.”