Kael clutched his head.

  His elbows rested on the table, but his hands gripped his hair with almost instinctive violence — as though tearing out a few strands might pull the looping thoughts out with them.

  Concepts collided in his mind, crashing into one another, forming a dense cloud of half-truths and impossible ideas that refused to settle.

  His breathing was slow, but deep.

  Not calm.

  Simply… crushed beneath the weight of what he had just learned.

  Then, in a fractured whisper, he murmured:

  “The Golden Ratio.

  The Perfect Shadow Theorem.

  Cause.

  The Velasquez Limit.

  Cogito ergo sum.”

  He paused, his head still buried in his hands.

  Then he lifted his eyes toward Dubium, who observed him with legs crossed, imperturbable — almost like a professor waiting for the correct answer.

  “It was that man, wasn’t it? The one from the past of the past…

  He’s the one who asked you to pass those works on to me.”

  Dubium inclined his head slowly.

  “Correct.

  That was his first condition.”

  He let the silence stretch, then added with a sincerity that felt almost heavy:

  “But to do so, I had to initiate you.

  You would likely never have understood them otherwise without first being set upon the path.”

  His gaze hardened slightly.

  “It is the only knowledge he allowed me to transmit. The rest… remains inaccessible to me.

  And he made that very clear.”

  Kael sank back into his chair, his head falling loosely against the backrest, eyes fixed on the flawless sky of the Garden.

  “I knew it…”

  He closed his eyes.

  Each element of this cosmic riddle was beginning to take shape…

  Yet instead of illuminating the path, the light only revealed the vastness of the labyrinth.

  He opened his eyes again and turned toward Dubium.

  His voice was devoid of emotion, as though asking a rhetorical question whose answer was already known:

  “And you need me… to obtain the rest of that knowledge, don’t you? The part you cannot reach yourself.”

  Dubium smiled. No arrogance. No manipulation.

  Just naked truth.

  “Yes.”

  Then, with quiet gravity:

  “You are the perfect candidate, Kael.”

  “And what do I receive in return?” Kael asked evenly.

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  Dubium lifted another sip of tea to his lips.

  His gaze, still serene, met Kael’s.

  “I will grant you access to the Garden of Confluences.”

  Kael extended his hand without a word.

  “Deal,” he said.

  Dubium accepted the handshake.

  The pact was sealed.

  It was not so much the knowledge contained here that motivated Kael — though he understood its importance.

  It was the place itself.

  The calm.

  The beauty.

  The strange peace he felt here, as though the turmoil of his mind softened slightly with every breath.

  Dubium resumed, still composed:

  “Have you identified the cause of your Trial?”

  Kael nodded slowly.

  “Yes.

  The answer was right under my nose from the beginning.”

  “That is often the case for the Fragmented,” Dubium replied respectfully.

  “Their affliction is rooted so deeply in the subconscious that it takes time to recognize what they already know.”

  He studied him carefully.

  “And… have you found how to reach the Velasquez Limit?”

  Kael glanced at him briefly. He knows, he thought.

  But he was no longer surprised.

  “Not yet.

  But I’m working on it.”

  Dubium nodded slowly.

  “What you are about to do, Kael… has not occurred in ten thousand years.

  What follows will be unprecedented.

  Even for us.”

  Kael did not answer.

  A flicker of thought crossed his mind — one he dismissed immediately.

  He knew he was at his limit.

  The circles beneath his eyes were darker than ever.

  His complexion, already pale, now seemed almost ashen.

  Dried streaks of blood still marked his face and clothes.

  He was no longer even aware of them.

  He must have looked terrible.

  And Dubium, naturally, did not hesitate to point it out:

  “You are not in good shape.

  Your body is crying out for rest.”

  He rose.

  Kael straightened as well, stretching at length.

  His joints cracked. He exhaled in relief.

  Together, they stepped over the low stone wall, entering the field of flowers in silence.

  The air was gentle. The wind light.

  “By the way,” Kael asked, “how do we get out of here?”

  Dubium smiled.

  “You still do not wield Elan.

  So you cannot see the door.”

  He extended his hand before him.

  His fingers grasped an invisible handle…

  And a door opened, carved into the air itself, revealing a soft white light beyond.

  Kael raised an eyebrow and muttered inwardly:

  Please… no pain.

  They crossed the threshold together.

  And Kael reappeared in the library.

  He froze for a second.

  His pupils adjusted to the relative darkness of the room.

  Nothing.

  No pain.

  No convulsions.

  No screams or visions.

  No pain, he thought.

  He smiled. Almost… triumphant.

  Kael yawned widely, stretching once more, arms thrown high into the air.

  “Well… that was a long day,” he grumbled.

  He rubbed his eyes.

  “I’m exhausted. I really need to get some sleep.

  I’ll bring back a few books from the school library — the ones that seem important.”

  He picked up his bag from beside the couch with a tired yet steady motion.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow. Same time.”

  He took a few steps toward the exit when a calm voice stopped him:

  “Kael.”

  Dubium extended another book toward him.

  An austere volume bound in darkened leather, bearing a single title in golden letters:

  The Velasquez Limit.

  Kael raised an eyebrow, took it without a word, and nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  He left the library.

  Dubium watched him go in silence, hands clasped behind his back.

  Long after Kael had crossed the threshold, he remained there, alone.

  Kael, meanwhile, found himself beneath the bright sky once more.

  The sun stood high, as though nothing had shifted.

  He narrowed his eyes and raised a hand to shield them.

  A doubt crossed his mind.

  He took out his phone.

  The screen lit up:

  15:02.

  He frowned.

  The time had not changed. Just as he expected.

  He froze for a moment, then suddenly slumped down, sitting on the steps before the library.

  He pressed a hand to his forehead, dazed.

  “I spent my entire Trial… talking and playing chess… with a god.”

  He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

  “The more time passes… the more important the people I end up around seem to be.”

  He rose, drained.

  His steps were slow, almost dragging.

  And he returned home.

  More exhausted than ever.