Chapter One:
The Stranger and the Bookkeeper.
of
"Have You Someone to Protect?"
By ©Amer
The world burned gold and violet at the edges of her sight, as if the sun itself were weeping through fractured glass.
Lhady stood at the center of it all——at the crossroads of every life she had ever touched, and every life she had yet to save.
Before her, two paths split the earth like a wound.
On one, Caelum knelt, blood staining the fabric of his sleeves, a steady hand lifted not in surrender, but in offering. His breath was ragged, but his eyes—those eyes that had always found her across any storm—were steady with devotion.
"Choose me," he whispered, though his voice was nothing but the sound of breaking leaves."Let me shield you. Even if it breaks me every time you rise."
Every step forward she would take in power would carve deeper into him.It was the price he had once paid—and died for—in another life where he had failed to protect her.It was the vow that had pulled him back across the chasm of death, stubborn and aching, reborn only by sheer will, love, and the unspoken promise that this time, he would not fail.Even if it meant he would never again stand at her side as her equal, only as her shield.
Across from him stood Silas—his figure half-shrouded in mist.A thread connecting him to her bloodline by accident, by fate, by the near-stealing of a soul not meant to be his.He reached out as well, but his hands trembled.Not with the longing to hold, but with the sorrow of one who was never meant to stay.
The prophecy had lied to him.It had made him believe he was the one who could tear or save her destiny, when truly, he had been a displaced echo of another's grief.He had loved her in silence, in sacrifice, even as he unknowingly drifted toward Thorne and Amer, bound by blood he did not remember, and dreams he could never quite name.
Their eyes were fixed on her—silent and waiting.No anger.No demands.Only trust.
The word Choose whispered against her ear, cruel and heavy.
Tears blurred her vision.Her chest split in two.
How could she choose between them?
The one who had broken through death itself just to kneel before her again—and the one who had shielded her without ever asking her to see him?
Caelum's bloodied hand trembled but remained outstretched.Silas's steady gaze spoke not of pleading, but of quiet offering.
It was as if one soul had once been whole, but fate had torn it into two paths.
As if the grief in Caelum's heart and the devotion in Silas's gaze were born of the same ancient promise, echoing across time.
With all the ache of a soul cleaved in half, she whispered:
"You are both parts of the same heartbeat in me...How could I ever choose which half to lose?"
But the world around her was already tearing at the seams—the sun dimming, the mist thickening.
Her heart knew:To stay bound to either meant sorrow.To choose meant suffering.
Yet from deep within her chest, something stirred—A defiant flame.A voice not born of prophecy, magic, or vow.
My fate is mine to forge. Not theirs to bear.
And so—through the storm inside her—Lhady did what no prophecy, no bloodline, no ancient oath had prepared for.
She stepped forward into the unknown.
Not abandoning them—but vowing to carve a third way.One where love was not chains, and sacrifice was not demanded as payment.
Her voice, clear and strong, rose into the shattering sky:
"My fate is mine to forge. I will not be the blade that breaks you."
The dream cracked open like thunder—Light blinded her—
— — —
and Lhady woke.
The world of gold and violet vanished.Only the weight of it remained—a heaviness in her chest, an ache of choosing, a sorrow she could never quite name.
It was the dream she always dreamt—and always forgot the moment she opened her eyes—except for the lingering echo of feelings too large for waking words.
Outside, the world moved quietly in peace.
The story had not yet begun.
But soon—soon, everything would change.
☾
A quiet town rested between the deep forest and the sea, where waves whispered forgotten tales and pine trees murmured with wind. It was nearing dusk.
The sun, now a glowing orange, bathed the cobbled path in amber light. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, and on that path stood a little bookshop tucked behind climbing ivy and aged brick. Above its door, a wooden sign swayed gently:
The Bookmark Hollow.
Inside, warmth lingered. Shelves lined every wall, their spines a chorus of stories long since told. The scent of tea and paper blended into a calming lullaby.
Lhady Amer moved quietly across the wooden floorboards, her violet shawl falling gently over her shoulders. She was shelving a stack of old volumes, her fingers brushing each one with care.
"Four years since I opened this place..." she murmured to herself, a soft smile forming, "and it's still quieter than a sleeping cat."
The bell above the door jingled, startled by the wind. Her gaze drifted outside. Nothing.
She sighed, pouring herself a small cup of herbal tea. Her eyes trailed to the framed photograph on her desk—of a man who once protected her as a child. The only family she remembered. She whispered, more to the air than the picture:
"I hope I've built something gentle here. For your sake."
The brass bell rang again—this time more deliberately.
A cloaked figure stepped in, shadow and dusk clinging to him. The door closed behind with a low click.
Lhady blinked. "Good afternoon. Looking for something... or simply hiding from the wind?"
The man didn't answer. He strode slowly toward the shelves, boots hushed against wood, his gloved hand brushing spines until he stopped. His fingers settled on an old tome—
The Oaths of the Fallen Guard.
He stood there for what seemed like ages.
"You've been standing there for fifteen minutes," she finally said, amused. "Looking for something… or hiding from something?"
Still not turning, he replied,"Books don't ask questions. They simply wait to be opened."
She tilted her head. "That may be true. But some of them carry stories that change the reader forever."
At last, he turned.
Their eyes met.
A beat. Long and still.
"I used to believe that," he said. "Until stories began to feel more like memories."
"Then maybe," she offered gently, "you're not meant to read one this time. Maybe you're meant to write one."
Something shifted in his face. A flicker of warmth. The edges of a buried smile.
"Perhaps," he murmured. "But before I do… may I know the name of this bookkeeper who speaks like an author?"
"Lhady," she said, placing a hand on her chest. "Lhady Amer."
He stared as if her name had shaken something loose in him.
"Lhady..." he echoed. "A name worth protecting."
She blinked, surprised by the gravity of his tone.
There was another pause. The moment stretched—one foot in reality, one in fate.
He finally took a step closer to the counter."I didn't mean to intrude. I was just… walking. I took a wrong turn, I suppose."
Lhady tilted her head."Or the right one."
He smiled again, this time with a little more warmth.
"I'm Caelum," he said simply.
She nodded. "Caelum… like the sky."
"Yes," he murmured. "Or what falls from it."
The bell chimed again as the wind stirred the door gently, as if fate itself had entered the room.
Later that evening, the shop was quieter. Caelum—he'd said his name only once—sat in a shadowed corner, tea untouched. He observed the woman moving about, adjusting candles, humming softly. There was peace in her steps. Something sacred.
But then his eyes caught a glint on her desk. A silver pendant, marked with a symbol he knew too well.
His breath caught.
"That can't be..." he whispered.
Lhady noticed. "Oh, that? It's just an old trinket left by my guardian. He passed on when I was young."
He rose slowly, walking to the desk, eyes locked on the pendant.
"It belonged to the royal protectors. Only few bore that mark."
She laughed nervously. "That sounds grand for someone like me."
"No," Caelum said. "Not grand. Heavy."
A pause.
"May I stay a while?" he asked. "I think... this bookshop may have more stories to tell than I first thought."
Lhady watched him—this man of poise and shadows—run his hand over the cracked wood of her shop's doorway, like it was holy.
"Caelum," she said softly, her voice barely rising above the rustle of pages in the quiet."You can stay… Just don't become someone I have to protect from."
"And as long as you help close the windows at dusk," she added with a smile. "The wind's been stealing pages again."
He turned, visibly stilled by her words. The corner of his lips moved, as if searching for the right response—but none came. He only nodded, slowly. Respectfully. As if her words were law.
And as the lanterns inside the shop flickered into night, beyond its walls, beneath the rising silver disc of the full moon, three figures in black cloaks stood just beyond the boundary of the cobbled square.
Their faces hidden.Their presence quiet.Watching.
Waiting.
For something only they knew would begin.