Heir of Eternity

The Blackridge Old Library

Inside his coat pocket, Ethan's fingers unconsciously brushed against the hard edge of the object he had found last night. The metal piece felt cold, a stark contrast to his increasingly sweaty palm.

The police were looking for him. The man in the gray suit was hunting him. And the man in the fedora—that stranger who had suddenly appeared in the café—seemed to know everything about a past he couldn't even remember.

He was trapped in a circle that was rapidly closing in.

Ethan took a deep breath, trying to banish the rising panic creeping into his chest. He turned around, letting the crowd behind him slowly be swallowed by distance. Tonight, he wouldn't go home via the main road.

His steps led him through narrower, darker alleys, avoiding the buzzing, faint streetlights. His own shadow stretched out long against the wet pavement.

His mind kept looping back to the last sentence the fedora-wearing man had said.

*Tomorrow morning, at seven. Blackridge Old Library.*

The place had been abandoned for a long time. An old granite-domed building standing at the edge of the northern district, covered in dust and old stories about a city intentionally forgotten. There was no reason for an ordinary student like him to go there.

Unless he wanted to put an end to this fear.

Upon reaching his dreary small apartment, Ethan locked the door with multiple deadbolts. He tossed his bag onto the table, then pulled out the metal disc and placed it under the dim desk lamp.

The symbol on its surface seemed to reflect a faint glow, as if alive in silence.

Ethan stared at the object for a very long time, until the hands of the wall clock pointed to midnight. For the first time in his life, he made a conscious decision.

Tomorrow morning, he would go to that library.

Even if whatever awaited him there was a truth he couldn't bear to carry.

---

Morning arrived without the warm welcome of the sun. The Blackridge sky was hung with low, gray clouds that made the air feel humid and bone-chilling.

Ethan woke up long before his phone alarm went off. His sleep had been restless, filled with the imagery of shattering glass, Detective Nathan Cole’s piercing gaze, and the sound of heavy footsteps behind his apartment door. There was no time for hesitation. A cold shower and a bitter gulp of instant coffee were enough to clear his head.

At 6:45 AM, he was already standing at the edge of the road leading to the northern district.

The Blackridge Old Library looked even more bleak under the pale morning light. The ancient building stood alone among a row of long-abandoned shops. Its architecture was Victorian Gothic, with granite stone pillars beginning to sprout moss and tall windows framed in rusted iron. Above its main door, a worn-out carving of the city crest looked like a half-closed eye, watching anyone brave enough to approach.

The large, black-painted wooden door was unlocked. When Ethan pushed it, the hinges groaned loudly, piercing the morning silence with a grating sound.

The scent of thick dust, old paper, and dampness immediately assaulted his senses.

Inside, the main room resembled a labyrinth of giant bookshelves soaring up to the high ceiling. The morning sunlight could only pierce through the dirty glass windows, creating thin lines of light in the dust-filled air.

Quiet. Far too quiet.

Ethan stepped inside, the sound of his shoes echoing softly on the dirty marble tile floor.

"You're right on time."

The voice came from a dark corner near the main circulation desk.

Ethan gasped, instinctively stepping back while turning his head. From behind a stack of dusty encyclopedias, the man in the fedora—the exact same man from the café yesterday—emerged slowly. His brown coat looked damp at the shoulders, as if he had just walked a long way through the city's morning dew.

"I'm here," Ethan replied, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "Now, explain. Who are my parents really, and what is their connection to this thing?"

Ethan reached into his pocket, pulled out the metal disc bearing the mysterious symbol, and tossed it onto the wooden table in front of the man.

The object made a soft clinking sound.

The man in the fedora glanced at the metal disc without touching it. He raised his gaze, looking at Ethan with eyes that concealed years of exhaustion.

"Good," the man whispered softly. "Because what you're about to hear after this... can never be undone."

--

The man in the fedora shifted his gaze from the metal disc on the table and looked straight at Ethan. The silence of the old library suddenly grew suffocatingly dense, as if the very air around them had frozen.

"Sixteen years ago," the man's voice rasped softly, cutting through the stillness, "this city wasn't as weak as it is now. Blackridge had rules maintained by shadows. And your parents... they weren't just ordinary residents who happened to pass through."

Ethan swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"

"Your father was one of the few who held the keys to the city council's classified archives. Your mother... she possessed the ability to see the rifts between the boundaries of our world and something else." The man pointed at the metal disc on the table with a gloved fingertip. "This object is a seal. And the symbol on its surface is the mark of a lineage."

"A lineage?" Ethan shook his head slowly, disbelief rumbling in his chest. "Wait a second. If they were so important, why was I raised by an aunt who couldn't even stand the sight of my face? Why have I been living in poverty and fear?"

"Because their deaths were no accident," the man in the fedora interrupted sharply. "Someone wanted that seal gone. They murdered your parents to take it, but your father managed to hide you—and this disc—before it was too late."

Ethan's mind raced. The images of the dilapidated house where he grew up, his aunt's harsh scolding, and the mounting debts seemed to melt into puzzle pieces finally finding their shape. Yet, one thing still bugged him.

"Then who is the man in the gray suit? And why does the police—Detective Nathan Cole—seem to be hunting me down too?"

The man in the fedora let out a soft grunt, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

"The man in the gray suit, Arthur, works for a faction that wants to reactivate that seal for their own ends. As for Nathan Cole..." He paused for a moment, observing Ethan's reaction. "He isn't just an ordinary detective. The Blackridge Police Department was infiltrated long ago. Nathan knows exactly who you are, and that metal disc is the piece of evidence he needs to drag you to a place you'll never leave alive."

Before Ethan could process all the information, the heavy groan of the library's main door hinges echoed through the space.

*Creak.*

Calm, measured footsteps bounced off the marble tile floor, approaching from the main corridor.

The man in the fedora snapped his posture straight, his expression turning tense. He snatched the metal disc from the table and threw it back to Ethan, who caught it with both hands purely by reflex.

"They've found this place," the man whispered urgently. "Use the emergency exit behind the historical archives rack. Don't look back, and don't stop until you're completely out of this district."

"But—"

"Run, Ethan!"

Before Ethan could ask anything further, the silhouette of a man in a long coat emerged at the end of the bookshelf aisle. The figure stepped out with the exact same thin smile Ethan had seen at the café last night.