The Time Keeper

Chapter 33 - Webbed Fractures

The familiar scene of intricate webbing, surrounded by fractures animated and suspended in the air. That’s what I was expecting to see. Mysterious figments of time—past and future, interwoven into the webs—I was prepared for the revelation that awaited me. Prepared to witness the hidden secrets I sought.

But opening my eyes I was greeted with a sight that deviated from my expectations. The book in my hands, surrounded by the strange webbing, but no fractures. No fissures for me to glimpse into, to see the past and the future of the book’s missing pages.

It didn’t work, or at least, it only half worked this time. What did I do wrong?

Confusion washed over me as I tried to recall the process Alexei had taught me earlier in the day. The glass bowl, the feeling of the object, and the will for my imagination, for my consciousness to flow into the object. I had done it all the same. But was I not focusing on the right thing?

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and reassess my approach. Looking into the future wouldn't yield the results I desired since it concerned the missing pages, not the rest of the book. But perhaps delving into the book's past could lead me to the culprit who tore out those pages.

With a newfound determination, I tried once more, focusing my attention on the book's past. I closed my eyes, visualising the scenes that unfolded in the library, imagining the moments before the pages were ripped out.

As I delved deeper into my concentration, I felt a shift in my perception. When I opened my eyes, I expected to see glimpses of the past, to witness the hand responsible for the book's mutilation. However, what greeted me was far from my expectations once again.

Before me was the book itself, perched on a familiar shelf, observing the library from the second floor. It was as if I was viewing the scene from the book's point of view. I could see the rows of shelves, the dimly lit corners, and the patrons leisurely flipping through pages.

But this wasn't what I had hoped to discover. My brows furrowed in frustration. Why was I only seeing such an ordinary scene? I wanted to witness the moments leading up to its defacement, to uncover the identity of the culprit in the moment.

Disappointment washed over me, but I couldn't let it deter me. I had to analyse the situation and find a way to refine my ability further. There must be a key, a specific focus or a detail that I was missing.

I was determined not to give up, but I know I wouldn’t be able to continue forever. Only after trying a couple of times, my breath was getting heavier and my heart was starting to beat faster. Eventually, I would have to yield for the day if I didn’t get what I came for in time.

Still knowing that I continued to try and try again. Trying harder to concentrate each and every time. Exhaustion only accelerating faster as time passed on.

Unfortunately, only similar results would come, except on the rare chance that I would get excited to see someone reading the book I was looking through. Though it was just a regular patron, just going about their day, I would go back to being disappointed.

Just as I was about to give in to the overwhelming exhaustion, a last-minute thought crossed my mind. It was a fleeting idea, but it held a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could try one last time with a new method. With renewed determination, I picked up the book once more and opened it to the torn-out page.

Closing my eyes, I ran my fingertips over the remnants of the torn edges. They felt rough and jagged as if the missing page had been forcefully ripped out. The torn fibres whispered secrets of lost words, a piece of the puzzle now missing.