The sealed envelope was waiting on the windowsill.
An owl was sitting beside it.
Inside was a Tarot card — The Hermit.
Behind it, a letter:
“Come to the library after midnight. The owl knows which book belongs to you.”
You followed the owl through the forest until you reached an old library with no lights inside.
The owl flew through an open window.
You followed.
At the center of the library was a long table covered in books.
One book was open.
Your name was written on its first page.
This was an old ceremony, held only once in every generation.
The person whose name appeared in the book had to find the one volume written specifically for them and read its final page.
The owl landed beside a locked shelf.
You opened it.
There was only one book inside.
You pulled it out.
The cover had no title.
Only your name.
You opened the final page.
It wasn’t a story.
It was a letter written in your handwriting.
The date at the top was tomorrow.
The owl suddenly flew away.
And somewhere behind the shelves, a page turned by itself.
for:@devilandi