Epilogue

  The leather binding of the journal whispered shut as the Librarian finished reading and closed the cover. Turning the tome over in her hands, she wrapped a small cord around the catch and sighed. It had taken a long time for the most recent volume of her brother's life to make its way down here. Now that it had, The Librarian very much wished it would’ve been lost to the depths.

  “He’s really had quite the adventure this time, didn’t he?”

  “It appears so, though I find his use of drama to be a tad droll.” A tall dark-skinned man said, leaning on a spear as if it wasn’t a weapon from a time long past.

  “I like the drama. It adds flavor to the information that so rarely makes it down here. You can only watch the same programs so many times before going insane.” She said, standing and motioning for the man to follow her. “What’s the running bet? Will he come back here first, or join his new family and start another journal?”

  “Does it matter? It’s not like you and I treat him like family.”

  “We should, though. His crime is long past, and we are the only people that understand time like he does.”

  The pair walked past rows upon rows of books, each with progressively older spines until finally stopping at a half empty shelf. Save for the myriad of journals that would sit beside this one, nothing else would ever rest on here.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “What now?”

  “What now? What do you mean, Enoch? You’re immortal and have been ever since we broke through the stone at the base of mount Vesuvius.” Sliding the book on to the shelf, she turned and walked toward the library door.

  “I mean, what do we do with Uncle Cain?”

  “We respect his self-induced solitude and hope he doesn’t need our help. If he does,

  Enoch grunted in dissatisfaction and followed his aunt as she led him into a vault below the library. He hated this part, but their version of immortality was different. In order to maintain their longevity, each surviving member of Seth’s family had to be exposed to the Philosopher's Stone and absorb more of the prismatic energy that gave them life.

  Inside the vault was a single pedestal with a familiar stone caught in a suspension field. As it spun, the light from the surrounding room appeared to warp. The prismatic energy it created seemed to taunt Enoch, calling for him to hold it and embrace it for all eternity.

  “What if this explosion killed him? He was holding a battery filled with Light,” he said, stopping in front of the stone-like pillar and grabbing the knife that rested on a pillow there. Nonchalantly, he brought the blade across his hand and allowed his blood to drip onto the floor as he thrust it into the suspension field and grabbed the stone.

  “If the power of this light could kill us, it would have done so a very long time ago. He’s letting himself hope, but is willfully forgetting the number of years he walked around with the power mere inches from his heart,” the Librarian replied, repeating Enoch’s actions once he released the stone, looking as though decades were gone from his body.

  “Do you think he can rebuild human society?”

  “Maybe. It entirely depends on how well he can teach others. By himself? Not without our help.”

  “Hasn’t he done it before?” Enoch asked, “Several times, if I remember properly.”

  “He has. In that case, perhaps it is time we allow him to pass or fail without our help,” she said, leading her nephew away from the room that held their greatest secrets. “Luckily, leaving him alone to fester in the pain of yesterday or the joy of tomorrow is exactly what he wants.”