Flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across the dust-laden desk as Dr. Elias Roth bent over the brittle parchment, breath shallow and uneven. Ancient ink, faded yet deliberate, wove cryptic symbols and numbers into a web of prophecy unraveling beneath trembling fingertips. Driven by logic rather than superstition, he had spent his life unraveling the mathematical and philosophical enigmas woven by history’s greatest minds. This—this—felt different. Cold sweat clung to his brow as he scrawled notes into the margins of his leather-bound journal, once-meticulous handwriting reduced to frantic strokes.
Through the Hebrew University archive, a gust rattled the towering bookshelves, carrying the scent of aged parchment laced with something unsettling. His storm-tossed eyes darted toward the arched window, where Jerusalem’s skyline, bathed in silver moonlight, stretched beyond the fractured glass. High above, the heavens churned in unnatural patterns, stars twisting in defiance of celestial order. His gut clenched. Newton’s calculations pointed to 2060, but not as a mere marker of time. Numbers did not predict; they contained.
Into his ears slithered a hushed voice, neither male nor female, neither near nor far.
"You see it, don’t you?"
The candle’s flame hissed, extinguished as if snuffed by unseen lips. Elias jerked back, the heavy oak chair scraping against the stone floor. His chest tightened. He wasn’t alone.
“Who’s there?” His voice, hoarse, barely carried beyond the empty aisles.
Caught in an unfelt breeze, a page from Newton’s manuscript lifted and fluttered weightlessly. Before his eyes, ink dormant for centuries deepened, its symbols twisting into new, unnatural configurations. The equation—Newton’s final cipher—reshaped into something raw and living.
"It was never a prophecy," the voice murmured, smooth as glass but layered with something ancient, something vast. "It was a warning."
Silence, deafening, pressed against the room. Muscles locked in place, Elias fought to steady himself, every fiber screaming at him to run. Knowledge had always been his obsession—his curse. He had to understand.
Hands trembling, he reached for the manuscript. Fingertips barely brushed the ink-stained parchment before the entire archive lurched. Books tumbled from their shelves. Loose papers scattered in frantic spirals. With an earsplitting crack, the arched window fractured, a hairline split racing across the glass as if reality itself were unraveling.
Terror clawed up his spine. Miscalculation. He had not uncovered Newton’s work—he had activated it.
Beyond the shattered skyline, the heavens shifted once more. No longer distant, no longer indifferent, the cosmos stared back.
Exciting news! My book, Cumberland Chronicles at Books2Read, is now available! If you enjoy the supernatural, horror, and the weird, I’d love for you to check it out. Even if it’s not your thing, a quick share would help me reach the right readers. Thank you for the support!
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