The cave stood before me like a mouth—ancient, jagged, and waiting.
Just as I stepped toward it, the voice returned, quieter this time. Almost... reverent.
"Stop."
I did.
"Before you enter, look."
My gaze followed his unseen direction. To the side of the entrance, scattered across the mountain ledge, lay what I first mistook for rubble. But as I stepped closer, I saw it clearly—bones. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. Each one curled beside a book, torn or unfinished, pages stiff with dust, ink, or something darker.
A graveyard of forgotten stories.
"These," the voice said softly, "are the ones who failed before they even began. The ones whose names were never written. Let's see if you become one of them."
Then, like a ritual, the question followed:
"I have no beginning, yet I am the end of all.I am sought by none, yet I find all.I am neither light nor dark, but I bring both.I am the ultimate debt, owed by every living thing."
It echoed through the cold air. I closed my eyes. I had heard its answer whispered my entire life—in fevered dreams, in the mourning of others, in the absence left behind.
"...Death," I answered.
The wind paused.
Then came the voice again, pleased:
"A correct answer. Then let us continue our journey."
But I didn't move.
Instead, I turned toward the pile of books and bones and began to dig.
One by one, I laid them to rest—those who never told their story. With torn fabric and trembling hands, I buried strangers like they were family. It took months. My fingers bled. My skin froze. But I buried them all.
When it was done, I stood before the graves.
And I asked my question:
"Was their death in vain? Without even starting their journey… was it all meaningless?"
The voice answered gently no sarcasm, no riddle this time.
"Death is the beginning and end of every story… even this one."
The cave opened.
Inside, it was filled with Hibiscus flowers, blooming silently in the dim glow of the purple universe above. Their petals shimmered like stardust, their scent sweet with the weight of memory.
I stepped inside.
And with that step, the first story began.