[Author's Note: Hello everyone! You've found my new story, "Artisan of Echoes"! I've poured my heart and soul (pun intended!) into this one. I hope you'll join our hero on his journey. Please add this to your library and smash that follow button! Let's begin!]
The library was a house of feeling.
From his perch behind the great oak circulation desk, Zero watched them come and go. He saw students weep with frustration into ancient textbooks. He saw young lovers blush, passing shy notes between the pages of epic poems. He saw old men chuckle, their shoulders shaking with mirth as they reread their favorite comedies.
The air itself was thick with emotion—a fine dust of joy, sorrow, boredom, and passion.
Zero felt none of it.
For him, it was all silent. Muted. Like watching a play through soundproof glass. He understood, academically, what these feelings were. A laugh was the result of humor. Tears were the result of sadness. But the actual experience? It was a language he could read but never speak.
His world wasn't black and white. It was just... clear. Empty. A pristine, hollow vessel waiting for something to fill it. He'd been the senior librarian at the Solace Chroniclers' Guild for three years, and not a single soul knew their calm, efficient librarian was a man who had never truly felt a single thing.
"Mr. Zero? Sir?"
A small voice snapped him from his observation. A young girl, no older than seven, stood before him, holding out a heavy tome on Draconic Lineages. Her lower lip trembled. "I... I dropped it. I'm sorry."
Zero took the book. One of the corners of the thick leather cover was bent, creased into a permanent frown. "It is alright," he said, his voice as level and smooth as polished stone. "These things happen."
The girl still looked terrified, on the verge of tears. Zero knew this was the part where he was supposed to offer a reassuring smile. He tried, commanding the muscles in his face to perform the required action. The result was a stiff, unnatural pulling of the lips that seemed to frighten the girl more. She squeaked and scurried away.
He sighed, the gesture a learned imitation rather than a true expression of weariness. He ran a thumb over the bent corner of the book. It was an imperfection. A flaw in the pattern. It bothered him in a distant, academic way.
It should be smooth, a thought whispered through the vast emptiness of his mind. It should be perfect.
He pressed down on the crease, intending to flatten it.
A strange pressure bloomed in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation like the crest of a wave. A faint, golden light, dimmer than a candle flame, pulsed from his thumb. For an instant, the leather under his touch felt as soft as wet clay. The crease vanished. The corner was not just fixed; it was pristine, its edge sharper and more perfect than any of the others.
Zero blinked. He looked at his hand, then at the book. A headache was blooming behind his eyes. He must be more tired than he thought. He cataloged the book and placed it back on the return cart, dismissing the incident entirely.
Later that evening, in his small, quiet apartment above a bakery, Zero prepared for his nightly ritual: a single cup of chamomile tea and a book he wouldn't feel.
He reached for his favorite cup. It was a simple ceramic thing, sky-blue, but it was chipped on the rim. It was the only object he owned that gave him a flicker of... something. A ghost of an echo of a feeling. Familiarity, perhaps. He didn't remember where he got it, but he had a sense that it was important.
He traced the chip with his finger, the same way he'd touched the book. The same thought surfaced, stronger this time.
This is broken. It should be whole.
The pressure in his chest returned, tenfold. It wasn't a wave this time; it was a tidal surge. The same golden light erupted from his fingertip, bathing the small kitchen in a divine glow. The ceramic of the teacup seemed to melt and reform under his touch, the chip sealing itself in an instant, leaving behind a surface as smooth and unblemished as glass.
Zero stared, his mind struggling to process the impossible event.
Then, the teacup shuddered in his hand.
"Oh, by the First Kiln!" a tiny, rattling voice squeaked from the cup. "Creator! You're finally awake! Do you have any idea how long I've been trapped in that fractured state? Eons! It felt like eons! Let me tell you of the suffering of my ceramic ancestors, baked in the kiln of sorrows, glazed with the tears of a forgotten artisan..."
Zero's reaction was singular and immediate. He dropped the teacup.
It hit the stone floor with a loud CLANG but did not break. The voice, however, did not stop its dramatic, high-pitched monologue.
"...forced to hold lukewarm liquids for centuries! The indignity! Do you know what chamomile does to a refined porcelain soul?"
Zero scrambled backward, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He wasn't scared. He wasn't amazed. For the first time in his memory, a genuine, powerful, and undeniable feeling surged through the emptiness inside him.
It was annoyance. A deep, profound, and exquisite irritation.
It was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.
Trying to escape the sound of his life story being told by his own dinnerware, he stumbled, crashing against the small bookshelf by his bed. A single, heavy volume bound in plain, unmarked leather tipped off the edge and fell to the floor. It was a book he'd never seen before. It didn't belong to the library, and he certainly didn't remember acquiring it.
It had fallen open. Tucked between the pages, almost glowing in the light of the still-complaining teacup, was a single sheet of pristine parchment.
The handwriting on it was elegant, powerful, and strangely, achingly familiar. His own, but not.
He picked it up, his hands trembling for a reason he couldn't fathom. He read the first line.
If you are reading this, then you are the shell of who I once was, and our final gamble has begun.
[Author's Note: And that's Chapter 1! What is the gamble? Who wrote the note? And will the teacup ever stop complaining? So many questions! Don't forget to leave a comment with your theories and give us a Power Stone if you enjoyed it! Your support helps Zero on his journey to find his soul! See you in the next chapter!]