Chapter 1: the Book.
The library, To most, it’s a book sanctuary. To him, it’s freedom. He always felt a sense of loneliness. Like an outcast, a criminal, a forgotten deity. But these books held something more than words. Ideas, books think. Humans read it for the plot, for “understanding”, for an exam. But never to truly learn the book. No author writes a book for you to like a character, it comes as a whole. You have to understand it, or else you fail to read. He was roaming down the library aisle. A thick book spine stood out to him. No title? Very rare, but also exciting. What could this mysterious book be hiding? A slight touch on the spine. “Fortin Hopple.” it said. He froze, staring at his fingers on the book. His eyes shuffle, left and right, up and down. Nothing. Was I hallucinating? “You found me.”, it announced. Fortin looked at the book, shocked. “Yes, you can hear me.” He was questioning his state of mind. Going insane at 15? Not common. Fortin rubbed his eyes. The voice had stopped. He grabbed the book, the book cover empty too. Suddenly, a name appeared on the cover. Fortin Hopple. He looked around, the library empty. Is it a trick, a dream? “You’ve been searching.” it said. “Searching?” he replied. “For answers. For purpose.” it responded. “For yourself.” Is this a prank on TV? Where are the cameras at? When could a book talk? “This is fake.” he muttered. “You are chosen.” it said. Chosen for what? Fortin looked around the library for a sign, a sign for him to escape this fake reality. But nothing. Just rows of dusty books on shelves. “You are no ordinary reader.” The words cut deep, felt like he had been understood. “Understand that, you are no longer a reader of a book, but an author of a world. Your words have meaning now.” Fortin panicked. “No, I’m just a child, no child can have…” “You are chosen. To rewrite. To undo. To become.” He stared deeply at the book, words started to become reality. Fortin walked out of the library, the noise around him sounded inferior. He glanced at a bus stop screen that read “You are not real.”, he panicked and blinked quickly, “Next bus arriving in 5 minutes.” He’s shaken. He tries to brush it off. But language is no longer a medium. It surrounds him. The book he holds wouldn’t open, until it wants to be. He looked around, and stood still in the middle of the street. People walk by, turn their head, questioning why a child would stare into nothingness at this time of the day. Fortin walks home, entering his dark and empty room. He finds himself staring at the mirror, questioning his entire life. Why am I alone? Where are my parents? Who am I? Fortin punches the mirror, cracking it. “Ouch, it doesn’t hurt.” he claimed. The pain vanished, his knuckle bruised while feeling no sense of pain. He wipes off the blood and cleans the mess. As he wonders if he is the only one in the world with his power. To read and walk into the books. To walk into fiction and write worlds.He walked along the street of Malmö, where a street vendor stopped him. “Would you like some bread?” Fortin stared at the street vendor and walked away. The street vendor looked confused and shouted, “Are you sure you don’t want any?” He walked away without reacting to his words. Selling bread on the street for a living. What’s the meaning of that? Poverty? Hard work? Compromisation? What point of view gives me the correct meaning? He was confused how there is meaning to anything if it changes based on perspectives. Where can I find the reason? Is there even a reason? He stopped, took a look around and saw the world from a new perspective. That all people are living their life aimlessly, with a goal that never lasts. Fortin now aimed to find the meaning of all, not only life, but for creation and destruction. Fortin drops out of school, deeming it useless and futile for his goal. School is a system that teaches nothing but how to memorize and learn other systems. Never teaching how to create my own, the worst system ever created. My education certificates are worth less than the bread street vendor sells. Fortin sits in his room and stares at the empty book. He opens the book and the first page shows only 7 words, “He found his meaning without meaning.” He didn’t understand at first but the words slowly disappeared. The empty book was empty again.
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Chapter 2: the Scriptwalkers
After three full months, Fortin got used to his new life. Everything around him seemed inferior to him.”Stop there.” a man whispered. He froze immediately, he used his peripheral vision to get a glance at the man. No one. He slowly turned. The left aisle was empty, the right aisle was no different. ‘Who are you?” Fortin asked. A man took off an invisible cloak in the left aisle. “Who are you?!” he asked frantically. “You don’t even know what you are.” the man replied. He couldn’t form any words. He never felt this intensity of fear before. The man bent down to Fortin’s height, “You are not safe, you never were.” Fortin gulped. “Cal Emeth.” Before he could reply, “You are a Scriptwalker.” The words sunk deep. Was this my answer? Scriptwalker? “What is that?” he asked. “You read books, but it doesn’t feel that simple. What have you read?” Cal questioned. “More specifically, the first book which awakened that feeling.” Fortin thought deep, long, thinking back to the first time he heard a book talk. It hit him. “It was an empty book.” Cal looked taken aback, “An empty book..? What’s the title? How many pages is it?” He answered with a straight face, “No title, there was no indication of pages.” Cal felt astonished. No way that kind of book would awaken a scriptwalker. He looked at the child and sighed. How am I going to deal with him? “Are there more of you?” Fortin asked. “Mhm, seven of us, to be specific. You’d be number eight” His face changed, “Are you here to recruit me?” “No no, we are here to find and confirm that you are one of us, and take the precautionary measures we need to take.” Fortin nodded reluctantly. Cal hands him a note. “Read it when you get home. Avoid answering questions that ask whether you’ve seen a tall man with brown hair and eyes wearing a brown coat.” Fortin looks at Cal, exact description. Cal wore his invisible cloak and couldn’t be seen. He walked back home and a mysterious woman walked up to him, “Did you perhaps see a tall man with brown hair and eyes wearing a brown coat somewhere?” Exact same words. Fortin shook his head. “Ah, okay.” The mysterious woman walked down the street. Fortin looked back. Who is she? She is finding Cal? Fortin entered his room, a little brighter than usual. With his new discovery, he can find his long-awaited answer. He opened the note, with the following text: “Find me at the cave near your school tomorrow. Don’t remember any? Go there again, only you can see it.” Fortin read it and blinked. The note was gone. Was it his power? What kind of powers do the other Scriptwalkers have? Are they stronger and cooler than Cal? The next morning, he walked to his school after a whole school term had passed. There wasn’t a cave right? He couldn’t believe it, the cave was right beside the school, even bigger than the school. Yet no passerby bats an eye. He enters the cave. “Fortin. Welcome.” Cal emerged from the darkness. “We have 5 extra members for you to meet.” “Weren’t there seven of you guys?” “One of them couldn’t make it, but you’ll meet her soon enough.” “This is Leora Zarath.” Cal introduced while gesturing at a blonde woman. “Gregor Vale.” A tall man with purple hair.
“Dorian Quell.” A rather old bald man. “We call him the Warden of Footnotes.” The tallest so far, black hair and buff physique. “Elira Vant.” Finally someone near my height. Red hair and hazel eyes. Warden of Footnotes took over, “Enough orientation, you know your powers, so do we. But there are people aware of us. The Orthodoxy.” Every member was silent, I could even hear my own breathing. “They are afraid of us, despise us and hunt us. The “they” are the rest of the world.” Elira added on. “Humans found a way to co-exist and agree on something. That Scriptwalkers must be killed.” Dorian Quell said in a deep voice, “They have invented technologies to keep us in control, many of us have been killed. But that doesn’t mean we will surrender”. “We will have missions.” Gregor stated. “You will join me for the first one. Understood?” Fortin nodded. “Why was I chosen?” he blurted. All of the members looked dreaded upon hearing those words. “We don’t know. We only know that the book that awakens you, are your powers.” the Warden of Footnote answered nervously. My empty book, what are my powers?. Staring out of his window, the people walking resemble ants. But they want to kill me? “You will all die.” Fortin said. People started falling, hitting the ground head first. There was blood everywhere. No one nearby was a survivor. His words deemed reality inferior. He turned to the book, recurring the words of the Warden of Footnote. What powers has this book given me? It’s bloody empty! He slammed his fist on the book. I just found my powers. I really thought it was being able to transverse through books. He fell down and his body was shaking. I am a monster. My words are a weapon? What if i write them? He wrote on a piece of paper. “These people will revive.” No change. I can’t change things with writing but with talking? Ambulances came and many people in black coats arrived. Those people seemed like they were discussing something important. Time felt weird, it was slowing down. In a blink of an eye, he was transported into Nagasaki. “Woah!” he exclaimed. “Where am I?” Dorian and the Warden of Footnotes were behind him on a couch. He turned behind and saw them casually sitting down. “When did..” He got cut off. “What are your powers?” Dorian asked. Fortin gulped, “I… uhhh… can change reality with my words I think.” Dorian palmed his forehead, “Those people outside your house were the executives of the Orthodoxy, if they found you, you’d be dead!” Fortin’s heart raced, realising the consequences of his actions. I still need saving. I could’ve died. Fortin fell on the ground, breaking into tears but not bawling out loud. Both Dorian and the Warden of Footnotes saw the demise and grief he felt. Dorian held up his face. “Sorry for being so harsh on you. But do understand that we care, especially for fellow Scriptwalkers.” Fortin nodded and wiped his tears while sniffing his snot. Hold up. I’m in Nagasaki. Yes, but why does it feel wrong? The Warden of Footnotes saw his confusion and explained, “I changed your past so you in the future will change to live in my hometown.” Fortin still looked as confused as ever. “Imagine you live in your actual hometown, Malmo. But if I change the past you to live in Nagasaki, the you in the current time will automatically be living in Nagasaki and all your memories are edited to fit the timeline.” He looked a little more relieved after understanding the situation. Everything returned to normal. “You have interesting powers.” Fortin excitedly said. “Then why is Dorian here?” he asked with a sense of uncertainty. “I can control time, giving him the chance to change your past.” Fortin’s eyes lit up, time control was the best superpower to him. But he ended up with reality-changing words. He hadn’t understood his potential yet.
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