Dubium and Kael were still seated at the table, the book resting between them.

  They continued discussing The Bible.

  Kael studied the volume, his curiosity deeper than he wished to admit.

  “This book is more interesting than it seems,” he finally said.

  He paused, reflecting.

  “It must have been terrible for Adam and Eve… to be trapped in a paradise where nothing truly happens. Where life has no real meaning. They just wandered around without any real purpose… and then something is dangled before them—just one thing—and they’re punished for it.”

  He shook his head lightly.

  “I find that sad.”

  Then a memory surfaced.

  Kael blinked, surprised by his own thought.

  “By the way… I just remembered. Earlier, when I needed a name to borrow the book from the library… I used Lucifer.”

  He hesitated.

  “Who is he supposed to be in this book?”

  Dubium slowly lifted his teacup to his lips. He closed his eyes, inhaled the steam, then exhaled softly, almost to himself.

  “Lucifer… now there is a deeply controversial figure.”

  He set the cup down carefully.

  “In this book, he is often portrayed as the ultimate enemy. The Devil. Evil incarnate. The tempter. He is called Satan, the Serpent, the Prince of this world… the names are countless.”

  He paused.

  “But that is not quite the whole story. Originally, Lucifer was not a demon.”

  His gaze drifted upward, toward the sky covered with suspended books.

  “He was an angel. One of the most powerful. A being of light. He was called the ‘Light-Bringer.’”

  Kael frowned.

  “Why ‘Light-Bringer’?”

  Dubium looked back at him, more solemn now.

  “Because, according to the account, he shone brighter than the others. He was made of beauty, intelligence, purity. He understood music, the stars, the laws of the universe. Some say he stood guard over God’s throne itself.”

  He paused, his eyes returning to the book.

  “But he wanted more. He could not bear being a servant—even a glorious one. He wanted to equal God. He wanted… to replace Him.”

  Dubium lowered his voice slightly, as if speaking the words flirted with blasphemy.

  “So he rebelled. And those who chose to follow him were cast down with him, far from heaven. He became what is called Satan. The adversary. The broken one. The fallen.”

  He tapped the book gently with his fingertips.

  “It is not merely the story of a monster. It is the story of a fall. Of light turned into shadow.”

  Kael’s confusion deepened.

  “Wait… God created Lucifer, right?”

  Dubium nodded slowly.

  Kael continued, hands open as if trying to balance something impossible.

  “But if this God created everything in the universe, like you said… then why would He create a being capable of turning against Him? That makes no sense.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  He shook his head, irritated.

  “I mean… if He’s omniscient and omnipotent, like the book claims, He could have stopped it, right? Before Lucifer declared war?”

  Silence followed. Dubium remained still, staring at an invisible point.

  Then, gently:

  “That is one of the great contradictions of the text.”

  He brushed a hand over the book’s cover.

  “Some say God wanted the angels to possess free will. The ability to choose—even to err. Without that… there is no love. No loyalty. Only programming.”

  Kael said nothing.

  “Lucifer would then be proof… that even the most luminous beings can fall. That freedom carries a price. An immense price.”

  He finally lifted his eyes to Kael.

  “But I doubt every detail is exact. This book has been transmitted, copied, interpreted… too many times to be taken word for word. It blends symbolism, spirituality, and perhaps… invention.”

  He paused once more.

  “But even if everything is not true… some ideas still resonate.”

  Dubium’s voice softened.

  “I am a god, Kael. And in some sense… I feel close to the one described in this book.”

  Kael looked up, startled.

  “I created humanity. Not alone, of course. But unlike Him… I am not omniscient. Not at all, in fact.”

  He paused, thoughtful.

  “Proof of that is here. Without you, I would not have had access to this knowledge.”

  He rested a hand on the book.

  “So yes… I understand the reasoning. And my great sister, the Lost— as you call her—would agree with me. Creating beings loyal to us no matter what… that would be boring. And cruel.”

  His voice lowered slightly.

  “I have existed for so long… that I could not tell you how long. Even for us, the Primogenes, eternity is abstract. It slips through our fingers like everything else.”

  A near-sacred silence settled between them.

  Then Dubium looked up toward the sky of suspended books.

  “Divine boredom… may be the only good reason to have created free will.”

  Kael’s expression hardened.

  “That’s ridiculous,” he snapped.

  He extended his arm and pointed at the white-covered book on the table.

  “And that God,” he said angrily, “is a monster.”

  His voice cracked sharply.

  “Punishing His own creation for trying to rise to His level? When He’s the one who made it capable of doing so? And after that… you call that love?!”

  He shook his head bitterly.

  “No. That’s pride. That’s cruelty. And on top of that… He used it as an example!”

  He leaned back heavily in his chair, arms crossed, fury blazing in his eyes.

  Silence returned—thick, charged.

  But Kael was not finished. He continued in the same tone, brows drawn tight, voice heavy with resentment:

  “And you? Are you planning to do the same with me? Force me to ‘think better,’ to identify a cause, to circle around a system you created yourself… only to punish me if I stray?”

  Dubium regarded him for a long moment. An intense, unwavering gaze.

  Then he spoke calmly, though with gravity:

  “Kael… we did not create the Trials.”

  He placed a hand upon the table.

  “My brothers, my sisters, and I… we did not create the Elan.”

  Kael’s eyes widened in confusion.

  “What?” he breathed.

  Dubium continued, slower now:

  “The Elan existed before the Primogenes. In fact, in a way… it gave birth to us. That is what I have been trying to explain to you. And that is why… I have remained in ignorance of my own existence for millennia.”

  He fell silent for a moment, eyes distant.

  “Millennia of research, of theories… simply to understand what came before. Because I do not know.”

  He turned back to Kael.

  “And that is why I need you.”

  Kael froze. His lips trembled faintly.

  “So… if you trapped me in the Ouroboros… it wasn’t just so I could find my cause… It was also so you could see how to identify yours?”

  Dubium smiled softly.

  “You understand perfectly.”

  Kael let out a hollow laugh.

  “So… a god who brought me into this needs me to understand himself better? I’ve heard everything now.”

  He rose abruptly, nervous energy radiating from him.

  “And how am I supposed to succeed, if even the Primogene of Doubt fails to grasp his own origin?!”

  He stepped closer to Dubium, eyes burning. The god lowered his head slowly, offering no answer.

  Kael’s voice trembled with anger.

  “You lied to me.”

  He paused, then continued more harshly:

  “Yes, you had an agreement with that man… that mysterious figure who wanted me to ‘progress.’ But you hid behind that pact—one I still know nothing about—to conduct your little research in peace.”

  His expression twisted.

  “And I… like an idiot, I thought there was meaning in all this. That there was some kind of bond between us. That it was for something greater.”

  He stared at him.

  “But in the end, it was just an experiment. A test. A game.”

  His voice faltered briefly.

  “Do you know what it feels like to live the same day over and over? Do you know what it feels like to learn… all this… in so little time?”

  He closed his eyes for a second.

  “It shattered my mind.”

  Dubium remained silent. He did not dare speak.

  “Well, you know what?” Kael advanced one step, his gaze frozen, glacial.

  He locked eyes with the god.

  “You’re incapable.”

  Dubium slowly lifted his head. But now… he no longer dominated the scene.

  Kael was staring at him.

  His eyes were not the same.

  There was no fear left. No hesitation. Only absolute cold. A cutting calm. A contained fire.

  It was the gaze of a man who had understood everything—and who now… defied a god. A gaze of ice thrust into eternity. The gaze of someone who had just broken his chains.

  Dubium remained motionless before him. He found nothing to say.

  The wind rose between them. Even the silence seemed to hold its breath.

  But Kael was not finished.

  “I will not fail.”

  He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder without another word.

  He fixed Dubium with one last look—firm, hard, unafraid.

  “Watch what happens next.”

  He turned on his heel.

  “And learn.”

  Kael walked away without looking back. And behind him… the suspended books trembled.