After school, the two boys hurried through the buzzing neighborhood lanes and into Henrry's modest home. The sun was beginning to dip, casting golden hues through the windows as they reached Henrry's room.
Henrry shut the door behind them and quickly reached beneath his bed. His fingers brushed against the wooden stick—the same one from beneath the Mchen Tree—and he pulled it out with both caution and excitement.
"There," he whispered, handing it to Mclery. "This is what I was talking about."
Mclery took it gently, eyes narrowing. "Looks like a stick… but it feels weird. Warmer than wood and heavy too."
He turned it in his hands and noticed faint engravings along its side.
"What's written here?" Mclery asked. "Henrry, did you read this?"
"I tried," Henrry said. "But it's kind of faint. Look closely"
Mclery squinted his eyes "It doesn't look like English to me. Maybe Latin?"
Henrry leaned in and shrugged. "what are you saying, its written in English look closely" henrry read the words out loud: "Aayana Wista""
The moment he said it, Mclery stepped back.
"Wait—how do you know how to pronounce that?"
Henrry frowned. "What do you mean? I just read it"
"That's the thing," Mclery said, his voice low. "I can't read it. At all. It's not English. Not any language I know."
Before Henrry could respond, a voice echoed from downstairs.
"HENRRY!" James called out, his tone loud but cheerful. "Get ready! We're going out for dinner tonight!"
Henrry blinked. "Dinner? Now?"
James appeared in the hallway doorway and grinned. "You too, Mclery! Come on. Let's go celebrate. It's been a tough week"
Mclery's face softened for a moment, It wasn't often he was invited to family dinners. His parents had died in a car accident when he was very young. Since then, he'd lived with an aunt who was barely around.
he wasn't used to warmth like this, uncle James was more of a father figure to me than anyone else I'd ever known.
Henrry looked at Mclery and thought to himself that Mclery had everything—good grades, talent, looks. And then there was me… average in studies, okay in sports But somehow, we clicked.
The dinner was calm. They talked, laughed, and forgot—just for a while—that there was something otherworldly sitting beneath Henrry's bed. Afterward, James dropped Mclery home and returned with Henrry. The house fell quiet again.
Henrry lay in bed, turning the stick over in his hands. It felt more mysterious now. He stared at the symbols, repeating the words once more in a whisper.
"Aayana Wista…"
But nothing happened, He slid the stick under his bed and fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning at school, Henrry found Mclery waiting near the gates.
"Meet me at the Mechen Tree after school," Henrry whispered. "about the talk that my father has interrputed about the symbol on the stick that you can't read but i can."
Mclery nodded, intrigued but cautious.
They separated into their classrooms, the usual rhythm of school hiding the strangeness that buzzed beneath the surface. But Henrry's mind wasn't in class instead it was on the stick.
The bell rang. The day ended. Henrry ran home, heart pounding.
Inside his room, he dropped to his knees and reached under the bed. He pulled out the stick, held it tight, and focused.
"Aayana Wista," he said again. Still nothing.
Then he paused, recalling the moment from last night.
Maybe the order of words mattered?
He tried again.
"Angana Wista… Aayana Wista…"
Still nothing.
"Aayana Wiste," he muttered, experimenting with the tone.
Suddenly, the air shifted.
A gust of wind blew through the closed windows. A soft hum filled the room. Then—a shimmer. A single glowing page appeared mid-air and slowly floated down.
Henrry's breath caught as the page began to fold, bend, and multiply—until it wasn't a page at all, but an entire *book* that formed right before his eyes.
It landed gently at his feet.
Henrry reached for it, heart pounding.
The cover was made of deep brown leather, warm to the touch. on the cover their was a pattern in Faded gold colour.
*"BOOK OF AB…"*
The rest of the title was blank.
Henrry opened it. The first few pages was also blank.
But something told him this book was far from empty.