The storybook lay unopened and sealed on a lonely pedestal. A pale pillar of light sent from the heavens illuminated it and was circled loosely by yellow ribbons of energy that mirrored the auroras of the poles. A thin layer of dust rested on the dark brown leather. Occasionally bright slivers would shoot from the pages as if a sun was hidden within its pages.
The pedestal was carved from ancient stone and it displayed the weathering it had taken through the years openly. Ample cracks decorated it without decreasing its integrity; although old and damaged, it seemed indestructible to all who saw it. Moss and ivy twisted around it in little green strips and the intricately carved patterns could be seen through them. The pure power of nature seemed to radiate from the pedestal- small flowers and bright green grass flourished around it and bees and butterflies made their home in small trees and bushes which had grown along the cave’s wall.
From the entrance came an old man, wearing an iridescent robe pulled together at the waist by an old-fashioned leather belt. He walked slowly along the stepping stones that formed a path to the historic pedestal, never looking away from the storybook. He approached it and gazed at it lovingly, as though he wanted to reach out and cradle it like a baby. He couldn’t though- old spells came from the light above, protecting the storybook from any threats.
So he was content to just look at the book. He had come every day for the seventy years he had been here, in these caves and tunnels. The entire purpose of his life revolved around this book and he loved it dearly.
Today, he decided that he would sit on the last stepping stone and just stare at the storybook. He marveled at the sunlight filtering through the pages and admired the ancient appeal of its cover. He still loved the magic brilliance that protected the storybook from above. He decided to get up and hold out his hand as close to the beam of light as possible, and laughed as one of the yellow ribbons of energy circled languidly around his hand and tickled him softly.
As he was playing with the magic, the starlight coming from the storybook was staggered by a small flicker of darkness.
He stumbled back in disbelief, and the ribbon of light seemed to dart away from the sudden movement. That has never happened before. Not since the storybook had lived in the cave, and not since the storybook was created. This was entirely new. Darkness had never come from the storybook.
The man examined the book as close and as long as he was able, but there was only the one flash of darkness.
But darkness is always more vast and more deep than the eye can see because the eye is forever closed in the dark.
The man hurried from the cave, determined to protect this book and his home at all costs.
The storybook must continue.