Night fell quickly in the Underground.
By the time Shaira and Fargo finished hauling the last of the library boxes down through the access tunnel, the slum district was already bathed in flickering shadows.
Lanterns made from old tin cans and scavenged bulbs swayed gently in the damp air. The steady drip of water echoed through the alleys.
Another long day... but a good one.
With a small satisfied sigh, Shaira hefted the sack of scrap food she'd also gathered and made her way through the maze of streets back to the Cheap Food Shop.
---
Uncle Ben was behind the counter as usual, wiping down old bowls with a grimy rag.
When Shaira entered, he looked up and gave an approving nod.
"Well done." He eyed the sack. "That'll keep the pot going tomorrow." He leaned on the counter, his sharp gaze softening. "Let's call it a day."
Shaira gave a tired smile. "Alright."
Together, they closed up the shop for the night. Shaira scrubbed down the tables and swept the floor, her body moving on autopilot. Uncle Ben secured the door with an old iron lock.
Another day survived.
---
Shaira's home was nothing more than a small shack made of scrap wood and sheet metal, nestled between two old sewer pipes. The walls were patched with layers of cloth and tarps to keep out the damp.
She lit a small oil lamp and sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the small treasures she had rescued from the library.
Boxes stacked against one side. On top, a thin light novel caught her eye — a story about a faraway city where people lived in bright homes, worked good jobs, and dreamed big dreams. The cover was faded, but the title still shimmered faintly: City of Stars.
Curious, Shaira opened the book.
The story inside was simple but charming — about a young girl who wanted to rise from poverty and live among the shining towers of the upper world. There were pages describing wide streets filled with laughter, homes with warm lights, people with hope in their eyes.
Shaira's gaze lingered on an illustration of a grand festival, lanterns floating in the night sky.
She closed the book softly, her fingers resting on the worn cover.
What would it be like... to live in a world like that?
Her eyes drifted upward, staring at the patched ceiling of her little shack.
A place where people had dreams...
A small sigh escaped her lips.
But life here... was what it was.
---
Then, her eyes caught something else — the two books she'd hidden at the bottom of her personal bag.
One was the strange leather-bound tome with the unfamiliar glyphs.
The other — the thin journal she'd found in the ancient histories section. The Glyph Codex.
Her curiosity stirred.
She reached for both books and laid them out in front of her on a small wooden crate that served as a table.
---
Carefully, she opened the Glyph Codex first.
The pages were filled with neat handwriting — research notes from an old librarian.
"Day 79: The glyph language seems ancient... older than recorded city history. Certain symbols react faintly to sound or light. Further study required."
"Day 134: A repeating phrase seems to appear across multiple glyph patterns. Possibly a chant or incantation. Must attempt vocalization once the pattern is clear."
Shaira frowned slightly.
A chant? An incantation?
Her gaze shifted to the old tome beside her.
She ran her fingers over the cracked leather, feeling the odd warmth of the cover. Slowly, she opened it.
---
The pages inside were covered in strange symbols — flowing, intricate lines that seemed to shimmer faintly under the lamp's light.
At first glance, it looked impossible to read.
But... as her eyes adjusted... something clicked.
Comparing the symbols in the codex to the ones in the old tome, she began to notice familiar patterns. Certain glyphs matched. Repeated phrases began to stand out.
Her pulse quickened.
---
Time slipped away as Shaira worked, her tired mind now fully alert.
Page after page, she traced symbols, cross-referenced notes, whispered sounds under her breath.
Gradually... the meaning became clearer.
One phrase appeared again and again — always written in larger, bolder glyphs.
With shaking fingers, Shaira copied it onto a scrap of paper:
Teleport me to the Majico World.
She stared at the words, her heart pounding.
Majico World?
She didn't know what it meant.
But something deep inside her... urged her to try.
---
For a moment, Shaira hesitated.
Was this foolish?
Just old words in a forgotten language.
But her curiosity burned brighter than her doubt.
She sat up straight, drew a breath, and spoke the phrase aloud:
"Teleport me to the Majico World."