Rewrite The Star

CHAPTER 47 : I KNOW WHERE THE LOCATION IS

CHAPTER 47: I KNOW WHERE THE LOCATION IS

Atlas and Creed finally returned to their motel after an eventful day. The sky outside had turned a deep shade of blue, and the air was cool with the first hints of evening. As soon as they entered, Creed disappeared back to Hell, leaving Atlas alone in the dimly lit room.

Atlas sat at the desk, opening both the Demon Book and Stellaria Coetus, placing them side by side. His eyes scanned the familiar pages, his mind racing. "Every time I open these books, I get a vision," he muttered to himself, leaning closer as if the proximity would offer more clarity. His fingers tapped the edge of the paper, his thoughts spinning.

Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, furiously scribbling down words that seemed to flow from an unknown place within him.

In a forsaken dwelling where shadows entwine, 

An ancient passage whispers secrets, lost in time. 

Beneath, in the cavern, diamonds gleam like stars, 

A treasure of dreams wrapped in the night's soft scars.

Atlas stared at the words, speechless. His hand trembled slightly as he read and reread the lines, realizing with a growing sense of wonder what they meant. "I didn’t know these two books were connected," he murmured, his eyes widening as the weight of the revelation sank in. It was as if the Demon Book had unlocked the cryptic meaning of Stellaria Coetus.

Leaning back in his chair, Atlas ran a hand through his hair. He looked at the lines again. “‘In a forsaken dwelling where shadows entwine…’” he whispered, repeating the words several times as if they held the key to everything.

Suddenly, it hit him. His eyes widened in realization.

“The manuscript... it’s in this town,” he said aloud, his heart pounding with excitement. He jumped to his feet, pacing the room. “The vision, the map... and now this. The location has to be…” He paused, the final piece clicking into place. “It’s in my family’s old house.”

He stared out of the window at the distant outline of the town, his mind racing through memories of the house he had left behind, now likely forgotten by most. But not by him.

Meanwhile, deep in Hell, Creed sat on his obsidian throne, the firelight casting long shadows across the cavernous room. His mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the puzzle of the Heartmiller family’s bloodline. He had sent Kent to gather information, but so far, the search had turned up nothing.

Kent stood before him, his face tense. "My lord, I still have no trace of the Heartmiller family. Their lineage is difficult to follow, as if they’ve gone to great lengths to hide."

Creed scowled, leaning back in his throne with a frustrated sigh. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest. "Keep looking," he ordered, though his mind was already drifting away from the matter.

He couldn't stop thinking about Atlas, and more disturbingly, the image of Keevin in that photograph. The smile on Atlas’s face as he stood beside Keevin had stirred something unfamiliar in Creed, something he couldn’t quite name.

Sitting in silence for a moment, Creed’s expression turned dark. His jaw clenched slightly. “Keevin…” he muttered under his breath, his thoughts circling the memory of the picture, of Atlas standing so close to someone else.

“My lord, is something wrong?” Kent asked, noticing the shift in Creed’s demeanor.

Creed’s eyes narrowed. "It’s nothing," he replied coldly, but the irritation was evident in his voice.

Kent smirked slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Is the human bothering you, my lord?" he teased.

Creed shot him a sharp look, his voice low and deadly. "Tread carefully, Kent," he warned, his tone enough to make the air in the room drop a few degrees. "Speak of this again, and I’ll ensure you regret it."

Kent chuckled nervously, bowing his head. "Of course, my lord."

But as Creed sat there, his thoughts betrayed him. He couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between him and Atlas, though he refused to name it. His mind wandered back to the photograph, and he clenched his fists, trying to shake off the unfamiliar and unsettling emotions.