Nocturne

☾ Chapter Nine ~ Diurne ☽

The moon was so bright.

Diurne almost wept as she gazed up, the ache in her heart hollowing out her bones until she felt as if she could fly. Looking down, moonlight caught small gathering of tall buildings near the base of the tower, with a circle of silver glimmering in between them. Curious, and tugged by some unseen force, she turned and began to descend, her footfalls as light as faerie wings.

She wandered she knew not how long. She passed under worn arches of Belgian marble, through vast ruins of ancient homes, and passed through an elegant doorway to have her breath stolen by the sight of the greatest temple to knowledge she had ever seen.

Infinite shelves of ancient tomes reached, majestic obelisks of forgotten knowledge, each pristine and sacrosanct in their eternal glory. Diurne took a candle from a well-stocked shelf. There were two jugs near them, one still filled to the brim with coarse sand and dirt, the other bone dry- presumably to contain water. She guessed they were for putting out fires that may have arisen in the highly flammable room.

There was a small box nearby, carefully crafted from unengraved salt-and-pepper granite. Fumbling it open, Diurne found a match and managed to strike it on the stone of the shelf. The sudden bright flame in the enclosed and dark space startled her, and she dropped the match before realizing what she was doing. She hurried to stamp it out and toss it in the small stone box of used tinders that sat unobtrusively on the floor.

Taking a relieved breath, Diurne managed to light another match and eventually the old candle, casting a tiny circle of light around the vast room. Her breath abandoned her once again as she took in what she now could see.

The new light illuminated elaborate carving in the walls and in the pillars of the bookshelves. Demons and angels interweaving with faeries and elves, a dancing mosaic telling the stories of the infinite multiverses contained within the pages of the books within. Moon motifs were especially prevalent, sometimes with stars in the sky and silver adorning the brows of the characters, who were often elflike creatures with galaxies carved into their flesh.

She stepped deeper, careful not to spill her flame. Shelves unfolded in a spiralling labyrinth, reaching like slender fingers and arms to brush the domed ceiling, darkness dancing around the edges of the candle's pool of light. A tear seemed to form in the corner of her eye.

Reaching out, her fingers brushed against the spines coated in brittle dust. They were rough against her fingers, and when she pulled one from its resting place it creaked as she opened it.

The pages were still silky smooth, though thin and fragile. Faint odors of roses and sorrow seemed to swim from the paper. The ink, printed into neat letters, was faded, but surprisingly clear in places. White space covered the page, clearly formatted for verse and rhyme.

Squinting to make out the words, written in a strange language only just enough like hers to read, Diurne could see the patterns of suns and moons drawn around the lines, and a four-pointed star in yellow behind the words of the poem.

"Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," she read aloud. "By Dylan Thomas."

A sliver of a smile wound its way onto her face. Diane nudged her leg and purred softly. Startled, Diurne looked down. She'd forgotten the moonfox was there. Had she been there?

Diurne laughed and shook her head. Gently replacing the book, she leaned down to give her friend a little scratch behind the ears, but before she could touch the soft fur, Diane leapt away with a high-pitched yip. She glanced back at Diurne once, as if to say "C'mon, silly human! What are you waiting for?"

Diurne's footsteps were loud against the cold stone floor as she followed, smiling and shaking her head. "Alright then. What do you want to show me?"