The Elite Empire of Power

Behind all repetitive mundane-looking letters lies an ultimate treasure. Its beauty cannot be unearthed unless one delves through the labyrinth of bewildering characters and lines. How surreal would it be if you were to discover a world that has long awaited you with open arms?
None who beholds the diamond beneath veiled words shall forget their power. Verily, all those who dared venture through what they had previously reckoned to be naught but a humdrum of dull sentences crammed into five hundred eaten-away papers couldn’t help being engrossed. The pages stroked their fingers, and the chapters healed their wounded spirits. And when they had finally reached the end, there was no more.
Hearts bled, and souls were torn apart. To those who were bequeathed with the merry of words and were suddenly deprived of it, the world seemed desolate. Vacant. The place that was distantly called home was unwanted. Names that once belonged to them appeared foreign to their ears. They heard people talk, but they couldn’t listen. Others were joyous, but they felt empty. Why did it feel so disorienting, like tumbling into an abyss? The streets were ghostly, as though everything was laden with an aura of black corona.
Amidst the daunting darkness, a light shone. Suffocated with black and grey, a majestically painted red-wood door beckoned. A delicate-looking handle hung on it, golden like the sun’s rays or a king’s crown. As if in a grand welcome, the intricately-carved door swung open.
The aroma of timeworn parchment clung to every corner of the elderly kingdom, more seductive than any fragrance. Indeed, it was a realm of musical silence. There were no extravagant red carpets or lavish tiles. Instead, seamless soft-looking wood graced the floor. Every tile coupled gracefully alongside its sibling and blushed with various shades of brown. In lieu of the cumbersome chandeliers disdainfully glued to a ceiling, serene candles hugged the walls, and soothing little golden orbs winked from afar. Shelves towered above each other, vying to show off who amounts to the most glorious land of stories. Couldn’t they realize the absurdity of their motives? Every book they shouldered embraces unprecedented time and a unique place.
A silver goblet decorated with embedded sapphires and encircled with a halo of stormy smoke gallantly declared its nation: Lady Smoke. The letters swayed on the cover, summoning.
“Come,” they seemed to say. “How can a lady be called smoke? Does the goblet signify triumph, or does the smoke imply death? Don’t you want to find out?” A gentle breeze brushed the cover slightly. Its relieving caress coaxed whoever felt its cooling touch to bid farewell to the wise, towering shelf and hail a welcome to the immaculate tables. Lined as courtesans would in a ballroom, they possess an aura of pride and patience. For these porcelain tables emboldened many a writer and witnessed the smiles of readers as they skipped through a thousand and one stories. They listened to the complaints of an aspiring student and embraced the lonely and desperate.
Every here and there, a window to the outside world would allow the sun’s rays to cast a lovely glow within the kingdom of words. The most mesmerizing of them flourished with geometrical shapes woven into each other, intertwined as threads of fate and divinely colored. Scarlet, lavender, and emerald beams lavishly tinted the kingdom with an ethereal glow.

The melody of a flipped page rang softly through the chamber, and the man who was kidnapped by that tale had a faint smile on his lips. The melody sounded again, and amid the tranquility, it resonated in souls and reverberated through the walls encompassing everything with an ancestral feeling of belonging. It was almost hypnotizing.
Accompanied by the comfortable couches slouched against the gold-leafed wall, the flicking papers would lull anyone to a deep un-awakening sleep. The tiny lamps illuminated a flawless marble shelf. Whereas its brothers were immense and aggressive, this one was petite and shy. In the top corner, a faux fire ignited and mingled with the golden light. Its glow radiated on a blue book, accentuating the red magma that flowed from cracks on the azure texture. A snow-white wolf sculpture was poised in the center panel, emblazoning the bookshelf with an emperor’s splendor.
Before the lousy couch lay a round desk. Diminutive though it was, it held exquisite presence. A velvety dove was perched on it, its wings half unfurled, and its neck angled towards the wolf as if in askance of its intentions. The frosty fur blanket tossed on the sofa seemed to have been skinned by the hunters from the wolf’s body or the dove’s silky feathers. A book huddled nigh to it, bejeweled with a necklace around its spine. It camouflaged with the blanket perfectly if it weren’t for the black apple that conspicuously dulled the brightness like an obsidian overshadowing its rivals.
In the distance, a chorus of whispers chimed in with the tuneful silence, and the cool air eased the tension behind the nervous complexion of a trio of students. They pushed away their cushioned chairs and gently closed their books. Their journey here has come to an end. Surveying the peaceful chambers, they smiled softly in a promise of return.
Their footsteps echoed across the room against the wooden floor. The towering shelves looked on proudly, and the tables prayed for their safety. The burgundy door inched open in reluctance to see them disappear into a world overflowed with despair. This kingdom of words had rekindled their hope, and albeit leaving it, the world wasn’t bleak anymore. They will depart this world soon and reunite with the elite empire of power once again.