Lina had always loved the old library at the edge of town. Its walls were lined with books that smelled like history, and the wooden floors creaked under every step. One rainy afternoon, she wandered into a forgotten corner and discovered a small, dusty book with no title.
Curious, she opened it—and the words on the pages began to shimmer and rearrange themselves. Suddenly, a soft voice whispered, “Follow me.” Lina looked around but saw no one.
The book’s pages flipped wildly, forming a glowing path that led her through shelves that stretched endlessly, beyond the limits of the room. Each step felt like walking into another world. She saw stories unfolding: a knight battling shadows, a girl flying above the clouds, a city of glass and light.
When the journey ended, Lina found herself back in the corner, the book closed and silent. But in her hands, a single golden feather rested. It was proof that stories were more than words—they were doors to worlds waiting to be discovered.
From that day, Lina never looked at books the same way again.
