Adventurer Mollie and The Forbidden Story

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Chapter 7:
The landscape outside grew darker. Not like night, but like a thought long repressed that now returns, quietly but firmly. The bus stopped in front of a door. No street, no building—just the door, standing alone in the void. "Only those with the courage to remember may pass through here," it said in fine letters above it. And below it: "Entering your own truth." Mollie hesitated. Something inside her wanted to go back. Something else wanted to know. He stepped through. Inside was darkness—not threatening, but deep. So deep that his own footsteps sounded like voices. In the middle of the room: a desk. On it, a book. Different from all the ones before. Black, with a silver edge. Sealed with a thin band of light. "Not every story wants to be found." Mollie held out her hand. "If you open it, something will be lost," a voice said. But he had long known: something was already lost. Perhaps long before he came here. He untied the ribbon. The light flickered – and the pages began to tell their story. Images arose. An argument that was never ended. A promise that was broken. A tear that wasn't shed. And in the middle of it all: a little boy, alone, in a room full of shadows that reached out and never quite let go. Mollie recognized him. It was himself. But he did what he had to do. He stayed. HE read. He let the story end, even though it hurt. Precisely because it hurt. When he closed the book, it was no longer black. It was transparent. And inside – a single sentence: "He who sees the dark can write the light." The door opened again. The bus was waiting outside. And Mollie was now carrying more than just a backpack. He was carrying a story that had remained silent for too long. And he knew: now he was ready to let words fly.