Novel & Cerita The Beginning After The End Wiki

About what it could mean. Either the beginning of the end. Or the end of us.

And as we walked, I realized that this wasn't really an ending at all. It was just the beginning. The End

"The librarian called me the last of the named line," she said. She and Rafael were on the high tower at dawn — the same tower, the same east wall, but the view was different now, the Red Moon faded back into the Citadel's usual colorless sky, the realm below them ordinary in its early-morning quiet. "The texts have a different word for it. The first of the restored line." She paused. "One means end. The other means beginning. Both are true, apparently, and that's a very difficult thing to hold."

It was a beginning, not an ending. And perhaps that was enough.

A thing with a location was a thing you could bear to wait for. He finished the book. He closed it. He sat with the quality of having finished something, which was not the same as the quality of having ended something. Finishing was completed. The ending was a loss. The therapy would be an ending, and he would hold it as an ending, with all the weight that endings deserved. But the after—the after was not an ending. The after was a different kind of thing.

He thought: some things are better known than said. He thought: and some things are better said. "It's grown," he said. Adrian looked at him. "The music hasn't changed," he said. "No," Daniel said. "We have." Adrian held his gaze. The warmth — the long, open, entirely reliable warmth that was the structure of the thing and the beauty of the thing and had not changed and had grown. "Yes," he said. "The final phrase," Daniel said. "In October of the sixth year it was the beginning of what comes after. In March of the eighth year it is the beginning of what comes after that has already begun." He paused. "The beginning is further along."

A new day began in tranquility. The end.

It had only just begun. THE END.

Something that felt, in spite of everything, like the beginning of something rather than the continuation of something else. The beginning of an after that had a name.

I get up from my knees and calm myself. I started to go back to my car. I turned my head for one last time, and in the corner of my eye, I saw a man who was standing behind a tree and was watching in my direction, but as soon as I completely turned around, I lost him. I stayed there for another couple of minutes, but everything was useless. He disappeared into thin air. I went to my car and drove to a coffee shop so I could buy our coffees and have something for breakfast. I went into the bakery and ordered two coffees and two croissants. I paid and headed to my car so I could go home.