The Door of Light

Arman had always loved old libraries. The silence, the smell of dust and paper, the way stories seemed to whisper from every shelf—it felt like a place where secrets lived. One rainy evening, when the city outside was wrapped in thunder, Arman wandered into a forgotten corner of the library. That was where he saw it.

It wasn’t supposed to be there. Between two towering bookshelves stood a door. Not a normal one, but one that shimmered faintly, as though it was made of woven light. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. The door was still there, glowing softly in the dim corner.

Curiosity tugged at him. Without thinking, Arman reached for the handle. The instant his hand touched it, the air grew warm and filled with a sound—like a thousand distant bells. The door swung open, revealing not another aisle of books, but a vast golden sky.

Arman stepped through.

He found himself standing on soft grass that sparkled as though it held fragments of stars. Enormous trees stretched upward, their leaves glowing faintly. A river flowed nearby, its water humming like a gentle song. Even the air itself shimmered with life.

“This can’t be real,” he whispered.

But it was.

He wandered, marveling at the beauty around him. Birds with silver wings soared above, and flowers opened their petals to watch him pass. It felt like stepping into a dream.

Then he heard a voice.

“You shouldn’t be here, child of Earth.”

Arman spun around. A tall figure in robes of midnight stood behind him. His eyes glowed with shadows, and darkness seemed to gather at his feet.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” Arman stammered.

The figure’s smile was sharp. “No one crosses the Door of Light by accident. You were chosen. And now, you are mine to destroy.”

Before Arman could speak, the ground trembled. Shadows spilled across the meadow, swallowing the light. The glowing trees dimmed, and the singing river turned silent. The figure vanished into the darkness, leaving Arman shivering in fear.

But then, something stirred inside him. A warmth in his chest, faint at first, but growing brighter. He pressed his hand against his heart and found that it glowed with golden light.

“Your light is strong,” a soft voice said.

Arman looked up. An old woman stood nearby, her hair white as clouds, her eyes filled with stars. “You carry the gift,” she said. “The power to push back the darkness. This world has been waiting for you.”

Arman shook his head. “I’m just… me. I don’t even understand what’s happening.”

She touched his shoulder. “You will. The shadow you saw is Zahir, the king of darkness. He seeks to smother this land in despair. But only one with the heart of light can stop him. That is you.”

Before Arman could protest, the old woman pointed to the horizon. Dark towers rose in the distance, twisting into the sky. The air above them burned with black smoke.

“Go,” she said. “The world believes in you. Believe in yourself.”

Arman hesitated, but the warmth in his chest pulsed stronger. He clenched his fists. He didn’t know how to fight shadows, but he couldn’t ignore the pull of this place.

He began his journey.

Days passed. He crossed forests where trees whispered warnings. He forded rivers that tried to drag him under. He climbed mountains that tested his courage. With each step, the light inside him grew. Sometimes he faltered, sometimes he doubted, but he kept going.

At last, Arman reached Zahir’s fortress. The sky above it was dark, the ground cracked with fire. Shadows poured from its gates like living smoke.

Zahir was waiting.

“You dare come here?” the shadow king thundered. “You think your little spark can defeat me?”

Fear gripped Arman, but he remembered the old woman’s words. He placed his hand over his heart. The light flared, spilling out of him like a sunrise.

Zahir roared and hurled darkness at him, waves of shadow that burned cold. But each time, Arman’s light grew brighter, pushing back the gloom.

“This isn’t just my light,” Arman shouted. “It’s every hope, every dream, every heart that refuses to give in to despair!”

The glow burst from him in a brilliant wave, flooding the fortress, the sky, the world. Shadows screamed and dissolved. Zahir shrieked and vanished into nothingness.

Silence fell. Then, slowly, the land began to heal. The towers crumbled. The rivers sang again. The trees shone with new life.

Arman stood in awe.

“You did it,” the old woman’s voice whispered in the wind. “You brought the light.”

And just like that, he was back in the library. The door behind him was gone, replaced by dusty shelves and silence.

Had it been real? His hand still glowed faintly as he stared at it. He smiled.

Even if no one else would ever believe him, he knew the truth. Somewhere, in a world beyond this one, the light was shining because he had chosen to be brave