As the words left his lips, the air in the room shifted. A sudden, sharp breeze swept through the closed window, carrying the scent of wild thyme and distant rain. Ilyas gasped, dropping the book.

Instantly, the walls of his attic began to shimmer, turning into transparent, brittle glass. Through them, he could see the gray, towering blocks of the city, but also the terrifying, beautiful vastness of the sky above. He was trapped, yet exposed, living inside the metaphor of a stranger who had died centuries ago.

But the glass cage was weakening. Cracks were spreading across the ceiling, mirroring the fractures in his own mind. He realized that the human soul was not meant to hold so many realities at once.

He realized then that the book didn't just contain phrases; it contained the reality of the moments they were spoken. To read from "Frazy" was to pull the past into the present, to download the emotions and environments of a forgotten world.