Chapter Eight: Carousel of Constellations

The second page revealed the first entry.

Liam skimmed it quickly, but comprehension eluded him.

Subsequent pages presented more enigmatic symbols instead of dates. Numbers adorned the top of each page, accompanied by peculiar markings at the bottom.

The task suddenly seemed far more daunting. The relentless march of time permeated through the room.

The full moon poured through his window, draping his chaotic desk in a tableau of silver and grey, amplifying his drowsiness and anticipation.

Yet, Luna's diary became irresistible—its pages opening a window into her private reflections. He had seen her many times, engrossed in this book, her pen flowing as though enchanted. Her words ensnared him more deeply, as if her thoughts were luring his gaze

With each turn of the page, he stepped further into her world, the line between finding her and understanding himself becoming indistinguishable. Its numbers and symbols, along with the last torn sheet, began to seep through his subconscious, serving as more than mere scribbles but as clues to a mystery he felt poised to unravel. "What does this mean?" he said under his breath, while instinctively seeking the comfort of his tousled hair as the minutes ticked by.

He turned back to the first entry, her usual intricate language glaring up at him. It read as a riddle, each line a puzzle piece:

One plus one, the ride never ends

Start small, watch it grow

(just like I said)

See beyond the obvious

dive into the unseen

It's not in the webs your mind spins

Nor in the dreams your thoughts

construct

It's not in what you think you grasp

Or the assumptions you hold dear

But in the way

the script

is flipped

(just wait and see)

He stared at it, a wave of bittersweet recognition washing over him. The lighthearted tone, the clever wordplay, the subtle dare—it was so unmistakably Luna, still managing to astonish him despite her absence.

"Oh, Luna," he whispered, tracing the words with his fingertip. "Even now, you puzzle me, though you're gone."

After the initial thrill of recognition faded, the challenge emerged. What did it signify? Was it a lead on her vanishing or simply another of her playful games? Was her diary meant for someone else to find?

Liam leaned back in his chair.

He pressed his palms against his strained eyes.

The time was now 3:00 AM. He groaned, feeling the weight of his fatigue.

His 9 AM English Lit class was just six hours away, a harsh reminder of the life he should be living—the one that didn't involve late-night detective work and cryptic riddles from absent friends.

"One plus one, the ride never ends," he mumbled, trying to focus despite his tiredness. "What ride? The carousel? Or is it metaphorical?" Fragments of the riddle, her playful smile, the key's weight in his pocket. His brain buzzed with ceaseless activity.

As the first light of dawn crept through his window, Liam's determination gave way to exhaustion—his body finally overriding his mental landscape. He carefully closed the diary and tucked it into his desk drawer, his imagination still electric with possibilities, speculations still brewing, and notions still percolating.

Crashing onto his bed, he set his alarm for 8:30 AM, fully aware that four hours of sleep wouldn't be nearly enough for the day ahead. The 10-minute drive to class with his mom meant a few more valuable minutes of sleep. Yet, as he drifted off, one thought persisted. The world tilted sideways, and unexpectedly he was floating among memories.

Luna's face, the intoxicating mix of amber and vanilla that surrounded her, the riddles she left behind—all mingled in his consciousness like a lunar ballet.

Gravity seemed to vanish, as he found himself walking on clouds. He saw himself trailing after her, just a step away, his hand reaching but never quite meeting hers.

The carousel horses came to life, galloping through star-dusted fields. The world blurred around him, but she remained clear, her laughter unfurling backwards, painting the air with shimmering colors.

He was falling, spinning, tumbling through space and time, the stars wheeling overhead in dizzying patterns.

And then, in an instant, he was standing still; she stood before him, shrouded in an ethereal glow. Each moment unfolded like the petals of her favorite flower.

Whimsy danced in her eyes like galaxies spiraling in the void. Stardust tickled his nose, making him sneeze constellations.

"Your adventure is far from finished, Liam," she said sweetly, resonating through the interstellar space. "Out there, something significant awaits."

Her form seemed to waver, gradually becoming less distinct. He reached out, desperately trying to hold onto her, but his fingers passed through empty air.

As the dream world collapsed around him, his subconscious clung to one last, fleeting thought.

Luna, you cosmic puzzle. I'll piece you together—even if it takes me to the stars and back.