Chapter 9 " Too much Awareness is dangerous "

“Knowledge is power, they say, but some truths burn. Zoe craves to know all. Let’s see how much she can bear. Silence your questions, dear reader, or the Knower will answer…”

Zoe Callahan, a 27-year-old freelance journalist, sat in her home office, a cramped room in her city apartment, surrounded by stacks of notebooks, pinned articles, and glowing laptop screens. 

She was relentless, a truth-seeker who researched every story local scandals, cold cases, urban myths until no detail escaped her. 

Her colleagues called her obsessive; Zoe called it thorough. She’d taught herself coding, lockpicking, even basic forensics, always needing to know everything before starting a project. 

At 10:00 p.m., as she sifted through notes for a new exposé, she noticed a book in her hands, its weight startling her. 

Old, leather-bound, its cover cracked and etched with twisting branches that seemed to writhe in the lamplight. No title, no author.

Zoe frowned, her sharp memory faltering. She vaguely recalled someone handing it to her a source, maybe ? with a cryptic urge to “read it.” 

But who ? Her recall, usually photographic, was blank, a fog where the giver’s face should be. 

The anomaly thrilled her; a mystery book was a puzzle to solve. She opened it, the pages crackling, releasing a faint smell of ash and something metallic, like old coins. 

The first eight pages were missing, torn out with jagged edges, leaving a reddish stain. The first intact page read: Chapter 9: Awareness. 

The text was handwritten, the ink uneven, as if scratched with a nail. Zoe’s pulse quickened, and she began to read.

Knowledge is a curse when it finds you. I sought answers to everything names, dates, secrets. Then I read this book, and the Knower came. 

It has no face, only a voice, a hum that splits your mind, offering truths you shouldn’t know. Its rule is simple: don’t ask questions. 

To question is to invite it, to let it fill you with forbidden knowledge secrets that unravel your soul. Billy accepted the leaf, and now he wanders a forest that never ends, his screams unheard. 

Sumi broke the silence, and her voice is stolen, trapped in a hum that echoes forever. Mai walks the same path, watched by Verk, her time looped in despair. 

Ethan fed his flame, and now he burns in a light that blinds. They suffer, their stories written in this book, feeding her hunger. I asked why, and the Knower answered. 

It showed me their fates, then mine endless truths, each one a weight, crushing me. Now I’m trapped, knowing all but saving none. Don’t ask questions. The Knower is listening. 

Zoe closed the book, her breath catching. The names Billy, Sumi, Mai, Ethan meant nothing, yet their stories felt real, their suffering vivid. 

The meta-narrative unnerved her; how did the book know its own victims? Her journalist’s instinct screamed to dig deeper, but a chill settled in her bones. 

The office felt colder, the lamplight flickering, casting shadows that seemed too sharp. The book’s pages rustled faintly, though no air stirred. 

Zoe’s hand hovered over her notebook, itching to jot questions: Who are they? Why this book? But the rule stopped her: Don’t ask questions.

She shoved the book into a drawer, heart racing, and tried to work. But the names looped in her mind, their fates haunting. 

Who was the Knower? Was it tied to the “her” the story mentioned ? Zoe’s curiosity burned, her need to know clashing with the warning. 

She opened her laptop, fingers twitching, but stopped short of searching. The air grew heavy, thick with ash and metal, a faint hum vibrating in her ears.

The next night, Zoe returned to her office, the book now on her desk, its cover glowing faintly. She ignored it, drafting an article, but her thoughts strayed to the story. 

“Who wrote this?” she muttered, the question slipping out. The hum sharpened, splitting her skull, and the room darkened, the lamp dimming. 

A presence formed formless, faceless, a void where a face should be, its voice a buzzing swarm: “You ask. I answer.” Zoe froze, the rule screaming in her mind. 

She clamped her mouth shut, but another question escaped: “What are you ? ” The Knower’s hum grew deafening, images flooding her mind: 

Billy lost in black-veined trees, Sumi mute in a silent void, Mai walking endless streets, Ethan burning in red light. 

Then her own face, screaming, drowning in truths secrets of her past, her sources’ betrayals, the world’s hidden horrors. 

Each answer was a weight, crushing her. The office warped notebooks bled ink, screens flickered with her face, the walls closing in with twisting branches. 

Zoe staggered, her voice hoarse: “Stop!” The Knower loomed closer, its void-face splitting into a buzzing maw. 

The book, now open on the floor, pulsed, a new line scrawled: You asked, Zoe. Quola’s Knower binds you now. 

“ Knowledge feeds her, Zoe. Ask, and you’re hers forever.” 

The hum swallowed her screams, the office’s shadows coiling into branches, dragging her into a void of endless answers, each one a shard in her soul

"The Forbidden knowledge Is forbidden for a reason "