The light of the moon reflected dimly off the stone-paved streets. It seemed to glow with unusual luminance this night; oracles had warned that such occurrences were a sign of impending misfortune—they had said that it was the Gods’ way of discreetly warning mankind. The middle-aged man that walked lone on the streets paid no heed to the omen, and continued steadfastly toward his foretold destination.

Periodically he would glance behind him, staring back into the perpetual shadows that consumed the path he had tread. The fabric of his toga clung to his back, attracted by his rapid perspiration. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead and down the crevasses of his nose, ending at the corners of his lips. He licked with away nervously and hastened his pace.

Power. The word repeated in his head constantly, just as it had when he had wept at Alexander the Great’s statute. Fate. The concept seemed distant to him; no God would torture someone with the curse of predestination. And yet, as he mused, he realized that all the strength he had accumulated—all the fame he had managed to gain—was now meaningless to him.

Unless, that is, the cat had spoken true.

“What a fool I am.” He thought, reflecting on the nearly forsaken image of his supposed savior. “It was a dream; I am chasing after nothing. In the dead of night I rise from my bed and come halfway across Rome, for nothing but a falsity. Why the senate building? I am going mad”

The sacred building loomed in the distance, lacking the swarms of activity that filled its halls during the day. He quickened his steps even more, feeling an urge to convince himself of his folly and get back to bed.

“Certainly this is insane. It was nothing but a dream. A figment of my mind…”

The moon seemed to grow slightly dimmer.

The weary man soon reached the massive building and took to climbing the steps, feeling even more narcoleptic then he had before. His brow wrinkled in stain at each footfall, and he often would let out an involuntary sigh as he pushed his body upward. Already he felt so old, and yet he felt as if he had accomplished nothing that he truly wanted. As a young man he had looked the Alexander’s statute and realized by the same age he was Alexander had already conquered much of the world, while he had barely finished his schooling. His heart had weighed with despair, and made a silent oath to himself he too would have such glory. However, the man feared it would never be, and the dream only further proved his desperation in the matter.

After many minutes of the agonizing climbing he reached the summit and timorously studied the landing with his small eyes. There was nothing but shadows; it really had only been a dream. The cat that had strayed so nonchalantly from the umbra, and looked at him with its piercing yellow eyes had only been an illusion. Its voice—a almost hollow noise, like that of a man’s who was speaking through a long tube—was nothing more then his mind playing tricks on him.

Exhausted, he sat down on the highest step and rested his elbows on his knees, peering regretfully over the city. As a young boy he had walked those winding streets, hurrying to his academy to study needless texts—the Aeneid, the writings of Socrates, and other ridiculous philosophic muses; all one truly needed in life was to know was speech and politics. With politics, one could acquire power, and with speech, one could persuade the other unclaimed powers to nod in his favor. He had excelled at all these things; the man had been the best when he pursued his higher studies. And yet, despite this, his dream had not been achieved. The same despair that had once weighed his heart now returned, and for the first time in his life he longed to die.

He could not focus on such suicidal thoughts for long; a faint shuffle, like that of a silk blanket being drug over marble, attracted his attention. The man turned his head diffidently to his side and felt his heart leap. A small gasp escaped his lips, though he struggled to remain stoic.

A young girl, perhaps six or seven, stood only steps away from him. She held a mask before her face, which was carved like that the face of a cat and attached to a golden stick that her tiny fingers grasped. It was decorated with what seemed like little pebbles, though when the moonlight hit them he noticed they were in fact small rubies. Her clothing could have not been simpler; a plain white linen was wrapped around her body so that it took the appearance of a flattering Greek dress. Long locks of black hair flowed down her shoulders, seemingly more silky then fibers of a fresh papyrus.

The man briskly rose to his feet and backed away, watching the girl suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, forcing his voice to mask the obvious fear that gripped him. “Who are you? Go back to your home! Do you know who I am?”

The girl turned slightly so that the moon fell against her and threw her shadow against the stone floors. The eclipse that the young girl managed to lie was nearly five times as large as she, and clung to her feet in such a way that one would believe it was guarding her. The man let out another gasp and backed further away.

The shadow was that of a cat’s.

“Of course I know who you are.” The young girl spoke, allowing her voice to be exceedingly gentle. “It was I that summoned you here, Gaius.”

He watched in horror as the girl approached him, her feet seeming to glide over the stone.

“Why do you call me that name?”

“Everyone calls you Julius so formally. I though that we could be on more comfortable terms.”

“Stop; do not come closer! Who are you?”

The young girl stopped and took a sudden step backward, as if appalled by his manners.

“You really should not talk to me in such a way. Who do you think I am?”

Julius timidly crossed his arms and gripped his elbows nervously. He cursed himself for coming—for following his urge to prove himself insane—and for a brief moment contemplated that he was still in the midst of a dream. Once more he looked at the girl and eyed the mask skeptically.

“Are you Bastet?”

The girl laughed sweetly, as if truthfully delighted his response. She shook her head and twisted a strand of her raven hair in her finger.

“Bastet is false, my Gaius. I normally choose the form of a cat to commerce with mortals, though I now come to you as a girl, because I believed that a talking cat would have frightened you.” The girl paused and smiled mischievously. “I often call myself Ena; I feel the name suits me, though it is not Egyptian in the slightest.”

The girl dropped her mask and revealed a youthful face to him, of which glowed with immature beauty. If Julius had known what an angel was, he undoubtedly would have taken her as one. The moonlight seemed to reflect off of her ashen skin; her cheeks were highlighted with its radiance.

“And you, Ena, are able to give me what I desire?”

The girl named Ena nodded; the shadow of the cat did as well, dipping its head gracefully as its shoulders pushed against its thin skin.

“Why would you give me these things? How can you even do such? Are you a God?”

A smile passed over her face, though it quickly faded.

“I am not of your false Gods, Gaius, though you could easily compare me to one.” She casually tucked the mask into the folds of her tunic. “Why would I give you what you want? It would be a trade, of course. Nevertheless, you would have to sacrifice nothing yourself.”

Ena continued toward him, offering out her hand. Gaius reluctantly took it; his fingers closed entirely around it. She turned and led him into the moonlight, so that they both were adorned with its gift.

“You can give me power?” Gaius spoke, his voice trembling. “You can really do that? You can save me from the sadness that has befell me?”

Ena affirmed him with a smile.

“I can make it so that you name is immortalized in history; in two-thousand years one would hear, “Julius Caesar” and recognize it. As to the sadness that plagues you, I can give a remedy for that, as well. My Gaius, I can make you the appointed leader of Rome.”

At the girl’s words he began to shake with anticipation. He felt his blood begin to pulse madly through his veins.

“And what do you want from me for your gratitude? I feel as though I have nothing left.”

The young girl smiled, allowing him to see her ivory-colored teeth. She squeezed his hand, and in such a tender voice that only a temptress could manage such a tone, she told him to close his eyes. Julius did, and though he was hesitant, offered not a single word of argument.

Julius felt a tingling sensation on his skin, as though he was riding a chariot nude and being struck with particles of sand. His toga seemed to flail about him and the ring that he wore on his index finger grew suddenly cold. All at once these enigmatic feeling ceased, and he heard Ena’s soft voice order him to open his eyes. He obeyed her, fidgeting with curiosity.

Before him was a sight that he had beheld only a few times prior, though it had been enough to allow him to recognize it immediately. He was in Alexander, and at the entrance of the great library. He looked out upon the city in amazement as his legs grew weak. The torches that lined the streets seemed to flicker like a blanket of stars; the city itself was the cosmos. Ena offered Julius her shoulder and he leaned against it; amazingly the small girl supported him.

“Am I… Truthfully, am I here?” His voice came, quivering in disbelief.

“Undoubtedly. What other city then Alexander looks so majestic at night? If you look far enough, you may see the Nile—or can your eyes see that far?”

He looked for the Nile in vain; if it was there, it was concealed with darkness. Before he could become frustrated by his inability Ena interrupted.

“The river is not truly such a wonderful sight. You wanted to know what you must do if I granted you your wish…” Ena turned and pointed toward the library. “This! This is what I want! I want this to be burned!”

The man glanced at the side of the building. It was decorated with art of a strong Hellenistic influence; the Egyptian Gods were draped with Greek tunics. He was taken aback for a moment at the beautiful paintings, though Ena’s very presence made it impossible to linger on such a meager matter.

“This is all that you want of me? You want this gone? My Gods, can this be truly happening?”

The girl gave him a look of obvious irritation.

“Why would this not be real; do you fail to have trust in me? Yes, my Gaius, I want every last scroll in this farcical building destroyed. I want it so that no mortal can step foot in his building and study.”

“Why?”

The girl backed away from him, forcing him to support himself once more. Her hair was caught briefly in the wind; it rose steadily from her shoulders and traveled back down, each stand seeming to fall into place perfectly.

“This library will be the catalyst for the fate of mankind. I want no one to know anything; these humans will become too arrogant and think they themselves are Gods. I do not want mortals to advance so quickly, and this library…” She inspected it in a loathful manner. “They come to it, their eyes hungry for knowledge… For hours they sit and study, feasting on the written words. I want nothing of this. Besides, it breeds lies.”

Julius was frightened by the young girl’s tone; it seemed to become suddenly vengeful, almost furious. Ena’s eyes softened as she looked again at him, and waited for his response.

“I will… I will do as you request. Please, tell me… What are you? If not a God, then what? Why do you hate the sharing of knowledge? Much knowledge is useless to us, I know this—but what of the scrolls of politics—they are needed! ”

An abrupt gust of wind nearly knocked Julius off his feet. He regained his composure, not failing to notice the girl was unaffected.

“It does not matter what or who I am. I am like God, but I am not him. I am that which is forsaken by everything.” Ena grinned and gestured toward the city. “Alexander is flourishing, is it not? People are happy and believe in so many Gods that control every aspect of their lives… There is so much mystery; it keeps a relative peace within people. What if that mystery were to disappear? You know of these damned philosophers—they express that there is a reasoning to everything, a solution to everything, a logical method to everything… And now we have these amateur scientists that disown their Gods and pry with nature, attempting to decode it, certain that there is another way to explain everything in this world! They truly believe they will achieve absolute knowledge someday! The only thing more foolish then believing everything can be explained is believing that everything will be explained eventually... I want nothing of these foolish philosophers, nor these petty scientists, and it is this library that is their temple. Burn it to the ground, Gaius, and I will immortalize you! Not one will be ignorant of your name!”

Julius was silent for many moments. He bowed his head in thought, debating his decision.

“Your name will be in many tongues…” She teased, reaching up and putting her hand on his chest. “And people will retell your story, performing it as if it were a fabled Greek drama. When you die, people will become drunk with wine, and run through the streets yelling…”

He thought that he saw a mocking smile pass her face, but disregarded it. He grew sick with desire at the thought of her tempting words.

“I will do it.”

His promise left his lips so fearlessly. Ena nodded her head in approval. Her face abruptly turned to that of compassion.

“I understand you are saddened. Julia has just died, has she not? My sincerest apologizes.” She frowned. “In the end, because of her death, Pompey will turn against you. I know the concept seems strange now, Gaius, but trust in me. When this happens I want you to pursue him, Gaius. I want you to follow him to…” Ena paused, as if wording her speech. “I suppose that I may tell you… You will follow him first to Brindisium—and then to Hispania, and finally to Alexander. In Alexander you will not be able to fight him and win; you will be outnumbered no matter how many ships you take. I want you to burn them, Gaius. My wind will do the rest; I will spread the fire, and you will flee with your life. Pompey will be defeated, and this library will be burned… And, you, my Caesar, will become legendary.”

Yet another gust of wind came, though this time it barely affected him.

“How am I to be sure, Ena, that this is not a dream?”

The young girl smiled and removed her mask, once more holding it to her flawless face.

“You are so nonsensical. I will be with you, of course. Close your eyes, my Caesar.”

Julius hesitantly closed his eyes.

Ena did not tell him to open them again, and it was many minutes before he finally gained the courage to do so on his own accord. He quickly found that he was once again in his own bed, and clothed in the gown he remembered going to sleep in. Another despair weighted his heart; the dream had given him such hope.

Julius rose from his bed and walked to a short stool that shelved a glass of wine and a necklace Julia had always worn. He took a sip of the wine and then lifted Julia’s necklace with his spare hand, examining it lovingly.

He looked toward his bed and abruptly let the necklace fall to the ground, its rare jewels sounding as they hit the marble floor.

A black cat sat upon the foot of his bed, watching him with clever eyes.

Ooh, I like it a lot, very mysterious. Though it seems more like historical fiction rather than horror to me. Either way it's really good.