For a long moment, no one moved.
The archive room remained wrapped in dimness, the lights flickering weakly as if unsure whether to fully commit to darkness. Daniel stood rigid beside the table, Evelyn just behind his shoulder, Clara gripping the back of a chair like she might throw it if necessary.
Victor Laurent swept a calm, assessing gaze over the three of them.
"Relax," he said lightly. "If I meant you harm, I wouldn't announce myself."
"That's not helping," Clara snapped.
Victor's expression softened, but only slightly. "Perhaps not. But honesty is owed here, I think."
Evelyn stepped forward. "Then explain. Why does the manuscript respond to you?"
Victor considered her. "That answer is a story in itself."
His eyes drifted back to the glowing parchment. "And Havenport is older than the history books claim."
Daniel narrowed his eyes. "Older how?"
Victor clasped his hands behind his back, adopting a stance too measured to be casual. "The city was founded three hundred years ago—or so we teach. But the land, the structures beneath the foundations… they're far older. And the manuscript is tied to those origins."
Clara scoffed. "Are you saying there's an underground city or something?"
Victor met her gaze. "Not a city. A sanctuary."
Evelyn blinked. "A sanctuary for what?"
"Not for," Victor corrected softly. "From."
Silence thickened. Daniel's pulse quickened. He couldn't tell whether Victor was being cryptic for dramatic effect or because the truth genuinely came in riddles.
"What does this have to do with you?" Daniel asked.
Victor's jaw tightened at the question—a small twitch of discomfort or reluctance. "My lineage," he said finally, "is connected to the second contributor of the manuscript. The one who altered it."
Clara's eyes widened. "You're a descendant?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't think that was important to disclose?" Evelyn demanded.
Victor lifted his chin. "Disclosure invites scrutiny. Scrutiny invites chaos. This library—this city—isn't ready."
Daniel's breath hitched. "We are dealing with a living manuscript that pulses like a heartbeat and alters lights without touching them. We're already in chaos."
That earned him a faint smile from Evelyn.
Victor's tone, however, darkened. "If this is chaos to you, Daniel, then you truly have no idea what this manuscript is capable of."
The lights flickered, brighter this time, then steadied into a soft glow. The manuscript's pulse aligned with the new brightness—slow, controlled.
Daniel swallowed. "Then tell us. What is it?"
Victor approached the table, but this time he did not touch the manuscript. Instead, he gestured toward its surface.
"The original author," he explained, "was a historian of a hidden order—an order that protected Havenport's earliest settlers from forces they believed were drawn to knowledge, to memory, to stories themselves."
Clara whispered, "Forces?"
"Some called them specters. Others called them echoes. Fragments of the past that lingered too long, desperate to anchor themselves to the living. But the historian believed they were something else entirely—sentient remnants of forgotten events that clawed for new meaning."
Evelyn shivered. "That's… horrifying."
Victor nodded. "Yes. And the manuscript was designed as a containment tool. A written labyrinth to imprison these remnants. But centuries later, one of my ancestors tampered with it."
"Why?" Clara demanded.
Victor's voice lowered. "Power. Influence. Curiosity. You may choose whichever suits the story best. The result, however, was irreversible. Instead of trapping remnants, the altered manuscript began to attract them."
Daniel's stomach tightened.
"So the anomalies we're seeing—"
"Are echoes," Victor finished quietly. "Early ones. Weak ones. But they will grow stronger."
Evelyn exhaled shakily. "Then the manuscript is dangerous."
"In the wrong hands," Victor agreed.
"And yours are the right ones?" Clara shot back.
Victor ignored the barb. "My family's records contain fragments of how to control it. Not destroy it. Not close it. Control. Enough to prevent the city from falling into whatever lies beneath its history."
Daniel ran a hand through his hair. The information felt impossible—yet the manuscript's behavior, the unnatural lights, the shifting ink… nothing so far had been normal.
But one thing bothered him deeply.
"Why did it react to me?" he asked.
Evelyn turned toward him, brows tense, waiting for Victor's answer as intently as he was.
Victor studied Daniel with a curiosity tinged with something colder.
"I've wondered the same," Victor said. "At first, I assumed you triggered it by accident. That its awakening was random. But the manuscript has never reacted to anyone unrelated to its lineage." He paused. "Until now."
Daniel felt a jolt in his chest. "What are you implying?"
"That something in the manuscript recognizes you." Victor's tone was not accusing—but it wasn't gentle either. "Or needs you."
"Needs him for what?" Evelyn asked sharply.
Victor's gaze returned to the parchment. "To complete its purpose."
Clara crossed her arms. "Okay, that's vague and terrifying. Care to be specific?"
"No." Victor's voice sharpened. "Not yet. If I'm correct, revealing too much too quickly could accelerate its awakening."
"That's convenient," Clara muttered.
Daniel stepped forward. "If you know something important, you need to tell us."
Victor met his eyes. "And risk triggering a surge that could tear this building apart? Or worse—summon something we are not prepared to confront?"
Daniel faltered. Evelyn took a step closer to him, her shoulder brushing his, grounding him.
Victor's gaze flicked between them, unreadable. "For now," he said, "all I ask is that you trust me."
Clara barked a laugh. "Trust you? You hid your connection to a supernatural manuscript that reacts to danger like a pet recognizing its owner. That's not exactly trust-building."
Victor's expression cooled. "I'm not here to be liked, Miss Henderson. I'm here to prevent a catastrophe."
Evelyn eyed him. "Then what do we do next?"
Victor looked at Daniel, not her.
"You keep it stable. Continue what you've been doing."
Daniel tensed. "Which is what, exactly?"
"Interacting with it," Victor said softly. "It already chose you. If you stop now, it may shift its attention toward something—or someone—more vulnerable. You don't want that."
Daniel's chest tightened. He didn't want anything near Evelyn or Clara.
Or the library.
Or Havenport.
He nodded slowly.
Victor's shoulders eased. "Good."
Clara didn't look convinced. "And you? What will you do?"
Victor turned toward the door. "Prepare for what comes next."
Evelyn frowned. "Which is?"
Victor paused, hand on the doorframe.
"The manuscript is only the beginning."
He left without another word.
The door clicked shut, leaving the three of them surrounded by the muffled hum of the archive lights.
For several seconds, none of them spoke.
Clara let out a shaky exhale. "I officially hate him."
Evelyn rubbed her forehead. "At least he gave us something."
Daniel stared at the manuscript, which had grown quiet again—no pulse, no glow, only a faint warmth beneath the parchment.
"Not enough," he murmured.
Evelyn moved beside him. "You okay?"
Daniel nodded, but his voice betrayed him. "I don't know why it chose me."
Evelyn's hand hesitated before resting lightly on his arm. "We'll figure it out. Together."
The contact was soft, but it steadied him instantly. He exhaled slowly.
Clara pretended to be very interested in her tablet. "We should document everything he said."
"We will," Daniel said. "Tomorrow morning."
Evelyn blinked. "You're staying?"
"The manuscript shouldn't be left alone tonight."
He met her gaze. "Victor said it reacts to vulnerability. I can't risk it drawing attention from anyone else."
Evelyn hesitated. "Then I'll stay too."
Daniel shook his head. "No. You need rest."
"So do you," she countered.
Clara lifted a brow. "I'll stay. If either of you passes out, someone has to log the data."
Daniel sighed. "Fine. But we all take shifts."
It wasn't ideal. It wasn't safe. But nothing about this manuscript had been safe since the day he found it.
Daniel pulled a chair close to the table, the manuscript bathed in soft lamplight. Evelyn settled at the opposite end, Clara typing notes nearby.
Outside, Havenport's night deepened—silent, heavy, watching.
And somewhere beneath the calm…
something stirred.