Cedric kept glancing over his shoulder every three steps. It was understandable—nothing in the Level of Lost Memories looked safe—but his jitteriness was starting to irritate the Athenaeum itself. A few fused parchment fragments on the walls fluttered like annoyed insects.
Marikka touched his elbow.A small, steady vibration: breathe; nothing is biting you yet.Cedric inhaled.Didn't look reassured.
Aurelian moved ahead with calm certainty, as if the shifting hallways existed solely to accommodate him. It was one of the many reasons apprentices whispered that the Athenaeum liked him. Or feared him. Hard to say.
"Alistair awaits us," Aurelian said, his lips precise for Marikka's benefit. "He has been briefed."
Cedric made a strangled sound. "Maestro Alistair? The one who corrects your posture even when you're just standing still?"
Marikka raised an eyebrow.Cedric amended instantly: "I mean—respectfully."
The corridor reshaped itself around them, pages retreating into the stone before sliding back out in fresh layers, like skin adjusting to a changing body. The Athenaeum was unsettled; Marikka felt it. The book in her arms trembled in sympathetic fear—or was it anticipation?
When the doorway appeared at the end of the hall, it wasn't surprising. Doors manifested here the way sighs escape from tired lungs. But this one was peculiar: parchment compressed into a smooth surface, marked by a faint diagonal-split circle.
A symbol she had seen before—only in the book's memory.
It vibrated at her gaze.Recognition.
Aurelian placed a hand on the door, and it folded inward silently, like a sheet of soft vellum.
Inside, the room was far brighter than the corridor, almost serene. Ivory light cascaded from unseen heights. Shelves spiraled inward like the rings of a tree, all pointing toward the scholar standing at their center.
Maestro Alistair.
He didn't need an introduction. His entire posture was one: straight spine, composed presence, hair pulled back neatly, robes immaculate. Even the books piled around him seemed arranged according to some internal law only he understood.
When he saw Marikka, he greeted her with the smallest inclination of his head.When he saw Cedric, his eyebrow rose precisely three millimeters—enough to ask why is he here?When he saw the book, even Alistair faltered.
"Grand Bibliarch," he said, bowing just enough to be formal but not subservient. "I expected updates. But not… that."
His tone was controlled neutrality—Alistair's version of shock.
Aurelian nodded. "This tome predates all catalogs. It is unregistered and responds solely to Marikka."
Alistair examined Marikka as though she were a rare artifact accidentally left in the wrong aisle."Archivist Marikka," he said, "what emotional states have you detected so far?"
Cedric tensed like someone awaiting a duel.Marikka touched the book lightly. Vibrations coursed through her fingers, arranging themselves into meaning. She translated into gestures:
Pain.Fear.Broken memory.Recognition of this place.
Aurelian voiced her signs.
Alistair frowned—not disapprovingly, but thoughtfully. "Unusual. Many volumes here carry echoes of forgotten eras, but none exhibit active emotional cognition."
Cedric raised a hand timidly. "Uhm… so this one does? That seems… not ideal."
Alistair stared at him as if contemplating whether he was a real apprentice or a misplaced footnote."It is unprecedented."
The book vibrated sharply, drawing everyone's attention. Marikka set it on the central table. The table trembled under its weight—not physical, but symbolic.
The tome opened by itself, pages fluttering like nervous wings until one landed, trembling.
Marikka touched the scarred margin.
The vision struck instantly.
The golden hall again—brighter this time.Figures speaking in harmonics she could not decipher.The towering tome pulsing like a living heart.Fear. Urgency.Then the gloved hand.Pages torn from the soul of the book—
Marikka gasped and staggered.Alistair caught her arm swiftly.
"What did you witness?" he asked, voice low, unexpectedly gentle.
Her gestures were quick, shaky:Golden room.Unknown beings.A large living tome.Pages ripped out.Fear—overwhelming.
Aurelian looked grim. "That hall does not match any epoch the Athenaeum has recorded."
"Nor the beings," Alistair added. "Nor their language. Nor the magic."He paused, eyes narrowing. "This may not be from our current version of reality."
Cedric blanched. "Our… version?"
Aurelian nodded solemnly. "Before the Rewriting."
Cedric sat down on a stack of books he definitely shouldn't sit on.
The trembling intensified.The ink along the page began rearranging into a pulse.
Marikka touched the words.A vibration seeped into her fingertips:
"Name."
Alistair inhaled sharply. "It seeks itself. It is attempting to rebuild its identity.""That should not be possible," he added."Unless it was never meant to be erased," Aurelian said.
A tremor rolled across the room.Shelves shifted inward by a fraction.Loose pages rustled with no wind.Something else was stirring.
Cedric flinched. "Why is the room doing… that thing again? The breathing thing? Don't tell me it's normal."
A thin thread of blue light cracked across a far wall.The air pressure dropped.
Marikka felt it first—A presence sliding into the Athenaeum.Heavy. Curious. Not yet hostile.
The book convulsed.Another pulse burned into her hand:
"Others."
Silence fell.
Aurelian exchanged a look with Alistair."If this volume is a surviving fragment…""Then the others may already be awakening," Alistair finished.
Marikka's heartbeat quickened.The book had grown heavier—a sign it was absorbing memory from surroundings.
Cedric trembled. "Shouldn't we—tell someone? Preferably someone trained to handle cosmic catastrophes?"
Aurelian fixed him with a stare that communicated not helping.
Then he turned to Marikka."From this moment on, you alone may interpret the tome. No one will attempt to read it without you. You will not be left unprotected."
Alistair nodded once. "We will safeguard both you and the text. It is clear it is being sought."
A low vibration thrummed through the stone beneath them.
Something answered from the depths.
Marikka felt it.Cedric felt it in his bones.Alistair in the air pressure.Aurelian in the ink itself.
The book vibrated once more—this time desperately.
A final word pulsed into Marikka's skin:
"Near."
Her breath froze.
Something had awakened the book's memories.And now something—or someone—was coming for it.