The blue light faded.
Silence.
A deep, velvet silence.
Lilith stood in a library. It was endless. A cathedral of forgotten knowledge. Shelves of dark, ancient wood stretched into shadows high above. They were crammed with books, scrolls, and strange, glowing crystals. The air was still and smelled of dust, old parchment, and something else. A faint, sharp smell. Like ozone after a strike.
Noah's trail was a whisper here. A ghost moving between the stacks. He had passed through like a careful scholar. Taking only what he needed. Leaving the rest undisturbed.
The tenth floor had been stone and storm. This place was thought and memory. A different kind of test.
She took a step. Her boot made no sound on the deep, dark rug.
The silence broke.
Not with a roar. With a rustle.
From a shelf to her left, a book slid out. It did not fall. It floated. Its pages fluttered open. Words bled from the paper. Black ink dripped into the air. The drops pooled. Formed a shape.
