I glanced around, searching for a trace. Nothing answered. Only silence responded. I should've ignored it from the start. All that effort, for nothing. Every muscle in my body was practically begging. I pressed a thumb into my brow and dragged it up, the pressure eased my headache, hoping it would clear my head.
Maybe it was due to exhaustion. But I knew what I saw.
"Oi!" Lars's voice cracked across the hall, bouncing between pillars. "Why'd you go off on your—Hey—Wait up!"
I turned around and caught him stumbling my way, one hand gripping his chest. His face was flushed red, gasping for air, looking like he just finished a marathon.
"I am going to die," Lars wheezed.
I know this place. Standing here, right at the mouth of the east wing, everything felt familiar. Smelling like old paper and depression.
"Why are we here?" Lars asked, still gasping for air.
I stared at him for a while before giving my answer. "... Wait, you followed me?"
"Huh?" Lars blinked up at me, confused and sweating., "... What are you on?"
"I saw you walk off," Lars said, still bent forward, "and then I started thinking, 'Hey, he's walking pretty fast,' and then suddenly I was running. And now I'm dying."
"You do look like one," I said.
"I am," Lars muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Also, why are we here? It smells like old paper and depression."
"That's exactly what I thought too," I remarked.
Lars squinted at me. "Why'd you have to run?"
"I wasn't running. Walking. Very fast," I countered.
Lars opened his mouth, closed it, then pointed weakly at me. "That's still running."
"Not by technicality," I said, shrugging lightly.
"What does that even—" He groaned, waving it off. "Never mind. My lungs hurt."
I glanced back and straight ahead. And at the end of it, half-hidden behind the last column, waited the old door, slightly open.
"Why not take a rest there first?" I said, nodding toward it. "I'm pretty sure there are chairs inside."
Lars followed my gaze, "Wasn't that closed? They forbid people there."
"Well, it's open see."
"I don't think we—" Lars glanced down, "Fine, for a few minutes."
"No juice left?" I asked, a small smile slipping out.
"Oi, help me," Lars croaked. "Can't move my legs anymore."
"Stop being dramatic. Drag your ass there," I said, nudging him lightly.
"I'm dying," Lars muttered.
I stepped closer.
The Library.
The carvings on the door showed their age. The spiraling patterns had softened over time as if worn down by generations. The ancient script lining the frame was impossible to read. I slowed without meaning to, my fingers brushing the warm, worn surface, the texture had a slight groove where countless hands had pushed it open before me. No footsteps behind the door. No pages turning. No faint coughs or whispers leaking through the cracks.
I opened the door, low steady groan. The scent of paper, ink, and something metallic beneath greeted us. I stepped inside first.
The library opened up, surrounding us in a wide, circular hall. Six floors rose in tiers, each one wrapped with metal carved railings that traced the shape of the place. Shelves rose along every level, packed and orderly. Lantern crystals hung from the ceiling and the wall, casting soft pool of light, spreading across the walkways and the rows below.
Lars let out a quiet whistle behind me. "Okay... This place is bigger."
My eyes scanned the railings above, the shadows tucked between shelves, the staircases curling along the walls. I was looking for a movement. A shape. Anything that might match the figure. Any clue.
The quietness wasn't comforting, especially not this time. Lars let out a long, miserable sound before slumping into the nearest chair, his head falling back as if his body finally given up.
I patted his shoulder, "Hey, I'm going to take a look around."
"Oi," Lars said, muffled by exhaustion. "You—ah, what the hell. I'm too tired." He rested his head back against the chair, giving up entirely.
"Just sit there. I'll bring you something to read. How's that sound?"
Lars's eyes lit up, then gave me a thumbs up.
I returned the gesture, giving him a thumbs up before turning away.
I climbed the spiral staircase to the next floor. The shelves stretched in neat rows, following the arc of the wall. The stillness here felt deeper like the air was asking me to keep quiet.
There were two libraries in the academy. The first was the one everyone used. This wasn't that place. This was the other one, the one reserved for scholars and the handful of students clawing their way toward Magister Atrium. A place you needed formal permission to enter. A place I definitely didn't have any business standing in front of.
And yet the door was open. That person probably went in here. Who could blame me, the moment I saw the crack of light, my legs were already on their way inside. So here I was, inside of the library. If the academy caught us, they would certainly drag us out by the collar and toss us out.
I just hope they can be lenient... if things goes wrong.
Even after looking around, not a single person in sight nor a trace. The floor creaked softly under my feet. I turned a corner. Then slipped between two rows of towering shelves. I moved carefully. My fingers brush along the spines as I passed, tracing faded gold lettering.
Then I stopped. Something drew me to a particular book, though I couldn't say why. I reached out and pulled a book free. Then holding it against my arm. The leather was cracked, worn almost to a thread. I flipped it open and skimmed the pages. The text were perfectly clear despite the worn look outside.
A foreign language. I muttered under my breath, tilting my head. It felt like the more I read the less it makes sense.
A cold crawled up my neck.
This feeling...
My vision blurred. The text in the book slid off the pages. Then the book slipped from my hands and fell to the floor. I staggered back, shoulders slamming against the shelf behind me. For a second, the world split. Four books where one had been. Two aisles stretching too far. Shelves leaning, bending, like they were about to whisper something.
I blinked.
I pushed myself off the shelf and hurried back toward the railing. The curved walkway felt longer than before, stretching, or maybe even looping. The whole library seemed to be larger than it had been a minute ago.
I grabbed the cold railing and leaned over the edge, staring toward the entrance below.
"I think I'm going to puke." I muttered.
And then I noticed it.
The library didn't feel like a building anymore. The stairs twisted, climbing and dropping in directions that shouldn't exist. One turn up, one turn sideways, one turn straight into nothing. Floors showed up, then disappeared the moment I blinked. The shelves didn't line the walls so much as multiply, looping on themselves, bending. The ceiling felt miles away and somehow pressing right against the back of my skull at the same time.
The aisles looped back on themselves, but never in the same way twice. A shelf I passed stretched longer, the books multiplying. Lantern crystals hung unevenly, their light bouncing off the polished wood into corners that shouldn't exist. Shadows leaned into one another, folding, breaking, repeating.
I stepped forward. The floor beneath flexed, subtle but real.
"Lar—!" I tried to scream Lars' name.
And then I felt it.
Not in sight, not yet. But the air did become thick and heavy. A heavy sensation that pressed against my chest, or curling around my ribs. The shadows in the corners pooled darker, deeper, moving without reason.
Then I saw it—
A massive shape emerged from the folds of the library. It had limbs that bent and twisted against themselves, dark as the space between stars. A face—or many faces—shifted constantly. Eyes, teeth, mouths, all moving in the wrong way.
The floor trembled beneath me, though nothing touched it. The aisles below spiraled endlessly, repeating themselves in impossible patterns. The library itself seemed to fold around it, reshaping, stretching, bending time and space.
It waited. Patiently.
Despite the distance, I could feel it... breathing down my neck. Every hair on my arms stood up. I swallowed, something tasted metallic in my tongue. I stepped forward a fraction, convincing myself the gap would be sufficient enough.
…Does it even breathe? What is that? I don't remember a creature like in game. What is this? This place? What's happening?
I staggered back in horror, pressing against the railing, praying it wouldn't notice me. Each step felt heavier, like I'm being dragged down by something unseen. Every move felt watched and measured, evaluated by eyes I couldn't count. And yet… I couldn't look away.