Lucien's mind churned with an eerie disquiet long after the elderly librarian had vanished into the depths of the Bibliotheca. The weight of the forbidden tome hidden beneath his coat felt heavier than it should—like an anchor tethering him to something far beyond his understanding. He could still feel the phantom echo of the whispers threading through his thoughts, each syllable gnawing at the edges of his sanity.
He needed answers.
With one final glance over his shoulder, Lucien gathered his things and left the archives, the ancient stone halls of the Bibliotheca stretching around him like a maze of secrets. The gaslights flickered overhead, their weak glow barely keeping the encroaching darkness at bay. Each step he took down the winding corridors seemed to carry a strange reverberation, as if something unseen was following him, lurking just beyond his peripheral vision.
His destination was clear: the hidden alcove on the third floor.
The Bibliotheca had many concealed nooks, but few knew of the alcove tucked away behind the section on arcane history. It was a place where Lucien once sought solitude in his earlier days, back when curiosity had been his only driving force—before it became his undoing. The narrow staircase creaked beneath his weight as he climbed higher, his pulse thudding in his ears.
Reaching the third floor, Lucien moved with practiced ease through the labyrinthine shelves until he found it—the worn oak bookcase that concealed the alcove. With a quick glance to ensure no one was watching, he pressed against the hidden lever disguised as a protruding spine of an old tome. The bookshelf groaned and shifted aside, revealing a cramped chamber bathed in shadows.
Slipping inside, Lucien secured the entrance and placed the mysterious book on the small wooden table at the room's center. His fingers trembled as he brushed the cracked leather cover, the texture unnervingly organic, almost as if the book were a living thing. Taking a deep breath, he flipped it open.
The pages were brittle yet pulsed with a strange warmth, covered in ink that bled and shifted before his eyes. Symbols he couldn't comprehend danced across the parchment, twisting and writhing like tendrils of smoke. It was written in no known language—at least, none Lucien had ever encountered in his years of study.
He traced a cautious finger over the first line, and immediately, a low hum filled the air.
"Veil of the Void... Echoes of the Forgotten..."
Lucien recoiled, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs. The words weren't just on the page—they resonated inside his skull, carving themselves into his very essence. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to press on, flipping through the pages at a measured pace.
Sketches accompanied the text—dark, disturbing depictions of creatures with too many eyes, too many limbs, and forms that defied the natural order. One particular illustration caught his attention: a robed figure standing before an immense door, its surface covered in the same pulsating runes he had seen on the hidden chamber's entrance.
A knot formed in his stomach.
Had someone else opened that door before him? And if so, what had they unleashed?
A sudden rustling sound snapped him out of his thoughts.
Lucien froze.
The alcove was supposed to be soundproof, but now he could hear it—something faint scraping against the walls beyond the bookshelf. His breath hitched as he doused the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. He strained his ears, the sound growing clearer... closer.
Scrape. Scrape.
Lucien clenched his fists. Was it another librarian? A fellow scholar? Or... something else? He dared not move, feeling the oppressive weight of unseen eyes bearing down on him. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the noise stopped.
Minutes passed in suffocating silence.
Finally, convinced he was alone once more, Lucien exhaled shakily and turned his attention back to the book. He flipped further through the pages, his eyes darting over fragmented phrases:
"The Sleepers dream beneath the tides..."
"The Hollow Gate awaits..."
"The First Herald shall rise when the stars align..."
Lucien's fingers tightened around the book's edges. He had stumbled onto something far older, far darker than he had ever imagined. The echoes of ancient myths—the kind spoken of in hushed tones by superstitious sailors and banished scholars. Legends of entities beyond mortal comprehension, slumbering beneath the fabric of reality itself.
Could this be the reason the library's restricted wing existed? To contain such knowledge?
A sharp knock on the bookcase jolted him.
"Lucien," a voice hissed from the other side. "Open up."
He recognized that voice—Edgar Vaughn, an old colleague and the only person in the Bibliotheca who still spoke to him after his fall from grace. With reluctance, Lucien shifted the book under his cloak and pressed the lever to open the hidden passage.
Edgar slipped inside, his expression taut with worry. "Damn it, Lucien. I knew you'd go poking around in things best left untouched."
His sharp eyes scanned the darkened room before settling on the hidden tome. "What the hell is that?"
Lucien hesitated before replying. "Something I found in the restricted wing," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's... old, Edgar. Far older than the Bibliotheca itself. And it's calling to me."
Edgar swore under his breath, running a hand through his graying hair. "You're playing with fire, Lucien. The senior scholars—hell, even the Inquisition—won't take kindly to this."
Lucien swallowed hard, his mind racing. "I need to understand it," he said. "I think it's connected to something bigger... something hidden beneath the city itself."
Edgar sighed. "You're too stubborn for your own good." He glanced toward the entrance. "Look, I'll cover for you for now, but you need to be careful. There are things within this place that shouldn't see the light of day."
Lucien nodded, a silent gratitude passing between them. As Edgar slipped back into the hall, Lucien turned his gaze once more to the book, the pages whispering promises of forbidden truths and power beyond mortal comprehension.
He knew he was stepping into the unknown, but there was no turning back now.
Somewhere deep in the library, the whispers resumed—soft, insidious, and filled with longing.
"Come closer..."
Lucien shuddered but did not look away.
The journey had only just begun.
End of Chapter 2