Ezra moved.
Not just running— escaping.
Because the thing in the town wasn't chasing him yet.
But it would.
The monastery blurred behind him as he sprinted down the mountain path, loose stones slipping beneath his boots. The wind howled, the air still warped from whatever had just broken free.
His other self walked casually beside him, not the least bit out of breath. "So, thoughts?"
Ezra grit his teeth. "On what?"
"The giant, impossible nightmare that just looked at you like a long-lost friend."
Ezra's stomach twisted.
Because that was what had unnerved him the most.
Not that it had seen him.
But that its gaze had felt familiar.
Like it had been waiting for him.
Ezra exhaled sharply, focusing on the path ahead. "Not the time."
His other self grinned. "Oh, but it will be."
Ezra ignored him.
The hooded woman had disappeared, vanishing the moment he ran. He wasn't sure if she was still watching, or if she had simply finished whatever test she had planned.
Didn't matter.
He needed distance.
Needed to get somewhere it couldn't follow.
His mind ran through his options. The town was out—completely compromised. The monastery was no longer safe.
That left—
His stomach dropped.
Oh, hell.
The only place left was the Nameless Archive.
The buried library.
The place where he had first woken up in this world.
His other self laughed.
"You really can't escape the past, huh?"
Ezra cursed under his breath.
He didn't have a choice.
He turned sharply, veering off the mountain path—
Straight toward the place where it had all begun.
Ezra didn't slow down.
The mountain wind howled around him, tearing at his cloak, but he kept moving.
Every instinct screamed at him to look back. To check if the thing in the town was following.
But he didn't.
Because somehow, he knew.
If he looked back—
He'd see something he wasn't ready for.
His other self walked beside him, golden eyes glinting. "So, tell me—do you actually think the Archive is safer, or are we just running there because it's familiar?"
Ezra exhaled sharply. "Does it matter?"
"Not really. But I enjoy watching you justify bad decisions."
Ezra ignored him.
The Nameless Archive sat buried at the foot of the mountains, hidden beneath layers of collapsed stone and forgotten history. It was older than the monastery, older than the town.
A place that had been sealed for a reason.
And now he was heading straight for it.
Again.
He clenched his jaw. No choice.
The air around him crackled.
Not with fire—not with anything tangible.
With something conceptual.
The feeling of something shifting. Changing. Preparing.
Ezra knew that sensation well by now.
The world was about to rewrite itself again.
And this time—
He had a feeling it was going to involve him directly.
The entrance to the Archive came into view. A jagged crevice in the rock, half-buried, almost easy to miss.
Ezra didn't hesitate.
He plunged inside.
The darkness swallowed him whole.
And the moment he did—
Something behind him shifted.
Not footsteps.
Not an impact.
Just a quiet, acknowledging presence.
As if the thing in the town had just smiled.
The air inside the Nameless Archive was thick.
Not with dust— with memory.
Ezra slowed his pace, the weight of the place settling over him like an old, heavy cloak.
He had been here before.
Woken up here.
But this time, it felt… different.
Like the Archive had been waiting for him to return.
His other self whistled, looking around. "Still cozy. Still cursed. I see nothing's changed."
Ezra ignored him.
The entrance tunnel narrowed, the walls lined with half-rotted bookshelves. Faded ink. Pages that had never been read.
And deeper ahead—
The core of the Archive.
The place where he had first opened his eyes in this world.
A grand, ruined library of endless halls and impossible staircases. Shelves stacked higher than sight.
A place where books were not just books.
A place where stories were buried.
Ezra exhaled slowly. He needed answers.
Because the thing in the town—
It had recognized him.
And that meant—
"…You're running out of time."
Ezra's head snapped up.
The voice was not his other self.
It was deeper. A whisper that didn't echo.
And it came from the shadows between the shelves.
Ezra's fingers tightened around his dagger.
He wasn't alone.
The Archive had remembered him.
And it was ready to speak.
Ezra's grip tightened on his dagger, but he didn't draw it.
Not yet.
Because the voice that had spoken— it wasn't human.
It wasn't an intruder, either.
It was part of this place.
His other self leaned lazily against a half-rotted shelf. "Well, that's new. The Archive didn't talk to us last time."
Ezra exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I noticed."
A pause.
Then, the whispering voice returned.
"You are not supposed to be here again."
Ezra's stomach twisted. "Yeah? Well, I didn't exactly have a choice."
Silence.
Then, the shadows between the shelves moved.
Not like a creature. Not like something stepping out.
Like the library itself shifted.
Like the space between the bookshelves exhaled.
Ezra felt it.
The weight of something unseen pressing against him.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just old.
"You have broken a second chain."
Ezra clenched his jaw. "Not by choice."
"Choice is an illusion. The path was always leading here."
Ezra's fingers twitched. "And what the hell does that mean?"
The Archive laughed.
A sound like pages turning in a book that had never been read.
"It means you were always going to return to the place where it began."
Ezra's breath slowed.
Because the voice wasn't wrong.
Somewhere, deep in his gut—he had always known he would end up back here.
Because the Nameless Archive wasn't just where he had woken up.
It was where his story had started.
And if he wanted answers—
He would have to go deeper.
Ezra took a slow breath.
The air in the Nameless Archive was thick —not with dust, but with something heavier. Expectation.
The unseen presence in the shadows had gone silent, but Ezra could still feel it. Watching. Waiting.
His other self smirked. "You gonna keep standing there, or are we going to do something reckless?"
Ezra exhaled sharply. "You act like those are different things."
His other self chuckled but didn't argue.
Ezra turned his attention forward.
The Archive was changing.
He wasn't imagining it. The shelves had shifted when the voice spoke—like something inside the library had opened a door just for him.
A new path.
One that hadn't existed before.
Ezra didn't trust it.
But he had no other options.
He moved.
The deeper he went, the more the Archive warped.
The bookshelves grew taller, their pages whispering as he passed. Some books had titles scratched away , others had words bleeding through the covers, shifting as if alive.
And then, the floor changed.
No longer stone.
No longer wood.
Something softer.
Something that felt like ink.
Ezra's footsteps didn't echo anymore.
A cold sensation curled at the back of his mind. Something was waiting ahead.
His other self grinned. "Oh, you feel that too, don't you?"
Ezra didn't respond.
Because in the distance—at the very end of the shifting path—
A door stood waiting.
Not part of the library.
Not part of the world.
And deep in his gut—
Ezra knew.
This was the door he wasn't supposed to open.
Which meant, of course—
He was going to open it anyway.