The air warped around it, pages rustling on their own as if reacting to the unnatural presence forcing its way in. And then-
Something stepped through.
It wasn't like the Veilkeeper. The Veilkeeper was an absence, a force of silence. But this-this thing that had entered their world-was presence incarnate. Its form flickered, shifting between humanoid and something far less comprehensible. Its eyes-if they could even be called that-were voids upon voids, layered in twisting spirals of forgotten existence. And it was looking directly at Caelum.
A name flickered at the edges of his mind. Not a name he had ever learned, but one he had known all the same.
And then-it was gone.
Caelum was only eight when he first realized the world was missing pieces.
He sat beneath the massive oak tree outside his childhood home, flipping through a storybook his mother had given him. Or at least, he thought she had given it to him.
The book had no title. No author. Only empty pages where words should have been.
He had run to his mother, confused, asking if it was a joke. But the moment he tried to show her the book-
It wasn't there anymore.
She had laughed, ruffling his hair, dismissing his concern with a fond smile. "You've got an active imagination, love. No such book exists."
But Caelum had held it. He had turned its pages. He had read what little remained of its vanishing words.
And in that moment, he understood something no child should have to understand.
Some things were meant to be forgotten.
And some things refused to stay that way.
The entity took a step forward, the whispering around them intensifying into something almost like speech. Lyra yanked Caelum backward, breaking whatever trance held him.
"We have to move! Now!"
Caelum's grip tightened around the book, instincts screaming that this was the only thing keeping them tethered to reality. The entity moved again, its presence warping the space around it. Shelves groaned, books trembled, the very walls of the Library seemed to recoil from it.
And then-
The doorway began to close.
The entity didn't try to stop it. It simply turned its head-the way one acknowledges a lesser being before deciding it isn't worth their time. But before the darkness sealed shut, it whispered something.
A name.
Caelum didn't hear it. Not fully. But the sound of it sent ice through his veins. The syllables slithered against his thoughts, unraveling the very fabric of coherence for just a fraction of a second-
And then, the doorway snapped shut, leaving only silence in its wake.
Lyra exhaled sharply, pulling her trembling fingers through her silver hair. "That was-"
Caelum finished for her. "A warning."
But even as he said it, he knew that wasn't quite right.
Warnings were meant to be heeded.
This had been a reminder.
Of something he had already forgotten.
The silence pressed against them, thick and absolute. The dim light of the library flickered, casting elongated shadows that trembled against the warped walls. Caelum's heartbeat pounded in his ears, the residual echo of the entity's presence still clawing at his thoughts.
Lyra was the first to break the silence. "We can't stay here. Whatever that was... it knew you, Caelum. And it's not the only one."
Caelum swallowed hard, shifting his grip on the book. His fingers were white from holding it too tightly. "I don't understand. I don't even know what I'm running from anymore."
Lyra gave him a look that was equal parts frustration and concern. "That's exactly why we have to keep running."
She turned on her heel and started moving again, her boots barely making a sound against the old wooden floor. Caelum hesitated for only a second before following. The walls of the library loomed around them, stretching impossibly high, lined with endless shelves of books-books filled with knowledge that had been erased from the world.
Or at least, should have been.
A question burned at the edge of Caelum's mind. "Lyra... how much do you actually remember?"
She didn't answer at first. Then, without looking at him, she murmured, "More than most. But less than I should."
The words made his stomach twist. "And me?"
Lyra stopped. Slowly, she turned back toward him, her expression unreadable. "You, Caelum..." She exhaled through her nose, glancing away before fixing her eyes on him again. "You remember things you're not supposed to. And that's a problem."
A chill crept up his spine. "A problem for who?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she turned and started walking again, leaving Caelum no choice but to follow.
Somewhere behind them, beyond the closed doorway, something stirred.
It did not move like a man.
It did not think like a man.
But it knew.
It knew the boy had heard the name.
And it knew the boy had not yet forgotten.
Not yet.
The corridor ahead of them was unfamiliar. Not that it mattered-nothing in the Library followed the laws of permanence. Hallways shifted, doors led to places they shouldn't, and books that had once existed could vanish in the space of a breath.
Caelum pressed a hand to the wall as they walked, feeling the faint hum beneath his fingertips. The Library was alive in its own way. And right now, it was uneasy.
"Where are we even going?" he asked quietly.
Lyra's pace didn't falter. "Somewhere safe."
Caelum scoffed. "Pretty sure that doesn't exist anymore."
She gave him a dry look over her shoulder. "Then we'll find the closest thing to it."
The hallway split ahead-two paths, identical in appearance, stretching into the unknown. Lyra hesitated for only a second before choosing the left.
Caelum wasn't so sure.
Something about the right corridor pulled at him. Not physically, not even in any tangible way-just a subtle, nagging sensation in the back of his mind. Like a half-remembered dream that refused to be ignored.
He slowed. "Wait."
Lyra turned, frowning. "Caelum, we don't have time for-"
"Just- hold on."
His gaze drifted down the right corridor. The pull was stronger now, an inexplicable certainty settling in his chest. He didn't know why, but he knew without a doubt-
There was something there.
Something he was meant to find.
He met Lyra's gaze, and for the first time, there was uncertainty in hers. He could tell she felt it too, even if she didn't want to acknowledge it.
She sighed, rubbing her temple. "If we die because of this, I'm going to haunt you."
Caelum huffed a laugh and took the first step forward.
The Library did not resist.
And that was perhaps the most terrifying thing of all.