The wind howled through the narrow alleyways of Eldenwald as Ezra walked, his mind circling the same thought over and over.
Someone had erased Crowne's existence.
Not just from the university records. Not just from the archives. From reality itself.
The file should have been there. The case should have been logged. Yet the clerk had looked at him like it had never existed. Like Crowne had never existed.
Ezra pulled his coat tighter as he stepped onto Whitmore Street. The book—The Hidden Laws—was tucked securely under his arm, wrapped in cloth. He hadn't dared to open it. Not yet.
His apartment wasn't far now. He just needed a few hours to think. To go through Crowne's journal, compare notes, and decide his next step.
But as he walked, a strange sensation crept over him.
A subtle shift in the air, like the city itself had gone quiet. The usual sounds of Eldenwald—the distant murmur of carriages, the clatter of boots on cobblestone, the ever-present whispers of the wind—had faded into a hollow silence.
Ezra slowed his pace. His breath curled in the cold air.
Something was wrong.
The gas lamps flickered overhead, their glow dimming for just a moment before flaring back to life. The shadows on the walls seemed to stretch, twisting unnaturally in the alleyways.
Then he heard it.
A whisper.
Low. Indistinct. Like a voice speaking just out of reach, its syllables curling at the edge of his understanding.
Ezra turned sharply. The street behind him was empty.
Another whisper. Closer this time.
He inhaled slowly. His name.
The whisper had said his name.
A bead of cold sweat rolled down the back of his neck. He scanned the darkened windows, the alleyways between the buildings, the rooftops above. No one was there.
And yet—
The whisper came again.
A rustling breath against his ear. "Lockwood..."
Ezra's pulse slammed against his ribs. He took a step back—
A figure stood at the corner of the street.
It hadn't been there before.
A man. Dressed in a long coat, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face. He stood perfectly still, as though waiting. Watching.
Ezra's fingers twitched toward his pocket knife. He forced himself to breathe.
"Who are you?" Ezra called, his voice steady.
The man did not move. Did not answer.
Ezra took a cautious step forward. The gas lamps flickered overhead. The shadows shifted—and suddenly, the man was gone.
Ezra's breath hitched. He hadn't moved. He had been standing right there.
He turned sharply, scanning the street. The whisper had stopped. The night was too silent.
Something was watching him.
Something that knew his name.
Ezra didn't wait to find out more. He turned on his heel and walked—quickly.
He needed to get home.
He needed to read that book.
Ezra's Apartment – Later That Night
The candlelight cast wavering shadows across his desk as Ezra carefully unwrapped The Hidden Laws.
The black leather cover was unmarked except for that single golden sigil. The same sigil that had been on Crowne's letter.
Ezra hesitated, fingers resting against the worn edges of the pages.
The whispers had started after he took this book.
Something in his gut told him that opening it would change everything.
But he had already gone too far to stop.
With a steady breath, he opened the book.
The first page was blank.
So was the second. And the third.
Ezra frowned. The pages were old, their edges brittle—but they were empty.
He flipped through rapidly. Every page was blank.
A cold chill crept up his spine. He had risked his life for nothing?
No. That didn't make sense. Crowne had hidden this book for a reason.
Ezra ran his fingers over the paper, searching for any indentations, any ink faded by time. There had to be—
The candle flickered.
A single line of text appeared on the page.
Ezra's breath caught.
The words hadn't been there before.
Slowly, carefully, he read them aloud:
"Do you see the cracks in the world?"
The moment the words left his lips, a sharp ringing filled his ears—like the echo of a great bell, distant yet deafening.
Ezra clutched his head as his vision blurred. The room seemed to shift, the shadows on the walls writhing like living things.
The candle snuffed out.
The whisper returned.
"Now you have seen."
The darkness moved.