Ezra staggered back, his breath sharp in the sudden darkness. The whisper still lingered in the air, curling around his ears like smoke.
"Now you have seen."
The candle had been snuffed out, but he hadn't moved. There was no wind. No draft. Something had done it.
His hand trembled as he reached for a match. He struck it against the desk, the tiny flame flaring to life, casting long, jittering shadows across the room. The book lay open before him, its pages still blank—except for the single line.
"Do you see the cracks in the world?"
Ezra swallowed hard. He had seen something—if only for a moment. The shadows, the distortion, the way reality itself had seemed to tilt around him.
Carefully, he closed The Hidden Laws and wrapped it once more in cloth. His mind was already racing.
The police files had been erased. Crowne had warned him. The book had reacted to him.
This was no longer just an investigation. This was something else entirely.
Ezra needed more information. And he knew exactly where to find it.
Eldenwald University Archives – Midnight
The university was silent at this hour, its towering stone buildings shrouded in fog. The great iron gates had been locked for the night, but Ezra had long since learned other ways in.
A side passage near the library led to an old service entrance, a wooden door warped by time. Ezra glanced around before pulling free a thin piece of metal—his old lockpick—and working the mechanism.
A soft click. The door creaked open.
Inside, the scent of old parchment and dust filled his lungs. The archives were housed beneath the university's main hall, rows upon rows of shelves stretching into the gloom. The only light came from the tall windows above, where the moon cast pale silver through stained glass.
Ezra moved quickly, his footsteps soft against the stone floor. If any records of The Hidden Laws or Crowne's research still existed, they would be here.
He reached the restricted section, where older and more dangerous texts were kept. Locked behind an iron gate.
Another lock. Another quick flick of the wrist.
The gate swung open.
Ezra stepped inside, running his fingers along the spines of the books. Histories, mythologies, banned studies of the occult. He searched for Crowne's name, for anything connected to The Hidden Laws.
Then—a familiar symbol.
Ezra froze.
One of the books bore the same golden sigil as Crowne's letter. As The Hidden Laws.
His pulse quickened as he pulled it free. The cover was unmarked aside from the sigil, but the spine bore a title:
"A Study of the Veil and Its Manifestations."
He flipped it open, scanning the first page.
Dr. Alistair Crowne, University of Eldenwald, Department of Esoteric Philosophy.
This was his work.
Ezra turned another page, reading quickly. The Veil. The separation between reality and something else. A hidden structure to existence, one that most would never perceive.
Crowne had been studying it. And then—he had vanished.
Ezra's fingers tightened around the pages. What had he found?
Creak.
Ezra's head snapped up.
The sound had come from beyond the gate.
A slow, deliberate footstep against the stone floor.
He wasn't alone.
Carefully, Ezra eased the book shut and pressed himself against the nearest shelf, peering through the gaps between the wood.
A figure stood just beyond the restricted section.
Tall. Unmoving.
A dark coat. A wide-brimmed hat.
Ezra's breath turned shallow. The same figure from the street.
He gripped the book tighter, his mind racing. If he moved too quickly, he'd give away his position. If he stayed, he risked being found.
The figure took another slow step forward.
A whisper drifted through the air, too faint to make out. But Ezra felt it coil around his thoughts, pressing against the inside of his skull.
He clenched his jaw.
Whoever—or whatever—this was, it wasn't human.
The figure moved again, almost gliding between the shelves. Searching.
Ezra exhaled slowly.
Then—he moved.
A sharp turn, silent steps. He slipped behind another row, his body low, his pulse hammering in his ears. He had to reach the exit before—
A whisper, right behind him.
"Lockwood."
Ezra twisted—nothing was there.
But the candlelight overhead flickered.
The shadows moved.
He ran.
Through the shelves, past the iron gate, slamming it shut behind him. The lock clicked just as he reached the stairwell. He didn't look back. Didn't dare.
Ezra pushed through the wooden doors, bursting out into the night air. The cold hit his skin like a slap, the world too quiet around him.
He turned back.
The archive doors were shut. The windows above were dark.
No sign of the figure.
No sign of anyone at all.
Ezra exhaled sharply. The book was still clutched in his hand, Crowne's research burning in his grip like a brand.
He had what he came for.
But something was hunting him now.
And it wouldn't stop.