Last night, I dreamt of the Vault.
Not the one in my Codex. The true one — the space beyond the soul, where memory and mana entwine.
I saw halls that stretched into stars. Shelves carved from time itself. Walls made of whispering glyphs.
In the center stood a tree. Its leaves were books. Its roots were spells uncast. I reached for one — and awoke.
I do not know if this was a vision or invention. But the Codex added a new wing today. One I had not shaped.
The god-being has not returned. Yet I wonder… is this what it wanted? For me to dream beyond the limits of this world?
If so, then perhaps I am not just the Archivist. Perhaps I am the beginning of the archive.