The first thing he saw was fire.A book burned on a stone pedestal, its pages curling without smoke, its cover etched with a name he didn't know—Kael Ardent.
The flames were cold. When he touched them, his skin prickled but did not blister. The ink recoiled at his touch, letters unraveling as though desperate to vanish.
Silence pressed down like a weight. Even the creak of the towering shelves rang too loud. They rose into mist like cathedral pillars, every one crammed with strange tomes—leather-bound, parchment-stitched, bone-clasped. Some pulsed faintly, as if alive.
Then the air shivered. Words carved themselves into his mind:
[Book of Kael Ardent][Final Page: Consumed][Status: Erasure in 10… 9… 8…]
The countdown pounded like a war drum. Erasure. The word lodged deep inside him.
He stumbled back, boots scraping marble. Who am I? Where am I? Nothing came—only fog. The shelves seemed to lean closer, waiting.
On the pedestal, beside the burning book, lay a scrap of parchment pinned by a bone needle. His hands shook as he pulled it free:
If you find this, I am already gone.Do not let the Wardens hear your name.Do not trust the doors that smile.
A crooked grin was scratched beneath the words, mocking, signed with a single letter: L.
The countdown pressed harder.…7…6…
[Choice Available]— Rewrite Ending (Risk: Unknown)— Accept Erasure
From the shadows, something stirred—slow, deliberate. A porcelain mask gleamed between the shelves, cracked down the center. Panic clawed at him. Erasure felt worse than whatever stalked him. He slammed his palm onto the burning book.
[Rewrite chosen.][Warning: Every change attracts attention.]
The fire died. The book sealed with a shudder, and a new line etched itself into the leather:
The Walker takes his first step.
The shelves exhaled. The silence deepened, storm-heavy.
The air whispered again:
[You have entered: The Eternal Labyrinth]— Inventory: Empty— Memory: Fragmented— Status: Walker— Tokens: 0— Echo: Dormant
Kael's breath trembled. Walker. Tokens. Echo. None of it made sense, yet the words clung to him as if they'd always been there.
A wet smear caught his eye. A bloody handprint, fresh against the pale stone, dragged toward a dark corridor before vanishing.
He turned—and stepped on another scrap of parchment. The ink was faint, hurried:
If you hear bells, hide. —S.
His throat tightened. L. S. Were they survivors? Warnings? Ghosts?
A shelf groaned. Kael lifted his eyes.
The porcelain mask loomed closer, its crack glowing faintly. It was tall, arms dragging against the stone, each step erasing sound instead of making it.
The system hissed in his ear:
[Warden Approaching]— Aspect: Silence— Protocol: Stillness Required— Failure Cost: Voice → Echo → Erasure
Kael held his breath until his chest burned. The mask tilted toward him. For a heartbeat, the crack blazed with a word he didn't know but feared anyway: HOLLOW.
Darkness crept at the edges of his vision. His fingers brushed the cold leather of the book—
And then, from deep in the Library, a bell rang.
Once.
The Warden froze. The shelves groaned.
Kael staggered back as the porcelain head turned fully toward him.And the silence broke.