The library was not on any map. Not that Elara had ever looked for it, exactly—but when the heavy oak doors groaned open before her, a strange certainty settled in her chest. This is it, she thought, heart hammering. This is where I'm supposed to be.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment and candle smoke, almost suffocating in its richness. Endless shelves stretched into shadowy heights, their spines shimmering faintly as if the stories themselves were alive. She could feel their attention on her, quiet but insistent. Why am I here? she wondered, a shiver running up her spine. Am I supposed to find something… or someone?
Her fingers brushed the nearest shelf, and a tingling sensation ran through her arm. The books hummed under her touch, vibrating like tiny hearts. She pulled one out at random, its cover cracked and faded. Letters she didn't recognize formed a title that seemed to pulse beneath her gaze: The Names That Time Forgot.
The whispers grew louder, curling around her ears, forming a chorus of voices from long ago. They're speaking to me. But what are they saying?
"Do you hear us?" a voice asked, trembling yet insistent.
Elara nodded, though no one could see her. Yes. I hear you. I will remember. Her own voice sounded small, fragile in the cavernous space, but it carried a determination she hadn't known she possessed. I can't let them fade… not again.
As shadows shifted and shelves seemed to close in, she wondered: How many souls are trapped here? How many stories abandoned, waiting for someone to care? Her mind swirled with questions, yet a quiet resolve began to grow within her. She had always felt invisible, a ghost in her own life. Yet here, among these forgotten voices, she felt… seen. Maybe this is why I was drawn here. Maybe this is my purpose.
Somewhere deep in the heart of the library, a door clicked open, though she had not touched it. A whisper, urgent and almost pleading, reached her ears:
"Find me… before I'm lost forever."