The door loomed above Kairo like a sleeping giant. Thick roots coiled around it as though the forest itself wanted to hold it shut. The veins of gold pulsed in rhythm with his racing heartbeat.
Kairo pressed his palm to the wood. His mark flared, and the roots shuddered as if alive.
A low groan rippled through the chamber. The door split open just enough to let out a gust of air that smelled of rain and old books. Beyond lay nothing but darkness — yet he sensed vastness, as if an entire world waited inside.
His knees trembled. "I can't… this isn't real," he muttered, but his foot moved forward anyway.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, the air shifted. The darkness folded into corridors, stairways, and balconies spiraling up and down without end. Lanterns of hovering blue flame flickered to life, revealing shelves carved from stone and crystal. Books floated, chained to invisible anchors.
Whispers echoed from everywhere and nowhere. Words in languages he'd never heard poured around him like running water. His mark tingled in response, symbols crawling up his forearm before fading.
"Keeper…" The word drifted out of the dark like a breath.
Kairo spun. A shadow peeled away from the nearest shelf and shaped itself into a person — not the masked figure from before, but something thinner, its limbs too long, its face blurred. Chains rattled on its wrists.
"Who are you?" Kairo demanded.
"An echo," it said. "Bound to serve until remembered."
"Remembered?"
The echo's head tilted unnaturally far to one side. "Every book here is a life. Every name here is a lock. The Archive stores what the world forgets."
Kairo's heart thudded. "I don't belong here. Send me back."
The echo floated closer, its chain tips dragging sparks across the floor. "Too late. The Key is chosen. Memory is your currency. Spend carefully."
Kairo backed against a pillar, knuckles white around the crystal tablet the masked figure had given him. The tablet vibrated, symbols rising off its surface like smoke.
Without meaning to, he spoke the words that burned on his tongue. "Show me the first door."
The floor split open at his feet. A spiral stairway descended into glowing mist.
The echo hissed. "Not ready. Not ready."
But Kairo couldn't stop. Something beneath his skin tugged him downward. He gripped the railing and started to descend, step after echoing step.
Halfway down, the mist thickened. Shapes moved within it — silhouettes of people, reaching hands, murmuring names he almost recognized. The stairs ended before a small, ornate door carved from obsidian and lined with brass filigree.
He raised the crystal tablet. Its runes lit like stars. The door answered with a tremor.
"What's inside?" Kairo whispered"
A voice — not the echo, not the masked figure — spoke from beyond the door. It was soft, childlike, and terrifyingly familiar.
"Your first memory."
Kairo froze. His throat went dry. "Give it back," he said.
The voice chuckled, as though amused by an insect. "Come and take it."
The door opened. Light blazed out, pulling him forward.