The shadow that had moved across the floor did not belong to anyone. Not to Marikka, not to Aurelian, and definitely not—despite Cedric's suspicions—to his own imagination. It wasn't long, nor short, nor even shaped correctly enough to be considered "human." It was… a blot. A blot behaving far too cleverly to be a lighting mistake.
Cedric took a step back, then another, then a third, until he bumped into a floating parchment column that bent toward him like an irritated serpent. "Aurelian," he mouthed carefully, trying not to scream, "why is that thing moving… and why is it moving TOWARD US?"
Aurelian stared at the blot with no trace of fear. Or rather: his fear was so well-trained it never showed. "It's not a shadow," he murmured. "It's a vibrational residue."
Marikka tilted her head. The vibrations were strange—not arrows pointed at her, not cords trying to grab her. The rhythm was uneven, almost childish. Like a child beating on a drum without understanding the music.
The shadow pulsed.
Cedric let out a whimper of pure resignation. "There. It noticed us. Now it's going to chase us, swallow us, and I die. I knew it."
Marikka gestured to him: don't talk too much.
Cedric interpreted it as prepare to die, but quietly.
The tome in Marikka's arms trembled harder. The vibration wasn't fear. It was response. One vibration recognizing the other. And that was not good.
The shadow stretched across the floor—not sliding, but reaching, like something trying to touch. Marikka senses sharpened. A sharp, high vibration ran through the stones, like a scream pressed into silence. The book answered with a slow, deep pulse, like a counterweight.
Aurelian stepped forward. It was a tiny movement, but it carried authority. He placed himself between Marikka and the shadow, lifting a hand with the calm of someone soothing a confused animal. "Do not come closer," he said to the blot on the floor.
It was absurd to speak to a patch of darkness.Even more absurd that the shadow seemed to… listen.
It stopped.
The entire chamber held its breath. The floating parchment columns froze in place. The air thickened as though turning into viscous liquid.
And slowly, the shadow began to change shape.
Marikka felt the vibration shift. No longer imitation. No longer mere echo. It was trying to find a form—a specific one—but failing. Again and again. A memory trying to become matter.
"It's attempting to manifest," Aurelian murmured. "But it lacks… structure."
Cedric clutched his face. "Structure? Like an incantation? A creature? What kind of—what does that even MEAN?"
Aurelian did not answer.
Marikka felt something more alarming: the tone of the book was changing. No longer a call. It was a command.
The shadow froze.
A word vibrated through her fingertips like an electric sting:
Fragment.
Marikka startled, stepping forward instinctively.
"Don't," Aurelian warned.
She ignored him.
The shadow reacted like a creature recognizing its own name. It extended toward her—not violently, but with something like yearning. Need? The vibrations were chaotic, wavering between urgency and collapse.
Marikka knelt and reached out.
Cedric silently shrieked.
The shadow touched the tips of her fingers.
And the world folded in two directions.
It wasn't an explosion. It wasn't a flash. It was like falling into two places at once. For a heartbeat she saw a corridor she'd never walked, built of golden light and symbols stirred by age. And in the same heartbeat she saw utter darkness—complete, directionless void.
She recoiled.
The shadow spasmed, curling into itself. Not in pain—frustration. A half reaching for its other half.
"It cannot enter," Aurelian said. "It's incomplete."
The book pulsed violently—so violently it slipped from her grasp and hit the floor with a dull thud.
The page opened on its own.
It wasn't a wounded page.It wasn't an old page.
It was NEW.
Fresh, liquid ink wriggled across it, unstable.
The vibration radiating from it was a single, terrible word:
Near.
The shadow convulsed. It stretched toward the page, responding instinctively.
Cedric, in a sudden burst of bravery he clearly regretted, grabbed Marikka's arm and pulled her backward. "Don't let it touch the book! If they're two pieces—Marikka, NOT HERE!"
Aurelian lifted both hands. The Spiral columns reacted instantly, bending inward and forming a barrier between them and the shadow. Not a physical barrier. An emotional one. A filter.
The shadow slammed against it.The barrier shuddered.The chamber groaned.
But the shadow couldn't pass.
Then the Athenaeum itself reacted.
A tidal wave of consciousness struck the room—a single, undeniable NO.
The shadow unraveled. Not vanishing like smoke, but collapsing like a thought interrupted.
Silence followed. Deep, absolute silence. Cedric didn't dare breathe.
Marikka picked up the book. The ink on the new page receded—unable to hold a stable shape for long.
Aurelian approached. "It was an incomplete fragment. An echo of the original tome. Not enough consciousness to remain manifested. But now it knows you exist."
A shiver went through her. Not fear. Understanding.
Cedric finally recovered enough to speak. "So… so what does that mean? That it'll come back? That other fragments will find us? That—"
The Spiral didn't let him finish.
It shifted shape abruptly.The columns bent inward.The ground vibrated once, short. Then long. Then short again.
Marikka recognized the emotional code instantly.
Warning. Someone approaching.
Aurelian sighed. "And of course it won't be someone friendly."
Marikka felt the presence moments before a tall shadow stretched across the right wall.Not like the first one.This one had a human shape.This one walked.
And this one spoke.
"I've been looking for you."
The voice was calm, smooth, perfectly controlled.A voice that did not belong to any Archivist of Silence.
It was Isaak.First Collector of the Order of Black Pages.
And he did not look surprised to find them there.