Amilla flies through room after room after room, blurs beneath her with identical shelves, identical books, identical silence stretching into forever. Her dark green robes trail behind her like smoke. Her white hair streams in a wind that touches nothing else.
One hundred rooms.
Two hundred.
But she doesn't slow. She doesn't tire. Just moving fast.
Then she stops.
Hovers in the center of another room, same as all the others, same as the next thousand will be. Shelves. Books. Dust. Silence.
She closes her eyes beneath that veil and reaches. The psychic message spreads outward in all directions. It is a pulse of thought, of will, of herself, pushing through the library's infinite layers, searching for one grey-eyed boy somewhere in the maze.
"Kayden. The library has infinite rooms. Stay in this room. Look around. Find something about the—"
But something tears it. Tears it like claws through silk, like teeth through flesh. The message shreds mid-sentence, half-delivered, half-swallowed by something vast and hungry in the spaces between rooms.
"Was that a half-fuel?"
Her eyes open. For a moment, just a moment, something shifts beneath that veil.
Then she raises one hand, letting her body split.
Not illusion. Not trick. Her, multiplied, divided, spread across the shelves like light through a prism. Five Amillas become ten. Ten become twenty. Twenty become a hundred.
They spread outward. Into different rooms. Different directions. Different paths.
All searching. All looking for one boy in an infinite library.
The original Amilla floats alone in the silence.
Yet in the silence, her mind drifts in thoughts.
"I was never asked anything like that. I never asked myself a question over and over again. A question which someone else asked. Someone who is no longer in my sight. Is it so hard to find a reason to keep protecting? Why?"
Amilla senses loss of connection from all the clones of herself she sent out, but her mind seems to not stop with itself.
"Asking why compels me to look for what obligates me. The machine twisted me. Gave me purpose I can't escape. Pointed me at a door and told me to guard. That was enough for millennia. Wasn't it?"
A pause. Shelves stretch and books breath.
"I am at the closest point. I can fulfil my purpose at last, but for what's sake I ask? I ask who cares."
Another pause before thoughts sink deeper into the heart than ever.
"He cares. That's who. It may be for his sake. For the boy who took my hand without knowing my name. That is someone who is the closest to caring."
The air shifts.
A figure materializes between two shelves. A tall figure, draped in black, edges bleeding purple essence that crackles like distant lightning. The energy doesn't illuminate; it stains. Leaves afterimages on the eyes.
A man. Sharp features. Cold eyes. Half-fuel, Amilla notices.
He looks at her and grins.
"You."
His voice is smooth. Wrong. Layered like R.K.T.'s, but heavier. More focused.
"Seen a cowboy around here? Told me he knew the way out. Bluffed me clean out of the library." He chuckles. No warmth. "Took me a while to find my way back."
He steps closer. The purple essence pulses.
"But I'm back now. And I'm gonna transcend. Gonna climb these infinite rooms and reach that higher dimension." Another step. "Gonna become something more than this."
He tilts his head, studying her.
"You gonna try to stop me?"
Amilla says nothing for a long moment. Then, "I am protecting the higher dimension. And this one by extension."
The man blinks. Then laughs, sharp, incredulous, edged with purple light.
"Protecting it?" He shakes his head. "That's really problematic. Means I gotta get rid of you somehow."
He steps closer. The purple essence pulses hungrily.
"But tell me something first." His head tilts. Cold eyes narrow. "Why? Why do you do this? What's in it for you?
Amilla pauses.
The silence stretches. Shelves loom. Books breathe.
"Why?
For millennia, the answer was simple. The machine told me to. I obeyed. That was all.
But now...
Now there's a boy somewhere in these shelves. A boy who took my hand without knowing my name. A boy who trusted me without reason, followed me without proof, sat beside me in silence and coffee and places that shouldn't exist. And beyond him, a dimension I've never seen. A door I've never opened. And things that would crawl through it if they could. Things that would rewrite everything. Control everything. Turn every human, every half-fuel, every fragment of existence into something they could shape. I've seen what hunger does. I've seen what happens when things want too much. I won't let that happen. Not to him. Not to anyone."
She raises her head. Her voice comes steady—calm, certain, chosen.
"Because I will not let this world with many of its people become a canvas upon which an indifferent, hungry being paints. No will of an existing being shall be bent. No being lives under the will of another being, only lives through their own."
Green light begins to glow beneath her veil. Faint at first, just a suggestion, just a whisper of color in the shadows.
"Because I protect, not because I was asked to do so, I do it for the sake. For the sake of everyone."
The light spreads. Creeps across her shoulders, down her robes, along the folds of dark green. It pools at her feet and grows slowly, patiently, like dawn deciding to arrive.
"Even if one person counts on me, believes in me and comes all the way through with me," She says, quieter to herself under the veil.
The room begins to change. Shelves catch the glow, edges softening, wood taking on a deep emerald hue. Books on nearby shelves pulse faintly, their spines responding to something older than their pages.
Then, The light explodes outward.
Not violently, but inevitably. A wave of green that washes over shelves, over books, over the man standing frozen before her. It fills every corner, every shadow, every space between. The room becomes a sea of green, warm and absolute and hers.
The man raises an arm against it. Purple essence flares, fights back, pushes against the green, holds for a heartbeat. Then another. Then they meet, two forces colliding, light against light, will against will.
The room trembles. Books rattle on shelves. Somewhere in the distance, shelves begin to crack.
Amilla stands at the center. Glowing. Certain.
The man grins through the storm.
Across infinite rooms, through endless shelves…
Kayden lies on the floor.
A girl sits a few feet away. Glasses askew. Brown eyes. Hair falling loose from its clip.
She stares at him.
He stares back.
The silence stretches. Holds. Breathes.
Kayden's face does nothing. His grey eyes don't widen, don't narrow, don't change.
But something behind them, some cog in the vast empty cathedral of his mind, pauses.
Then, flat and quiet and perfectly Kayden:
"...Huh."
"Are you… okay?"
Kayden hears her ask and he doesn't answer, too busy lying on the floor and processing what just happened.
"Get up," R.K.T.'s voice. Layered. Amused.
"Why?"
"Because there's another human in front of you and you're lying there like a dead fish. Get. Up."
Kayden's body moves before his mind agrees, jerking upright, arm extending, hand reaching toward her. R.K.T.'s laughter echoes behind his eye.
The girl stares at the hand. Then at him. Then at the hand again.
She hesitantly takes it, letting him pull her up.
She stands. Brushes off her sweater. Looks at her feet. Looks at the shelves. Looks anywhere but him.
Then she takes a step back.
Another.
Another.
Kayden tilts his head, "...Huh?"
Her eyes widen, fixed on something. On him. On his right eye?
It's glowing. Red and pulsing and grinning from inside his skull.
She turns and runs. Her footsteps echo through the shelves, fast and panicked and gone.
Kayden blinks.
"She saw me," R.K.T. purrs. "I like her."
Kayden's feet leave the floor.
Not running, but flying. Shooting between shelves, after her, after the girl who just saw a demon in his eye and decided nope.
Kayden's voice echoes through the entire library, "R.K.T. stop!"
The girl weaves through shelves. Fast. Desperate. Knocking books loose as she goes. She runs so desperately that her lungs burn and her legs burn too. The book she was holding is gone, dropped somewhere in the first fifty feet, abandoned like everything else.
A sound becomes from behind her. Not footsteps but something worse. A rush, like wind through corridors, like something moving too fast to be real.
She doesn't look back. Doesn't dare.
Left. Right. Left again. Weaving through rows, ducking under low shelves, knocking books loose in her wake. They crash behind her like breadcrumbs, like warnings, like he's getting closer.
Then her foot catches.
A book. Loose on the floor. Her ankle twists. The world tilts. She goes down hard, her palms scraping wood, knee cracking against a shelf corner, pain flaring bright and hot.
She scrambles. Crawls. Pulls herself behind a shelf, into shadow, into the smallest space she can find. Presses her back against cold wood. Clamps a hand over her mouth.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
The rushing sound stops.
Silence.
Then comes a noise.
Wrong and strained. Like two things fighting inside one throat. A growl that cuts off mid-thought. A gasp that sounds almost human. Words comes out as fragments, tumbling over each other:
"—stop—"
"—let me see—"
"—she's gone—"
"—let me see—"
She presses harder against the shelf. Her heart hammers so loud she's sure he can hear it.
Then comes a crash.
Kayden falls from the sky. Not flying or floating, just drops, out of nowhere, slamming into a shelf across from her. His back hits wood. He rolls. Sprawls. Comes to a stop at the base of the row.
Blood spills from his lip. Thin. Red. Dripping onto the floor.
Margo stares. Frozen.
Then, rewind. Not literally. But the moment reverses in a way that makes no sense. Kayden's body moves backward, reorienting, standing up like the fall never happened.
The blood on his lip unspills, retreating into his skin before he stands up. His right eye glows, pulsing.
"Ohhh." R.K.T.'s voice pours out of him, layered and hungry and delighted. "I smell something flavorful."
Kayden's body takes one abrupt step forward which is not his choice, not his will.
"I won't waste this one by eating whole." The red eye pulses. "I'll watch."
A pause.
Then silence.
The red light dies. Kayden blinks. His grey eyes return.
He looks down at himself. Brushes off his coat. Straightens his collar. Fixes his hair with one quick motion.
Then he looks up and sees her.
"Are you okay?"
The question hangs in the air between them. It is so absurd, so impossibly normal that the girl forgets to be afraid for a full second.
She stares at him. At the eye that was just glowing red. At the face that watched a demon speak through it and now wants to know about her wellbeing.
Her lips part. Nothing comes out at first but then, "Am I okay?"
Her voice cracks on the second word from how overwhelmed she is and the confusion she feels doesn't help her.
Her palms are raw, scraped open from the fall, from crawling, from pressing against wood. She hadn't noticed. Hadn't felt it.
"Oh," the word comes out small from her. Quiet. Like she's seeing her own hands for the first time.
Kayden takes a step forward. Hesitates. Then another.
His movements are slow, deliberate the gait of someone who doesn't know how to approach another person but is trying anyway.
"Hey." Flat. Quiet. "There's a... weird thing in my eye. Just ignore it."
He stops a few feet away. Extends a hand.
"He apologized. Probably."
The girl stares at the hand. Then at his face. Then at the hand again before asking in a softer tone, not gentle but less overwhelmed at least, "Who are you?"
"Kayden," he says it flat. Like it's not important. Like names never are.
She just looks at him, at those grey eyes, the pale face, the boy who fell from the sky and bled and unbled and hosted a demon.
"What are you?"
The question trembles at the edges. Scared. Genuine. She's seen things in this library. Monsters. Avatars. Things that wore faces and weren't faces at all. She needs to know which one he is.
Kayden's gaze drops. To the floor. To the shelves. Anywhere but her. He then extends his hand, offering to help her stand up. Still not looking.
She glances at the offered hand before back at his averted face. Then, she takes his hand.
"Just a human," Kayden says before slowly turning to meet her eyes only to look away again. "You need to… heal that."
She looks down at her hand, extracting her other hand from his to carefully touch the open wound on his palm.
"It'll heal," she mutters, more to herself than to him.
Then, a hiss escapes her. She pulls back, cradling the injured hand against her chest.
Kayden stares at her hand. Then on his own. Then back at hers.
"...Give me your hand."
Flat. No explanation. Just the words, dropped into the air like stones.
She blinks. "What?"
"Your hand." He's still not looking at her. "The hurt one."
Slowly and hesitantly she extends it and he takes it. His fingers close around hers. His other hand hovers above the wound, palm down, not touching.
A flicker. A pulse. Something shifts.
The raw skin knits. The red fades. The pain stops.
She stares.
He drops her hand like it burned him. Steps back and shoves both hands in his pocket. Looks at the shelves. The floor. The ceiling. Anywhere but her.
"Oh, thanks." She says, looking at her palm. Smooth. Unmarked. Like it never happened.
"Who are you really?"
A pause.
"I mean—" She pushes her glasses up, nervous habit kicking in. "I already asked that. Sorry. It's just..."
She trails off. Looks at her healed palm. Turns it over like she's never seen it before.
"I started at the lowest level. Way down. Came with a few others." Her voice gets quieter. "They're not with me anymore."
Kayden watches. Says nothing.
"I've been climbing ever since. Rooms and rooms and rooms. Saw things." She shudders. "Creatures. Avatars. Things that wanted to... I don't know what they wanted. Didn't stay to find out."
Another pause.
"But not humans. Not for a long time." She looks up at him. "Just the ones I started with. And now they're gone."
The silence stretches.
"So yeah." She laughs. Small, nervous, sad. "Who are you? Really?"
Kayden looks at her with new found curiosity and answers, "I'm… actually looking for something, a ship brought me here in the pursuit of that I guess."
She blinks. Processes. Starts brushing off her sweater, straightening the clip in her hair, small adjustments that make her look less like someone who just fled for her life.
"What's your name?"
The question comes flat. Not demanding. Just... direct.
She pauses mid-brush. Pushes her glasses up.
"Margo, Margo Gray."
Kayden nods once. Hesitates. Then the words come out in a rush—too fast, too flat, like he's reading a script he didn't write:
"Margo… Gray," Kayden tilts his head, thoughtful almost. Then, "Sorry about the whole mess. The eye thing. The chasing. The falling. All of it. That was—" A pause. "Anyway. Sorry."
He turns away quickly. Starts walking.
"Sorry, I have to go. I might need help."
She stares at his back. At the boy who just apologized for demonic possession like it was a social faux pas.
Then, quietly, "With what?"
He doesn't stop walking. Doesn't turn as he says, "Finding something. Don't know what yet."
She should let him go. Should stay hidden. Should—Her feet move before her brain catches up, following behind.
As they walk, shelves stretch on both side, almost endless and indifferent, drenched by gold and brown.
Their footsteps echo soft against wood. His footsteps are steady, measured; hers quieter, hesitant, like she's not sure she should be making sound at all.
Margo keeps distance. Two steps behind. Always two steps.
Her arms hug her chest. Her eyes dart to shadows between shelves, to corners where light doesn't reach, to anything that might be watching before glancing once or twice at his back.
Her breathing is still uneven, not from running anymore, from everything. From the demon eye. From the chase. From the boy who bleeds and unbleeds and heals wounds with a touch.
She looks at her palm again. Smooth. Unmarked. She flexes her fingers.
He doesn't look back. Just walks.
A minute passes. Two. The silence thickens, heavy as dust.
She knows she should probably run. Should hide.
Her foot catches a loose book. She stumbles and catches herself.
Then Kayden slows, for a moment she swears he just saw him turn head to take a look.
"Actually," He stops. Pulls a random book from a nearby shelf. Flips it open. "I might know what I'm looking for."
Margo stops too. Watches him.
"My—" He pauses. The word catches. "The person I'm with. She told me something."
He closes the book. Puts it back.
"There's a higher dimension. Above everything. Above us. Above this library." His eyes sweep the shelves. "And this place is probably connected to it."
Margo stares.
"Her ship brought us here. It goes where you need to be. Always." He pulls another book. Doesn't open it. "So if we're here, this is where we need to be. And if there's a higher dimension connected to the library…"
He trails off. Looks at her.
Margo's face hasn't changed. Just confusion. Pure, unblinking confusion.
"I…" She pushes her glasses up. "What?"
He glances at her for a second before pulling another book, awkwardly flipping through it.
He then softly says, "If anyone reaches that higher-dimension, we would be fictional characters they can play around with," he tilts his chin down, he almost whispers, "And that's not what we would want."
Margo blinks. Processes. She then asks, "How can I help?"
Kayden stays still, eyes fixed on a page, not reading, just thinking. He seems completely zoned out, making Margo feel uneasy.
Then, "Lowest level? What did you mean?"
She pushes her glasses up. The question grounds her, giving her something to hold onto.
"I started there. The first room. Way at the bottom." She gestures vaguely. "Came with a few other girls. We figured out pretty quick you can't just... walk out. You have to read to move through."
Kayden's eyes stay on the page.
"A certain number of books in each room. Then a door appears. Next room. Then more books. Another door." She shrugs. "So we read. And read. And read. Climbing room by room, level by level until you reach the top."
A pause.
"That's how it works here. That's the only way up."
His eyes never leaves the page. He only nods and asks, "What's at the top?"
Margo pauses. Her brow furrows. She pushes her glasses up, that nervous habit again, and stares at nothing for a moment, pulling at memories before she says, "I… there's an exit. Supposedly." She bites her lip. "But also… an option to stay."
Kayden waits.
"If you reach the top, you can leave. Go back to... wherever outside this place is." She shrugs, uncertain. "Or you can stay. Become a... librarian, I think? Get access to all the rooms at once. Not just one at a time."
"That's what the books said, anyway." She steps back from him slightly and looks around.
Kayden nods. Then something shifts behind his grey eyes. He looks up from the book. At her. Slowly turns.
"The others. The ones who came with you. Where are they now?"
Margo's face tightens. Just slightly.
"They left." A pause. "One by one. After they figured out they could... you know." She gestures vaguely. "Warp reality. Change things. They didn't want to stay here anymore."
Kayden tilts his head and asks, "Why didn't you?"
She pushes her glasses up. Looks away.
"This place has a rule. No reality warping allowed. My… friends tried and they were able to warp." A shrug. Too casual. "But I didn't bother trying. What's the point?"
He watches her for a moment. Then looks down at the book in his hands. Closes it. Slides it back onto the shelf while asking, "Are you tired?"
The question comes flat. He's not looking at her.
Margo blinks.
"What?"
"Tired." He still won't meet her eyes. "From running. From everything. You should... rest."
She stares at him. At the boy who chased her, fell from the sky, healed her hand, apologized for demonic possession, and now wants to know if she needs a nap.
The library waits.
"I…" She doesn't know what to say. "I'm fine."
Kayden nods. He doesn't look convinced. Doesn't look anything.
He only turns and starts walking again. Eyes scanning shelves, books and shakes. He feels as though he's searching for something he can't name.
His mind wanders off, thinking, "I remember Amilla saying this library is infinite. I can't see there being a clear start and finish in that case."
"I'm sorry," the words come out flat. Random. Like he just remembered he was supposed to say them.
Margo blinks, following behind slowly.
"You already apologized."
"I know."
A pause. Shelves pass.
"So why are you doing it again?"
Kayden shrugs, giving a small, awkward movement, barely there. His eyes doesn't stop scanning as he says, ""The situation was bad." A mutter, almost to himself. "Really bad. The chasing. Red eye. You falling. All of it."
He trails off, eyes pulling out of scanning the shelves and everything that came with it. He keeps walking.
Margo watches him. The boy who hosted a demon, healed her hand, and now can't stop apologizing for something that wasn't his fault.
"It's okay," she says quietly.
Kayden slows. Then looks at her.
"Your explanation." Flat. Direct. "About the rooms. The reading. Climbing level by level."
His walks come to a halt as he pauses. He watches her face shift, seeing the confusion, the curiosity, something guarded.
"The person I'm with said this place is infinite. No end. No top." His grey eyes don't blink. "That contradicts what you just told me."
Margo's brow furrows. She pushes her glasses up, quick, nervous.
"I... what?" She shakes her head slightly. "But I read it. In the first room. The rules were clear. Read enough books, door appears. Next room. Keep going. Eventually… you reach the top."
Her voice wavers. "That's what it said. That's what we all believed."
Kayden watches her. Silent.
Then he steps closer. Not much, just a foot, just enough. The movement looks forced, like he's pushing himself to do something uncomfortable.
"How long?"
She blinks.
"How long have you been alone?"
The question hangs between them. Shelves stretch endless. Books breathe.
Margo's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
"I..." She looks away. At the shelves. At the floor. Anywhere but him. "I don't know. Time doesn't... work right here. Not really."
A pause.
"A long time." Quieter. "A really long time."
Kayden says nothing. Just watches her with those empty grey eyes for a moment straight.
Margo shifts under the gaze. Looks away. Looks back. Fidgets with her sleeve.
"You're really pale," she blurts.
A pause.
"Like... I've seen pale. But you are something else."
Kayden tilts his head, raising a brow.
"It is just…" She gestures vaguely at his face. "Are you sick? I had some… sickly relatives. They turned pale."
He looks down at his own hand. Turns it over. Considers.
"No." Flat. "Not sick. I just look like this." A beat. "Like a vampire."
The delivery is so casual, so matter-of-fact, that Margo blinks.
Then her mouth twitches. She tries to stop it and fails. A small laugh escapes, quick,
surprised, genuine.
Kayden's eyes shift to her. Something behind them catches, holds, stays. The laugh hangs in the air between them, small and warm and real, and he finds he can't quite look away.
Her face. Round. Soft. Those glasses catching the library's warm light.
He squints as he asks in the softest way he can, "Can I… see your glasses?"
The question comes out before he thinks about it. Flat, yes, but underneath, something curious. Something wanting.
Margo blinks, reaching up to gently push the frame.
"My... glasses?"
He nods. Just once. Eyes still fixed on her face.
"I want to see."
She hesitates. Then, slowly but uncertainly, she reaches up. Fingers find the wire frames, lifting them away.
Her face changes without them. Softer. More vulnerable. Her eyes squint slightly, instinctively.
She holds them out.
Kayden takes them. Turns them over in his pale fingers. Studies the lenses, the frame, the small imperfections. He sees a slight bend in the left arm, a tiny scratch near the hinge.
He lifts them. Holds them up to his own eyes.
The world through her glasses is warmer. Softer at the edges. The library's light diffuses differently, spreads gentler across the shelves.
He lowers them. Looks at her again.
Then, without a word, he raises his free hand.
A flicker. A pulse. Reality bends.
Another pair of glasses forms in his palm. It is identical. Same frames. Same subtle bend in the left arm. Same scratch near the hinge.
He puts them on.
Margo stares, the confusion more visible on her softer face.
Kayden blinks behind the lenses. Looks around. At the shelves. At the books. At her. Through her glasses. Seeing what she sees.
His expression doesn't change. But something behind his grey eyes—something deep in that vast, empty cathedral—shifts.
He hands her glasses back and she takes them. Slips them on. The world refocuses.
They look at each other through identical frames. Two pairs of glasses. Two pairs of eyes. Something unspoken passing between them.
Then Margo's shoulders droop. Just slightly. A yawn escapes softly. Unexpected and human. She covers her mouth too late.
Kayden watches.
Then—
A whisper. Close. Too close. Right by his ear, "The machine... the knowledge... It's kept here. Contained." A pause. Kayden looks around, sees nothing but the whisper continues, "All of it you need. Stored. Waiting."
His hand shoots out in a fast motion, instinctively almost. It grabs at empty air where the voice was, letting his fingers close around something.
He feels not nothing but something warm, solid and breathing so he pulls.
A gasp—high, surprised, choked—rips through the silence. And then, slowly, visibility.
A shape materializes in his grip. Small. Childlike. Translucent white, like frosted glass catching light. Wings that are tiny, delicate, folded against its back. A face frozen mid-gasp, eyes wide, mouth open.
It looks like a Cupid. If Cupids were made of blurry static and forgotten whispers.
Kayden holds it by the neck. Not choking, just holding. Presenting it to the air like evidence.
"Speak louder," he demands.
The creature's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
Margo's yawn dies in her throat. Her eyes go impossibly wide behind her glasses.
"What—" she starts. Stops. Starts again with recognition. "Is that a whisperer?"
Kayden glances at her. Then back at the translucent thing squirming in his grip. Without a word, he extends it toward her.
She blinks. Stares at the small, terrified creature now hovering in front of her face, watching as he pushes it closer.
"I—what am I supposed to—"
He pushes it again. Into her arms. Against her chest.
Her arms close around it instinctively. The creature goes still. Curls into her hold like a startled cat. Its tiny wings fold tighter.
Margo looks down at it. Then at him. Then back at the thing she's now cradling like a baby.
"They're... whisperers." Her voice is quiet, uncertain. "They help readers find books. Guide them through the shelves." A pause. "I've seen them. Floating between rows. Never this close. Never…" She looks at the creature in her arms. It blinks up at her. "Never solid."
She looks at Kayden. Something new in her expression as she asks, "Did you just... make it physical?"
Kayden says nothing, watching her hold the whisperer. His grey eyes unreadable behind those glasses.
He leans closer. Bends slightly in the way you'd lean down to talk to a baby cradled in someone's arms.
The whisperer stares up at him. Wide eyes. Frozen.
Then, flat and direct. No warmth but no threat either. Just a question, "Can you help us?"
The creature blinks. Its tiny mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
A whisper escapes, thin, reedy, like wind through cracks, "The machine... the knowledge... kept here."
Then it blinks again. Its tiny face shifts—surprise, maybe, or just processing. Then, slowly, it nods.
A small hand raises. Points down a row of shelves. A direction. Any direction. All directions.
Then it pushes gently against Margo's chest. Wriggles free. Flutters upward on those delicate glass wings.
Straight into a shelf thinking it can phase through like it always did.
Thump.
It bounces off. Tumbles and starts falling—
Margo's hands shoot out, catch it. Pull it back against her chest.
The whisperer blinks up at her. Dazed. Embarrassed. Grateful.
She looks at Kayden.
He looks at her.
The whisperer, safe in her arms, points again toward the same row, more careful this time.
Kayden straightens. Starts walking, while Margo follows.
As they walk, the shelves stretch on, almost endless rows of spines and silence. Kayden leads, steps steady, grey coat blending into the dim. Margo follows half a pace behind, the whisperer still cradled against her chest like something precious. Its tiny wings flutter occasionally, instinctively, but it doesn't try to fly again.
The air changes as they move deeper. Heavier. Older. The warm glow that bathed the entrance begins to fade, retreating like a tide pulling back from shore.
Kayden's eyes drift upward. Then around. Then up again as he says, "I thought there was light everywhere in this room."
Margo glances at the shelves around them. The shadows are longer now, pooling between rows, creeping across the floor.
"There are windows." Her voice is quiet, hushed, the instinctive hush of libraries. "Huge ones. They cast this golden light, but…" She trails off, brow furrowing behind her glasses.
"But?"
"It's only on one side." She gestures vaguely behind them. "The side we came from. You know they're there. You can see the light. But if you try to look at the windows themselves…" She trails off.
"Can't focus?"
"Yeah." She shifts the whisperer in her arms. "Like your eyes just slide off. Like the library doesn't want you to see where the light comes from."
Kayden looks around again. The golden glow is everywhere and nowhere. Present but untouchable.
He turns back to the darkening path ahead.
"The person I'm with has the same thing going for her."
Keeps walking.
Margo watches him. His back. His pace. The way he moves like he knows where he's going, even in the dark.
Something tugs at her. A thought she can't quite shake.
The whisperer points deeper in, where the light thins and shadows thicken.
The dark swallows them slowly. One step at a time.
She catches up and walks beside him now.
"I've read about people outside. In the books here." She pushes her glasses up. "They all do the same things. Build domains. Play in their own realities. Wander around having fun." A pause. "But you're different."
Kayden says nothing. She looks at him and says, "You move like there's somewhere to be."
He glances at her. Just once. Then back at the path ahead.
"I was like them," he says as he pushes his glasses.
His voice is flat and quiet, "I had a house. In a void. My own little world." Another pause. "Perfect. Quiet. Alone."
She listens quietly, her curiosity only growing.
"Then something broke in and tried to kill me," He continues. "And someone saved me, offered me to come with her."
As he follows the whisperer's pointing finger into the dark, he adds more to his words, "I traveled with her, then right before entering this library she told me everything's in danger of being… controlled."
The whisperer shifts in her arms, still pointing ahead while she can't stop thinking.
Her thoughts, "He came all the way here because some… lady saved him and offered him to come with her? Is he so grateful towards her? Is he in love with her? He doesn't seem that kind. He seems… bored?"
They walk in silence for a moment. Shelves blur past. Shadows deepen.
Then, "You are bored?"
Kayden glances at her. Just once.
"That's it, isn't it?" She pushes her glasses up. "You could've stayed in your domain. Made your house bigger maybe. Fancied it up. Done whatever you wanted." A pause. "But you didn't. You followed her out here because you were bored?"
Kayden says nothing.
She watches him. The way his jaw tightens. Just slightly as he says, "I don't… want anything. I removed my sexual feelings… I think. I tried to change myself to feel nothing and stay in my… void… forever. I definitely didn't need to follow her."
The words come out flat. Too flat. Like he's reciting a line he's told himself a thousand times.
Margo's eyes widen behind her glasses, "You did what? You changed yourself?"
He stops walking. The sound of his footsteps dies. Silence rushes in to fill the space. Even the whisperer goes still in Margo's arms, its tiny form frozen mid-point.
Kayden turns slowly. Deliberately. The way something turns when it's decided there's nowhere else to go.
His grey eyes find her. Hold her.
She's smaller than him. He knew that already. He felt it when they collided, when she fell, when she curled against shelves. But knowing and seeing are different things. Standing this close, in this dark, with nothing between them but air and questions.
She has to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. Just slightly. Just enough to ask, "Kayden, why did you wear my glasses?"
The library holds its breath around them.
His face doesn't change. It barely ever does. But something behind those winter-sea eyes, something vast and empty and tired, fixes on her with an intensity that has nothing to do with expression.
"Thought they'd look… good on me too."
She sees the intensity through those glasses.
She doesn't look away as she asks, "You wanted them. You wanted them, Kayden."
She steps closer. The whisperer begins to glow in her arms.
The glow starts soft, just warmth stirring beneath translucent skin. Then it spreads, slow and golden, like honey dissolving tea.
"You don't want to want but you still do," her voice almost echoes in the darkness.
Margo's face emerges from shadow, the round softness of her cheeks, her glasses catching the glow, the curiosity in her eyes softens into understanding. Kayden's face emerges too. The sharp angles. The grey eyes that suddenly aren't just grey anymore. Lit from below, warm and seen.
For a moment, he looks almost human.
The whisperer pulses gently in Margo's arms. Waiting.
"Margo," he pauses as if finding the correct words. "You see things. Most people don't. You look and see… wanting."
Margo's breath catches. Just slightly. She doesn't look away. A pause. The light flickers gently between them.
He holds her gaze for a moment longer. Then asks, "Why are you here? Why really?"
The question lands soft but heavy. Not accusing. Just... asking.
"The library. You said the others left it." Another pause. "But you stayed. Even when you could've followed. Even when you could've left."
His eyes don't move from her face when she tries to answer, "I just… love reading," she pauses. "No, I am actually… not really sure if…"
"If what?"
She looks down. The golden glow catches her biting softly on her lips, the nervous switch of her fingers against the whisperer. She stares at the floor like it might give her answers.
Then slowly, hesitantly, she looks up.
"I'm scared." The words come quiet. Fragile. "What if too much chappens outside? What if I… lose myself in it?" A pause. "Like you. You said you… changed yourself. What if I lean into… something like that? What if I become something I don't recognize?"
Kayden's throat moves. A lump rising, catching. He swallows. His lips barely part. Something gathers behind his gray eyes. Maybe a word? A question? An answer he doesn't have.
His mouth stays open.
Nothing comes.
The golden glow flickers.