The next day, the umbrella pulled her.
Not literally, but with a quiet insistence, like a magnetic thread guiding her steps. She wandered deeper into Velmira's old district—alleys she'd never walked, streets whose names had changed or disappeared.
She stopped before a crumbling stone building with fogged windows. A sign hung at an angle: Velmira City Library – Lower Archive.
She didn't remember the library ever having a lower level.
Inside, the scent of mildew, ink, and something sweet greeted her. A receptionist glanced up, but didn't speak. Elia descended a spiral stairwell into the basement. Below, the floor was wet—not flooded, but damp, as if the rain above had seeped down through time.
Books lined the walls, but these were no ordinary volumes. Some pulsed softly. Others whispered to themselves. One flipped its pages as she passed.
A book with a cracked leather cover opened as she neared. The title: Names the Rain Remembers.
Inside was a list.
The fifth name: Elia Fern. Memory Weaver. Bound, but not broken.
Her hands trembled.
She wasn't crazy.
She was waking up.