The Curator's Private Study was located in a secluded wing of the gallery, a place Mira knew was off-limits to the public. The thought of entering such a private space, clearly orchestrated by Link, sent a fresh wave of unease through her. The game was no longer confined to public display areas; it was moving into more intimate, personal spaces.
She found the door, heavy and made of dark wood, previously locked, now slightly ajar. Pushing it open, she stepped into a surprisingly small, meticulously ordered room. Bookshelves overflowing with esoteric art tomes lined one wall, a grand mahogany desk dominated another, covered in scattered papers and what looked like archaeological tools. The air was thick with the scent of old paper and dust, mixed with a faint, almost imperceptible hint of that musky, metallic aftershave she now dreaded.
In the center of the room, illuminated by a single, soft desk lamp, stood a tall, narrow display cabinet, its glass doors slightly ajar. Inside, meticulously arranged on velvet stands, was a collection of ancient artifacts: small, intricate carvings of alien-like figures, polished stones with strange glyphs, and what looked like fragments of pottery adorned with unfamiliar symbols.
This was no ordinary art collection. These were items that resonated with the obscure, the mysterious. They felt… extraterrestrial. Like something from another world. Like something from Planet Link.
The projected message was absent this time. Instead, a small, sleek tablet computer lay open on the desk next to the cabinet, its screen displaying a single image: a close-up of one of the carved figures within the cabinet, its features alien and unnerving.
Beneath the image, in Link's script, were words that sent a shiver through Mira:
"The subject is contained. Proximity reveals truth. Examine the collection, Mira. Identify the anomalous presence within this intimate space. Your final evaluation requires close proximity."
Mira's breath hitched. "The subject is contained." She was the subject, and this small, confined room was her containment. He was here, perhaps in the room itself, or very close by. She scanned the room frantically, her eyes darting to every shadow, every corner.
She approached the display cabinet, forcing herself to focus on the task. The artifacts were intricate, each one alien and captivating. She looked for something that didn't belong, something that betrayed his presence.
She leaned in closer to the cabinet, examining the tiny, carved figures. They were eerie, with elongated limbs and oversized heads, almost humanoid but unmistakably alien. One, in particular, caught her eye. It was small, no larger than her thumb, carved from a dark, obsidian-like stone. Its eyes were hollow, empty sockets.
As she peered at it, a faint glint caught her eye. Nestled just behind the tiny figure, almost completely hidden from view, was a single, metallic earring. It was a small, almost insignificant silver stud, but on its surface, etched with microscopic precision, was a familiar symbol: the stylized eye within the geometric pattern she'd seen on the atlas and projected on the blackboard.
Mira's fingers trembled as she reached into the cabinet and carefully retrieved the earring. It was cold to the touch. This wasn't just an anomaly; it was a personal item. His item. He had been here. He was here.
As she held the earring, a low, resonant chime filled the small room, more intimate, more direct than before. The distorted voice returned, closer now, as if speaking directly into her ear, sending goosebumps crawling down her arms.
"Excellent, Mira," the voice purred, a new, unsettling warmth underlying the electronic distortion. "You have found it. The culmination of your observations. Your proximity is... noted. Now, turn around."
Mira froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was contained. He was here. The game was over.