Cedric walked with the grace of someone who expected to be executed at any moment without knowing exactly why. He was already convinced he would die at least three times that day: once when the book had opened by itself, once when the room had started breathing, and now, while following Marikka and the Grand Bibliarch through a corridor that absolutely had not existed five minutes earlier.
Marikka walked ahead of him, silent as always. The book pressed to her chest vibrated in a way she could no longer classify as fear or pain. It was something else. A call. A kind of emotional echo that filled the air and sank into her bones. Whenever the tome pulsed, the world seemed to pulse with it for a heartbeat.
Aurelian moved with the slow, steady composure of someone utterly unbothered. He did not *command* the Athenaeum—he walked beside it like an equal, an old ally. Corridors straightened at his approach, the walls opened, the floor solidified beneath their feet. And yet, beneath that calm, something felt stretched thin. The Athenaeum itself was not at ease.
Marikka felt low, distant vibrations, like the steps of a massive creature walking just behind a very thin wall. Not hostility. Not yet. Just presence. Something was following them. No rush. No sound.
Cedric spun around for the thirtieth time. "It's… right behind us, isn't it?" he mouthed slowly so Marikka could read him.
She replied with a short gesture: *not that close*.
Cedric nodded weakly, as if disciplining his own panic required physical effort. "Great. Perfect. So we'll die later."
Marikka allowed herself a small smile.
The corridor twisted into a spiraling ramp. The deeper they went, the more the sounds dimmed—not the sounds in the air, but the *vibrations*. As if someone had draped heavy cloth over the world.
Only the book kept pulsing.
At last, an opening appeared. Not a door. Not even an arch. A *cut*. A wound in the wall.
Cedric swallowed. "Is… is that normal?"
Aurelian answered without turning. "Nothing in the Silent Spirals is normal. But it is stable. For now."
Cedric did not find "for now" reassuring, but followed obediently, walking like a stiff wooden puppet.
The world on the other side of the opening followed different rules. There were no ordinary shelves. Instead, columns of rolled parchment hovered in place, suspended in mid-air. Each column turned slowly by itself. No supports. No logic. Balanced on silence.
Marikka's skin tingled. The Silent Spirals weren't meant to be *read* like books. They were meant to be *felt*—and only by someone who knew silence as intimately as she did.
"We won't get lost, right?" Cedric asked, already knowing he would not like the answer.
Marikka gestured: *depends*.
Cedric shut his eyes as though preparing to evaporate. "Perfect. Wonderful. Beautiful."
The Spirals reacted to their presence. The hovering columns leaned slightly, like trees bending in a wind only they could feel, and a corridor opened for them, guiding them inward. The vibrations in the air told Marikka this wasn't a natural path—it was a deliberate one. The Athenaeum was leading them.
Or trying to keep them away from something else.
Each step intensified a vibration that did not come from the book. It was deeper, slower, much heavier. A vibration that felt "open," like a door someone was pushing from the other side.
Marikka stopped abruptly.
Aurelian looked at her. "You feel it too?"
She nodded.
Cedric looked between them, horrified. "I don't feel anything but fear. Is that helpful?"
The book suddenly contracted in her arms. Not a tremor—a spasm. An emotional flash slammed into her chest: not fear… but recognition.
Something had been activated.
A ripple passed through the Spirals. Every floating column tilted toward the same point, as if all of them were watching something behind the group.
Cedric spun around immediately. "What—"
Nothing was there. Just still air. But Marikka felt it clearly: a vibration suspended in that air. A subtle wave, like someone pressing a hand against reality from the inside.
A vibration imitating the book's tone.
Not a fragment.
An echo.
Aurelian spoke quietly. "We must keep moving. If we stand still too long, the Spirals will assume we wish to become part of their structure."
Cedric did not need this explained twice. He grabbed Marikka's sleeve. "Move, move, move—"
She gestured *calm*, annoyed.
"I can't," Cedric mouthed, shaking.
The Spirals did not wait. The columns bent aside, forming a narrower, faster path. The air thickened with memory—not theirs.
Marikka felt a heartbeat beneath their feet.
Not hers.
Not the Athenaeum's.
Something else had awakened in a place that did not belong to any map.
The book vibrated violently enough that Cedric yelped.
Marikka touched the cover.
An emotion exploded through her hand:
*You are not alone.*
She stiffened.
Aurelian read her expression. "What did it convey?"
Her signs were sharp: *another… like him.*
Cedric went white. "No. No no no. One is enough. One is already a disaster. Two? Two will—"
The Spiral silenced him.
Literally.
One of the parchment columns brushed his shoulder, and Cedric lost his voice for a few seconds—not from magic, just pure terror.
Aurelian stopped. "Marikka. Touch the ground."
She obeyed. She placed her hand on the living stone of the Spiral. The vibrations intensified instantly. A direction. A point.
A memory.
Not from the book.
Not from the Athenaeum.
A memory of something approaching.
One word vibrated into her skin:
*Near.*
No—
another followed immediately after, stronger:
*Opening.*
Marikka pulled her hand away. The floor throbbed like a heart beating too hard.
Aurelian understood before she could sign. "A Threshold. A Threshold is opening."
Cedric flailed. "A—A what? Is that bad?"
Aurelian gave him a look of pity. "A Threshold is something that should not open by itself."
The vibrations grew sharper, closer. Not footsteps. Not a physical creature. An emotional presence trying to match the book's frequency.
Like it was knocking.
Or answering.
The Spiral suddenly shifted shape with enough force that Cedric fell on his back. A new corridor spiraled open ahead, straight toward the center.
The book pulsed a third time.
Another emotional word:
*Careful.*
Marikka did not know whether it was a warning for her… or for the other presence.
She, Aurelian, and Cedric exchanged a look.
The Spiral inhaled—
a soundless breath of something vast and old.
And for the first time, a shadow moved across the floor in front of them.
A shadow that did not belong to any of them.
And it was not alone.