Elias had always believed the archives were silent.
Not quiet — silent.
There was a difference.
Quiet meant there was nothing to hear.
Silent meant something was holding its breath.
Rows of towering shelves stretched endlessly, packed with records of everything that had ever been approved to exist. Every birth, every law, every war, every name — neatly written, neatly categorized, neatly controlled.
Elias worked in the lowest sector, where outdated texts were stored before being erased forever.
His job was simple.
Read.
Verify.
Destroy.
Most days, he barely thought about it.
Until the book appeared.
It wasn't supposed to be there.
Between two perfectly aligned volumes, a thin black spine stood slightly crooked. No title. No author. No classification code.
Just… there.
Elias frowned and pulled it out.
The moment his fingers touched the cover, a strange chill ran up his arm.
The book felt heavy, not in weight, but in presence.
He opened it.
Just… there.
Elias frowned and pulled it out.
The moment his fingers touched the cover, a strange chill ran up his arm.
The book felt heavy, not in weight, but in presence.
He opened it.
The pages were filled with unfamiliar words, written in a sharp, elegant script. They didn't match any known language in the archives.
Yet somehow…
He could read them.
Not with his eyes, but with something deeper.
One word caught his attention.
A single term, written repeatedly along the margin.
"Astra.[1]"
The lights above him flickered.
The shelves groaned.
Somewhere far above, something shifted.
Elias closed the book quickly, his heart pounding.
He didn't know what Astra meant.
But he could feel it.
The word was not meant to exist anymore.
And yet…
It was still here.
Hidden.
Waiting.
[1] Astra is a word that should not exist anymore, yet its presence is enough to disturb the balance of the world.