The closer Elias got, the less real the world became.
The firelight dimmed. The air thickened.
Every breath felt like it traveled through water. Each step made the chamber seem to stretch and narrow at the same time, as if he were walking deeper into something that didn't want to be walked through.
The book pulsed once.
Not visually. He felt it in his chest.
Like a heartbeat that wasn't his.
He stepped up to the pedestal.
The book sat completely still now. The chains, once twitching, had gone silent—though not slack. They clung tighter, coils gleaming with the sheen of wet iron.
He reached out a hand.
Hesitation stopped just inches from the cover.
His fingertips hovered above the leather. Burn marks lined its edges—deep, blackened gouges like claw wounds across a living thing. The texture was uneven, like the surface had shifted over time. Like it had healed itself after being wounded.
It smelled faintly of ash.
And something else.
Something older than fire.
He didn't remember deciding to touch it.
But suddenly, his hand moved.
Contact.
The moment his fingers touched the book, the world shattered.
A voice entered him.
Not through his ears. Through his spine. His skull. His bones.
"SYSTEM DETECTED: HOST UNALIGNED."
"CALIBRATING SOUL FREQUENCY…"
"REJECTION RATE: 91%."
"ACCEPTABLE."
Elias tried to scream, but no air came out. His lungs weren't listening. His entire body had gone stiff—muscles frozen, nerves crackling.
The chains dissolved.
Not broke. Dissolved.
They turned to vapor and bled into the floor.
The book opened.
Pages fluttered—on their own, in total silence—and then locked in place.
The left page was blank.
The right page glowed red.
One line burned across it, like letters carved by fire:
YOU HAVE TOUCHED THAT WHICH SHOULD NOT EXIST.
NOW YOU EXIST OUTSIDE THE SYSTEM.
WELCOME TO THE FRACTURE CODEX.
Pain erupted through his arm.
His right sleeve caught fire.
Not with normal flame. It burned black—and cold.
Veins lit beneath his skin, glowing in violent orange, forming runes, lines, ancient glyphs that danced and flickered across muscle and bone.
He dropped to his knees.
The voice returned—quieter now, but more alive.
"You are mine now."
"And I am not done with you."
His vision blurred.
The book closed.
Not with a slam—but with the soft finality of a breath drawn inward.
The glow faded.
The chamber cooled.
The Codex sat still once again.
Smoke curled from Elias's arm.
The runes were still there—dim now, etched like tattoos that didn't belong on skin.
His body trembled.
But in his mind, a second presence had begun to breathe.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.