The dimming lights of the Vault enveloped the chamber in a hushed breath, as if it were drawing in the shadows clinging to its ancient walls.
The shelves creaked under the weight of forgotten tomes, their dust swirling upwards, defying gravity. Engravings on the stone rippled, as if unseen hands were toying with their surface, distorting reality.
Kallith's half-formed reflection flickered before us, her edges dissolving into delicate ribbons of silver light.
Sareth stepped boldly between me and the shifting gloom, her arm extending as if to protect. "Kallith," she murmured, urgency lacing her voice, "we must reveal it. The First Book. This is why you led us here."
Kallith's gaze -- or what resembled eyes -- turned toward the pedestal, then returned to us with a ghostly weight.
"You do not open it," she stated, her voice echoing in an unsettling harmony, one sound emanating from her lips, the other rising from the silver veins coursing along the wall.
"It opens you."
A chill settled in the pit of my stomach.
Sareth remained resolute. "We have no time for riddles. The Indexed are drawing near, and the Calyra are within these walls."
As if summoned by her words, the distant door shuddered, a low metallic groan resonating through the Vault. Dust tumbled from overhead, and something heavy dragged itself along the darkened stone corridor.
Luthen.
Kallith's image stuttered, a flicker of light marred by pain. "He is not the first," she whispered, her voice wavering. "He is not even the worst. The Scribe has many hands."
I tore my gaze from the door, drawn back to the pedestal where the First Book loomed. It was a colossal artifact, so ancient it seemed almost fossilized, its cover a charred leather that hinted at past infernos. Silver clasps, shaped as hands intertwined, help it shut.
There was an awareness emanating from it--a gaze that felt both predatory and patient.
"If it opens us..." I breathed, "how do we wield it?"
Kallith's shimmering reflection drifted closer, ethereal as mist. "The Book is a threshold. The first Mythshapers inscribed within it not to preserve truth, but to confine it."
Sareth pressed her lips together, brows furrowing. "Confine it? Confining what?"
"The Scribe Below," she replied, her words dripping with gravity. "The first stories were chains. The first lies, locks."
A nauseating dread drew up my spine.
"The Calyra wasn't constructed to venerate the Scribe," I whispered, realization dawning heavy over me. "It was forged to imprison it."
Kallith's broken smile contorted. "Indeed. Yet your leaders chose to worship the cage instead."
The Vault's main door slammed shut, an ominous clap that echoed within. The shelves trembled, sending loose papers spiraling off desks like disoriented birds fleeing a storm.
Sareth flinched. "We must invoke the Book now. No matter what it entails -- we are out of options."
Kallith's flickering silhouette grew agitated. "If you release it without comprehension... you will be rewritten."
"We're already being rewritten," I murmured, my voice quavering. "If we remain passive, I will become one of them."
Kallith closed her eyes, her reflection dimming to a mere whisper against the backdrop of darkness.
"Then heed my words closely."
A suffocating stillness enveloped the Vault. Even the walls seemed to lean in, strained with anticipation.
Kallith's voice unfurled, a haunting cadence weaving through the air, as if echoing an ancient truth pre-dating the very fabric of language itself.
"The First Book responds to intent. Not strength. Not blood. Not lineage. You do not read it. You present it with a truth it cannot alter."
Sareth's form tensed. "Truth? The Calyra obliterates truth."
Kallith inclined her head. "That is why it must belong solely to you, Vaerin. A truth the Scribe cannot rewrite."
A dry pallor swept through me. "What truth could that even be?"
Kallith's reflection softened as if breathing warmth into the cold. "Your first life."
A sudden chill enveloped the Vault.
"My first... life?"
"You survived erasure once," she continued, her voice steady. "The Scribe attempted to claim you as a child and faltered. That memory still lies buried within you. Deep, dormant, yet intact."
My mind spun wildly. "I can't remember--"
"Precisely," she whispered. "The Calyra concealed it within you. It is your anchor."
Another thunderous impact shook the far door--this time with a force that sent a shudder through the air. The groan of metal twisting reverberated ominously.
Sareth shot a worried glance at the door. "It won't withstand much longer."
Kallith's form flickered uncertainly now, her edges dissolving like mist in the dawn.
"Place your hands on the Book," she urged me. Conceive nothing but the instant before your first erasure."
I inhaled sharply. "I don't recall that moment."
"Memory is not the essence," she reassured softly. "Only the shape of it."
With hesitant steps, I approached the pedestal.
The First Book emitted a faint hum, a deep resonance that coursed through my bones, stirring a queasy familiarity within me. Like a distant echo responding to something long buried.
I reached out.
My fingertips grazed its surface.
And with that, the silver clasps sprang open.
All ten of them.
The Book inhaled.
Not in mere metaphor.
A frigid current of air surged inward, akin to the breath of some colossal beast awakening from a protracted slumber. The pages rippled, their edges curling like lips yearning to whisper secrets.
Behind us, the door shrieked as claws--too many to count--scraped against its surface.
"Vaerin!" Sareth's voice cut through the chaos.
I pressed my palms firmly onto the open first page.
And the world slipped away.
A blinding white surged into my sight, overwhelming everything with its glow. My hands sank deep into the pages, as if they were drowning in water, pulling me under. Fragments of images crashed against my consciousness -- not memories but fleeting sensations, shadows of truth:
A corridor lined with mirrors reflecting fractured selves. The anguished scream of a child echoes in despair. Hands gripping me, yanking me backward in darkness. A shadow, delicate and serpentine, snaking up from below. A reflection that felt foreign and wrong. An archivist's voice called my name--"Vaerin! Keep your eyes closed!"
Then--
A tearing, like fabric unraveled. A void opened wide, and silence, heavy and deafening, shattered my sanity -- followed by an inexplicable feeling, as if I were being lifted, rewritten, and restored to life.
A second chance.
The first whispers of erasure.
I staggered, the visions ebbing away, breath ragged, heart pounding like a thousand drums against my ribs.
Kallith's voice reached me, distant yet clear.
"Tell it, Vaerin. Share the truth only you possess with the Book."
The pages danced beneath my fingertips, irresistibly parting to reveal a blank expanse.
I gasped in astonishment.
Sareth's fierce cry pierced through. "Vaerin, now! The walls--"
I turned away from the door, the claws, and the reverberating call of the Scribe Below stirring from slumber.
And I spoke.
Tentatively at first, then with a power that surged from deep within.
"I existed before the Calyra. I endured what it could not erase. I am the memory that remains unaltered. I am the indelible."
The Book shuddered... and the pages began to radiate light.
Sareth shielded her eyes, a look of awe mixed with fear. "What's happening?!"
The walls convulsed, stone shifting and writhing like a living thing. A scream erupted from beyond the door--many voices weaving together in torment.
Kallith's fading silhouette whispered one last, urgent truth: "You've opened the First Book, Vaerin. Now you must confront what emerges."
And then--
The Vault erupted into illumination.
