Nikai followed him deeper into the Archives, through corridors of bookcases, stretching to ceilings so high he could not see the top. Scrolls upon scrolls lay on sighing shelves, translucent parchment patchy in thedim light of red candles floating in the air. It seemed preposterous to rely on fire for light in a room full of paper. But those papers would not burn, and Nikai felt no heat from the flames.
He licked his lips. An itch was spreading through his fingers.
Somewhere in this vast room, his own story rested on a shelf.
The Librarian spoke. “This place makes an impression on anyone who steps in. Ordinary souls cannot come in here because they cannot bear it. Reapers are not immune to the effects either. The souls keep memories of their mortal lives, but you Reapers remember nothing, do you? Your mortal memories and sins have been wiped away. In return, you stay and serve the underworld. That is why this room tempts you so. You are curious about who you were, what you were. And curiosity is a treacherous thing.”
It was.
Whispers brushed against Nikai’s ears.
You have been wondering for so long... just one peek and you’ll find out why you were sent to the Nothing...
Don’t you want to know?
The whispers clung onto Nikai’s sleeves, tugging his hair, pressing down on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but flail his arms, slapping at them.
Shutupshutupshut—
The voices stopped.
Nikai breathed out. “I am here to carry out a task, and I will fulfill it without distraction.”
The Librarian smiled thinly.
Soon they reached a wooden door with characters etched across the top:
You Must Enter As Yourself
The Librarian stuck the key into the middle of the door. It melded seamlessly into the wood, and a yawning cavern emerged.
“Welcome to the Darkroom.”
Nikai stepped in.
The door behind him vanished, and the abyss swallowed him in.
Memories of another time and place slithered into his mind. A place where his eyes saw nothing but black, his ears heard nothing but silence, where his hands reached out and touchednothing. He could almost feel the rough gravel on his bare feet, the tearing of skin as he was forced to keep walking in utter darkness toward a tiny speck of light in the distance. He had gone on for eternity and would go on for another eternity. There had been nothing in front of him and nothing behind him, only that speck of light that kept moving farther and farther away.
Hope.
The light was hope and the lack of it, understanding he would never reach it, but knowing it still existed.
Then suddenly, he’d found himself out of the dark, lying on the ground, choking on air, the rags on his body drenched through. There was mist everywhere, but the gloom still blinded him, and it had hurt.
A young man was staring down at him. He was beautiful, with silvery-white hair and the saddest eyes.
“You are not who I am looking for,” the young man had said. “But whether by chance or fate, I have found you. If you come with me, I will make sure you never have to suffer like this again.”
He had reached out feebly, and the young man grasped his hand firmly in his.
“I am Four. Do you remember your name?”
He’d tried to mouth something, but the shape of his real name was lost to him. “No,” he replied hoarsely.
The young man smiled. “Then I shall call youNikai.”
Nikai’s knees struck the cold ground of the Darkroom.
