The figure sat on a low stone bench carved directly from the wall.
Their head turned toward me.
I kept walking but stopped breathing.
The shadowy figure’s gaze swept the hallway as if they couldn’t quite focus.
“Name,” the guard whispered.
Their voice wasn’t loud, and it didn’t echo.
My tongue tried to move.
The urge to answer was sharp, almost reflexive.
I dropped my gaze to the floor and continued walking. The urge to respond clawed at my rib cage.
“Name,” they repeated, still soft and patient.
The silence stretched.
“Not you, then,” they murmured.
They stared down the hall behind me, toward some invisible figure only they could see.
“Name,” they called again, but not to me. They spoke past me, through me.
Slowly, I stepped sideways, keeping to the very edge of the wall, the wards buzzing faintly against my shoulder. The figure kept turned toward that now-empty stretch of corridor.
Every step felt as if it took an hour.
The buzzing against my skin grew sharper where I brushed the carved symbols, but nothing happened. I slipped around the next corner, knees nearly giving out as soon as the figure wasn’t in my line of sight. I pressed my back against the wall, sucking in air through my nose. My heart hammered in my throat.
I didn’t know why I wanted so badly to answer it, but I didn’t care to find out, either.
I pushed off the wall and continued.
The hallway widened into a circular chamber with a low, domed ceiling that swallowed the green light and turned it a ghostly pale color. There were no cells, doors, or runes.
Just a pedestal.
And on it was a book.
The visitor’s book
It didn’t look like much. No arcane glow or aura. It was just a thick leather book.
I moved closer, scanning the surrounding floor. No trip runes. No obvious wards. Just a faint hum in the air.
Up close, the cover was ridged and layered, like a stone that had once been liquid and solidified mid-movement. It didn’t feel like parchment; it felt like a fossil.
There was a pen next to it.
I wiped my wet fingers on the side of my suit. Then, I reached out and laid my palm flat against the cover.
The magical hum rose from a vibration to a low, bone-deep thrum.
My magic recoiled instinctively.
