Iris stared at Calen through tear-blurred eyes.
The walls around them quivered again —
doors sprouting and vanishing along the endless hallway,
like mouths gasping open, snapping shut.
Somewhere deep within the house,
something shifted,
something woke.
The floor rippled under her like a river made of pages.
Calen:
(steady)
"You don't have to be perfect, Iris.
You just have to be brave."
She shook her head, a fresh wave of sobs breaking from her chest.
Iris:
(gasping)
"I'm too scared—"
Calen:
(soft but firm)
"Then be scared.
And move anyway."
He held out his hand again.
The lantern burned like a beacon between them —
its light the only thing untouched by the trembling, crumbling world around them.
The house screamed again —
not a noise made by wood or stone —
but a deep, awful sound, like the tearing of fabric that held the universe together.
Iris hesitated.
Her fingers twitched against her knees.
Behind her, the walls convulsed, the shadows thickening,
coiling like ropes ready to drag her back into the endless corridors.
Ahead —
Calen's hand.
The light.
The unknown.
Iris:
(whispering)
"What if I forget?"
Calen:
"Then we'll make new memories."
He smiled —
soft, stubborn, unwavering.
Calen:
"And I'll carry the old ones for you."
With a choked cry, Iris lunged forward.
Her fingers clasped his —
small, cold, trembling.
The moment their hands met,
the lantern exploded in a burst of white-gold fire.
The hallway howled.
The house convulsed, walls shuddering violently.
Calen pulled her up —
and together they ran.
The floor cracked and tore under their feet,
revealing nothing but black pages below,
a yawning void filled with half-formed words and broken names.
The door at the far end —
one real door —
flickered into existence.
A way out.
They sprinted toward it.
The house roared behind them —
not in rage,
but in hunger.
The thing that lived in the book —
the thing that fed on forgotten sorrow —
reached for them.
Tendrils of ink and paper lashed out,
grasping for ankles, sleeves, hair.
Iris screamed,
but Calen tightened his grip on her hand,
the lantern swinging wild and bright at his side.
Calen:
(shouting)
"Don't stop!
Trust the light!"
Iris stumbled but kept moving,
tears streaming down her face,
her whole body shaking.
The door loomed closer.
The lantern's flame flared brighter,
pushing back the darkness inch by inch.
One final lunge —
and they crashed through the door together.
The world exploded in a roar of tearing paper and shrieking wind —
and then —
silence.
They tumbled out onto a soft field of grass,
the fog thinning into misty ribbons around them.
Above, the sky stretched vast and endless —
streaked with unfamiliar stars.
The mansion was gone.
Only an empty, ragged space remained,
where reality stitched itself back together in trembling threads.
Iris lay on the ground, gasping for breath.
Calen knelt beside her, the lantern resting between them.
Its flame was low again —
but steady.
Slowly, Iris sat up.
Her eyes were wide, still terrified —
but alive.
Truly alive.
Iris:
(breathing hard)
"Is it… is it over?"
Calen looked at the horizon —
where the mist still rolled and the broken pieces of the book world fluttered like torn pages.
Calen:
(soft)
"Not yet.
But we're one step closer."
She clutched his hand tightly.
Iris:
(whispering)
"Thank you."
Calen smiled, tired but genuine.
Calen:
"Thank you for choosing to leave."
For a long while, they sat there,
watching the stars.
Then, slowly, Iris's body began to glow —
a soft, golden light pouring from her skin,
her form blurring like watercolor in the rain.
Iris:
(smiling tearfully)
"I remember now.
I was never looking for something.
I was looking for myself."
Her voice faded, but her smile stayed,
even as she dissolved into light.
Her soul —
freed.
The lantern absorbed the last of her light,
the flame inside burning a little stronger, a little steadier.
Calen stood slowly, adjusting the lantern strap across his chest.
Ahead, the road stretched out again —
quiet, endless, waiting.
The mist whispered around his boots,
pages rustling underfoot.
Somewhere deep inside the fog,
the Book Monster stirred.
Watching.
Waiting.
It wasn't done yet.
But neither was he.
He tightened his grip on the lantern.
And kept walking.
Always forward.