The Lexicon hadn't stopped moving since the Vault.
It hovered now in the corner of the room like a breathing thing—each page rippling with symbols I hadn't written, as though the book had discovered its own memory.
I watched it from my spot near the balcony, arms crossed, heartbeat slow and uneven.
Lyra leaned in the doorway behind me, arms wrapped around her middle. Not cold. Just uncertain.
"You haven't opened it," she said quietly.
"I think it's already open," I replied.
The Lexicon turned a page of its own volition. No command. No spell.
"Still think this is just a support class?" I added, a poor attempt at humor. It fell flat between us.
Lyra stepped forward. "You're scared."
I looked over at her. "Wouldn't you be?"
"Already am."
She moved to sit beside me on the floor. No ceremony. Just presence.
The Lexicon shimmered, then stilled.
And then it wrote.
No glyphs. Not a spell.
Just a message.
"You wrote something into the world. Now the world is answering."
Lyra shifted. "That's not a SYSTEM notice."
"It's not from me, either."
[Spell Created: Echobind – Rank ?]Effect: Binds a conscious memory echo to a physical object. May retain awareness. Duration: Variable. Warning: This spell has not been reviewed by SYSTEM moderators. Origin: Unknown thread.
I read the entry again. And again.
My hands weren't shaking, but they should have been.
"This doesn't feel like learning a spell," I whispered. "It feels like being given something."
"By who?"
I didn't answer.
We took the spell to the oldest, quietest place in Duskridge: the sunken floor of the archive wing. Dust hung like fog in the still air. Forgotten furniture littered the corners, half-eaten by texture bleed.
I picked up an abandoned quill—just a decorative NPC item, no stats, no tags.
Then I cast.
[Spell Cast: Echobind]Target: Object – Quill Pen | Memory Anchor Detected…Success.
The air snapped.
And the pen spoke.
"I remember ink that hurt to write."
Lyra flinched. "That was a voice. Not a prompt."
I felt the weight of the object in my hand—familiar, but wrong. Warm.
[Object Modified: Echo-Touched Quill]Retains a fragment of emotional imprint. May react when used to transcribe system commands.
I didn't move.
It wasn't the spell that unnerved me.
It was the feeling that something—someone—had responded.
Not in code.
In pain.
Back upstairs, we walked in silence toward the edge of the valley trail.
"You okay?" Lyra asked.
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
"No."
She nodded once. "Didn't think so."
The Lexicon hovered again. Close. Too close.
Not a tool. Not anymore.
It opened on its own, page still warm from the spell.
At the bottom, almost like a whisper:
"Glyphs are not spells. Glyphs are memories that survived forgetting."
Lyra read it aloud and frowned. "That's... haunting."
"It's not just a game line," I said. "It's a warning."
We paused on the ridge overlooking Duskridge.
And then—
The spell had worked. Too well. A memory had answered me.
Not with data. With pain.
Lyra watched me like I might come apart.
"You're not just learning magic," she said slowly. "You're waking things up."
I looked down at my hands. I couldn't feel the chill of the air anymore.
"Then why do I feel like they're waking me up too?"