The altar stood cracked in the center of the chapel.
Around it, the silence felt taut—like a string pulled too tight. Faint echoes of the previous glyph still shimmered in the air, half-seen and quickly forgotten, like a memory trying to surface.
I didn't know why I moved toward it again. Only that I felt the Lexicon pulse as I stepped closer. Like it recognized this place. Or maybe… remembered it.
Lyra gave me a side glance. "You're not seriously going to touch it again."
I didn't respond. Just extended a hand, my fingers tingling as they neared the fractured stone.
"If this kills me," I muttered, "I'm blaming the book."
The Lexicon floated closer, its pages rustling like leaves in a breeze.
The moment I touched the altar, the world broke.
Not shattered. Not exploded. Just… unraveled.
The chapel walls faded like mist in sunlight, and everything went white. Not blinding—but blank. Like a memory not yet recalled.
And then came the log.
[Tag Log Accessed – Entry NULL.02]Warning: This archive has been deprecated. Playback may contain corrupted sequence fragments. Proceed? Y/N
I didn't get a chance to decide.
The Lexicon pulsed. The page turned.
Darkness returned—but not the chapel. Not anywhere.
It was a void. A space between. A pause in the game's heartbeat.
Lines of light began to form—circuitry shaped like glyphs, pulsing along invisible walls. I stood in the center of a recording.
Aiden Chase didn't exist here.
But someone did.
A young man—familiar in shape, but unfamiliar in name. Early-era armor. No Lexicon. No quest log. Just a blank UI window that glitched whenever I tried to read it.
He stood at a glyph terminal—a vertical slab of obsidian with runework running down its face. Every line of text he tried to input was rejected.
"This isn't working," he muttered. "The Scribe build can't override the locks."
Another figure appeared. Female. Slightly older. Half of her body glitched between player avatar and raw code.
[Name Unreadable] // Flag: LISTENER.003]
She stepped forward and laid her hand against the terminal.
Instant access.
The glyphs responded—smooth, clean, obedient.
The boy looked at her.
"You know this'll get you archived, right?"
"Better me than the world," she said simply.
A pause.
"You're sure this is the only way?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she whispered something I couldn't hear—too low, too quiet—and the system reacted like a living thing.
The terminal exploded in glyphlight. Fractured pieces reassembled themselves mid-air, forming a third interface. Not player. Not dev. Something else.
The woman collapsed.
The boy screamed. He tried to catch her. But she was already fading.
And then—he looked up.
Not at her. Not at the terminal.
At me.
Right through the veil of the recording.
And he said:
"If you're watching this… it means she failed."
The light dimmed.
"It means you're next."
The vision ended.
I stumbled back.
The altar in the chapel was whole again. The chapel itself had returned. Lyra knelt beside me, panic on her face.
"Are you okay?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just… just give me a sec."
The Lexicon was still open.
Its last message lingered on the page:
Cycle status: Diverging. Narrative anchors unstable. User classification: Listener.017 (Confirmed)
Would you like to restore the previous version of yourself?
Lyra leaned in to read over my shoulder.
"Previous version?"
"I don't know," I muttered. "Maybe a metaphor. Maybe a threat."
She looked at me—serious now. No sarcasm. No dry commentary.
"Would you?"
I didn't answer.
But the Lexicon didn't need one.
The page turned on its own.
[NEW ENTRY CREATED: USER JOURNAL – THREAD.017] This story is no longer stable. The SYSTEM cannot contain it. But I can write it.