Ibrahim Isaac resided in a flat that felt like a home and more, like a carefully preserved archive. Shelves sagged under the load of leather-bound volumes cardboard containers overflowed with newspapers and walls were adorned with maps of Grenoble and Valence each inscribed with mysterious notes. The atmosphere carried scents of paper, robust coffee and silent fixation.
He heard their tale, his sagely creased visage unmoved fingers interlaced. Giovanni, beneath Jacques' gaze revealed the maze to him. Ibrahim remained steady. He retrieved a rough-edged ledger its sheets covered in dense handwriting.
"You aren't the first " he said, his tone. Exact. ". You might be the most…extensive record." He pointed to a page. "1792. A magistrate, in Lyon. His chest reportedly carried a 'devil's script' that surfaced following a 's public vow. That noble was executed by guillotine a week afterward for treason. The magistrate expired in his cell his skin burning to the touch."
He flipped to the page. "1943. A girl, from a village. Her hands revealed a wheel following a German officers vow to protect her family. The officer ended up dead. The girl…vanished."
Isabella bent over her pen swiftly moving over her notepad. "A trend. The mark shows up following a impactful falsehood. Then the deceiver perishes.. Giovanni remains alive."
Ibrahim's gaze, keen, through his spectacles fixed on Giovanni. "The falsehood isn't yet. Oliver Osborne's dream was the seed. His passing nurtured it.. The structure…the design…it continues to expand. Your mark throbs because the deception remains alive. Its roots extend."
"Who would be aware of these origins?" Isabella inquired. "Who constructed this alongside him?"
Ibrahim exhaled deeply shutting his ledger, his roles, as narrator and connector intertwining. "Osborne mingled in realms. Ambitious youth, dreamers. Yet to construct a maze you require excavators, planners of darkness." He jotted down a couple names on a piece of paper. "Ava Avaline. She managed donations for his campaign. Departed suddenly her name tarnished.. Sebastian Siegfried. A thinker an orator. He taught Osborne at university. Authored essays on…the relevance of myth, in politics. He regarded Osborne as his crowning achievement."
He gave the document to Isabella. "They won't want to talk. They exist in the grey. Held captive by fear or, by pride."
Ava Avaline was discovered in an apartment facing the railway lines of Grenoble. She cracked the door open the chain still latched her eyes wide and sleepless. She appeared as a shadow of the glamorous woman she once was.
"I have no comments regarding Oliver " she whispered between the opening, a detached source trapped by dread.
"It's not concerning him " Isabella murmured, her tone mellowing as she utilized her finesse as an engineer. "It's regarding what he created.. We believe…you played a part, in establishing the groundwork."
Ava's gaze shifted to Giovanni positioned a step, behind her his collar raised. "Why do you care?"
"The base is fracturing " Giovanni murmured, his soft tone bearing a gravity. ". The darkness, in its core…it's expanding. Reaching me."
There was something, in his voice in the fear he gave off that penetrated. The door shut, the chain. Then it swung open. Ava's apartment was a domain of orderliness. "He never had a vision " she murmured, once they got inside. "He carried a void. A hollowness. He sought a purpose to occupy it to divert attention from his self to himself. My role was to secure the funds.. The money… came with conditions. From corporations from causes he openly condemned. I revealed the ledger to him. He. Remarked, 'A crucial contradiction, Ava. To create a world we must become impure.'" She hugged herself. "That was his expression. 'Crucial contradiction.' His entire existence was that."
"Who took care of the soil?" Isabella inquired.
Ava's complexion grew even paler. "Helena. Helena Helga. She didn't appear on any salary list. She was his…answer. Whenever a paradox was about to emerge she eradicated it. Papers, testimonies…She's not involved in politics. She's precise."
As they were leaving Ava caught hold of Giovanni's sleeve. "That void…it wasn't indifferent. It was ravenous. Stay cautious."
Sebastian Siegfried presided over a book-filled study at Valence University, an academic, within his usual domain. He was a figure of pronounced edges and keener intellect his conceit a shroud.
"Oliver was a dreamer " he proclaimed, following Isabella's thoughtful inquiry regarding Osborne's philosophical foundations. "He realized that truth is a substance. A device, for storytelling."
Giovanni, positioned next to a window experienced a tingle, on his forearm. He remained silent.
". What if the story needed a falsehood?" Isabella inquired.
Siegfried's grin was faint. "A falsehood is merely a truth destined to arrive. Oliver's plan—the Unified Valence-Grenoble Corridor, an example of openness—it demanded…preparation. Eliminating hindrances. He wasn't dishonest. He was shaping the truth."
A surge of heat, abrupt and intense raced up Giovanni's arm. He gritted his teeth facing away, from the room gazing out over the campus. The labyrinth was aflame more. Siegfried's words weren't a defense. They served as an extension. The falsehood was being voiced this moment refined and rationalized.
"He orchestrated his demise?" Isabella inquired, doubtful.
Siegfried's eyes slid beyond her settling on Giovanni's back with a glint of detached scrutinizing curiosity. "An unexpected factor disrupted his formula. Something beyond his grasp. An unresolved point his typical…strategies couldn't secure. He turned into a threat, to the vision."
Giovanni rotated gradually. His grey eyes locked with Siegfried's. At that instant he understood. Siegfried wasn't merely aware of the thread. He had pinpointed it. He was gazing at it.
"What type of variable?" Giovanni inquired, his tone a murmur.
Siegfried's gaze lowered, albeit briefly onto Giovanni's concealed forearm. A perceptive eager expression. "A rare specimen. A living archive. Such entities are…unforeseeable. Threatening to any fabricated reality."
The meeting concluded with courtesies. Outside inside the car, with Jacques silently stationed in the driver's seat Giovanni pushed up his sleeve. The maze's shadowy core had expanded, by a millimeter, its throbbing intensifying.
"He's aware " Giovanni stated, a wave of sickness building, in his throat. "He knows who I really am.. He's not scared. He's… intrigued."
Isabella looked at the mark then glanced back at the university building. "Helena Helga takes care of business.. Sebastian Siegfried just pointed you out as one."
As Jacques drove the car off a black sedan with darkened windows glided into the spot, behind them. It did not pursue. It merely remained, a quiet menacing warning.
In his quiet apartment that night, Giovanni traced the coils of the labyrinth. He was no longer just a librarian, a witness. He was a document, a target, and a key. And the dark center of the maze on his skin seemed to pulse in time with a new, more immediate fear—the fear of the hunter who has finally seen the map.