He could not look at them for long.
Eventually, they reached a door not carved but painted from light and shadow. No hinges. No handle. Just a surface that rippled when he approached.
"The Book That Was Never Written lies within," said the Librarian, who had followed them unseen. "But beware: its pages are empty for a reason."
Aiden turned to him. "Because the story was too dangerous to tell?"
The Librarian shook their head. "Because nothing could survive it being told."
Aiden did not hesitate. He pressed his palm to the door.
It opened.
The chamber inside was dark, but not empty.
A pedestal stood at its center, and on it, the book: simple, leather-bound, no markings on its cover. It did not glow. It did not resist.
It simply wasn't.
And somehow that made it more real than anything else in existence.
He reached for it. Nexus whispered, "Once you open it, everything changes."
"I know," Aiden said.
"And you may not like what you read."
