The village wasn't much, just a handful of homes, the occasional sputtering lamp, and cobblestone paths that hadn't seen a broom in years. It was small enough to feel claustrophobic but not small enough to feel safe. There was something about it, something in the air, that made it feel like the place had been here longer than it should've. Maybe longer than time even allowed. It was like the whole place existed on the edge of a dream.
The houses, though humble, looked… too perfect. Like they'd been placed too carefully, so neatly arranged in a way that made the air between them feel still. Too still. There were people moving through the village, from stand to stand, in festival clothing, but they didn't move like people. At least, not the way I was used to.
Some of them were old, faces drawn and stiff, bodies bending slightly like the weight of their own existence had been too much for too long, Their eyes, empty. Others were young, their steps light and quick, and their eyes reflected their youth, full of hope and curiosity. They weren't looking at anything. Their gazes flickered, eyes just skimming over the world around them, never lingering on anything for too long. They went through the motions, their actions familiar but somehow off. Like clockwork, but not in the comforting way. More like a machine designed to mimic life but missing the spark that made it real.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, but not by the people. No, their eyes were too distant, too absent. It was the village itself. The buildings. The cobblestone streets. The flickering lamps. The forest behind me. All of it seemed to be aware, somehow, even though I knew it couldn't be. But there was a suffocating kind of presence in the air. The village had a pulse, but it wasn't human. It was slow, steady, like it was waiting for something, maybe for me.
I kept moving, trying to keep my head down, but the weight of being here was crushing. There was no way to escape the feeling that this wasn't just some random town. It was… wrong. Everything felt too easy, like a trap laid out too carefully for me to miss.
That's when I saw her. Hannah.
At first, I didn't even recognize her, even though we just saw each other a few hours prior. She looked the same. Same ponytail. Same crisp uniform. Same look of someone who had it all together, like she hadn't been the one who helped turn my life into a goddamn nightmare. But there she was, walking down the main path, looking so at ease that it made my stomach churn. Her steps were light, sure, like she belonged here.
I froze, a cold shiver running down my spine. I didn't know why I was surprised, but I was. I didn't trust her. I didn't trust any of them. Her eyes scanned the village, but there was no recognition in them. She wasn't looking for me. She didn't know me.
But I knew her. I ducked behind a cart of something that looked edible, but the smell sent my stomach into a knot. Guilt. Regret. Maybe something worse, like all the bad choices that had brought me here. The cart was pushed up against the wall of a shop, its contents covered in a thin layer of dust, as though it hadn't been touched in ages. Not that I cared. Food wasn't what was important right now. Not when I had to keep my head low and make sure I wasn't seen.
The way she'd guided me through that hellish maze, the way she'd pretended to be my friend while I was losing everything. I couldn't. So, I started walking fast, my eyes scanning the alleyways. I walked through narrow streets, hiding behind anything I could. Every step felt like a step closer to being caught. No footsteps followed me. No voices. But I wasn't taking any chances. I turned the corner and found something that shouldn't have been here.
A crumbling archway, half-hidden between two buildings, like the town was trying to hide it. The kind of entrance that felt like the universe was daring me to walk through it. Sealed up, then half-heartedly reopened. A tunnel that didn't look like it belonged, and I didn't belong either.
The light from the village was fading as I stepped into the dark, and the air shifted instantly, thicker, cooler, like the tunnel had its own breath. I wasn't alone. Not yet. But the deeper I went, the more I felt it.
The stone underfoot was uneven, the tunnel seemingly never ending and I cursed when I tripped on a loose rock. My hands hit the cold wall for support, and...click. The ground shifted, and for a split second, the whole tunnel seemed to breathe with me. I froze.
A rumble echoed from deep within the walls, and dust spilled from the ceiling. For a moment, I thought I was going to be crushed, but instead, the wall in front of me groaned open. The sound of ancient stone grinding against ancient stone echoed through the tunnel like a forgotten secret being exposed.
And then there was light. Soft. Golden. It came from nowhere, filling the tunnel as the stone wall split open, revealing a vast room beyond.
A library. But not just any library. This wasn't some dusty corner of a building. It was the library. The one I hadn't realized I was searching for. Massive, multi-leveled, elegant in a way that felt foreign to me. The bookshelves were tall and unrelenting, towering up to the ceiling, books lined up like soldiers awaiting orders. The walls were curved, like the entire room had been sculpted by hands older than time itself. I stepped inside, drawn to it like a moth to flame. I was in awe. There was no other word for it. The air smelled of old parchment and secrets. But there was something else too. Something that made my skin crawl. The books, they watched me. I could feel it.
Floating orbs of light hummed softly from chandeliers above, casting everything in a strange, ethereal glow. The floor was polished stone, but it didn't feel right, like the space had a pulse of its own.
I moved cautiously between the rows of books. Some were in languages I couldn't even begin to understand. Some were written in symbols that seemed to shimmer and shift as if alive. Others had no writing at all, just pictures that looked like they could tell me everything, or nothing at all.
My hand brushed one thick tome. The cover shimmered under my fingers, as if welcoming me. I sneezed as dust exploded in the air. The book fell open in my hands, revealing pages full of diagrams and maps that didn't make sense. The ink seemed to crawl across the pages, and I recoiled. "Nope," I muttered, pushing the book back onto the shelf.
The deeper I went, the stranger it got. Books rearranged themselves when I wasn't looking. Some whispered as I passed, their pages fluttering in the air. One even slammed shut angrily when I glanced at it. I finally found myself at the top of a staircase, leading to another level. The view from up here was breathtaking, or terrifying, depending on how you looked at it. Endless bookshelves stretched across the room. The whole place felt like it was alive, like it was meant for something, meant for someone.
I sat and leaned against the wall in a small reading nook behind a column, letting the silence settle in around me. For once, I didn't feel hunted. I didn't feel watched. I just felt still. At peace.
But the word "Remember" echoed again, and I realized it was everywhere now. In the books. In the air. In the way the room seemed to breathe. I didn't know what this place was. Or why it existed. Or why it had brought me here.
it felt like this wasn't just a library, but more like a memory i have long forgotten.