The books screamed when touched.
Lirael's doppelgänger trailed a finger along the trembling shelves, leaving frost patterns on leather-bound spines. Each tome bore titles in languages that shifted under scrutiny—one moment Cyrillic, the next Mayan glyphs, then corporate logos shimmering with malignant sentience.
"Welcome to Azrael's diary," the girl purred, plucking a volume that bled iridescent pus. "Fun fact: Every word here is a lie he wished were true."
Lirael's void-hand pulsed in time with the library's heartbeat. "Cut the twin crap. Which variant are you? Apocalypse flavor or existential dread edition?"
"Neither." The girl's smile split into a fractal pattern. "I'm the *receipt*."
The air warped.
Suddenly Lirael stood in her childhood bedroom—except the walls were meat. Her eight-year-old self sat cross-legged, stitching a ragdoll from strips of her mother's burial shroud. The doll's button eyes tracked her.
CRUNCH.
The memory shattered. They stood before a cathedral-sized hourglass filled with liquid cities. New York dissolved into Tokyo mid-fall, skyscrapers melting like sugar cubes in the viscous flow.
"Azrael created 6,902 versions of you," the girl said, tapping the hourglass. Golden cracks spiderwebbed from her touch. "Most imploded upon learning their purpose. You're the only one who still *burns*."
A book slammed open nearby. Pages flapped like wounded birds, projecting holograms:
- A steel womb** birthing Lirael clones that aged to dust in seconds
- Kaelion** kneeling before Azrael's shadow, offering his sword hilt-first
- A Shanghai skyscraper** vomiting fractal Buddhas made of stock market data
"Stop." Lirael's monocle overheated, searing her cheek. "What's the play here? Guilt me into surrender?"
The girl laughed—a sound like broken chandeliers. "Darling, I'm your *sponsor*. Let's upgrade that pathetic void-hand."
She snapped her fingers.
The library inverted.
Lirael plummeted through a kaleidoscope of cursed knowledge:
- Mathematical formulas that calcified eyeballs
- Love letters that rewrote DNA
- IKEA assembly instructions for building a new god
She landed in a chapel where stained glass depicted her own crucifixion. The altar held a obsidian box vibrating with cosmic static.
"Open it," the girl whispered inside her skull. "Unless you enjoy being Thorne's glorified USB drive."
The box contained a **language**.
Not words—a living entity shaped like a double-helix noose. It coiled around her arm, fusing with the void. Agony detonated in every synapse as the parasite evolved.
[ENTROPY SPEECH 2.1 INSTALLED]
[WARNING: CORRUPTION RISK 99.9%]
Reality flickered. Her vision overlaid with crimson debug text:
OBJECTS NEAR YOU:
- Kaelion Thorne (87% crystalline) [THREAT LEVEL: Ω]
- St. Judas's Sanctuary (corrupted save file)
- Gluttony Mech debris (recyclable)
"Found you."
Kaelion materialized through a stained glass window, his sword sheathed in paradox flames—simultaneously freezing and incinerating the air. The blade left afterimages of crucified saints in its wake.
The doppelgänger sighed. "Ugh, the celibate avalanche returns. Deal with him."
Lirael raised her upgraded hand. The air crystallized into a shield of screaming runes. "Back off, Frosty the Genocider!"
"You carry the Gospel's corruption.**" Kaelion's sword tip ignited a micro-black hole. "This ends now."
Their clash birthed a hurricane of disintegrating physics:
- Gravity became a suggestion
- Color inverted into weaponized nostalgia
- The library's books transformed into kamikaze origami hawks
Lirael's entropic speech lashed out instinctively: **"REALITY.OVERWRITE('SWORD', 'HARMLESS');"**
The universe stuttered.
Kaelion's blade morphed into a bouquet of wilted lilies. His glacial composure cracked—a hairline fracture spreading across his face. "**How dare you defile—"
"DEFINE 'DEFILE'!**" Her voice boomed with datacenter reverb. The walls bled hexadecimal code. "IS IT MURDERING TEN THOUSAND SOULS TO POWER YOUR HOLY TOASTER?**"
The library collapsed into a singularity.
They fell.
Through a Paris where the Eiffel Tower punched the moon.
Past a desert where sand sang Gregorian chants in Microsoft Sam's voice.
Into the belly of a dying star that whispered: *"You're both running out of borrowed time."*
Impact.
They crashed intoShanghai's quantum佛龛—a skyscraper-sized shrine where Buddha's statue had eight arms holding nuclear footballs, blockchain ledgers, and a PlayStation controller. Neon prayer wheels spun at relativistic speeds, casting shadows that moved independently of light sources.
Kaelion pinned her against a wall of flickering stock tickers. His crystallized hand gripped her throat, diamond shards drawing blood. "**The Gospel's last shard is here. You will not claim it."
Lirael's corrupted hand seized his wrist. Entropy speech surged: **"CRYSTAL.REVERT('FLESH');"
His scream was human.
For one excruciating second, Kaelion's armor dissolved to reveal scarred muscle and eyes brimming with terror. The vision vanished as he backhanded her through a sliding paper door.
Behind it floated the **Gospel's final fragment**—a rotating Klein bottle containing a supernova. But guarding it was neither angel nor demon.
"Grandma?" Lirael choked.
The old woman knitting on a plasma couch had Mrs. Voss's face, but her yarn was barbed wire and spider silk. Her needles clicked in 4/4 time with Azrael's
mechanical heartbeat.
"Hello, dumpling." She held up a sweater woven from Lirael's stolen memories. "Let's talk about what you did to Kaelion's conscience."