The wind changed the moment they crossed the threshold of the anomaly.
Not a gust. Not a storm. A reversal—as though time exhaled and the world held its breath.
Before them stood the Reflective Library.
It was no building. It had no doors, no spires, no welcoming windows. It was a vast, pulsating shape—part cathedral, part living mirror—hovering inches above cracked obsidian ground. Its skin shimmered like mercury in agony, reflecting thoughts before they were born, echoing names that had never been spoken.
"It's not reading the world," Kaela murmured, her voice raw with awe. "It's reading us."
Darius said nothing, eyes narrowed. Nyx was already tense, hand near the hilt of her void-forged blade—though even she knew steel would be meaningless here.
They stepped forward as one.
And the Library let them in.
There was no transition.
No doorway. No turning back.
