Adam landed softly.
No thud.
No splash.
Just… stillness.
The ground beneath him wasn't rock. Wasn't dirt.
It felt like pages.
He looked down.
The surface was made of thousands—maybe millions—of paper-thin sheets, all overlapping like fish scales. Each one pulsed faintly red, and tiny letters crawled across them like ants trying to escape a burning forest.
He crouched.
Picked one up.
The letters on it stopped moving the moment his fingers touched the page.
Then—very politely—it burst into flame and disintegrated.
"Huh."
He dusted his hand off and stood.
The walls around him shifted. Not like a tunnel. More like a throat deciding whether to swallow or let him pass.
He walked forward.
There was no light source—just that same red glow leaking from the paper beneath his feet.
Eventually, the tunnel opened into a chamber.
No, not a chamber.
A library.
Or what was left of one.
