The corridor was silent.
Elias could hear the rustle of the trees and the wind bashing against the windows. This was not the kind of silence that came with peace – instead it was intentional. Programmed. Elias had been thinking about this all night. Her screams fresh in his mind.
He knew he shouldn't but with everything unraveling he needed to know.
Who was Mireya?
The girl, who appeared and vanished before his eyes – the one who took a peace of his soul, mind, body.
Elias was descending the spiral stairwell his lantern clenched in his hand. This part of the archive was prohibited for anyone that is not the Crimson Archivist. There were no lights built on the wall. If they would likely fall out. The wooden walls gave off a musty, damp smell as though liquid lingered in the crevasses. The only source of light was from the flickering flame of his lantern.
The stairwell seemed to extend forever.
Goosebumps creeped onto his arms the deeper he goes. Finally his foot hits a hard surface and an echo bounces off the stone walls. Rows and rows of bookcases holding memory slips bound in crimson string sit before him. Swirls of incarnate symbols are carved into the bookcases pulsing like a racing heart. Elias walks over to one of the bookcases. He glides his fingers over the memory slip expecting a dirt layer to cover his finger tips. But none does, instead his finger is clean.
As though someone dusts this place regularly. Elias brows furrowed his finger wiping again – but nothing. Elias sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth and moved on.
At least the smell is better here. Elias reflected.
For what appears like three moons he lurks past the bookcases, hope slowly dwindling before he spots it. A neatly wrapped letter covered by a layer of grim and cobwebs. Surrounding it was a box of quills and nicely stacked parchment paper. Elias grabs the letter, shaking it off the remaining dust. The old letter felt weird beneath his fingertips like maggots forcing their way into his skin. He ignores the pain unwrapping the crimson bonds.
The letter slowly opens as though inviting him to look, to take a peak, to see the truth.
Without warning or maybe he was too enwrapped in his thought to notice – a footstep rings through the vast room. A shadow looms over him – Elias freezes, his breath unable to escape his lungs.
"Who?" The gravel voice strikes his ears – one word, just one makes a cold feeling wash over him and he knows he's been caught. Elias' mind raises, his heart pounding in his ears. He swiftly turns to a man in a red and black robe standing before him. Glyphs pulse beneath his face like the one who erased Mireya. His eyes are dull, covered by the rewritten pasts that swim beneath the surface.
A Crimson Archivist. Elias should have known – he should have known this was too risky. He should have waited he should have-
Elias thought get cut off by a heavy hand gripping his shoulders. The other hand of the Crimson Archivist lifts in the air. The symbol on his face glows brighter as parchment hovers, weightlessly, above them its edges curled like a spider aching towards its death. Dancing beside it was a raven-feather quill, without a hand the quill scratched against the whispers of the parchment, each stroke sharp, deliberate.
Elias felt a pain run through his head creeping down his body – he drops the lantern – its iron slamming against the stone floor. He sees flashes of a man sitting in a circle surrounded by dark ominous symbols. His head explodes in pain and a cutting scream rips through his throat. His legs buckle, like a puppet without their master.
"Stop!" Elias shouts desperately, his shaky hands gripping the robe.
The lantern light flickers. A pressure builds gripping his mind as though he was a puppet on a string.
He was suffocating and he knew he was. Black inky hands grips his ankles dragging him down into void where you couldn't hear, talk, move. It is hell shaped into a prison.
Elias felt his memories, his thoughts being sucked onto parchment, the quill's black strokes sealing the deal.
He reaches for something, anything that will stop this. His arms waver as another wave of pain comes crashing through him.
He grips something, something velvet.
'Parchment!' Elias hands reaches for the quill, his hand tapping the surface before he clasps it. He pulls in a ragged breath and his hands move without his will. The crimson ink gliding on the paper like a bird soaring through the sky.
You never saw me here. You were never here.
The earth seemed to vibrate to its core. Memories flood his mind, some his some not.
CRACK!
Elias feels the world ripping in two like Mireya only this time no light comes out of the crack – only darkness.
His head snaps up, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes widen as he sees not the Crimson Archivist but a girl.