Lena jolted awake, gasping for air, her hands flying to her chest—
No dagger.
No wound.
Just a cold, empty space where her heartbeat should've been.
The crypt felt damp and heavy with the smell of wet ink and ancient bones. The monk's skeleton had turned to dust, his robes nothing more than a crumpled pile. The book lay close to her hand—its pages untouched.
Blank.
But the whispers—
Oh God, they hadn't stopped.
They seeped up from the cracks in the stone, curling around her ankles, brushing her neck in breathless, icy murmurs.
And they weren't coming from the book anymore.
They were coming from her.
---
THE HOLLOW HEART
Lena pushed herself up, unsteady. Her reflection caught in the lid of the reliquary and made her go still.
The ouroboros tattoo—gone.
But her eyes—
Pitch black. No whites. No pupils. Just swirling ink, like a storm behind glass.
She touched her face. Her fingers came away wet, stained with something dark and slick.
"What did you do?" she whispered.
The crypt responded, a tangle of voices—hers layered with the monk's, her grandfather's, Mira's:
"You let the story in."
A drop of ink fell from her chin. It hit the floor with a hiss, burning into the stone and carving a single word:
Keeper.
---
THE FIRST TEST
The church above didn't look right.
The pews twisted like spines. The candles flickered with black flames. The crucifix over the altar—
It was hanging upside down.
Lena staggered for the doors. The second her hand touched the wood, it softened, melting under her fingers and reshaping—
Into the book.
Its cover pulsed beneath her palm.
"You can't leave," the church whispered in the Witness's voice. "You're part of the story now."
She yanked her hand back. Too late.
Her fingerprints, black and inky, stuck to the door.
Then they twitched—moved—skittering like tiny spiders up the grain and twisting into words:
First rule of being Keeper: Feed the hunger.
A sharp pain shot through her gut.
Real. Not a metaphor.
Something inside her was hungry.
---
THE HUNGER
The streets of Prague were still.
Not empty—
Waiting.
Her footsteps echoed like they were bouncing through a hollow shell. The shop windows reflected her too clearly—those ink-soaked eyes, the way her shadow stretched too long and flickered with half-formed shapes.
Then she smelled it.
Coffee. Cinnamon. Life.
A café spilled warm light onto the street. A barista inside laughed, her auburn hair glowing in the light.
Lena's mouth watered—
Not from hunger.
From want.
The book's voice oozed from somewhere inside her:
"Her name is Tereza. She has a cat. She's afraid of the dark."
Lena's hands twitched. Ink slid down her fingers, pooling on the pavement.
"No," she whispered.
The book laughed in her mind.
"You don't need to write it anymore. Just think it."
She squeezed her eyes shut—but the dark behind her lids was worse.
Tereza. 23. Broken neck, fall from apartment. Tonight.
The thought finished itself.
Somewhere in the city, a scream broke the silence.
---
THE TRUTH
Lena ran.
Not toward it.
Away.
She ducked into an alley and doubled over, black ink spilling from her mouth. It spread across the cobblestones, writhing into a message:
You can't escape yourself.
A hand touched her shoulder.
She spun, ready to strike—
Mira.
Or something that looked like her. Normal eyes. Warm skin. A soft smile.
"It's not real," Lena said.
Mira tilted her head. "Are you?"
Then she pressed her hand to Lena's chest—right where the dagger had been—and shoved.
Lena flew backwards.
Not into a wall.
Through it.
---
THE LIBRARY
Shelves stretched into forever, vanishing into shadows.
Every book bore her name.
Every page held a new death:
- Lena Carter. 28. Suicide by hanging.
- Lena Carter. 28. Torn apart by shadows.
- Lena Carter. Ageless. Keeper forever.
And in the center stood the Last Witness. Its stitched mouth was gone now.
It had her mouth.
"Welcome home," it said—her voice, not its.
Lena looked down at her hands.
They were fading.
Going transparent.
Ink dripped from her fingers.
The Witness held out a pen.
"Every story needs an ending," it said. "Will you write yours... or will I?"
---