[THREAD RECORDING: RESUMED]User Deviation Index: 0.0083% – Tracking escalated to Sector ECHO
I didn't sleep.
Again.
Not in the real world—in-game. I'd stayed logged in at the Duskridge inn, lying in a bunk that didn't creak and staring at a ceiling that didn't fade. Not because I was afraid—but because I didn't want to miss anything.
The Lexicon pulsed faintly from the floor beside me. I hadn't pulled it out. It didn't matter. I could feel the page turning inside my mind.
[New System Entry Unlocked: Splintered Archive (Unstable)]Warning: This sector is not a playable zone. Entry may result in irreversible desynchronization.Recommended Action: Ignore.
I clicked Access Anyway.
The screen glitched.
Just for a second. Like an old CRT blinking in low light.
Then a new environment loaded into the Lexicon interface—not the game world, not exactly. Just a scrolling field of symbols: dev notes, memory scripts, scrap entries from builds that never made it past alpha.
One caught my eye:
"Listener Framework: Prototype 07-B | Rejected for instability | Tagged for memory cleansing—Status: FAILED"
Another:
"Archivist Entity – Role Abandoned. Purpose corrupted. Prime directive unanchored."
A third, half-rendered, repeating in fragments:
"Do not touch the ink. The ink remembers. The ink—"
The entry degraded into black glyphs.
And then the Lexicon snapped shut—forcefully, like something didn't want me seeing more.
I jolted upright. Lyra was already awake across the room, sitting on the edge of her bunk, half-wrapped in her cloak.
"You were whispering again," she said softly.
"What did I say?"
"Something about ink and bones. Then you started repeating a name."
"What name?"
"...Sera."
I didn't respond.
Later that morning, we left the inn and ventured into the lower reaches of Duskridge. The hills were gentler here—more color, less fog. The kind of place built for gathering herbs and running courier quests.
But the land felt fragile.
NPCs moved too precisely.
Textures reloaded mid-step.
Aiden: "This zone wasn't supposed to hold weight."
Lyra: "And now it's cracking under the story we're dragging through it."
She didn't mean it to sound poetic. But it stuck.
We found a shrine—half-embedded in the cliffside, with broken glass glyphs spiraling upward in a halo. I reached out to touch it.
The Lexicon opened without prompting.
[Glyph Recognized: Splinterroot Script]Accessing memory stub…Overlaying hidden ink…
The shrine became something else for a moment.
Not rebuilt—just remembered differently.
A figure stood at the edge of the memory. Tall. Shrouded in light that flickered between gold and grey. Its form wasn't fully rendered. Its title hovered only briefly:
[Unstable Memory Echo: ??? – Title: Archivist Prime]
And then it blinked out.
Gone.
I turned to Lyra. She looked pale. "Did you see that?"
She nodded slowly.
And whispered, "It knew we were watching it."
We headed back to town in silence.
As we walked, the Lexicon vibrated faintly at my side.
And a new SYSTEM message surfaced. Not on the HUD.
Just... behind my eyes.
[You are no longer reading the story.][You are becoming it.]