The void pressed against me, suffocating and relentless.
I was nowhere and everywhere all at once, my senses a cacophony of noise, pain, and shadows.
The book's grip was unyielding, its whispers burrowing into my mind like worms. Fragments of thought and memory twisted into unfamiliar shapes, and I couldn’t tell where *I* ended, and *it* began.
Then, a spark—faint, but present. A flicker of something that wasn’t darkness. It called to me, fragile and desperate, like a memory of light piercing through endless night.
“Nora…” My voice, or perhaps just a thought that echoed through the void, called out to her. She had been consumed by the book, but she had always been strong. Stronger than me. Strong enough to leave a mark.
The flicker grew, a thread of silver light winding through the abyss. I reached for it—or thought I did, as I couldn’t feel my arms, my hands, my body anymore. But something about that thread was *real*, and I clung to it as the book's whispers screamed in fury.
With every ounce of will I had left, I followed the thread, pulling myself through the shifting nightmare. Faces loomed out of...