The morning air within the castle felt as though it had never changed.
No sunlight pierced through the windows, no trace of dawn—
only the faint shimmer of enchanted torches flickering against the old stone walls.
Auren sat on the library floor, facing the table where the Guidebook lay.
Since the night before, the book had remained still, unmoving—
as if the whisper he'd heard was nothing more than a dream.
Yet something deep within her refused to believe that.
She could still recall that voice clearly—soft, yet echoing through his mind
like a memory too ancient to belong to him.
>"...I have been waiting for you."
Those words still lingered.
She drew a slow breath. "If you can speak… then speak now."
Silence.
No light. No sound.
Auren rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping the towering bookshelves
that loomed like the walls of a labyrinth.
She walked slowly, fingers brushing over the spines of dusty tomes
written in languages he couldn't name.
Each step echoed against the stone floor,
like the fading heartbeat of time itself.
Then—came the sound.
Shhhk... shhhk...
Something shifted between the shelves.
Auren turned sharply.
No one was there.
But when she looked back at the table—
the golden book was open.
Its pages trembled softly, and words began to appear across the surface,
as though an invisible hand was writing from within.
> Welcome, Heir of the Castle of Darkness.
You were chosen not for your courage,
but for your misplaced existence.
Auren froze.
The letters glowed with golden light before fading like mist brushed away by wind.
Moments later, another line appeared.
> I am the Guidebook.
My task is to guide you...
but only as far as the Pact allows.
"The Pact?" Auren whispered. "What Pact?"
The book gave no reply.
But the golden light began to swirl between its pages,
forming a glowing circle in the air.
The sigil turned slowly before sinking into the stone floor beneath him.
The air around him seemed to hold its breath.
The torches dimmed.
Only the circle of light beneath her feet continued to glow.
> Magic is the breath of this world.
It cannot be demanded...
it can only be recognized.
The light crawled up his body—gentle yet powerful,
like roots burrowing beneath her skin, flowing through her veins.
Something foreign pulsed within him.
Cold, yet alive.
> Listen to the breath of the walls.
Listen to the voice of ink.
This world will answer only if you understand its silence.
Auren closed her eyes.
When he opened them again,
one of the candles nearby flickered to life—untouched.
She stared. "I... did that?"
> You merely listened. That is the essence of all magic in this world.
The book closed softly, as if weary of speaking.
But before its last light faded, one final line appeared:
> Do not trust what calls itself truth.
Even light can deceive your eyes.
Silence reclaimed the room.
Auren sat still, staring at the fading pages.
"Castle of Lies..." he murmured. "Is everything here... truly a lie?"
Heavy footsteps echoed from beyond the door.
Steps he recognized.
The door opened slowly—
and Noxen stood at the threshold,
his silver eyes as cold as ever.
"You're still alive," he said flatly. "That means the book has accepted you."
"Accepted me?" Auren frowned.
"The book only speaks to the chosen.
If it had rejected you, you'd already be dust."
Auren clenched his fists. "Why didn't you tell me that last night?"
Noxen's gaze hardened, though his tone remained calm.
"Not everything is worth knowing, Auren."
There was a weariness behind his cold voice.
Auren studied him for a moment before asking quietly,
"So... you're the guardian of this place?"
Noxen paused.
"I am merely a shadow that remains in this castle.
Names and duties... no longer matter."
"A shadow..." Auren repeated softly.
"Then what does the Castle of Lies truly guard?"
Noxen turned toward the great window.
The sky outside was gray—eternal, untouched by day or night.
The wind whispered like the voices of spirits.
"What it guards," he said slowly,
"is the darkness itself.
For without a guardian, the darkness would seek its heir on its own."
Auren fell silent.
The words chilled her.
The darkness would seek its heir on its own...
Noxen's silver eyes met his once more.
"And you," he said, voice like frost,
"have been chosen by that darkness."
He turned away, stepping toward the door.
"Do not touch the Guidebook again tonight.
You're not ready."
The door closed softly, leaving Auren alone once more.
She looked at the golden book—calm, silent, and dangerous.
But deep within his mind, a faint whisper stirred again:
> "...Auren... truth is not light,
but a shadow that chooses its own form..."
And for the first time, Auren realized—
She wasn't just trapped in this castle,
but within the very lies the world was built upon.
Among the quiet pages, she heard something new—
not from the book, nor from her thoughts—
a gentle whisper calling her name,
as though the library itself was trying to speak.
But... what was it trying to say?