The Valence police station was a capsule of glaring light and official clamor sharply contrasting with the quiet shadowy realm they had just left behind. Swathed in foil blankets nursing coffee they delivered their accounts. A polished narrative.
They identified as explorers. Examining abandoned locations. They had learned about the conduit gone inside and ended up trapped by a cave-in. They never brought up Helena, safes or tape recorders. Isabella referred to privilege for her records, which left out the paranormal. Giovanni kept his sleeves covering his arms concealing the throbbing maze from observers.
Raphael Ronald was certain they were deceiving him. He had witnessed the excavator heard the distant controlled blast and watched the woman escape. He possessed the neighbour's drawing of Helena. Yet the proof lay beneath heaps of debris. The syringe had vanished. All that remained were five individuals sharing a consistent but weak account and a heap of plausible uncertainty.
He leaned forward over the interview desk, his gaze weary. "You're all concealing something. That woman, in the tunnel—she attempted to kill you. What's the reason?"
Giovanni locked eyes with him his own gaze still veiled in gloom. "Because we uncovered something Oliver Osborne hid away. Not riches. Reality.. That reality poses a threat, to influential individuals."
"What truth?" Raphael inquired.
"That the base of his Unified Corridor was laid on soil and suppressed documents " Isabella interrupted, focusing on the concrete. "We possessed duplicates. They're hidden now.. The attorney, Moreau can confirm the financial deception. Helena Helga was Osborne's troubleshooter. She concealed the proof.. She murdered him when he intended to admit the truth."
It contained enough honesty to seem believable aligning with the details Raphael was assembling. He leaned back an insider compelled to deal with a fresh set of cards. "Helena Helga is a phantom. No documentation, no location.. You suspect this… intellectual, Siegfried has a role, in this?"
"He articulated the philosophy " Giovanni murmured. "He crafted the falsehood elegantly so others would readily accept the venom."
Raphael waved them off temporarily. Yet as they were about to leave he halted Giovanni by the doorway. "Your arm. You're leaning on it. Did you hurt it there?"
Giovanni felt a chill run through him. "A contusion. Resulting from the fall."
Raphael's gaze remained locked on his for an instant. "Have it examined." It wasn't a health suggestion. It was a caution. He understood the harm wasn't bodily.
Fatigue was a profound abyss than the passageway. They rested for a day in secure locations organized by Ibrahim's network.. Giovanni's slumber was far from peaceful. The tiny beam of light at the heart of the maze expanded, not with optimism but with a empty awareness. He sensed the reverberation of untruths surrounding him sharply than before—the trivial deceit of strangers on the nearby street generated subtle spectral sensations. The vast overwhelming deceit of Osborne had carved a passage, within him.
Forty-eight hours following their rescue a parcel was delivered for Giovanni at a poste restante address known to Ibrahim. There was no message enclosed one costly-looking volume: a scarce treatise, on medieval allegorical maps, encased in vellum. Within the cover a section was highlighted in neat clear handwriting:
"The maze is not a confinement for the beast. A journey, for the champion. Arriving at the core does not mean being confined. Undergoing a change. The query is: changed into what?"
Beneath it, a card with an address. A private reading room at the Valence university library. Tonight.
Sebastian Siegfried was calling him.
The group was fractured in their counsel.
"It's a snare like the conduit!" Isabella contended. "He'll have Helena prepared."
"He might have dispatched Helena to this location if his intention was to kill you " Arthur concluded, the logical mind assessing the danger. "This is a summons. He seeks conversation. To observe."
"He's fixated on the notion of you " Maria remarked, her instincts sensing the most evident threat. "Not to destroy,. To… possess. To unravel the mechanism. Your curse represents the intellectual enigma, for him."
Jacques just popped his knuckles. "I'll come along. He speaks. I pay attention."
Giovanni sensed the maze, its heart a tiny grey dot within the darkness resembling a blind eye beginning to open. "I must leave " he stated, his tone, with a fresh tired determination. "He understands the mechanics. He could possibly know how to halt it.. How it concludes. I have to find out what I am becoming."
That evening Giovanni stepped into the university library's after-hours section Jacques trailing silently behind him. The secluded reading room glowed with lamp light against the backdrop of bookshelves. Sebastian Siegfried was seated at an oak table the fallen academic, in his element. He glanced up his expression glowing with a sincere unsettling interest.
"Mr. Graham. The Living Archive. You made it through the downfall.. The Surgeon's scalpel. Extraordinary endurance." He motioned toward a seat. "Please have a seat. Your bodyguard may remain outside. I carry no weapons. This is a dialogue, between intellects."
Jacques glanced at Giovanni, who responded with a nod. The bodyguard stationed himself near the door keeping it slightly open his stance an assurance.
Giovanni remained seated his sleeves pulled down. "You attempted to have me assassinated."
"Helena is… excessively eager. She perceives contamination. I perceive possibility." Siegfried bent closer his gaze shining. "Oliver was a container. He started to accept his falsehoods as having ethical value. Sentimentality.. You… you are immaculate. An ideal recipient. A breathing indicator, for deceit. Do you realize what you symbolize?"
"A hex " Giovanni declared.
"A faculty!" Siegfried interjected, his tone fervent. "It's not about spotting lies. You store them. You transform transgressions into symbolic information. Oliver's deceit… it's the finest thing you've ever documented right? A work of art, in falsehood.. It altered you. I notice it in your gaze. The conduit… it expanded the pathway didn't it? You're more perceptive now."
Giovanni remained quiet. His lack of response served as confirmation.
Siegfried grinned. "I can assist you in comprehending it. Mastering it. You wouldn't just be an observer. You could serve as an instrument for… management. Picture a reality where the greatest harmful falsehoods are materially etched onto a living archive. You could eliminate corruption. Corporate deception. With you, as the evidence."
The proposal lingered ominously both alluring and repulsive. To shift from an affliction to a deliberate tool. To wield his curse with intent.
". What do you receive?" Giovanni inquired.
"To learn. To lead. To serve as the translator of the scripture." Siegfried's eyes burned with hunger. "Come with me. Abandon the reporter, the sorceress and the physician. They aim to heal you. To turn you ordinary. I seek to make you magnificent. Assist me in completing Oliver's project—not the falsehood. The framework, underneath it. A framework where truth isn't argued over. Tangibly unquestionably disclosed. Together we would be creators of an existence."
Giovanni gazed at his hand picturing the maze hidden under the fabric. This man regarded him as a specimen, a gateway that must remain shut. He recalled Arthur's kindness, Isabella's resolve Maria's insight, Jacques' faithfulness. They perceived him as an individual.
He rose. "You don't wish to expose the truth. You want to turn it into a weapon. To dominate what is referred to as truth. I'm tired of individuals constructing mazes. I simply want to navigate my way out of this one."
Siegried's grin vanished, supplanted by a logical disillusionment. "An emotional decision. The archive opts to stay a prisoner of its essence. Very well.. Understand this Mr. Graham. The procedure has started. The heart of your labyrinth is stirring.. Once it fully unveils itself you won't require my words to recognize what you are. You will transform into a reality so undeniable it will engulf you. I will be present notebook ready to document the change."
As Giovanni left, the labyrinth on his arm gave a single, deep, resonant throb. Not of pain. Of foreboding. The scholar had not given him a cure. He had given him a diagnosis. And the prognosis was terrifying.