The thing looking back was not a creature.
That was the first realization.
Midnight had felt monsters.
She had felt gods.
She had felt the crushing weight of cosmic beings and ancient horrors.
This wasn't any of those.
This felt like a wound.
A wound so old and so deep that it had become its own kind of existence.
The Seventh Archive darkened.
The silver horizon beyond the doorway dimmed.
The countless realities that had been watching Black Hollow retreated.
Not out of fear.
Out of respect.
Or perhaps grief.
The Keeper stared into the distance.
His hand tightened around the blank book.
"The First World was never supposed to survive."
Nobody liked the way he said survive.
The throne beneath Draven Ridge pulsed.
Uneasy.
Midnight swallowed.
"What happened?"
The Keeper wa
