The Archive stretched endlessly around them. Every step Ren took echoed softly across the marble floor, swallowed by the weight of silence. The halls were vast, lined with shelves that towered far above, stacked with scrolls and tomes whose ink had long begun to fade. Dust drifted lazily in shafts of pale light, falling from arched ceilings carved with runes that pulsed faintly as if the building itself was alive.
Ren followed close behind Ervin. The man's stride was unhurried, steady, as though every corner and passage here was burned into memory. His black cloak trailed across the floor, brushing against the sigils etched into the stone.
Ren's eyes wandered over the walls. Each was engraved with fragments of symbols, patterns he half-recognized yet could not name. A quiet shiver traced his spine. It feels like walking inside someone else's memory, he thought.
"Sir, Where is Watson?," Ren finally spoke, his voice quiet in the cavernous space.
