"You did not find this book. The book found you."
The air around her felt heavy and cold.
When Auren opened his eyes, the first thing she saw was a gray ceiling carved with countless eyes — old, watchful, peering through the shadows.
She was lying on a cold stone floor, the scent of ancient dust filling her lungs.
All around her stood towering bookshelves — so tall, they seemed to pierce an unseen sky.
Silence.
So deep that even her own breathing echoed through it.
Auren slowly sat up, her head still spinning.
"...Where am I?" he whispered, though her own voice sounded strange to his ears.
No answer.
Only the faint whisper of air weaving through the gaps between the shelves.
Then—light.
At the center of the room, upon a great table of black stone, lay a golden-yellow book.
Its soft glow pulsed gently, like the rhythm of a heartbeat.
Auren's steps trembled as she approached.
Something about the book pulled at her — a subtle force, as if it were calling her name.
When her fingers touched its surface, a ripple of light coursed through her entire body.
She held her breath, expecting pain — but what came instead was warmth.
A strange, living warmth, like water flowing through her veins.
"Huh...? I... I'm fine?" he murmured.
Then, a sound behind her.
Footsteps — heavy, deliberate, echoing softly in the hollow silence.
One step. Two. Then they stopped.
"Are you sure?"
The voice was deep and flat, like cold iron echoing across an empty hall.
Auren turned sharply.
From the shadows between the shelves, someone emerged — a man with pitch-black hair, silver eyes, and skin pale as moonlight ash.
He wore a long black coat, marked with a reversed-wing emblem on his chest.
He approached slowly, each step quiet but weighted.
Her gaze moved from Auren's hand to his face.
"No burns," he said, his tone unreadable. "Interesting... they usually burn."
Auren took a step back. "Who are you?"
"Noxen," the man replied calmly, his voice like stones rolling across a riverbed.
Auren frowned. "What is this place?"
"This is the Castle of Lies," Noxen said without hesitation.
"And you, human, have stepped into a realm that was never meant for you."
"Castle of Lies...?" Auren looked around — the towering shelves, the carved walls, the trembling golden light in the air.
"The castle of lies..."
Noxen didn't answer.
He walked past Auren, the edge of his cloak brushing the cold floor.
"If you're still alive after touching the Guidebook," he said quietly, "then you are now bound to it. There is no way out."
"Bound...?" Auren's eyes darted to the golden book. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Noxen paused and met his gaze, "from now on, your fate is no longer your own."
He turned toward the great doors at the end of the hall.
"You will remain here until the Guidebook decides your time has come."
"So... I'm trapped here?"
Noxen stopped at the doorway, half-turning his head.
"You'll understand... eventually."
His eyes were cold, yet behind them lingered something faint — a trace of sorrow, like a truth too heavy to speak.
Auren's voice trembled. "Why is it called the Castle of Lies?"
Noxen stared forward before turning slightly.
"Because... in this place, truth only brings death."
The heavy doors closed slowly, leaving Auren alone among the silent thousands of books.
She turned to the table where the Guidebook lay.
Its golden light was fading — almost gone.
But just as Auren began to step away, a soft voice slipped into his mind.
"...Auren..."
She froze.
The voice came from the book — gentle, but cold.
Not human.
A voice ancient, aware... and patient beyond time itself.
"...Open me..."
Auren's body tensed.
The book trembled faintly, as if it were breathing.
"...I have been waiting for you."
The room grew colder.
Winds swirled through the shelves, carrying the scent of old ink and ash.
Auren stared at the book, breath shallow, as a thin light flickered back to life upon its surface—
like an eye awakening from a long, silent sleep.
And then, everything went still.