The door closed behind us without a sound.
Not a click.
Not a thud.
It simply ceased to exist.
We stood in a long, narrow corridor unlike any we had seen before. The walls were smooth and pale, almost featureless, stretching forward into a soft, endless glow. No shadows clung here. No anomalies announced themselves.
And that terrified me more than any shifting room.
"This place feels…" my companion hesitated, searching for the word.
"Intentional," I finished.
The key in my pocket was warm again—but steady. Calm. As if it had already decided something.
We walked in silence for a while. Each step echoed evenly, consistently. Time felt normal. Gravity behaved. Reality, for once, obeyed its own rules.
That was when the voice returned.
Not addressing me.
Addressing her.
"You have remained."
She stopped walking.
I turned. "You hear it too?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes. And… it's not talking to you."
The air shifted slightly—not threatening, but focused.
"Observation is not your only function," the voice said to her.
"You stabilize. You align. You prevent collapse during convergence."
Her breath caught. "So I'm not just… following him."
"No."
I watched her carefully. This was the first time the building had spoken about someone else with purpose.
"You have a role," I said quietly.
She looked at her hands, flexing her fingers. "I always felt it. Like… when anomalies reacted differently around me. Like the building wasn't testing me as harshly."
The walls flickered.
Images appeared—not reflections, but locations.
A staircase folding in on itself.
A library where books whispered warnings.
A city street bending at impossible angles.
Not here.
Elsewhere.
"Anamnex is not singular," the voice stated.
"It manifests where thresholds weaken."
My pulse quickened. "There are other buildings."
"Other structures. Other forms."
The implications hit hard.
This wasn't a closed system.
It was a network.
Observers noticed anomalies.
Maintainers stabilized them.
And somewhere… thresholds broke.
"So what happens when no one notices?" I asked.
The pause was longer than before.
"Collapse."
The corridor brightened slightly as a doorway formed ahead. Not glowing. Not dramatic.
Just… open.
She looked at me. "You're being shaped to intervene."
"And you're being shaped to make sure I don't break everything while doing it," I replied.
A faint smile touched her lips. "Sounds about right."
As we stepped toward the door, the voice spoke one final time—soft, almost reflective.
"Roles do not bind."
"Choice remains."
The doorway shimmered.
Beyond it, I sensed something different.
Not a lesson.
Not a test.
A decision.
And for the first time si
nce entering Anamnex, I wondered—not what the building wanted from me…
…but what would happen if I refused.