Water surges through the opened breach, and the archive heart heaves awake. Scrolls peel from the walls in white streams, then whip outward like living cords, tracing circles around Quorpeck.
On his gauntlet, the black ink-script crawls in fresh loops. The Black Ledger is not just resisting now, it is reaching, trying to bridge itself from the scrollwork into his gear.
The Spectral Warden
It is using your relics as a hinge. Break the pattern before it settles.
The Clerk
The room is rewriting around him, look, the shelves are turning inward!
Quorpeck pushes into the chamber, boots skidding in the floodwater as the scrolls lash past his helm and blade. The ring of the room tilts, like the archive itself is trying to fold him into its center.
The Spectral Warden
The Ledger wants a home inside his steel and sigils. Stop it there, or it anchors.
Deeper in the darkness, spectral text blooms brighter, spelling out a path toward the heart of the archive and the source of the hunger. Quorpeck stands at the threshold of the central chamber, with the Black Ledger pressing against his gear from within and without.
Break the Black Ledger’s pattern
Reach the heart of the archive