Author: Birgitte Mørk | Date: Unknown
The library changed again. Corridors lead nowhere, or elsewhere. I saw her in the restricted wing—she was reading a book that didn’t exist yet. It was mine.
The book described a girl walking into the river. Mikkel’s name was there, crossed out. Replaced with mine.
The air buzzed like old tape. A sigil was scratched into the stone: a circle of veils. I traced it. My fingers bled memory.
I’m staying in the Archive now. I can’t leave. Not until I finish writing what she started.