Chapter 9: The Fractured Path

Wenyan and Mei didn't stop running until they reached the street. Rain lashed against their faces as they gasped for breath, their legs trembling from the adrenaline.

Wenyan leaned against a lamppost, gripping his knees. "What… what was that thing?"

Mei shook her head, her hood drenched and clinging to her face. "I don't know. But it wasn't human anymore. Whatever the markings do, they don't just connect you to the other side. They… change you."

Wenyan wiped his face, trying to steady his racing thoughts. The image of the woman's distorted body and glowing eyes burned in his mind. "We can't keep running blind like this. We need more than just guesses."

"Agreed," Mei said, glancing over her shoulder. "But how? Everyone who gets involved either disappears or turns into… that."

Wenyan's gaze fell to the glove covering his hand. Beneath it, the markings pulsated faintly, as though alive. A dark thought crept into his mind, one he wasn't sure he wanted to voice.

"What if… the markings themselves are the key?" he said hesitantly.

Mei frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They connect us to them, right? Maybe there's a way to use that connection. To learn what's on the other side. To understand it before it consumes us."

"That's insane," Mei said, her voice rising. "You've seen what happens to people who try to interact with the markings. Heng, my brother, that woman—they didn't gain control. They were overtaken."

"I know," Wenyan said quietly. "But we don't have any other leads. The temple mentioned others like me, but we have no idea how to find them. The markings might be our only way to get answers."

Mei looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. Finally, she sighed. "If you're serious about this, we need help. Someone who knows more about these symbols than we do."

"Do you know anyone like that?"

She hesitated. "Not exactly. But my brother used to visit this place—a library tucked away in the old city. He said the librarian there knew things… strange things."

Wenyan straightened, his pulse quickening. "Where is it?"

---

The old city was a labyrinth of narrow streets and crumbling buildings, a stark contrast to the sleek modernity of Heiancheng's center. Mei led the way, her steps quick and purposeful despite the eerie silence that enveloped the area.

The library was hidden at the end of an alley, its entrance marked only by a faded wooden sign swinging in the wind. Wenyan hesitated before pushing the door open.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old paper and damp wood. Rows of towering bookshelves stretched into the shadows, their contents a chaotic mix of ancient tomes and modern texts.

"Are you sure about this place?" Wenyan whispered.

Mei nodded. "He said the librarian wasn't… normal. But they knew things no one else did."

As if summoned, a figure emerged from the shadows. The librarian was a stooped old man with a bald head and piercing gray eyes. His hands, long and gnarled, clutched a leather-bound book.

"You've come seeking answers," the man said, his voice raspy yet steady.

Wenyan and Mei exchanged a glance. "How did you—" Wenyan began, but the librarian waved him off.

"Those who bear the Mark always end up here," the man said, his gaze fixed on Wenyan's gloved hand. "You've felt its pull, haven't you? The whispers, the visions. They're leading you somewhere."

"What are they?" Wenyan asked, stepping closer. "What do the markings mean?"

The librarian's expression darkened. "They are remnants of something older than this world. The bridge connects our reality to another—a place where the rules of existence unravel. Those marked are chosen, though not by their own will."

"Chosen for what?" Mei asked, her voice tight.

"To be conduits," the librarian replied. "The markings act as keys, opening doors between worlds. The more they spread, the weaker the barriers become."

Wenyan clenched his fists. "There has to be a way to stop it."

The librarian regarded him for a moment, then set the book down on a nearby table. He opened it to a page filled with intricate sketches of the symbols, accompanied by cryptic notes in a language Wenyan didn't recognize.

"This is a record of those who've borne the Mark before you," the librarian said. "Some tried to resist. Others embraced their role. All met the same end."

Wenyan's stomach churned. "So there's no way to stop it?"

"There is… perhaps one way," the librarian said slowly. "The markings are not random. They are connected to a source—a nexus that anchors the bridge. If the nexus is destroyed, the markings lose their power."

"Where is it?" Mei asked urgently.

The librarian's gaze turned somber. "No one knows. The nexus is hidden, protected by the very forces it serves. To find it, you would need to delve deeper into the markings' connection to the other side."

Wenyan swallowed hard. "You're saying I'd have to use them."

The librarian nodded. "But beware. The markings are not tools to be wielded. The more you interact with them, the more you risk losing yourself."

---

That night, back in his apartment, Wenyan stared at the glowing patterns on his hand. They seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat, their edges shifting subtly as though alive.

He thought of Heng, Mei's brother, and the woman in the warehouse. All of them had fallen to the markings' influence.

But he also thought of the librarian's words—the nexus, the possibility of ending this nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, Wenyan closed his eyes and focused on the markings. The whispers surged in his mind, louder than ever, but he didn't pull away.

Instead, he listened.