CHAPTER 9:THE MEMORY STAIRS

The spiral staircase groaned under Maya's weight as she descended, each step echoing into the depths below. The walls were narrow, carved from rough stone and etched with symbols that glowed faintly as she passed. Some symbols looked familiar—like the ones in the Codex Viventis—while others pulsed with strange energy, unreadable and ancient.

The whispers grew louder the farther she went—not chaotic anymore, but layered. Dozens of voices, soft and overlapping, speaking stories in fragments. Some were joyful. Others carried grief. A few were barely more than broken sobs trapped in the stone.

Maya paused on one of the steps, her hand brushing the wall. A soft vibration hummed beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes and listened.

"—he sailed across the glass sea, chasing the stars—"

"—she never returned from the crimson forest—"

"—a boy who spoke to shadows—"

They weren't random voices. They were stories. Lives etched into the very bones of the library, whispering their truths to those who dared to listen.

She shivered and continued downward, counting the steps—thirty, fifty, seventy—but the bottom never seemed to come. The air grew colder, denser, as if the staircase wound not just deeper underground, but deeper into time itself.

Finally, after what felt like forever, her foot landed on solid ground.

The chamber before her was unlike anything she had seen.

It was vast—circular, with walls lined not with shelves, but with floating orbs of light, each containing a suspended book turning slowly in midair. The room glowed softly, illuminated by the warm golden hues from the orbs.

At the center of the chamber stood a stone pedestal. And resting on it was another book—its cover silver and black, with intricate markings that seemed to shimmer and shift as Maya approached.

She walked slowly toward it, feeling a strange tug in her chest. This book felt… familiar, like it had always been meant for her.

As she reached the pedestal, the whispers ceased.

Complete silence.

Then the book opened on its own.

Inside, the first page showed not words—but images. A flickering scene of a young girl walking into a grand old library. The girl was her.

Maya's eyes widened. She flipped the page. Another scene—her speaking to the whispering book. Another—her holding the Codex Viventis. Each page held a piece of her journey.

This was her story. Not just written, but recorded—preserved.

This was The Memory Book.

And it wasn't just showing her the past—it was waiting for the rest of her story to be written.

A new sentence appeared on the final blank page:

"What comes next, you must choose."

Maya stared at the words, her heart pounding. She had stumbled into this library looking for curiosity and wonder. But now it was clear—this place was more than a mystery. It was a mirror, a guide, a guardian of stories…

And hers was far from over.