POV: Lucien
The librarian didn't meet his eyes anymore. That was fine. He wasn't there for her.
She led him to the back anyway—to a forgotten room labeled Historical Anomalies, dust hanging in the air like memory.
Lucien dug through the boxes. Files without names. Ledgers with lines scratched out. Time had chewed on everything.
Then he found it.
A single page, torn at the top. No date. No name. Handwritten in a looping script, ink faded to brown.
They said the house was cursed. That it vanished the way shame does: all at once, and without a sound.But I think it simply chose to be unseen.A place becomes invisible when the person inside forgets they are real.
Lucien stared, throat dry.
He flipped the page over. More writing.
We left offerings at the edge—trinkets, names, mirrors. Nothing worked.But once, a man touched the lock, and the air shimmered like heat.She saw him. He didn't know, but she did.If the door remembers, it can open again.
A chill ran through him.
This wasn't just a house. It was aware—or maybe the person inside was. Either way, something had made the house hide itself. And something—someone—could make it come back.
Lucien folded the paper carefully. His fingers buzzed.
He wasn't chasing a myth anymore.
He was standing at the edge of a secret that wanted to be found—but only by the right hands.
He would try the lock next.