Bitty’s wings flattened against her in fear. “That’s not good, Ava. The Web is in you, responding to a piece of itself. It’s getting stronger.”
“Yeah. Trust me, I know.” Ava hesitated, then added, “I had another dream last night. With Serrik.”
“O—Oh.” Bitty’s eyes widened. “What—what did he say?”
“He said the key was here. In the Broken City.” She didn’t mention the rest—the kiss, the warnings, the way her body had betrayed her with its hunger for him. “But he didn’t say exactly where.”
“If he knows we’re here…” Bitty’s voice trailed off. “If he can see and hear what we’re doing?—”
“He’s always known. I’ve been bound to him since the beginning. But it’s also more complicated than that. This is—this is something I just have to do, Bitty. And it’s not about him, believe it or not.”
“I—I mean.” The little fae chewed her lip again. “I believe you. And you’re my friend. So I’ll trust you.”
Ava smiled at her. “I appreciate that.”
They continued down the avenue of obelisks, the pull growing stronger with each step. The structures around them became less recognizable, more abstract—geometries that shouldn’t have been possible, materials that seemed to phase between solid and liquid.
And everywhere, books. Or things that had once been books, before they were forgotten so completely that even their form had begun to blur, turning into mushy blobs of rot.
They turned a corner and found themselves facing what appeared to be a library—though calling it that seemed inadequate. It was vast, its entrance a yawning mouth flanked by columns that resembled spinal cords more than classical architecture. Within, rows of shelves stretched into darkness, filled not with books as Ava understood them, but with objects that pulsed with contained information.
The pull was coming from inside.
“Oh…I’ve heard of this place. It has no name, it’s been, well…forgotten.” Bitty clung to Ava’s arm in fear, her voice barely audible. “But I’ve never…no one goes in there.”
Tiredly, Ava deadpanned her answer. “Okay. I’ll bite. Why not?”
“Because,” the tiny fae said, her wings vibrating with tension, “it’s where knowledge goes to trulydie.”
Ava stared into the cavernous entrance. The pull was undeniable now—Book practically humming in her backpack, the tattoo warm against her skin. “The second key is in there. I can feel it.”
Bitty hovered nervously. “Ava, please. We should be careful. Maybe find another way, or?—”
“There is no other way.” Ava took a deep breath, and let it out in a rush. “The Web led us here for a reason. The key is inside.”
She stepped toward the entrance. As she did, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before—shapes moving between theshelves. Not people, not anything with a defined form, but…something. Shadows that were darker than the blackness around them. Voids in the shape of readers.
“More of the Forgotten,” Bitty confirmed, following her gaze. “The ones who remember they once knew things.”
“Cool. I love nightmare fuel.” She waved. “Hi, nightmare fuel!” Pulling Book out of her backpack, she slung the bag back where it was. If she needed it, and her sometimes-useful, sometimes-not companion decided to wake up and be convenient, she wanted to give it the chance. Whatever waited for them—the key, the Forgotten, more of the Web’s machinations—she wanted to be prepared.
Because despite everything—despite the warnings from the Web itself, despite Bitty’s fear, despite her own growing suspicion that she was being remade into something she wouldn’t recognize—she had to keep going.
Forward was the only direction she had to go.
“All right, Bitty. I’m going in. You can stay here, if you want. But I’m—yeah. I’m doing this.” She stepped into the mouth of the cavern of books.
Bitty whined loudly, but bless her heart, she followed.
The darkness inside seemed to swallow them whole.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The darkness inside the chamber wasn't complete. Not entirely.
Justobnoxiously, mostlydark.
As Ava’s eyes adjusted, she realized the space was illuminated by a faint blue phosphorescence that emanated from the shelves themselves. Or rather, from what sat upon them. “Are those still books?”
