the golden inscription

Noah stood still for a few moments, his heart pounding wildly, his eyes darting between the mark on the floor and the bookshelves that seemed to shift slightly… No, it was just his imagination. Right?

But the whisper… that wasn't his imagination.

He turned quickly, trying to find the source, but saw no one. Only endless rows of bookshelves stretching like a labyrinth. He took a step back, but the floor creaked beneath him, as if warning him not to move. His breath came in uneven gasps as he tried to steady himself.

"Just an illusion..." he murmured.

Then, as if the world itself had decided to mock him, the lights went out.

This darkness was not ordinary. It wasn't merely the absence of light—it was heavy, pressing against his chest, seeping into his skin, sinking its cold grip into his bones.

And then...

The whisper returned, closer this time.

"Noah..."

That wasn't possible. It wasn't supposed to know his name.

His fingers trembled as he reached into his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out—nothing. The screen was dead. The battery had been full just moments ago, but now, the device was completely lifeless.

He tried to move, but his legs refused to obey. The ground beneath him held him in place, dragging his weight down.

Whoosh!

A sudden gust of wind, inexplicable inside the enclosed space, swept through the shelves, stirring up dust. In the midst of the darkness, a faint glow flickered at the end of the aisle. A pale blue light, pulsing like a heartbeat in the void.

This was a mistake. He should never have come here.

But his body ignored his fear. He started moving—not by his own will, but as if an unseen force was pushing him forward.

With each step, the mark on the ground began to glow—blood red.

And when he reached the end of the aisle, he saw something he would never forget.

There, seated on the floor, within a circle drawn in black ink, was a man with no face.

His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his hands were unnaturally long. He had no features, yet Noah could feel his gaze piercing into him, rummaging through his thoughts.

Then... he smiled.

How?

He had no mouth—yet he smiled.

At that moment, the gilded red book in Noah's hands began to tremble violently. Its pages flipped on their own, faster and faster, until they settled in the middle. The ancient symbols engraved on them pulsed with a deep crimson glow.

"You have been chosen."

The voice wasn't external this time. It echoed inside his skull, reverberating through his mind like a distant call.

And then, the faceless man moved.

He lifted his unnaturally long hand—and pointed straight at Noah's chest.

Pain erupted inside him—an inferno igniting in his spine.

For a brief moment, he saw something else… A glimpse of another place—a city not of this world, a sky that did not belong to mankind, shadowy figures moving in the abyss, whispering in ancient tongues…

Then he collapsed to his knees, eyes wide with terror.

The curse had begun.

When Noah regained consciousness, everything around him had changed.

---

At the Same Time, in Another Place, Far from the Eyes of Ordinary Humans…

In a dimly lit chamber, illuminated only by flickering blue flames that danced like spectral tongues, three men clad in black robes gathered around a stone table etched with cryptic symbols. At the center of the table lay an ancient parchment, bearing the same seal that had appeared on Noah's hand when he touched the book.

"It has begun…" one of them murmured in a hoarse voice.

The man seated in the middle, his face obscured by a golden mask adorned with a single engraved eye, slowly raised his head and asked,

"So… the book has chosen its host?"

Silence hung in the air for a moment before he continued, his voice low yet brimming with an ominous weight:

"We must act immediately."

---

Noah was no longer in the library.

He lay sprawled on a solid, cold surface that exuded a sharp metallic scent. As he slowly lifted his head, he realized that what loomed above him was not a ceiling—it was a sky.

But not the sky he knew.

It was an eerie blend of purple and black, scattered with strange shards of light that drifted as if they were alive. In the distance, twisted towers rose unnaturally high, built from a substance that seemed unstable, shifting subtly with each glance he cast upon them.

He tried to stand, but a searing pain shot through his spine. Clutching his chest, he felt an unfamiliar heat burning beneath his skin. Then he looked at his palm—and his breath caught in his throat.

There it was.

The same symbol he had seen in the mysterious book, but now it was carved into his flesh, as if it had become a part of him. It pulsed momentarily, sending another jolt of pain through his body, making him shudder.

"You have been chosen."

The voice returned.

There was no one else there, but he knew—he was no longer alone.

He struggled to steady his breathing, but everything about this place felt wrong. The air was dense, as if it was being forced into his lungs. Distant whispers murmured words he could not comprehend, yet somehow… they knew him.

His vision gradually sharpened.

He found himself standing on a circular stone platform, with bridges extending from it in multiple directions. Some vanished into the darkness, while others led to towering gates, pulsating with an eerie green light.

Before he could fully grasp his surroundings, he heard footsteps approaching.

But they weren't human.

They were claws.

Slowly, he turned—and his eyes fell upon something not of this world.

A tall figure, its limbs unsettlingly slender, moved with an unnatural fluidity. Its skin was black as the void, and its eyes glowed with a cold silver light. It had no mouth, yet it spoke directly into Noah's mind.

"Welcome to the Threshold."

Noah felt his heartbeat slow.

That wasn't a greeting.

It was a sentence.