The Vault of Unwritten Truths had no ceiling.
At least, that was the closest description Aether could find for the impossible place.
Above him stretched an endless darkness filled with drifting pages. Millions upon millions of them floated through the void like silver leaves caught within an invisible current. Some pages carried stories that had already happened. Others contained events yet to come.
A few remained completely blank.
Those blank pages were the most terrifying of all.
They represented possibilities.
Lives not yet lived.
Choices not yet made.
Entire worlds that had not decided whether they wished to exist.
Aether stood silently upon a bridge woven from living memory itself.
The bridge stretched toward the deepest region of the vault.
Toward the place no Reader had ever reached.
Toward the final sealed section of the Story of the Ninth Reader.
Every step he took caused the surrounding pages to tremble.
Whispers echoed through the darkness.
