THE DUKE'S FORBIDDEN PROPHECY
A pause hangs before she moves her hand toward them.
Silence comes instead of words. My feet move ahead, pulled like a rope around the neck. Right there, even with my eyes, sits the first shelf. No book titles line the backs - only names, dates carved deep. One reads: Althea R. – Cycle 127. Frost climbs my spine - Corvina L., Cycle 211. Then, quiet breath: Elara S., Cycle 87. Silence follows.
“They are the archives,” she continues, finally turning to face me. Her eyes are alive with a fervent, unsettling light. “Records of every iteration. Every time the story has looped. Every version of you, and every version of everyone else.”
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