It began with a whisper.
Aarav had heard it before — in the silence between footsteps, in the flicker of black candles, in the throb of the Helix carved into his palm.
But tonight, the whisper called him by name.
And he followed.
The library's north wing had long been condemned — warped floorboards, mold-eaten shelves, books that disintegrated when touched. But the Order's black key had opened more than just catacombs.
It had opened the way to knowledge sealed by fear.
At the end of the ruined hallway, behind a panel disguised as a wall, lay a sealed vault — more tomb than archive.
Inside: one object.
A small, leather-bound book.
No title. No embellishment.
Just a name scratched faintly into the spine, almost burned away with time:
Cassian Velin.
Founder of the Order of Helix.
Aarav opened it, expecting doctrine. Riddles. Warnings.
He found none of those.
Only a voice — terrified, brilliant, unraveling — written in long-dead ink.
Excerpts from the Founder's Diary
"They say we were born from hunger. But that is a lie. The Helix was born from memory — a wound that could not heal."
"The serpent devours itself not out of greed, but necessity. It is the symbol of eternal return — of evolution by destruction. But what they forget is that it must destroy itself first."
"We began as seekers of truth. Alchemists. Linguists. Architects of mind and flesh. We did not mean to find the Door."
"The Door is not a place. It is a threshold — between what we are and what waits beneath."
"I opened it. I saw. I cannot ever unsee."
"The Order claims to protect the world from chaos. But we are the chaos. We are the breath between extinction and evolution. We are not wardens. We are harbingers."
"One day, one of them will awaken the thing beneath. Not a god. Not a devil. A truth too vast to survive intact."
"If you are reading this, and you've taken the vow... then it is too late. It is already in you."
Aarav closed the book with trembling hands.
His breath came in shallow bursts.
The Order of Helix had not been formed to gain power.
It had been formed to contain it.
Or worse — to prepare the world for what would happen when that power was finally released.
That night, Aarav sat at his desk, the diary hidden in his coat.
The candles flickered, though there was no wind.
Outside, the sky churned as if something beneath the earth had begun to turn in its sleep.
And in the mirror — just for a moment — Aarav didn't see himself.
He saw the Founder.
Eyes hollow. Voice lost.
Mouth forming one silent word:
"Run."