Chapter 28: The Map of Forgotten Things
The Academy’s restricted library occupied the seventh sub-basement—a level so deep that the air tasted like old stone and older secrets. Students needed three forms of authorization, a faculty escort, and (according to rumor) a blood oath to enter.
Jake had none of these. What he had was Null, who could phase through walls, and Pi, who could hack any magical lock by solving whatever equation powered it.
“This is breaking and entering,” Lyra whispered as they crept down the spiral staircase. “I want that on record.”
“Noted,” Jake said. “Also noted: you’re still here.”
“Someone has to keep you three from getting expelled. Or killed. Or expelled and then killed.”
Party Stealth Rating: 23/100
Jake: Moving quietly (barely)
Null: Phasing through matter (silent)
Pi: Chirping equations (not silent at all)
Lyra: Muttering complaints (also not silent)
Detection Risk: HIGH
The restricted library was not what Jake expected. Instead of dusty shelves and cobwebbed scrolls, they found a vast circular chamber filled with floating orbs of light. Each orb contained a book, a scroll, or an artifact, suspended in preservation magic that made the air shimmer like heat haze.
And in the center of it all stood a guardian.
She was seven feet tall, made entirely of crystallized mana, and she was reading a romance novel.
“Oh,” the guardian said, looking up from her book. The title was The Duke’s Forbidden Enchantment. “Visitors. At three in the morning. How delightful.”
“We’re looking for information on the Unwritten Realm,” Jake said, deciding that honesty was faster than deception.
The guardian’s crystalline face shifted into something that might have been surprise. “The Unwritten Realm. Now there’s a topic nobody’s asked about in… four thousand years.” She set down her novel. “I’m Thessa, by the way. Guardian of the Restricted Archives. And you are either very brave or very desperate.”
“Both, apparently,” Lyra muttered.
Thessa laughed—a sound like wind chimes in a thunderstorm. “I like her. Fine. I’ll help you. But not because I’m supposed to—because I’m bored out of my mind down here and this is the most interesting thing that’s happened since the Great Library Flood of 2847.”
She gestured, and three orbs drifted toward them. Inside each was an ancient document:
The first was a map, drawn on something that wasn’t paper—it seemed to be made of compressed moonlight. It showed dimensions Jake had never heard of, connected by lines that pulsed with fading energy. At the center was a dark point labeled in a script that hurt to look at.
“The Door,” Thessa said. “Or rather, where the Door was last known to be. Four thousand years ago, it existed in the Liminal Wastes—the space between spaces. But the Wastes shift constantly. The Door could be anywhere by now.”
Map of Forgotten Things
Rarity: Legendary (Unique)
Description: A living map that shows the spaces between dimensions. Updates in real-time but requires enormous mana to activate.
Special: Only readable by those with mana reserves exceeding 100,000 MP
Note: For Jake, this requirement is adorable
Jake poured mana into the map. It responded immediately—the compressed moonlight expanding into a three-dimensional projection that filled the chamber. Dimensions appeared as bubbles of light, connected by threads of varying thickness. And there, pulsing like a dark heartbeat in the space between three dying dimensions, was the Door.
“Found it,” Jake said.
“That’s in the Shattered Corridor,” Thessa said, her crystalline features darkening. “A dimension that collapsed two thousand years ago. Nothing lives there.”
“Something does now,” Null said quietly. She was staring at the map with her void-eyes, seeing things the others couldn’t. “I can feel it. Something is working in there. Reshaping the ruins.”
“The Eraser,” Jake said.
Pi projected a calculation: based on the energy signatures visible on the map, whoever was working on the Door would complete their task in approximately twelve days.
“Twelve days,” Lyra said. “To cross the Liminal Wastes, enter a collapsed dimension, find a mythological door, and stop whatever ancient entity is trying to open it.”
“Eleven days, actually,” Pi corrected via equation. “I rounded up to be polite.”
Jake rolled up the map—which folded itself into a small square and tucked neatly into his pocket, because magical artifacts were nothing if not convenient.
“Thessa, one more question. What happens if the Eraser opens the Door?”
The crystal guardian was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice had lost all its warmth.
“The Unwritten Realm is where reality’s source code lives. The fundamental rules—gravity, time, cause and effect. If someone enters with the intent to erase…” She trailed off. “Imagine deleting the laws of physics and leaving nothing in their place. Not destruction. Not chaos. Just… nothing. The ultimate void.”
Null shivered—which was remarkable, because Null was void. “Even I find that uncomfortable.”
“Then we leave tomorrow,” Jake said. “First light.”
“You’ll need supplies,” Thessa said. “And allies. The Shattered Corridor is not a place you walk into with a party of four.”
“Three and a math baby,” Lyra corrected.
Pi chirped indignantly.
“I know someone,” Null said. Everyone turned to look at her. “What? I had a life before Jake. A very long, very lonely life. But I met people. Or… things that are similar to people.”
“Null,” Jake said, “are you saying you have friends?”
“I’m saying I have entities who owe me favors. It’s not the same thing.” She paused. “Though one of them did send me a birthday card last year. Do voids have birthdays?”
Jake smiled. Twelve days to save reality. A map made of moonlight. A team of misfits. And infinite mana.
It would have to be enough.