Telemor

In the back of the archives, you find stairs.
You descend into the dark.
But you are not alone.

The head of the institute is a monster. You know it, as you know a lot of things. With a quiet awareness that comes not from rational thought but from your bones. The knowledge scares you. What was it that the bounty hunter said? You are starting to stink like a monster too.
The burning skydancer comes to mind. So sorry in his terror, so terrible in power. Was his desperation all a facade? If monsters feel nothing then you can not be one. But you know the skydancer was terribly afraid. And you know he was afraid of you.
You push away such thoughts. Right now you need to concentrate on finding the Lightner—can it truly be called a Lightner if it never made it into his collection? A book of power, then. The one written about in the letter. The one the head of institute seeks.
The one at the heart of the labyrinth.

It is dark in the tunnels. The temperature hovers just above freezing, the air is completely still. The walls and the floor are the color of soot. You don’t need to see them to know this. In fact, it is far too dark to see anything.
But that doesn’t mean you can not See. The head of institute’s monstrous shadow form existed in wavelengths undetectable by a draconic eye, and yet you knew every aspect of his shape, every vile intention in his glowing eyes. You could see him in the same way you see that these tunnels are ashen grey, that lost dragons still wander these terrible halls. The way you know that the tunnels shift, that space and time have lost their meaning. The way you are certain that the librarian’s bones can not be found. It does not matter which way you walk so long as you know you will reach the center of the spiral, following its curve slowly down through dimensions with no name.
The dragon in the story—the monster—hid the book wisely. He sealed it within the other great powers. But those powers crept their way into other texts, and in reading them you found the truth within the truth.
You wonder now about the letter. Sophie, or whatever sent her, knew that you would read it, that it would give you exactly the information you needed. When you read the words it was as if your eyes, mostly closed, had suddenly opened. You knew both where the book was and that you had to destroy it.
But while you stand firm in your conviction, the letter unnerves you. Whatever sent Sophie wanted this to happen—are you only a pawn in some greater scheme? Clearly something else wants the book destroyed, and you do not know why. Your vision is not yet that strong.
But it is strong enough.
The journey takes an eternity. The journey takes no time at all. You reach the center.

You are not alone.

The head of institute steps from the shadows behind you, invisible green eyes glimmering in the dark. “Thank you for leading the way, Archivist,” he says cooly, and his muzzle twists into a terrible grin.
You freeze, horrific realization suddenly weighing upon you. Where there once were gaps in your mind, new knowledge trickles in.
You see him taking a mirror’s statement, eyes gleaming with hunger. He leaves you the pieces, the Librarian’s box, the letter, every odd statement that has increased your sight. He was afraid, you see, so he sent you to make sure the way was clear.
But it isn’t.

At the center of the maze is a monster. Once you flew over the emperor’s wake, the great swath of destruction and ruin carved by the monster Luminax as he hunted, trampling everything in his path. You caught a glimpse of him for just a moment, a creature of impossible size, rotting away as he continued to grow.
The creature before you reminds you of Luminax, though the only obvious commonality is size. His massive hide shines whole in the dark, his single head fills the vast space before you as his stare bears down upon you both. But while his expression betrays the same terrible hunger as Luminax’s slavering jaws, he does not succumb to it. Instead he merely watches.
The Head of Institute is afraid. You can tell this despite the fact that his grin does not waver, that for all appearances he seems as if all is going to plan.
“Where is the book?” he asks, and his eyes begin to glow brighter, their light illuminating every terrible inch of the monster’s form.
The creature is silent for a terrible moment. And then he speaks.
The words are not so much audible sound as rumbling vibration, far too deep to be understood by anyone but the three of you. The wretched weight of them twists the dimensions of the tunnels around, making them shift into the shape of his meaning.
“Here.”
You know exactly what this means.
The book, written in blood and flesh, is not a book, at least not literally. Whatever pages may have existed were destroyed long ago, lost to time. But the Lightner still exists, and it exists here, before you as the monster who has listened to its words and understood them. As such the book can not be destroyed, not unless you can kill him.
But this also means it can’t be read. At least, not through ordinary means. You look at the head of institute, tiny, afraid, but full of desperate bravado. There is no turning back for him. So he words his reply.

“Statement begins.”

Again the room is filled with light. The entire weight of the shadowy pearlcatcher’s terrible stare turns upon the monster, hungry eyes scouring for secrets, prying them directly from the beast’s mind. The tunnels shift again, scraping, screaming slowly into the shape of shadowy runes.
But like you, the head of institute is not wholly omnipotent. With all of his power focused on the monster he is blind to anything else.
You leap, seeing every weakness within him, screaming your command.

“Statement ends.”