Chapter 5 - THE WHISPERED NAME
Roman stepped even closer to the wall, his chest almost pressing against the dark mahogany shelves. He reached out with his right hand, his fingers resting lightly against the spine of a heavy book.
"Who is back there?" Roman demanded, his voice dropping into a low, commanding rumble that vibrated through the wood.
A tiny, breathless whisper escaped from the dark crevice behind the books. The voice was weak, raspy, and strained from prolonged isolation. It uttered a single word—a proper name—that floated through the thin seam between the shelves.
The name was spoken so softly that it dissolved into the quiet hum of the rain, completely incomprehensible to anyone else standing in the room.
Yet the moment the sound hit Roman’s ears, he went completely rigid. Every drop of color drained from his face. His hand froze on the book spine, his fingers locking around the leather binding with such force that the seam groaned under the pressure.
He slowly turned his head to look down at Mia, his dark eyes wide with shock and a sudden, dark dread.
"How does she know that name?" Roman whispered, his voice shaking with a rare, terrifying vulnerability.
Before Mia could answer, an electric mechanism clicked deep inside the wall.
CLACK-CHUNK.
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A hidden pneumatic latch disengaged behind the masonry. The central section of the massive floor-to-ceiling bookcase shuddered slightly, shifting outward by half an inch. A thin, pitch-black gap appeared along the vertical edge of the west wall, exposing a cold, damp draft that smelled of ancient dust and rust.
Roman slowly reached his hand toward the dark gap.
