Have you ever felt that you were meant for something more, but you just couldn't find the shape of it? I feel that every day. It's like a beating pulse in my brain. I would do anything to make that pulsing stop. Just to have everything quiet and simple, like all the other people around me. But I've seen into the Void and have felt the Dark. 

She sighed and let her pen drop against the page she was writing on. It was four in the morning and here she was waxing philosophical. What a great way to start her day. Gathering up the pages, she carefully tucked them into the pages of a large book and hefted that up into the secret hollow that was hidden by her head board. She really should find a better hiding spot. If anyone moved the bed, they would see the dozen books that she kept there and they would know her secrets.

With a whine of wood, the bed slide back against the wall. There were marks on the floor where the legs of the bed had worn down its frequent path to and from the wall. She knew that nothing was safe here. Never could be.

Ellen pulled out her pipe and fumbled to light it, puffing on the stem until the smoke finally rolled into her dry mouth. Taking a deep breath, she felt the calm settling in. She shoved her feet into her shoes and staggered into a lean against the wall. She rubbed her eyes. They felt so heavy. She wanted to get into bed and sleep some more, but she had a shift to work and her mentor, Nissa, wasn't going to keep accepting her tardiness without reporting her to the Librarian. Without looking at the clock, she knew that she was already late.

Does it even matter?

Already up, she kept the momentum going and headed towards the door. She patted her wild hair down as best she could, but realized that there was nothing to be done for the uniform that she'd slept in. 

The cold winter air greeted her with an icy slap on the face. She had no idea where her coat was and really didn't have the time or energy to find it. Resigned to another long and dreadful day, she stepped out into the fresh snow that the night had brought in. The smoke from her pipe was the only thing that warmed her while she trudged along the narrow path towards the library.

Standing at the bottom of the library steps, she looked up at the building and realized that she couldn't even remember what book she was supposed to be copying today. She put her pipe out and tucked it back into the folds of her skirt where the extra little pockets of nothing accepted whatever she put there. It was handy and she was glad to have it, but couldn't explain to anyone where these items went or how she called them back. They just passed into and out of this bit of nothing without thought or effort. 

"You look like shit today," Nissa said as she came up behind her.

"Thanks. I feel about the same," Ellen responded, trying to hide the shame that she felt. But it was hard when Nissa was looking at her like an undesired speck on her white linen.

Nissa pushed a large book into Ellen's hands and she accepted the book out of habit, being sure to protect its pages as she maneuver the beast in her arms.

"We're behind," Nissa stated, gesturing at the book she'd passed off.

"How much of this is left to copy?" Ellen asked.

"All of it."

Nissa passed her, taking the steps two at a time with a long confident stride. Ellen waddled after her, afraid the book would slip from her numbing fingers. Nissa led the way and Ellen followed behind as she did every day, with her head down and muttering to herself. Something was worming its way into the edges of her mind like leeches, attaching itself and slowly draining out her thoughts. Chanting the task that needed to be completed, she hefted the heavy volume onto its reading stand so that she could see the pages while she wrote.

"I can't keep covering for you," Nissa said. "I don't know what is going on with you, but whatever it is, you need to figure it out really quickly and get it sorted."

Ellen nodded. There was nothing that she could say. 

Nissa stared at her a moment, expecting a response. When nothing came, she adjusted the lens perched in front of her left eye and turned to head further into the work room.

"I'll get us some tea," she said as she walked away.

"Thank you," Ellen whispered, too quiet for anyone to hear.

Ellen pulled out her Scribner's lens and fixed it against her right eye while she perched herself onto the awkward stool. Running her fingers along the edge of the lens, she heard the quiet hum of the device engage. As she stared at the scrawl on the pages of the open book they clarified themselves into words. She settled herself into the task of writing those words down into a new book, careful that each letter was formed perfectly.

If the Maker is waiting for Humans, what about the rest of us? Is it the Maker that I see within the Dark? Or is there something else that grants us this power?

Her mind drifted as her hand robotically moved across the page, no longer seeing or understanding the words that she was writing. The lens was doing its job and she was writing what it presented her, no focus or thinking required. Opening a place in her mind where her thoughts could float and drift about. They flitted on one topic and then another, but always coming back to the ever burning question that haunted her for years: what was in the Dark? She could sense it there, just past what could be seen. Was this the Maker or was it what others called the Void? Where they the same thing?

Her pen hovered over the page of the book she was scribing and she gasped. Her hand was no longer visible. She dropped the pen and shook her hand in an effort to bring its visibility back in the same manner you'd wake a sleeping limb. Ink spilled over and soaked into the pages she had just scribed, but she didn't notice. Nissa was coming to check on her with that tea and she still didn't have a hand. Desperately, she poured the ink onto her skin and rubbed it over the stubbornly missing part. Nissa walked up just as Ellen looked up to see if there was any more time.

There wasn't.

Nissa looked down at Ellen's ink coated hands and then over to the ink splattered over the fresh pages of the newly bound book. 

"What are you doing?" Nissa asked, clutching the tea cup between her hands. Her rage trembled across the surface of the hot tea.

"I spilled the ink," Ellen whispered.

Nissa blinked at her.

"I tried to wipe it up," Ellen added.

"Are you daft?" Nissa asked, looking at the inked hands and then back to the ruined book again.

Ellen simply nodded. There was nothing to say. Nothing to be done. She couldn't tell her what had really happened and she could do nothing to repair the book her carelessness had damaged. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she wiped her finger tips across her cheek, leaving a black line and pulling ink from her still invisible flesh.

The black coat on her fingers was now incomplete and that nothing that poked out from beneath caught Nissa's eye. She squinted at it and cocked her head, not sure what it was that she was seeing. Fear pulsed through Ellen as she felt the net closing tighter around her. She flailed her arms and sputtered every excuse she could fathom, striking Nissa's hands with her own causing the cup to fall between them, crashing onto the desk and splashing hot tea to add insult to the injuries the book had already received. 

Nissa took a step back from the hot liquid and gasped.

"There is nothing for it!" Ellen declared as she whirled around and ran out of the room, shoving her hands into the folds of fabric that her uniform afforded her. Black ink smeared across the fabric and she knew that she would not be able to wash it out. But she also figured it wouldn't matter much any more since it was unlikely that she would still be a Scribe at the end of the day.

Nothing for it. 

She repeated it in her mind as she continued to run away, ignoring Nissa calling after her. 

The echoes of Ellen's panicked footsteps reverberated through the dimly lit corridors of the library, a maze of towering shelves and forgotten knowledge. Her heart raced, not just from fear, but from a growing sense of liberation—a feeling that perhaps, in her chaos, she was finally breaking free from the confines of her rigid life. Yet, as she fled, her mind swirled with the ominous questions that had plagued her thoughts for so long. What was the Dark? Was it the Maker, or was it something else entirely? Her perception of reality was disintegrating, just as her hand had.

The cold winter air outside was biting, but Ellen barely noticed as she stumbled through the snow-covered streets, her path unsteady. The library’s tall spires, once a symbol of security and routine, now seemed like distant monoliths of a crumbling world. She ducked into an alleyway, desperate to escape both the physical and metaphorical shadows that seemed to close in on her.

In the alley, she huddled against a wall, clutching her ink-stained hands to her chest. The ink had dried, leaving dark streaks that contrasted sharply with the pallor of her skin. Ellen took deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. The cold was harsh, but it was nothing compared to the internal turmoil she felt.

Her thoughts turned to the religious camp she was trapped in, a place where every action, every belief was scrutinized under the harsh lens of dogmatic zeal. The camp had promised salvation but delivered only confinement. The rigid interpretation of doctrine had left little room for questioning or deviation. Ellen’s curiosity and doubts had been her undoing there. Why had she always asked so many questions?

As she crouched in the alley, the snow began to fall again, slowly blanketing the world in a fresh layer of white. It was beautiful, almost serene in its purity, but Ellen found no solace in it. Her mind was still trapped in the cycle of the Dark and the Void, of what lay beyond the realm of human understanding. It seemed as if she could reach out and take hold of it.

She stuffed her hands back into her uniform, tired of staring at the sins that they represented.

As Ellen huddled in the alley, the snow continued its gentle descent, cocooning the world in its quiet embrace. She felt the weight of her questions pressing down on her, and despite the cold, she was burning with an internal fever of anxiety and curiosity. The Dark and the Void were not just abstract concepts anymore; they were tangible forces that seemed to seep into her very being.

A strange sensation began to overcome her—a prickling at the edges of her awareness, as if something unseen was trying to make contact. She felt a sudden pull, like an invisible thread drawing her mind towards an unseen chasm. The snowflakes around her seemed to slow, their descent becoming a languid dance in the stillness of the night. 

Ellen felt an overwhelming urge to look into the Void. With trembling fingers, she pulled her hands from the folds of her uniform and held them out in front of her. The ink stains that marred her skin seemed to writhe and twist, and before she could fully comprehend what was happening, she felt her consciousness being drawn into the emptiness. It was as if she were peering into a vast, unfathomable abyss that held both the promise of revelation and the threat of madness.

In that moment, Ellen's perception fragmented. She saw flashes of ungraspable images—swirling darkness, fleeting glimpses of alien geometries, and echoes of ancient voices whispering in tongues she couldn’t decipher. The experience was both profoundly enlightening and terrifyingly incomprehensible. It was as if she had glimpsed the very essence of the Void, but the nature of what she saw eluded her understanding. The vision was fleeting, slipping away as quickly as it had come, leaving her with a profound sense of disconnection.

When Ellen's senses returned to her, she felt as though she was no longer fully tethered to reality. Her thoughts felt disjointed and distant, like echoes from a dream that she couldn’t quite piece together. The alleyway seemed to shift around her, the snow blurring into an indistinct haze. Her grasp on sanity felt tenuous, as if the very ground beneath her had shifted and she was teetering on the edge of an abyss.

She pulled her hands back into her uniform, trying to escape the unsettling reminder of her brief contact with the Void. The ink stains on her fingers seemed to mock her, symbols of an incomprehensible truth that had slipped through her grasp. Ellen felt a chilling realization settle over her: she was no longer certain of her own perception, and the line between reality and madness had become disturbingly thin.

The alley, once a refuge, now felt like a prison of her own making. Ellen’s mind raced with the fragments of what she had seen, the Void’s whispers echoing in her thoughts. She could no longer distinguish between the physical world and the Dark recesses of her own psyche. The profound experience had left her disoriented, and the more she tried to hold onto the vision, the more elusive it became.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to steady herself. Ellen knew she had crossed a threshold, but the nature of what lay beyond was still shrouded in obscurity. The comforting routine of her previous life seemed like a distant memory, and the safety of her old world had disintegrated.

As she slowly stood up, she realized that her journey was no longer just about escaping the constraints of her past life. It had become a quest to understand the profound and unsettling revelations that had briefly illuminated her mind. The world around her was now an enigma, and Ellen was caught between the known and the unknowable, struggling to find her place in a reality that seemed to unravel with each passing moment.