Alex silently stood by the door to his apartment. The small hallway was dark, lit only by the thin line of light spilling from the open doorway.

  For a moment, he didn’t move.

  Then he exhaled quietly and stepped inside. The familiar silence of the apartment greeted him.

  Opening his small fridge Alex grabbed a plate of leftover fried rice, and placed it inside the microwave. He pressed the button and turned toward his room.

  He had barely taken two steps when he stopped. The low hum of the microwave filled the quiet apartment.

  Alex’s head snapped back toward the kitchen. His throat tightened as he slowly walked back and leaned forward, peering through the microwave’s small glass window.

  For a moment… he wasn’t sure what he expected to see. His hand ran through his hair as he released a shaky breath.

  Inside, the plate of fried rice rotated slowly.

  Normal. Unlike last time.

  Swallowing, Alex took another look. The plate continued its quiet rotation.

  Satisfied, he turned and finally headed for his room.

  There, in the solitude of his room, the silence felt heavier.

  He stood in the dim glow, letting his eyes adjust. Now that his mind had fallen silent he could think clearly, the details began to press in.

  “Clara… huh. Apartment 1104?”

  He frowned. His memory insisted it had been 1102. A simple mistake, maybe.

  Still, something lingered at the back of his mind. A quiet inconsistency he couldn’t quite grab hold of.

  He exhaled slowly. “Forget it, Alex. We need to focus.”

  His gaze shifted to his computer. A faint sense of warmth stirred in his chest. It felt like ages since he had touched it. His late-night companion, his distraction, his escape.

  He considered loading up a game. Losing himself for a few hours. However the thought died almost instantly.

  The dream resurfaced, like a faint voice calling to him from far.

  One memory in particular stood out: sharp and intrusive. With it came a poisonous question, the kind that burrowed deep and refused to let go.

  Maybe this was just another rabbit hole his mind had constructed. He had done it before. Chasing thoughts until they became something larger than they were.

  ‘But then again.’ he thought.

  If he hadn’t started questioning dreams in the first place, would any of this have happened? Would that journey have unfolded? Or would this have been nothing more than a normal Thursday night?

  He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

  ‘Maybe he should abandon it. The research. The curiosity. The obsession. What had been his initial motivation anyway?’ He paused, frowning and then spoke. “ Wait why am I thinking in third person. ”

  The question lingered in the quiet room, unanswered.

  Dropping the thought Alex settled down in his chair, switched on his neon lights and quietly waited as his computer powered up. He tilted his gaze to the ceiling as the dim red glow of the neon painted it. He stared at it for a long time

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Eventually his gaze drifted downward. To the desk. To the computer screen. But he wasn’t really looking at it. He was looking past it. At something else.

  A memory surfaced, uninvited and vivid. Stone walls. Cold air. Pale lavender hair that dances in the wind. Shelves that stretched endlessly into darkness.

  Alex blinked rapidly, for a moment the memory flashed as if he was watching it rather than remembering.

  Slowly he sat up. His fingers tightened on the armrest of his chair.

  It made no sense.

  ‘The sunken Archives… ’

  The dream had been something out of a forgotten age. A medieval world wrapped in shadow and strange power. Yet the place that had burned itself into his memory most clearly had not been a castle or a ruin.

  It had been a building. A library.

  And not just any library. The address surfaced in his mind again, sharp and unmistakable.

  “Sector 2, Fourth Avenue, 117 District 13.” Alex whispered.

  The Sunken Archives. He frowned, turning to his computer screen.

  “The Sunken Archives…" He whispered again.

  Looking it up, the Sunken Archives appeared on his screen.

  Alex leaned closer, the faint glow of the monitor reflecting in his eyes. The search results were surprisingly sparse. A few archived articles. A forgotten municipal page. A handful of forum discussions that hadn’t seen activity in years.

  He opened the first result.

  The page loaded slowly, revealing a photograph taken during the day. The building rose from the ground like something that had been there long before the rest of the district had been planned. Glass panels reflected the pale sky while dark stone columns anchored the structure to the earth.

  Alex studied it carefully.

  Something about the proportions felt familiar. Not just the architecture, but the feeling of the place. Even through a photograph he could almost imagine the cold air inside, the silence of tall shelves stretching endlessly into shadow.

  He scrolled.

  The article described the archive as one of the oldest public knowledge repositories in the city. Originally built decades ago as a preservation facility for historical records, it had slowly faded into obscurity as digital databases replaced physical storage.

  Funding cuts. Reduced staff. Limited visitors.

  Eventually the Sunken Archives became little more than a quiet building that most residents passed without noticing.

  Alex opened another page.

  This one contained an interior photo.

  Rows of towering shelves filled the hall, their metal frames stretching upward into dim lighting. A narrow walkway ran between them, vanishing into the distance.

  His pulse quickened.

  Everything matched. Exactly as he had seen it in his dream. And yet, strangely… Alex wasn’t surprised.

  If anything, a strange excitement stirred inside him. His heart beat faster as he stared at the image.

  Was it relief?

  Hope?

  Or something far more dangerous. The quiet satisfaction of discovering that he hadn’t been imagining things after all?

  Nevertheless It existed.

  It was a real place. Old. Quiet. Mostly forgotten according to the article that followed the image.

  His gaze slowly shifted toward the window of his apartment. Beyond the glass, the city lights of District Sixteen shimmered in the distance. A normal world. A normal night.

  And yet somewhere in that same city… A place from his dream might be waiting.

  Alex leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His mind began moving again. Fast. Too fast.

  Coincidence? Maybe.

  A trick of memory? Possible.

  But the address refused to fade.

  District 13. The Sunken Archives. And it was there, it was a real place, just 4 hours away on the inter-district transit

  Alex exhaled slowly. “...One visit,” he muttered to himself.

  Just to see. Just to confirm that it was nothing. Perhaps Elenora might be there.

  Alex’s thoughts paused at the last one. Then he laughed, laughed at himself at his own adamant desire. Could that really be possible?

  “What are you thinking about Alex?” He muttered as his laugh slowly died out, replaced by a grim look.

  He stood. The decision had already been made.