Prague – The Excavation Chamber
The man in the dark coat kept his gun leveled at Ethan.
“Put. The book. Down.”
Ethan’s mind raced. The manuscript was still clenched in his fingers, the leather binding warm against his palm. He glanced at Kovač, but she was just as frozen as he was, her expression locked between fear and warning.
The men surrounding them weren’t government agents. They moved with too much silence, too much purpose. No insignias, no official presence.
But they weren’t mercenaries, either.
Their eyes—calm, unflinching—held something deeper.
Not power.
Knowledge.
They knew exactly what this book was.
And they weren’t afraid of Ethan.
They were afraid of what he had already done.
Ethan’s grip tightened.
“I’m not putting it down.”
The man exhaled, as if he had been expecting that answer. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”
Ethan swallowed.
“I read a sentence,” he said. “And now, my best friend doesn’t exist.”
The man’s jaw tensed. “Then you already understand the stakes.”
Ethan shook his head. “I don’t understand anything.”
The man motioned to his men, who spread out, blocking the only exit. “That book does not belong to you. It does not belong to anyone. It was never meant to be found.”
Kovač finally found her voice. “You’re the Wardens.”
The leader’s gaze flicked to her. “You know about us?”
She swallowed. “I… I’ve heard the rumors. A secret order that tracks and eliminates language anomalies. But I always thought it was a myth.”
The man smirked. “Most myths exist for a reason.”
Ethan took a slow step back. “You’ve been trying to destroy the book.”
The man nodded. “For centuries.”
Ethan’s pulse quickened. “Why?”
“Because,” the man said, voice low, “that book is not a record. It is not a text to be studied. It is a mechanism. And every time it is spoken, the world… adjusts.”
Ethan frowned. “Adjusts?”
“You already know what I mean.”
Ethan hesitated.
Adam.
His best friend. His entire existence had been erased because Ethan had spoken one phrase from the manuscript.
The implications sent a shiver down his spine.
He looked down at the book.
This wasn’t just a forgotten language.
It was a code.
A command system.
And whoever wrote it… understood how to rewrite reality.
The Last Scholar’s Warning
Kovač stepped forward. “You said this has happened before. To others.”
The Warden leader nodded. “Many times. Every few centuries, the book resurfaces. And every time, someone tries to read it.”
Ethan frowned. “And what happens to them?”
The leader exhaled. “They disappear. Eventually, the book rewrites them out of existence.”
A cold weight settled in Ethan’s stomach.
“How much has been erased?” he asked.
The leader’s expression darkened. “More than you could imagine. The cities that vanish from history? The civilizations that leave no trace? The people no one remembers? They were spoken out of existence.”
Ethan’s breath hitched.
It wasn’t just Adam.
It wasn’t just the scholars before him.
This book had rewritten human history.
Again. And again. And again.
Kovač’s voice wavered. “The scholars who worked on this before… were any of them able to leave a warning?”
The leader hesitated.
Then, reluctantly, he reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of yellowed paper.
Ethan took it. The handwriting was uneven, hurried, written with panic.
A single phrase:
“DO NOT SPEAK THE FINAL WORD. NO MATTER WHAT IT PROMISES YOU.”
Ethan’s blood ran cold.
He looked up. “The final word?”
The Warden leader nodded. “The book is designed as a sequence. The first phrase opens the connection. The next ones rewrite the world. But the final word…”
He exhaled.
“It resets everything.”
Ethan felt his breath catch.
“Resets?”
The leader met his gaze. “It doesn’t just erase a person. It doesn’t just remove a city. It wipes everything.”
Ethan swallowed.
“And then what?”
The leader’s voice was grave.
“Then it starts again.”
The Choice That Shouldn’t Exist
Ethan could feel it now.
A pull.
The book was heavy in his hands, but not in weight. It felt full. Dense. Like an ocean compressed into a glass.
It wanted to be read.
It wanted to be spoken.
And for the first time, Ethan understood why the previous scholars had failed.
Because knowing what it could do wasn’t enough to stop it.
The temptation wasn’t power. It wasn’t curiosity.
It was doubt.
What if the book wasn’t just erasing things?
What if it was fixing them?
What if the world wasn’t supposed to be this way?
Ethan looked at the Warden leader. “If you don’t want the book read, why haven’t you destroyed it?”
The leader’s expression hardened. “We’ve tried. Fire, acid, pressure—we’ve done everything. But every time we think we’ve destroyed it, it returns.”
Ethan’s grip tightened. “Then that means something—or someone—wants it to exist.”
The leader nodded. “And that is what we must prevent.”
Silence hung between them.
Then the leader took a slow step forward.
“This is your last chance,” he said. “Put the book down. Walk away. If you keep going, you will be rewritten—just like the others.”
Ethan hesitated.
He could feel the book’s weight shifting.
The symbols on the cover weren’t still anymore. They were… moving.
Rearranging themselves.
And suddenly, a new phrase appeared at the top of the page.
A phrase he hadn’t translated yet.
His heart stopped.
Because this time, it wasn’t written in an unknown language.
This time…
It was written in English.
And it said:
“Nathaniel Graves has already spoken the next word.”
Ethan’s stomach lurched.
That name.
That wasn’t his name.
Nathaniel Graves…
Who the hell was Nathaniel Graves?
His vision tilted.
Something shifted.
Kovač’s voice broke through the fog. “Ethan? What’s wrong?”
But she sounded… far away.
Ethan staggered back. His breath came too fast, too shallow.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ground himself.
And when he opened them again…
Kovač was gone.
The Wardens were gone.
The excavation site was gone.
He was somewhere else.
A different world.
A world that had never existed before.
And worst of all?
His own reflection in the glass across from him wasn’t his face.
The Fractured Mirror
The face staring back at him was older. Harder. Deep lines etched around the eyes and mouth, like someone who had seen too much, lived too long. Gray threaded through dark hair that was cut military-short.
But the eyes—the eyes were his. The same pale green that had stared back at him every morning of his life.
Except now they were set in a stranger’s face.
Nathaniel Graves’ face.
A wave of nausea hit him, and Ethan braced himself against the edge of what he now realized was a desk. A heavy wooden desk in what appeared to be an office. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with texts in languages he recognized and others he didn’t.
On the desk sat a nameplate: Dr. Nathaniel Graves, Department of Linguistic Archaeology.
“This isn’t possible,” he whispered, his voice coming out deeper, rougher—not his voice at all.
Yet it was. Because it wasn’t his body anymore. It was Nathaniel Graves’ body.
His hands—no, Graves’ hands—were weathered, calloused. The right one bore a strange symbol tattooed on the inside of the wrist—a mark that resembled one of the characters from the manuscript.
The manuscript.
Ethan spun around, searching frantically. Where was it? Had it come with him to this… place? This reality?
The office was meticulously organized. Artifacts in glass cases. Maps with locations marked in red. Photographs of excavation sites—including one that looked eerily like the Vltava Monastery.
And there, on a stand in the corner, behind glass and what appeared to be some kind of electronic lock, sat the manuscript.
The same leather binding. The same impossible smoothness. The same symbols etched into its cover.
Except here, it wasn’t a mystery being unearthed.
Here, it was a prized possession.
A door opened behind him, and Ethan whirled around.
A woman stood in the doorway, mid-thirties, with sharp eyes and a tablet clutched to her chest.
“Dr. Graves,” she said, her tone formal but familiar. “The Council is waiting.”
Ethan stared at her, completely unmoored. “The… Council?”
She frowned. “Are you feeling all right? You look pale.”
“I’m—” he started, but stopped, unsure what to say. I’m not Nathaniel Graves. I’m Ethan Vaughn. But in this reality, was there even an Ethan Vaughn? Or had the manuscript erased him completely, replacing him with this… this other person?
The woman stepped closer, concern etching her features. “Nathaniel,” she said, her tone softening. “What’s wrong? Did you have another episode?”
Episode. The word hung in the air between them, loaded with meaning he didn’t understand.
“I’m fine,” he managed, trying to maintain the charade while his mind raced. “Just… remind me about the meeting.”
She gave him a strange look but nodded. “The Wardens Council. The quarterly review of containment protocols for the First Tongue artifacts.” She glanced pointedly at the manuscript behind the glass. “Including your pet project.”
The words hit him like a physical blow.
The Wardens.
In his reality, they had been trying to take the book from him.
In this reality, he—or rather, Nathaniel Graves—was one of them.
The Other Side of the Veil
“Right,” Ethan said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I’ll be there shortly.”
The woman—whose name he still didn’t know—hesitated. “Are you sure you’re all right? After what happened in Prague—”
“I said I’m fine,” he cut her off, more harshly than he intended.
She flinched but nodded. “Very well. Conference Room A. Ten minutes.” With that, she turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Ethan released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Prague. She had mentioned Prague. Had something happened there in this reality too? Something involving Nathaniel Graves?
He moved to the desk, rifling through papers, looking for clues. Reports, photographs, handwritten notes in a script he recognized as similar to his own but more angular, more precise.
A folder labeled “Project VLTAVA” caught his eye. He opened it with trembling hands.
Inside were photographs of the same excavation site he had been in just moments ago. But these showed a different scene. Instead of an active dig, the images captured what looked like a containment operation. Men in protective gear sealing something away. Wardens—he recognized their distinctive dark coats—overseeing the operation.
And in one photo, standing among them, was Nathaniel Graves.
But what sent a chill down Ethan’s spine was the figure beside him.
Helena Kovač.
She looked different—her hair was longer, streaked with premature gray, and her expression was harder—but it was unmistakably her.
And beside her…
Ethan’s breath caught.
Adam.
Except in this photograph, Adam wore the dark coat of a Warden, his posture rigid, authoritative. Nothing like the warm, brilliant friend Ethan remembered.
In this reality, Adam existed.
But he was a Warden, not a friend.
And Nathaniel Graves—whoever he was—worked with him.
A headache began to pulse behind Ethan’s eyes. This was too much. How could he be here? How could he be inside another person’s body? Another person’s life?
He had to get back. He had to find the real Kovač. He had to understand what was happening.
His gaze returned to the manuscript behind the glass.
If it had brought him here, could it take him back?
He approached the case cautiously. The electronic lock required a code. Four digits.
Ethan stared at it, helpless. How would he know what—
And then, suddenly, he did know.
The knowledge surfaced from somewhere deep in his mind—or was it Graves’ mind?—unbidden, automatic.
2-5-3-9.
His fingers moved of their own accord, punching in the numbers.
The case clicked open.
Ethan reached for the manuscript with hands that still felt foreign to him. The leather was warm, just as he remembered. The symbols pulsed faintly under his touch.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came a voice from behind him.
Ethan spun around.
Adam stood in the doorway.
Not the Adam he remembered—the brilliant, irreverent linguist who had been his best friend for decades.
This Adam was colder. Harder. His eyes held a knowledge that bordered on ruthlessness.
“Adam,” Ethan breathed.
Adam’s expression didn’t change. “Why are you calling me that? You never call me by my first name, Dr. Graves.”
Ethan swallowed hard. “I—”
“Put the manuscript back,” Adam said evenly. “You know the protocols. It doesn’t leave containment without Council approval.”
Ethan’s grip on the book tightened. “I need it.”
“For what?” Adam asked, his voice dangerously soft. “Another experiment? Haven’t you done enough damage already?”
“What damage?” Ethan asked before he could stop himself.
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Are you testing me? Or are you having another… lapse?”
That word again. Lapse. Episode. People in this reality seemed concerned about Nathaniel Graves’ mental state.
“I’m fine,” Ethan insisted, though nothing could be further from the truth.
“Then you remember what happened the last time you opened that book without supervision,” Adam said, his tone flat. “You remember what it cost us.”
Cost us. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
“Remind me,” Ethan said cautiously.
Adam’s expression hardened. “Three Wardens. Dead. And you… changed.” He took a step closer. “You’ve never been the same since you read those words. The Council only let you stay because of your expertise. Because we need you to decipher the rest of the text. But everyone knows you’re compromised.”
Compromised.
The weight of that accusation settled over Ethan like a shroud.
In this reality, Nathaniel Graves had done something with the manuscript. Something that had cost lives. And whatever he had read had changed him.
Just as reading the first line had changed Ethan in his reality.
“What did I read?” Ethan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Adam’s expression shifted from suspicion to concern. “You really don’t remember? Nathaniel, if you’re having another episode—”
“Just tell me,” Ethan cut him off. “Please.”
Adam hesitated, then sighed. “You read the passage about the collapse of barriers. The one that begins, ‘Between what was and what could be…'”
Ethan’s blood ran cold.
Those were the exact words he had been tempted to read before the Wardens burst into the excavation chamber.
In this reality, Nathaniel Graves had spoken them.
And somehow, that had… what? Swapped their places? Merged their consciousness? Trapped Ethan in Graves’ body?
“The Council is waiting,” Adam said, interrupting Ethan’s racing thoughts. “Either put the manuscript back and come with me, or I’ll have to report this incident.”
Ethan stared at the book in his hands, then back at Adam—this cold, unfamiliar version of his friend.
He needed answers. And it seemed the only way to get them was to play along. To pretend to be Nathaniel Graves until he could figure out what was happening and how to get back to his own reality.
Slowly, reluctantly, he placed the manuscript back in its case and closed it.
“Good decision,” Adam said, his tone softening slightly. “Now come on. We’re already late.”
As Ethan followed Adam out of the office, his mind spun with questions.
Who was Nathaniel Graves? What had he done with the manuscript? Why had reading those words brought Ethan here, into his body?
And most importantly:
How could he get back to his own reality?
The Council of Wardens
The conference room was imposing—high ceilings, dark wood paneling, and a massive round table at which sat twelve individuals, all wearing variations of the Wardens’ distinctive dark coats.
Their faces were a mix of ages and ethnicities, but they all shared the same penetrating gaze that Ethan had noticed in the Wardens who had confronted him in the excavation chamber.
As Adam led him in, all eyes turned to them.
“Dr. Graves,” said an elderly woman at the head of the table, her accent vaguely Eastern European. “We were beginning to wonder if you would join us.”
Ethan swallowed hard. “I apologize for the delay.”
She studied him for a moment, then nodded toward an empty chair. “Please, sit.”
Adam took a seat across the table, his gaze never leaving Ethan.
As Ethan sat, he noticed a tablet at his place, displaying what appeared to be the agenda for the meeting. The first item sent a chill down his spine:
1. Assessment of Prague Incident – Linguistic Containment Breach
The elderly woman—presumably the head of the Council—cleared her throat. “Before we begin the formal agenda, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.” Her gaze fixed on Ethan. “Dr. Graves, many of us have concerns about your continued involvement with the First Tongue artifacts after what happened in Prague.”
Ethan remained silent, unsure how to respond.
“However,” she continued, “your knowledge of the language is unparalleled. Even compromised, you remain our best hope of understanding its mechanisms—and thus, of containing it.”
Murmurs of agreement—and some dissent—rippled around the table.
“I have a question,” said a younger man to Ethan’s right. “How can we be sure that Dr. Graves is still… himself? After what he read, how do we know he hasn’t been… influenced?”
The question hung in the air, pregnant with implications that made Ethan’s skin crawl.
“I am still myself,” he said carefully, painfully aware of the irony in his words. He wasn’t himself at all. He was Ethan Vaughn trapped in Nathaniel Graves’ body.
“Are you?” challenged another Council member. “Three months ago, you were our most cautious researcher. You advocated for stricter containment protocols than anyone. Then you read four lines from the manuscript, and suddenly you’re pushing for ‘controlled exploration’ of its capabilities.”
Ethan’s mind raced. Graves had changed after reading the manuscript—just as Ethan had begun to change after reading the first line.
“The manuscript affects those who read it,” he said slowly, piecing together what he knew. “It… reshapes perception.”
Adam leaned forward. “Which is precisely why we contain it. Why we don’t read it except under the strictest protocols.” His eyes narrowed. “Protocols you violated in Prague.”
“What exactly happened in Prague?” Ethan asked before he could stop himself.
The room fell silent.
The elderly woman’s gaze sharpened. “Are you testing us, Dr. Graves? Or are you experiencing another memory lapse?”
Ethan hesitated. “A lapse,” he admitted, deciding that honesty—or at least partial honesty—was his best approach. “I’m having trouble… remembering details.”
Concerned glances were exchanged around the table.
“Perhaps,” said a man with a scar across his left cheek, “we should postpone this meeting until Dr. Graves has been evaluated by medical.”
“No,” Ethan said quickly. “I can continue. I just… need a refresher on specific events.”
The elderly woman studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. A brief summary, then.” She pulled up an image on the large screen at the end of the room—a photograph of the excavation chamber where, in Ethan’s reality, he had first encountered the manuscript.
“Three months ago, your team discovered a chamber beneath the Vltava Monastery,” she began. “Inside was the most complete First Tongue manuscript we’ve ever encountered—what you now call ‘The Prague Codex.’ Despite strict protocols forbidding unauthorized reading, you opened the book and read four consecutive lines.”
She changed the image to show what appeared to be security camera footage. Ethan saw Nathaniel Graves—the man whose body he now inhabited—standing in the chamber, the manuscript open in his hands, his lips moving.
“The effects were immediate and catastrophic,” she continued. “A reality distortion occurred. Three Wardens who were present were… erased. Not killed. Erased. As if they had never existed.”
Ethan’s breath caught. Just like Adam in his reality.
“Furthermore,” she went on, “you were changed. Physically, yes—your hair grayed overnight, you aged a decade in minutes. But more concerning were the psychological changes. Your entire personality shifted. Your priorities, your perspectives… even your memories seem to have been affected.”
Ethan’s mind reeled with the implications. Had Nathaniel Graves read those words and somehow… merged with someone from another reality? Just as Ethan was now merged with him?
“Since then,” the elderly woman concluded, “you’ve been under observation. Your access to the manuscript has been restricted. Yet despite experiencing firsthand the dangers of the First Tongue, you’ve repeatedly advocated for more extensive research—even experimentation with controlled speaking of certain phrases.”
The accusation in her voice was unmistakable.
“The manuscript is a tool,” Ethan said carefully, trying to piece together what Nathaniel Graves might believe. “It can reshape reality. But that power could be harnessed, controlled.”
The words felt strange on his lips—dangerous—yet somehow right. As if Nathaniel Graves’ thoughts were bleeding into his own.
Adam slammed his palm on the table. “This is exactly what we’re talking about! The Nathaniel Graves I knew would never suggest ‘harnessing’ the First Tongue. He understood it was a contamination to be contained, not a power to be used.”
“Maybe I’ve gained a new perspective,” Ethan countered, the words flowing from him without conscious thought.
“Or maybe,” Adam shot back, “you’re not Nathaniel Graves anymore.”
The accuracy of that statement hit Ethan like a physical blow.
The elderly woman raised a hand, silencing the brewing argument. “Enough. We’ve established the context.” She turned to Ethan. “Dr. Graves, despite our concerns, we need your expertise. The Prague Codex is not the only First Tongue artifact in our possession, and we’ve detected signs of… activation… in several others.”
She nodded to an assistant who distributed folders to everyone at the table. Ethan opened his to find photographs of various artifacts—stone tablets, fragments of parchment, even what appeared to be a series of metal discs—all bearing symbols similar to those in the manuscript.
“These artifacts have been dormant for centuries,” she explained. “But in the three months since the Prague incident, they’ve begun to exhibit signs of activity. Symbols shifting. Energy readings spiking. It’s as if something has… awakened them.”
The implication was clear.
Whatever Nathaniel Graves had done in Prague had triggered something larger. Something beyond a simple reality shift.
“We need to understand what’s happening,” the elderly woman concluded. “And despite our misgivings, you remain our foremost expert on the First Tongue.”
Ethan stared at the photographs, a chill settling deep in his bones. In trying to find Adam, to restore his erased friend, he had stumbled into something far more vast and terrifying.
This wasn’t just about a single manuscript that could rewrite reality.
This was about an entire language—the First Tongue—with the power to reshape existence itself.
And somehow, he—or Nathaniel Graves—had awakened it.
As the Council continued their discussion, debating containment protocols and research parameters, Ethan’s mind raced with a single, overwhelming thought:
He needed to get back to his own reality.
Before whatever Nathaniel Graves had set in motion consumed them all.
The Face in the Mirror
The Council meeting dragged on for hours, discussing containment protocols and security measures that meant nothing to Ethan. He nodded when appropriate, spoke only when directly addressed, and fought to keep his mounting panic from showing on his face.
When it finally ended, he declined an invitation to join some of the Council members for dinner, pleading exhaustion—which wasn’t far from the truth.
“I’ll walk you to your quarters,” Adam offered, his tone making it clear this wasn’t actually a suggestion.
They moved through long corridors that reminded Ethan of a cross between a university and a military installation. Researchers in white lab coats passed them, nodding respectfully. Guards stood at regular intervals, their eyes following Ethan with barely concealed suspicion.
“Where are we?” Ethan finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
Adam gave him a sidelong glance. “The Citadel. Warden headquarters.” His expression darkened. “You really are having another episode, aren’t you?”
“It comes and goes,” Ethan admitted cautiously.
They stopped before a door at the end of a quieter hallway. Adam placed his palm against a scanner, and the door slid open.
“Your quarters,” he said. “Though I think perhaps you should visit Medical.”
“I just need rest,” Ethan insisted, eager to be alone to process everything he’d learned.
Adam hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But if you’re not better by morning, I’m reporting it.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Ethan standing in the doorway of what was apparently Nathaniel Graves’ living space.
The apartment was spartan but comfortable. A small living area with bookshelves, a kitchenette, a bedroom visible through an open door. The walls were bare except for a few framed photographs—excavation sites, ancient artifacts.
No personal photos. No family. No friends.
Nathaniel Graves lived a solitary existence, it seemed.
Ethan moved to the bathroom, bracing himself before looking in the mirror again.
The face that stared back at him was becoming more familiar, but no less jarring. Nathaniel Graves was perhaps ten years older than Ethan, with a weathered face that spoke of years spent in harsh conditions. The gray at his temples hadn’t been there in the photographs from before the Prague incident.
Whatever had happened there had aged him. Changed him.
Just as reading the manuscript had changed Ethan.
He splashed water on his face, trying to clear his thoughts.
He needed a plan.
Step one: Understand what had happened. How had he ended up in Nathaniel Graves’ body? In this alternate reality where the Wardens were an organization he was part of, rather than people trying to stop him?
Step two: Find a way back to his own reality. To Kovač. To the version of events where he might still be able to restore Adam.
And to do that, he needed the manuscript.
The Prague Codex, they had called it.
Ethan dried his face and moved back to the living area, searching for clues. Nathaniel Graves must have notes, research materials. Something that would help him understand what had happened in Prague.
He found a laptop on the desk and opened it. Password protected, of course.
But just as with the code for the manuscript case, knowledge surfaced unbidden from some deep recess of his—or Graves’—mind.
His fingers typed “AzothParadox919” without conscious thought.
The laptop unlocked.
This was… unsettling. It seemed he had access to some of Graves’ memories, his knowledge. They were bubbling up when needed, almost like muscle memory.
What else might be lurking in his subconscious?
Ethan navigated through the laptop, finding folders meticulously organized by project, date, and classification level. He clicked on one labeled “Prague Codex – Personal Notes.”
A text file opened, filled with Graves’ private observations. Ethan began to read.
April 15 – Initial discovery of the Prague Codex beneath Vltava Monastery. The manuscript appears complete, unlike previous fragmentary finds. Preliminary dating impossible—the material doesn’t match any known historical medium. The symbols are consistent with other First Tongue artifacts, but more complex, more numerous. This may be the lexical key we’ve been searching for.
April 16 – Council has authorized careful documentation but forbids any attempt at vocalization. Standard protocol. I concur with their caution. The First Tongue is not meant to be spoken by human vocal cords.
April 17 – Something strange is happening. The symbols seem to… shift when I’m not looking directly at them. When I focus on one section, the periphery changes. It’s as if the text is alive, adapting. I’ve installed cameras to document this phenomenon.
April 18 – The cameras show nothing. No movement, no shifting. Yet I see it clearly with my own eyes. Am I being affected merely by proximity to the text? Have I been compromised already?
April 19 – Dreams last night. Vivid. I was someone else. Somewhere else. A world similar to ours but… different. Subtle variations. In the dream, I was younger. A professor, not a Warden. I had a friend… a colleague. We were excited about something we’d discovered.
April 20 – The dreams continue. Same person. Same alternate life. It feels so real. So detailed. And each morning, I wake with new knowledge—understandings of the First Tongue that I didn’t possess before. As if this other self is teaching me.
April 21 – I’ve identified four key phrases in the text. They appear to be activation sequences. Commands to alter specific aspects of reality. The consequences of speaking them aloud would be unpredictable, potentially catastrophic. I’ve secured them under highest classification.
April 22 – The dreams are bleeding into waking life now. Flashes of the other existence. The other self. Sometimes I catch myself thinking in his patterns, using his knowledge. We’re becoming… entangled somehow.
April 23 – I know his name now. Ethan. Ethan Vaughn.
Ethan nearly fell out of his chair.
Nathaniel Graves had dreamed of him. Had known his name. Before Prague. Before everything.
He continued reading, his heart racing.
April 24 – The Council denies my request for controlled vocalization tests. Too dangerous, they say. But they don’t understand. The First Tongue isn’t just a threat—it’s a tool. A key to understanding the multiverse. The text itself alludes to “paths between worlds,” “doors that speak,” “realities that fold into one another.”
April 25 – Vaughn grows stronger in my mind each day. His curiosity is… infectious. His perspective on the First Tongue is fundamentally different from ours. He sees it as a language to be understood, not a contamination to be contained. I find myself agreeing with him more and more.
April 26 – Decision made. Tomorrow, when the security rotation changes, there will be a three-minute window. Enough time to open the Codex. To read just one phrase. To test a theory.
April 27 – God help me. What have I done?
That was the last entry.
The next day would have been the Prague incident. When Nathaniel Graves had read four lines from the manuscript and changed… everything.
Ethan sat back, his mind reeling.
Nathaniel Graves had been dreaming of him. Had felt his influence. Had begun to think like him.
Just as Ethan now found himself accessing Graves’ memories, his knowledge.
They had been connected somehow, even before Prague. Before either of them had read the manuscript.
And now they had… what? Switched places? Merged consciousness?
If Ethan was here, in Graves’ body, in this reality…
Was Graves in his body, in his reality?
The thought sent a wave of nausea through him.
He clicked through more files, searching for answers. Reports, analyses, theories about the First Tongue and its effects.
And then he found it—a folder labeled simply “Ethan Vaughn.”
Inside was everything Graves had managed to piece together about him. Academic records. Publications. Photographs pulled from university websites and conference programs.
It was him. His life. Documented by a man who had been dreaming about him from another reality.
But what struck Ethan most was a note attached to one of the photographs:
This man does not exist in our reality. I’ve searched every database. Every record. There is no Ethan Vaughn here. No one with his face, his history, his knowledge. He is uniquely absent—not like those who have been erased by the First Tongue, leaving gaps and inconsistencies. He simply never existed here at all.
Yet I dream of him. I know him. With each passing day, I understand more of his thoughts, his memories, his knowledge of linguistics.
*Theory: The multiverse is real. Vaughn exists in a parallel reality. Somehow, the Prague Codex