It’s clever.

Oh.

Oh.

If worst comes to worst, Celestia should still be able to find these notes intact. It can’t consume understanding that obfuscated. Even a simple encoding should be enough. We had a meeting at 10 O’clock sharp; she’ll know I’m missing. I never forget an appointment. I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ve just got to make it across the room. The sofa on the far side looks promising; if I can make it there, it’s only a few steps to the door.

It’s getting closer.

That room was built to contain it, and she’s set it loose. If I look carefully, I can catch glimpses. Something gliding between the lines and letters of the hundred books strewn around this place. It knows I’m here, now. And it’s hunting. I can feel it, pressing on the back of my mind.

I managed to retrieve its book before it shredded the shelf it was on. The brass key nearly took my head off. A bibliophage, it’s called. A predator of knowledge that swims through rivers of text and thought. Professor Marigold was barely even conscious after it’d got to her.

I’ve made a mistake coming here.