Chapter 32: A Picture Worth a Thousand Words
Vix turned slowly around, dread pooling inside her. For a moment, she could not tell what was making the noise. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, steadily filling the quiet library.
Then, she saw it: on a nearby bookshelf, four shelves above her head, there was a book, propped open. A black and white substance was spilling from it, running like sand through an hourglass, piling in a heap on the floor nearby.
Vix cocked her head. There was something oddly familiar about the black-and-white waterfall.
Vix gasped. Now she saw it – they were words. Words were spilling from the book, slipping free from its pages as though they had somehow come loose. They marched en masse to the edge of the shelf, looking like an army of spindly ants, then tumbled off, adding to the ever-increasing pile of them already on the floor.
Vix stared at them. ‘What’s happening?’