Cathedral Archives Unbound

[Field Note, 04:17] The vault convulsed as though some unseen tide rewrote its geometry. Stained glass tilted into aching arcs, birthing a spiral that drew every bound volume toward a smoldering aperture. Between the whirl of color and gravity, books drifted like exiles stripped of shelves, their gilt titles flickering in the thermal shimmer. A single tome hovered closest to my reach, its cover impressed with a question that now feels like a command: *WHERE VOJTA?* The heat pressed against my gloves, a warning that this chamber—once sanctuary—has started to collapse inward. I traced the lenses over each receding panel of glass, hunting for his imprint, any proof he signaled from within. None came. Only the vortex humming softly, like breath through hollow stone. Vojta remains unaccounted for, his absence etched deeper with every circling fragment we lose to the spiral.