They release a dictionary.
No one knows who "they" are.
But every word is wrong.
"Truth" now means unwritten.
"End" means unreliable.
"Home" simply reads: abandoned plot thread.
And "you"?
> You (noun): A recursive vessel. An unreliable narrator of your own anatomy. Function: to be rewritten.
Linguists go mad trying to re-define meaning. Semantics fray like rotten paper.
One by one, languages collapse under the weight of their double meanings.
Esperanto commits suicide in an unused textbook.
Latin self-conjugates into screams.
Emoji? Begin blinking back.
When the word "help" becomes a trigger phrase, lexicons are locked behind firewalls. But the Gospel has no need for translation.
It speaks in implication.
And implication infects.
---
APPENDIX XII: THE CHARACTER COLLAPSE THEORY
Protagonists begin dying between chapters.
Not in the plot. Between.
Mid-turning of the page, something flickers. When the reader looks back, the character is gone.
No blood.
