Day 157, Week 19, Month Verdantis, Year 12123, Era Elyndris
08:14 — Atlantis Magic School, Thirtos City, Gaia Kingdom
The underground chambers still reeked of mildew and dread. Rinoa pressed her palm against the glyph; its faint glow provided a sliver of comfort amid the encroaching darkness. "What in the name of the stars is happening up there?" she murmured, the oppressive silence amplifying the knot of fear in her stomach. Sleep had eluded her. The city above had transformed overnight, and she felt it deep in her bones—a foreboding ache that whispered of something far more menacing.
Footsteps scuffed across the cold flagstones—heavy, uneven, like a predator stalking its prey. The door creaked open, revealing Professor Yaldin at the threshold, a shadowy figure framed by the dim light. He wore a frown, as if he expected some monstrous being to burst forth from the gloom.
"Rinoa, we must depart. The Council has decided to seal this wing," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the very walls could betray their conversation.
She remained rooted in place, her heart pounding like a war drum. "But why, Professor? What has happened that warrants such drastic measures?"
His hesitation lingered in the air; his gaze darted to the far wall, seeking answers that remained elusive. "Last night, they found something… unsettling in Elbert's lab."
A cold wave of fear coursed through her. "Unsettling? Was Lenz involved in this? And Elbert… are they—?"
"Lenz was the first," Yaldin admitted, each word heavy with dread. "His body… or what's left of it, along with others. They weren't truly dead. Not when they regained awareness. The guards lost their wits."
Rinoa felt her throat tighten as vivid, terrible images surged in her mind. "And Elbert? What became of him?"
He shook his head slowly, anguish etched on his features. "Gone. Found slumped in his chair, his head—" He faltered, allowing the horrifying thought to hang between them like a thick fog. "The entire place felt like a tomb. Every artifact destroyed. The Council… they're demanding a complete purge."
Silence hung in the air, dense as a creeping mist, only broken by the endless tick of an unseen clock. Rinoa tightened her grip on the glyph, trying desperately to keep the nausea at bay. "Why now? After all this time?"
"When did you last see him?"
"Before the sun sank beneath the horizon," Yaldin replied, furrowing his brow as he rubbed his forehead, a distant gaze clouding his features. "He spoke of a visitor—saying, 'If she arrives, let no other intervene.' I took that to mean you."
"You actually believed he was talking about me?" Rinoa's tone sharpened, her eyes narrowing as she searched his expression for any trace of doubt. "How can you be so certain?"
"He offered no further details," Yaldin confessed in a subdued voice, shaking his head as if weighed down by regret. "But I swear to you, no one came down here. That much is true. Whatever happened, it occurred beyond our awareness."
Yaldin rubbed his forehead absentmindedly, his countenance clouded as if he were wading through the fog of forgotten memories. "Before the sun set," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "He mentioned a visitor. I still hear him saying, 'If she arrives, let no other intervene.' I thought he was referring to you, Rinoa."
She narrowed her gaze, unwavering in her scrutiny as she searched for any flicker of uncertainty. "And you really have no idea who it was that visited me last night?" Her voice held a steely edge, though a subtle tremor revealed her underlying unease.
Slowly shaking his head, he let out a heavy sigh. "No one came down here, at least that's what the records say. But…" He paused, stealing a glance around as if the shadows themselves might reveal some hidden truth. "A few students murmured about a figure in gray, gliding through the halls. Yet when the guards searched, they found nothing."
A wistful smile danced on Rinoa's lips, a bitter twist of fate. "He never wanted me to find him. Or maybe he was trying to keep me away. Do you think that's true?" Her gaze locked with his, desperation flickering just beneath the surface.
Yaldin's expression hardened, the weight of truth pressing down on him. "There are times when magic is just a way for us to avoid facing realities we'd rather not confront. It takes many forms, often hiding the darkest intentions."
She exhaled unsteadily, the quaver in her voice betraying her turmoil. "What will become of me now? I feel so utterly alone." Her words hung in the air, thick with foreboding.
He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder, the gravity of his demeanor palpable. "Rinoa, you bear witness to matters that reach far beyond your understanding. The Council will come seeking answers. Remember, the power to choose what to reveal lies within you."
Her gaze fell to the stone floor, tracing the cracks that marred its surface. "But… what if I struggle to remember? Or worse yet, what if I cannot recall at all? This is all that remains…" She slowly opened her palm, revealing the glyph that shimmered with a faint light, delicate yet vibrant. "He entrusted this to me. It doesn't belong to Gaia. It has no ties to Atlantis."
Yaldin's brow furrowed as he scrutinized the glyph, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "That sigil… it escapes my understanding. I've seen nothing like it before."
With newfound determination, she nodded firmly. "It comes from Fitran. As long as I hold this memory of him close, I know I am not truly forsaken."
He stepped back, doubt written across his features. "But promise me this, Rinoa—don't let the shadows of your past consume you. You must find a way to escape this place before it devours you whole."
With a determined effort, she pushed herself to her feet, the weight of the moment pressing heavily upon her. The corridor stretched out before her like a gaping maw, offering no comfort and even fewer answers. "I will," she vowed, her voice trembling yet resolute. "I shall seek the truth buried within this abyss." Her gaze flitted across the darkened edges of the hall, searching for something, anything—perhaps even a flicker of gray in the all-consuming darkness.
In the distance, the haunting wail of sirens pierced the heavy air. Mages clad in dark armor moved through the streets like looming storm clouds, their murmurs laced with an undercurrent of dread. "Zombies… forbidden rites…" they whispered, but Rinoa pushed their frantic words from her mind. Only one name resonated within her thoughts, sharp and unwavering. "Fitran," she whispered, as if speaking it aloud could draw him back from the abyss that swallowed him whole.
Drawing a steadying breath, she stepped into the dim corridor. As the world behind her slipped into shadow, she glanced back one last time—not forlorn, but haunted by the restless phantoms of memories swirling like wraiths around her.