The next day, Asterley breathes different.
It's as if the school knows — that something ancient in Haera has shifted, and with it, the very air within its walls.
Every hallway feels heavier. Every door creaks a little slower. The crows watch longer.
And then the visions begin.
---
She's walking through the West Hall when her foot sinks slightly into the wood.
Not much. Just enough to notice.
She kneels.
There — beneath the faded rug, one floorboard is loose. Dust coats its edges, but it lifts without resistance, revealing a narrow compartment underneath.
Inside:
A notebook.
Leather-bound. Weatherworn.
And etched into the inside cover in deep, neat script:
> "For the girl who remembers too much."
---
Haera's breath catches.
The pages are filled with names.
Dozens.
Maybe hundreds.
Some are scratched out.
Some underlined.
At the top:
Lilienne Sol
Maeve Elira
Solenne Vale
Haera Sol
Her own name.
All her selves.
And beneath them, other names she doesn't recognize… yet.
Until she does.
Kael Vale.
Cairos Vale.
And another — circled three times:
The Watcher.
---
The pages shake in her hands.
She flips through more entries. Some are drawings. Some, dates. Others… coded warnings.
> "Cycle #7: Died at 19. Burned."
"Cycle #12: Chose Kael. Broken soul. Restarted."
"Cycle #17: Awoke early. Consequences unknown."
"Cycle #22: Memory erased by force. Failed."
---
Her vision spins.
This isn't just memory.
It's documentation.
Someone — maybe even a version of herself — was trying to track each cycle. Every love. Every betrayal. Every ending.
---
She runs to Cairos.
Bursts into the literature room mid-lecture, breathless.
Holds the notebook in his face.
"You knew."
He stares at it like a ghost.
"I hoped you wouldn't find that."
"But I did."
"And now?" he asks quietly.
"Now," she says, "I want the truth. No more riddles. No more half-memories."
---
He takes her to a place he's never shown anyone before: a secret chamber beneath the old theater stage.
Inside, candlelight flickers against walls carved with sigils and maps.
The cycle room.
He points to a wooden board in the center, where the names from the notebook are burned into the surface.
It's a soul ledger.
And across from hers, drawn in silver:
"The Watcher" — Unknown Origin.
---
"Who is that?" she whispers.
Cairos looks at her grimly.
"The one who decides if the cycle resets. The one who cursed us to begin with."
---
Thunder rolls outside.
The candles flicker.
And from the shadows, a whisper slithers across the room:
> "You've remembered too much, little flame."
Haera turns — but no one is there.
Just a feather. Black. Still warm.
---
She doesn't know it yet…
But The Watcher is waking.
And he knows she's close to breaking the pattern.