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Chapter 8 - Chapter 8: The Midnight Archive

Smoke thickened in the air. Ayla coughed, stumbling through the corridor. The fire

alarms wailed above her. Heat pressed against her face.

"Elian!" she shouted, but her voice was swallowed by the noise.

The figure behind the fallen door was still moving, hand outstretched. She grabbed a

metal rod and tried to pry the door open, but it wouldn't budge.

Then Elian appeared through the haze. He tore his blazer off, covered his mouth, and ran

to help. Together they forced the door open, dragging the trapped person out. It was a

girl—barely conscious, her uniform burned at the edges.

"Help me carry her!" Ayla yelled.

Elian lifted the girl's shoulders while Ayla grabbed her legs. They stumbled through the

hall, coughing as the smoke chased them.

When they burst through the emergency exit, cool air hit them. Ayla fell to her knees,

gasping. Teachers rushed toward them. Someone took the girl away on a stretcher.

Ayla's vision blurred. Elian knelt beside her. "You're insane," he said, voice low.

"You followed me," she said.

He looked at her, and for a moment, neither spoke. The red glow from the fire reflected

in his eyes.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Firefighters rushed past.

Then the principal appeared, his face pale. "Both of you. My office. Now."

The principal's office smelled of smoke and old paper.

"You were both in the east wing after hours?" he asked."Yes," Elian said before Ayla could speak.

She frowned. "He's lying, I—"

The principal raised a hand. "Enough. You're both suspended until the investigation is

complete."

Ayla stood up. "You can't suspend me for trying to save someone!"

His gaze was cold. "You were warned to stay out of restricted areas. Someone tampered

with the fire alarms. You two were seen entering minutes before the fire started."

Ayla froze. "What?"

Elian's jaw clenched.

"Who saw us?" she asked.

The principal opened a file. "Anonymous source. They even provided proof." He turned

the screen toward them.

It was a photo—of Ayla and Elian entering the old wing together, timestamped thirty

minutes before the fire.

"That's fake," Ayla said.

The principal didn't blink. "Until the investigation is done, you're both off campus."

Ayla grabbed her bag and stormed out.

Elian followed. "Ayla, wait."

She spun around. "They're framing us! You know that, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. And I know where the proof might be."

She frowned. "Where?"

He glanced around, lowering his voice. "The archive room. The one in the basement.

They store every student record there, even from ten years ago."Her heart skipped. "You think the fire report is there."

"I know it is. And maybe whoever's behind this doesn't want us to find it."

She hesitated. "When?"

"Tonight."

Midnight came fast. The school was silent except for the wind pushing against the

windows. Ayla crept across the courtyard, hood up. Elian was already waiting by the

side door, flashlight in hand.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"I don't have a choice."

He smiled faintly. "Good. Follow me."

They slipped through the dark hallways, the air heavy with smoke residue. The

basement door was locked, but Elian used a bent ID card to force it open.

Dust and cold air greeted them. The archive was darker than Ayla expected—rows of old

cabinets and broken files scattered on the floor.

"Start from the back," Elian said.

They searched in silence. Ayla's fingers trembled as she flipped through the old files

until one name caught her eye.

"Elian—look."

He walked over. The label on the file read Fire Incident Report – 10 Years Ago.

He opened it. The pages were half-burned, but a few lines were clear:

Suspect: Karim L. Vale

Secondary Witness: Ayla D. RoweAyla's throat went dry. "Your brother… and me."

Elian stared at the paper. "You were there."

"I don't remember any of this."

He turned the page and froze. A fresh photo was slipped inside the old report. Not

burned. Not aged.

It was a picture of them, taken tonight, in the archive room.

The flashlight flickered.

Elian whispered, "Someone's here."

Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside. Slow. Heavy. Getting closer.

Ayla's hand found his.

Then the lights went out.

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