The chamber breathed with shifting light that moved along the stone walls like faint veins beneath skin. Eleanor felt the glow settle along her cheek when she stepped into formation with the others. She tried to stand as still as they did, but the crystal at the center refused to let her settle. It floated above the floor with a steady vibration that threaded through her chest and made her swallow twice in the same breath. She could feel the sound move through her, thin and steady, like a wire stretched across her spine.
Students shifted beside her. Their uniforms brushed lightly as nerves leaked through the room in small fidgets and muted breaths. Someone behind her leaned forward a little.
"In a few minutes, we will know who is ready," he whispered. His voice carried a tightness she understood too well.
Another voice followed with a forced laugh that tried to hide its own strain. "Or who fails before the rest of us." The instructors on the gallery above did not glance down, though the faint glow of their counter sigils rose and fell along their fingers, ready to anchor the chamber if anything snapped loose.
Eleanor wished she could steady her chest. She told herself she would not be the one who failed. She told herself that maybe this would be the moment her mother saw her differently. Elizabeth Kostova had walked into the University years before Eleanor was even born, and her crossings had become stories students whispered about during meals. Her mother's talent seemed to exist outside of ordinary skill. Eleanor used to imagine she would grow into that brilliance. Instead she grew into mistakes and the memory of a foolish attempt she had made three years ago. She still felt the sting of it whenever her mother's expression cooled during their brief conversations.
She tried to breathe through the thought. She tried to believe she could change it tonight.
The instructors settled on the gallery. Their hands rested lightly above their counter sigils, the energy shimmering along their palms. Eleanor's eyes followed the movement without meaning to. The wards of the chamber had been shaped by centuries of practice, and the University repeated this fact often enough that it should have comforted her. Yet her fear lived in a different place. It lived in the idea of the Interlace itself. It was a place that twisted possibility and sent it rushing in every direction. Every student knew the risk. A collapsed multisigil could scatter a person across countless places, a person reduced to nothing more than separated pieces of a life. No one returned from that. The University tried to soften the story, but Eleanor had heard enough from Mr Croft in Interlace Biology. He reminded them frequently that each crossing demanded respect, and the Interlace never offered certainty.
Eleanor rubbed the side of her arm slowly, wishing she could quiet her multisigil beneath her uniform. It behaved differently from everyone else's. Her classmates carried steady shades that glowed in specific colors. Hers shifted through a restless shimmer, almost impatient. When dormant, it looked like a web of pale scars across her skin. She remembered hating it when she was younger. She never had an easy answer when someone asked what shade it carried. It refused to stay in one category. Tonight it felt alive beneath her palm, almost eager.
The first student walked forward. The circle lit beneath their feet while their anchor ring caught the room's light. Eleanor felt the shift in the air before she heard anything. Her classmate inhaled and touched the faint line of their multisigil. It responded at once. Pale threads of silver rose from the skin in fluid lines that settled into a complete pattern across their arm.
The chamber grew still. The only movement came from the crystal and the faint shiver of the resonance compass at the student's feet. Eleanor's fingers pressed to her collarbone. She remembered her own mantra trials, the long afternoons of humming sounds until her compass quivered, the moment the professor nodded when the air around her changed. Her mantra surprised her the first time she heard it. Her classmates produced smooth tones. Hers had risen out of her throat in a rough note that startled her. She never grew comfortable with it, but it worked. It aligned her multisigil and her ring. That was enough.
The compass trembled harder. Its needle turned with sudden sharpness as though answering a call only the student could sense. The chamber's air shifted in a way that felt almost physical. Eleanor's chest tightened as the student's form began to thin. Their outline wavered, the way light distorts on heated pavement. The ring pulsed once. Their multisigil flared bright, almost blinding.
They vanished.
The shimmer around the circle softened into fading streaks. Eleanor realized she had stopped breathing. Then the air warped again. The space reopened, stretched, and her classmate returned in pieces that snapped together one after the other. Their outline wavered for a moment before the ring dimmed and sealed them whole.
He staggered forward with laughter that trembled at the edges. "I did it," he said as he braced his hands on his knees, breath shaking.
The instructor spoke with a steady tone from above. "You crossed well."
The boy smiled through exhausted breaths. Eleanor felt the surge of triumph in the room as applause echoed around her. Her palms stayed damp. Everyone else made this look manageable. She clapped with them, though her fingers shook. A sick heaviness pressed into her stomach. She wished it did not feel this sharp.
One by one the others stepped into the circle. The chamber echoed with brief absences and relieved laughter. Eleanor watched her classmates return pale and shaking, but glowing with pride. Every successful crossing made her own nerves drift closer to panic.
Then the professor called her name.
Her body stiffened. The sound of her surname settled in the chamber like a stone she could not avoid. She felt eyes turn toward her. She felt the memory of her mother's achievements pull at her chest. She wished for an instant that she could hide behind someone larger, but the room gave her no place to run.
She forced herself to walk. Her steps felt uneven, but they carried her forward. She stopped at the edge of the circle and touched the center of her chest. Her multisigil responded with a pulse that vibrated through her palm.
The professor nodded at her. "Begin."
Eleanor drew a deep breath that shook through her shoulders. She closed her eyes and recited her mantra. The sound pushed through her throat with more force than she expected. The air around her shifted immediately. Thin strands shimmered around her, like faint threads that responded to sound more than sight. She reached for one. It warmed beneath her fingertips.
The circle fell away.
She entered a place she had only glimpsed through diagrams and theories, but this felt nothing like the diagrams. She floated among threads that extended in every direction. They quivered under her touch, alive with a steady energy that tasted metallic in the back of her throat. The air moved around her like a living current.
Then a disturbance formed at the edge of her vision. She turned toward it with a tightening breath.
At first she thought it was a tear in the fabric around her. The strands shook with a pressure she could feel along her arms. The shape began to unfurl slowly. A Nullith pulled itself out of the threads with a form that shifted too much for her mind to settle on one description. Its surface looked like smoke that strained to hold a physical outline. Dozens of eyes blinked open and focused on her. She felt her body lock in place. Her palms grew damp. Her breath shortened into thin, sharp pulls of air.
The creature drifted toward her. The threads beneath her hand grew warmer as if urging her to flee. She tried to move, but the strand she held turned hot enough to sting. The place around her warped once more.
The world snapped back.
Her knees nearly buckled as she stumbled into the chamber. Sweat clung to her temples and the back of her neck. Her multisigil glowed through her uniform in restless waves. Her breath tore out of her in uneven pulls, but she felt a spreading joy break open inside her chest. She had crossed. She had seen a Nullith. She had returned.
She lifted a shaking hand to her chest, almost laughing. She expected applause. She expected her professor to speak. She looked around.
Her classmates stared at her. Their faces carried confusion instead of awe. Their gazes moved across her like they were trying to understand something that did not match their expectations. The professor's expression stayed unreadable. Her stomach twisted sharply.
She stepped out of the circle on unsteady legs. Her fingers curled at her sides.
Maris reached her first and brushed her shoulder carefully. "You will get it next time," she said softly.
Eleanor blinked at her, the words sinking in too slowly. "What do you mean next time? I crossed. I saw the threads. I saw a Nullith."
Maris looked at her with concern that deepened across her features. She placed a gentle hand on Eleanor's arm. "Eleanor, you did not fade out. You stood in the circle the whole time."
Eleanor felt the room tilt. Her pulse rushed in her ears. She stared back at Maris, unable to speak. The air around her moved in a way she could not explain. Her palms grew cold.
She thought she had touched the Interlace.
But everyone else had watched her stay exactly where she stood.