The doorway didn't open like a door.
It opened like the academy exhaled.
A thin slit of darkness widened, red-lit at the edges as if the Red Room had licked the stone and left heat behind. The word above it—DOWN—hung in the air like a command.
Mira clung to Lina's arm, shaking. Kai held Lina's hand like a tether he refused to let snap. Seren hovered close enough to keep contact without tangling, and Reyon—pale behind his mask—looked like he was doing mental math on how many curses one building was allowed to have.
"This is," Reyon whispered, "the worst guided tour I've ever been on."
Kai's voice was rough with lingering pain from the Founder's Vow. "Stay close. Don't break contact."
Lina swallowed. "If the room tries to pull us apart—"
"Don't let it," Kai said. No drama. Just truth.
Seren's eyes flicked to the curtain behind them, still sealed. "We can't go back."
The Red Room's warmth pressed against Lina's spine like a hand trying to turn her around and tuck her into surrender. Lina fought the urge to sit down, to stop, to sleep.
Not here.
Not when Mira's name was on the wall.
Not when Kai's was too.
Lina took the first step.
Stone stairs spiraled down into darkness, each step etched with faint runes that didn't glow like magic—more like bruises under skin. The deeper they went, the colder it became, until the air smelled like wet rock and old ink and something metallic that made Lina's tongue taste fear.
Behind them, the doorway sealed with a soft, final hush.
Reyon's breath hitched. "Okay. Great. We're officially underground with no exit. Love this for us."
Seren whispered, "It's not just underground."
She lifted her head slightly, eyes glowing as if her Soul Echoes were mapping the space by listening.
"It's under the academy's lies," she murmured.
The stairwell opened into a corridor that didn't belong in a school.
The walls were layered with runic bands—spirals, chains, sigils—so dense it looked like someone had tried to stitch reality together with symbols. Guardian statues lined the hallway, but they weren't ornamental.
They were facing inward.
As if watching the corridor… to keep something inside it.
Lina's bone-tether pulsed once—sharp, warning.
Kai's grip tightened. "Don't look at the statues."
Reyon's voice cracked. "Okay. I wasn't going to. I don't need stone men judging me in a mask."
Mira's breath came in shallow pulls. "This is where they took me," she whispered. "I… I heard the music above, but it sounded far away. Like it was happening to someone else."
Her voice trembled—and then stalled.
Mira blinked, confused, like her mind had skipped a beat.
Lina's stomach dropped. "Mira?"
Mira swallowed hard. "I'm fine. I just—" She paused again, frowning. "I just… forgot what I was saying."
🕯️
Memory burn.
Lina's chest tightened. The symbol wasn't theory anymore. It was a hand reaching into Mira's head and pulling small pieces out.
Kai's voice was low. "Stay anchored. Mira—say your name."
Mira blinked rapidly. "Mira… Sun."
Kai didn't relax. "Again."
"Mira Sun."
Lina squeezed Mira's arm gently, grounding her. "Stay real."
Mira's eyes filled with tears. "I'm here."
The corridor seemed to listen.
Then somewhere ahead—soft, almost amused—footsteps echoed.
Not their footsteps.
Another set.
Too light to be a statue.
Too steady to be a panicking student.
Kai's shadow shifted under his feet, a warning ripple. "Stop."
They stopped.
Seren's head turned slightly, eyes narrowing as if she was hearing words layered under the echoes.
"I hear… last words," Seren whispered.
Her breath hitched.
Echo Borrowing started without her permission now, like the underwing itself was forcing her gift open.
Seren's voice changed—older, cracked, not hers:
"Don't let them write you."
Seren flinched, clutching her throat. "No—no—"
Another voice slid through her lips, whisper-soft, terrified:
"My name… isn't mine anymore."
Lina's blood went cold.
Reyon whispered, "That's— that's not you."
Seren shook her head, tears falling. "It's the corridor. It's full of echoes."
Kai's jaw clenched. "Move. Quiet."
They advanced, steps careful, hands still linked—an anchor chain against an academy that wanted to unthread them.
Then the corridor widened into a chamber.
And Lina felt her stomach drop because she recognized it from nightmares she'd never had before.
A vast stone wall filled the far side—carved with names in neat columns.
Not graffiti.
Not memorial.
A ledger.
The Runic Grave.
Each name had a countdown… and now, beside each, a small symbol burned faintly: 🕯️ 🪞 🧵 🖋️
The wall hummed like a throat trying to speak.
Lina's eyes found them instantly.
MIRA SUN — 7 DAYS — 🕯️KAI RHEN — 7 DAYS — 🧵
Mira made a small sound and covered her mouth. "That's… real."
Reyon swallowed. "Okay. Seeing it in person is… worse."
Kai's gaze stayed on his own line, expression unreadable under the mask. But Lina felt the tension in his fingers.
🧵
Tether cut.
The wall knew.
And it wanted it.
A faint scrape sounded behind them.
The guardian statues in the corridor—far away—shifted.
Not walking.
Turning.
Like the academy's suppressive mechanisms were reacting to something waking up.
Seren whispered, trembling, "The cage is… stirring."
Lina's bone-tether flared suddenly—hot enough to make her gasp.
Kai hissed at the same time, jerking slightly as if something tugged his wrist from the inside.
Between them, their clasped hands tightened involuntarily, like an invisible thread had hooked into their bond and pulled.
Lina's breath caught. "Kai—did you feel that?"
Kai's voice was rough. "Yes."
Reyon's eyes widened. "Okay. So the building just yanked your romance like a leash. Great."
Mira pointed shakily to the wall.
Kai's symbol—🧵—was flickering.
Not fading.
Changing.
The thread icon blurred, the lines smearing as if someone was erasing the type of death and rewriting it.
Seren's eyes widened. "No. No—symbols don't change unless—"
A voice answered from the shadows, smooth and pleased.
"Unless the choice is being rewritten."
A Veilbound stepped out from behind a pillar, porcelain mask blank, hands folded like a polite host.
Another appeared.
Then another.
They didn't rush.
They didn't need to.
The underwing belonged to them like a secret.
The first Veilbound tilted its head at Lina.
"The Seventh Flame," it murmured, as if tasting the words. "We felt your tether burn a name into bone."
Lina's flame rose instinctively—gold, controlled. "Stay back."
The Veilbound's blank mask didn't move, but the amusement in its voice deepened.
"Oh, we will," it said softly. "We don't want you to burn us."
It lifted one gloved finger and pointed at the Runic Grave wall.
"We want you to burn the right letters."
Lina's spine went ice cold. "What does that mean?"
Kai's voice dropped, deadly. "You're rewriting names."
The Veilbound bowed slightly.
"Erasure is crude," it murmured. "Replacement is messy."
It turned its mask toward Kai's flickering symbol.
"Rewriting," it said gently, "is elegant."
The wall pulsed.
Kai's symbol finished shifting—
and Lina's breath stopped.
Because next to KAI RHEN — 7 DAYS, the icon no longer showed 🧵.
It became a mirror.
🪞
Mirror death.
Replacement.
Lina felt Kai's hand tighten around hers so hard it hurt—like he was anchoring himself against a future trying to step into his skin.
And the Veilbound whispered, calm as a lullaby:
"We are not cutting your tether anymore."
"We are making sure she holds the wrong Kai."
To be Continued© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.