Midnight at Spectrum Academy was never truly dark.
Even when the moons hid behind clouds, faint trails of light bled from the crystal towers — as if the Academy refused to sleep.
But that night… it was different.
The corridors were silent, the air heavy.
A strange hum — soft, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat — rolled through the halls.
Lyra sat upright in her dome chamber, the golden crystal near her bed pulsing with faint light.
At first she thought it was part of a dream — until the sound grew louder.
thrum… thrum… thrum…
Her light responded instinctively, trembling in sync with the pulse. Then she saw it — faint threads of light slipping out through the floor, heading downward… toward the deep halls beneath the Academy.
Lyra grabbed her cloak and ran.
In another tower, Draven was already awake. Flames flickered faintly around his fingertips, restless. He stepped out, eyes narrowing.
At the same time, Eira's breath froze midair, frost patterns forming on her walls; Seren's clock pendant began spinning backward; Riven heard the faint crackle of thunder even though the sky was still.
Each of them followed that same pull — unaware that the others were doing the same.
The corridors twisted strangely — paths they had never seen in daylight now stretched endlessly. Glass walls flickered with shadowed colors, reflections whispering fragments of old voices.
"…you were not supposed to wake…"
"…the seventh remembers…"
Lyra turned a corner and almost collided with Draven. His expression was sharp, alert — but his flame dimmed when he saw her.
"You heard it too," she whispered.
"Yeah," he said. "And it's calling us."
One by one, the rest of the team appeared — drawn by the same haunting rhythm.
They stood before a sealed door of mirrored crystal, far below the Prism Hall. The same door Calden had once mentioned — the Vault of Echoes.
But now, it wasn't sealed.
Faint cracks of multicolored light ran through it, pulsing like veins.
The sound came from within — a deep, living hum that felt almost like a voice breathing through the stone.
Eira stepped back. "This is wrong. It's… alive."
Riven smirked nervously. "Then maybe it wants to talk."
Before anyone could stop her, Lyra raised her hand.
Her light pulsed in time with the glow — and the door answered.
The Vault opened.
A burst of wind roared through the corridor, carrying a thousand whispers that weren't wind at all.
Visions flickered across their minds — ancient ruins, a colorless world, a shadow walking alone.
The light inside the Vault wasn't white, or gold, or crimson — it was nothing.
A color they couldn't name. A void that bent light itself.
Draven grabbed Lyra's wrist. "Close it. Now!"
But it was too late.
The Vault pulsed once — and every torch, every crystal, every hue in the Academy flickered out.
For the first time in centuries, Spectrum Academy stood in total darkness.
And from within that darkness…
something whispered back.
"You shouldn't have found me."