Silence.
That was the first thing they noticed after the Vault burst open.
The colors were gone.
Every glowing vein of the Academy, every light crystal, every hue that once painted the halls — extinguished.
Only darkness. Breathing. Watching.
Lyra opened her eyes, gasping — but the others were gone.
She was standing alone inside a vast chamber of glass that reflected nothing. No sound, no light, only her own heartbeat echoing faintly.
"Hello?" she called out. Her voice fell flat, devoured by the void.
Then the ground shifted beneath her. A faint shimmer appeared — and from it, she stepped out.
Her own reflection. But colder, broken.
"You can't save anyone," the reflection whispered. "You shine for others, but never for yourself."
Lyra froze. Memories flooded her mind — the ruins, the fading light, her promise to rebuild what was lost.
Tears welled in her eyes. "You're not real."
"No," the reflection replied. "I'm what's left when your hope fades."
The light flickered from her chest — weak, trembling. Then, as her hand clenched into a fist, it steadied.
"I don't need to shine for me," Lyra said softly. "If I can guide even one lost soul — that's enough."
Her reflection smiled faintly… and shattered into golden dust.
Far across another echo of the chamber, Draven faced his own reflection.
Flames flickered violently around him — but they burned cold.
From the shadows, his reflection stepped forward, face hidden in smoke.
"You think you control the fire," it hissed. "But you only ever used it to hide your fear of losing control."
Draven's jaw clenched. The air smelled of ash.
He remembered the village, the fire that once consumed everything he loved.
"Maybe," he muttered, "but fear taught me what destruction feels like. And that's why I'll never let it win again."
He exhaled, and for the first time, his flame burned warm — steady, human.
In another part of the Vault, Eira stood knee-deep in frost. Her own voice echoed in whispers of ice —
"You freeze hearts because yours was never thawed."
She fell to her knees, trembling. "No.... I freeze because I remember how pain burns."
The frost softened, turning into shimmering snow — gentle, healing.
Seren's clock spun backward endlessly. He watched as time reversed — his past mistakes replaying in flashes.
"You could change time," his shadow mocked, "but you'd still make the same choices."
He touched the clock gently. "Then maybe I'll stop trying to rewrite, and just… move forward."
Riven faced storms that reflected his anger — violent and loud.
He screamed into the thunder, "You're not my rage. You're my voice when no one listened."
Lightning split the air — and then calmed, dissolving into quiet rain.
And Nyra Vale, the shadow herself, stood surrounded by mirrors that showed her fading form.
Each reflection whispered, "You were never meant to exist."
She smiled faintly. "Then I'll exist anyway — as the proof that shadows can hold light too."
One by one, their reflections shattered — and the Vault trembled.
Six lights, rekindled by courage, flared once more, painting the chamber with pure color.
The hum returned — softer this time, almost… approving.
The cracks in the walls closed, and faint whispers faded like sighs of relief.
When the team opened their eyes again, they were back at the Academy courtyard.
The dawn light broke across the glass towers — faint, fragile, but alive.
Lyra looked at the others. "Did that… really happen?"
Draven nodded, eyes still glowing faintly red. "Yeah. And whatever that was — it wasn't done with us yet."
Far above, Headmistress Veyra watched from her tower.
"The Vault chose them," she whispered. "Now the true Spectrum begins."