Chapter — The Memory Below
The staircase did not creak.
It did not echo.
Each step absorbed sound as if the air itself refused to carry it.
Neo noticed first.
Their descent should have been loud—boots against frozen stone, armour brushing against walls, Cassandra muttering under her breath.
But there was nothing.
Only the faint rhythm of their movement.
And the silence between.
Lira leaned slightly toward him.
"Okay… that's not normal."
Neo didn't look back.
"No."
"Like, not normal in a 'this is weird' way, or not normal in a 'we might regret this' way?"
"Both."
"Great."
Behind them, Cassandra exhaled sharply.
"I hate places like this."
"You hate every place," Beatrix said calmly.
"Yes, but this one feels personal."
Ast ran her fingers lightly along the wall.
Frost did not cling to it.
Instead, the surface pulsed faintly beneath her touch.
Alive.
Not in the way flesh was alive.
Something older.
Something quieter.
"It's reacting," she whispered.
