The first rule of speaking in a world of mimics? Don't speak at all.
Scene: Hallway Outside Dorm 103 – 02:14 a.m.
Tessa didn't knock with her knuckles.
She tapped once with her ring — a small silver band her mother had given her, long before the Academy. The sound it made was different. A dull, heavier tone. Harder to imitate.
That was the point.
Inside, Rook stood in silence.
He counted the beat.
One knock.
Not two.
That was the signal.
Real.
He opened the door just far enough to let her in, then locked it twice. The room was dark, except for the low glow of the encrypted terminal, which he muted instantly.
Tessa stood by the window, arms crossed, shoulders tight. She looked like she'd been awake for days — and yet she moved like someone who hadn't let herself blink in hours.
He didn't ask anything.
Instead, he picked up a pen.
Wrote one word on the notepad beside his desk.
Ava?
Tessa nodded once.
She took the pen.
Wrote:
She's too close.I want her out.
He took the pad.
Not yet.One chance.Set the hook.
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
Rook slid open the false bottom drawer and pulled out a folded data prism — a hollow-room generator built for no more than three occupants. It projected a real-time decoy environment within a sealed zone, perfectly scrubbing voice and motion.
"Room 7-B. Below East Wing," he said quietly. "Neutralized walls. One exit."
She raised a brow. "You built a ghost trap?"
He looked at her.
"I am the ghost."
Scene: Room 7-B – Later That Night
The room was colder than she expected.
Clean. Circular. Walls painted white, floor covered in black rubber matting. No cameras. No speaker grids.
This room wasn't in the student registry. It had no schedule, no maintenance tag.
She waited ten minutes.
Then fifteen.
Then the door clicked.
Tessa turned.
It wasn't Rook.
It was Ava.
She didn't enter like a spy.She walked in like she'd been invited.
Tessa didn't move.
"Didn't expect you to be first," Ava said.
"I'm not surprised you are," Tessa replied.
Ava glanced around, unbothered.
"No sound. No signal." She smiled. "Smart."
"You shouldn't be here."
"You wanted me here."
"No," Tessa said quietly. "I wanted you seen."
Ava tilted her head, amused. "Is that what this is? A confession box?"
"Only if you need it to be."
Ava stepped forward.
She looked… wrong.
Not just her body. Her presence. Like she was standing too still in a space built for humans.Like she'd already memorized the square footage.
Then she spoke.
"He used to hum when he read, didn't he?"
Tessa blinked.
"Solaris. Your father. He'd hum a little tune — not loud, just under his breath. Kept him grounded. Kept his mind quiet."
Tessa's heart stopped.
She didn't speak that memory aloud.
Not once.
Not even to Rook.
Ava stepped closer.
"He made it up after Corefall. He told Hernan it came to him during the starlight missions. Said it was what peace would sound like, if anyone ever got there."
Tessa stared at her. "What are you?"
Ava smiled — and that smile didn't belong to her.
"I'm just remembering what he forgot."
The door behind Ava locked.
Rook Vale stepped out of the shadows beside the panel.
Silent.
Expression unreadable.
Ava didn't flinch.
"Should've known you'd be watching," she said.
"I always am," Rook replied.
"Then you heard it, didn't you?" Ava said. "The hum."
He froze.
Tessa turned.
"Rook—?"
He didn't answer.
His voice was quiet. Different.
"Only three people knew that tune."
He stepped closer.
"My father. Me."
He stared at Ava.
"And one person I buried five years ago."
Tessa's breath caught.
"What are you saying?"
Rook's voice was flat. Distant. Empty.
"I'm saying she's not just a mimic. She's a memory vault."
Ava smiled.
And whispered a line in Solaris's voice.
"Don't be afraid of the stars, Hernan. That's where all the old gods sleep."
Rook's fist clenched.
The lights in the room flickered.
Tessa stepped back.
Ava tilted her head.
And said softly:
"Your father didn't die because he failed the Zodiac."
She smiled.
"He died because he was building something to destroy them."