The hum in the dark was no illusion.
It pulsed faintly through the crypt's stones, threading through the ancient mortar like a heartbeat—subtle, steady, and distinctly unnatural. Arin stood motionless at the edge of the landing, his breath shallow. Mira wiped the sweat from her brow and sat upright, her eye-lens scanning the corridor ahead.
"That sound… it's coming from below," she said. "It's like the vault, but… not."
Lucien narrowed his eyes. "Residual magic. But this time, it's not just ambient. It's focused."
The hum strengthened as they descended, weaving through the carved walls. Faded murals depicted rituals lost to time—mages crowned in flame, cloaked figures bound in runes, stars drawn bleeding from the sky. The deeper they went, the older the carvings became. Older and stranger.
"How did you know where to run?" Arin asked suddenly, his voice quiet.
Lucien turned his head. "What do you mean?"
"The hidden passage. The stairwell. You didn't hesitate."
Mira raised an eyebrow and gave a sideways glance. "That was me. I saw the edge of the threshold when the flare hit the corner."
Lucien gave a short nod. "Right. Mira spotted it first. I only guessed there might be a route below from old layouts I'd read."
Arin didn't press further, though he noted Lucien's correction.
Mira interrupted before the silence could stretch. "That thing back there—whatever it was—it wasn't trying to kill us. Not directly."
"Then what did it want?" Arin asked.
"To confirm something," Lucien said. "It pointed at you. Said you shouldn't exist."
Arin frowned. "Like I was… out of place."
The corridor opened into a domed chamber, its center dominated by a circular dais etched with dozens of intersecting glyphs. At the heart of the dais stood a pedestal—empty, save for a swirling residue of magic hovering where an object had once been.
Mira stepped forward cautiously. "Something was taken."
Lucien extended his hand, channeling a low detection spell. The air shimmered, revealing ghost-like echoes of movement—flickers of a figure lifting something from the pedestal, followed by an eruption of light.
"A projection echo," he murmured. "Whoever activated the vault's magic before us… they weren't alone."
Arin studied the pedestal, but his attention was drawn to the walls. They were covered in layered script—ancient, overlapping, almost aggressive in their density. And among them, a phrase repeated in harsh vertical strokes:
REMEMBER THE UNMAKING.
Mira stepped beside him. "That again. We saw it in the ruins near Starhollow."
Arin glanced over. "Starhollow?"
"Old research site," Mira explained. "Collapsed decades ago. The Academy said it was abandoned after a failed excavation—but the runes we found there said otherwise."
Lucien nodded. "It's not a name. It's a warning."
The chamber trembled.
A sound rolled through the stone—not a hum this time, but a groaning creak. Like stone waking from slumber. From behind the walls, runes flickered to life, tracing the contours of hidden doors.
Lucien raised his hand. "It's a trigger. Our presence activated it."
With a hiss of air, one of the walls slid aside. Darkness loomed beyond. But within that shadow, a faint blue glow pulsed—cold and steady.
Arin stepped toward it, pausing at the threshold.
"Wait," Mira said. "This feels wrong."
But Arin's eyes were fixed on the glow. It wasn't calling him, not like the rune had. But it was aware of him.
"Stay here," he said.
Lucien looked like he wanted to argue but stayed silent. Mira handed him a compact sigil flare. "Use it if something happens."
Arin entered.
The chamber beyond was small—barely more than a shrine. In its center floated a crystal sphere, spinning slowly above a stone cradle. It was cracked. Not broken, but imperfect. Veins of light leaked from it like threads unraveling.
As he stepped closer, voices—faint and overlapping—brushed the edge of his hearing. None spoke words he could understand. But they carried emotion. Recognition. Caution.
He extended his hand.
The glow dimmed.
"Why?" he whispered.
No answer came. Only the flicker of fractured energy and the eerie silence of something that had once been whole.
He reached out—
And froze.
From the shadows behind the sphere, something moved. Not a person. Not entirely. It slithered forward, cloaked in a shimmer that bent light like glass under pressure.
Arin took a step back, but the thing did not attack. It simply… watched.
Its shape was wrong. Not monstrous, but asymmetrical. A construct, maybe. Or a spirit bound to failed purpose.
It tilted its head.
And echoed a voice he recognized—not his own, but the warden from before:
"You should not exist."
Arin backed toward the threshold.
"Why do you keep saying that?"
The thing stepped closer. "Because the echoes do not lie. And you are not written in them."
Before Arin could react, it lunged—not to strike, but to touch. Its hand brushed his shoulder, and in that instant, a surge of static thought, raw and searing, rushed through his mind.
Visions. Fractures. A star falling backward. A name buried in ash. A song with its final note missing.
Then it stopped.
The creature staggered.
"You are… wrong," it hissed, before vanishing in a twist of warped air.
Arin collapsed to one knee, gasping. The crystal sphere still hovered, flickering.
Mira and Lucien burst in moments later, weapons ready.
But the chamber was empty again.
"What happened?" Lucien demanded.
Arin stood slowly. "I'm fine. Whatever it was… it left."
Mira eyed him warily. "What did it do?"
"Nothing," he lied. "It looked. Didn't like what it saw."
Lucien studied him for a long moment, but said nothing.
Arin turned to the crystal sphere. It now spun slower, its glow nearly gone.
"Whatever this was," he said, "someone's been taking pieces. And leaving ghosts behind."
Mira exhaled. "We need to get out. This place is a beacon for everything that's not supposed to exist."
Lucien nodded. "We report this to the Archive. Let the Headmaster decide what happens next."
Arin didn't answer. He touched the edge of the sphere gently.
It dimmed. Fully. As if going to sleep.
He turned to follow the others.
But as they walked, deep within the hidden shrine, something cracked.
A sliver of the sphere broke away.
And vanished into the dark.