Beneath the spiral plaza,
a staircase wound downward, endlessly.
Each step echoed like a whisper between teeth.
> "Do you remember this place?"
Alexis asked.
But Amelia didn't answer.
Because something was remembering through her.
Walls flickered.
Signs reversed themselves.
303 wasn't a room.
It was a code.
> 3 – mind fracture
0 – origin void
3 – repetition glitch
They reached a door with no handle.
Only a spiral burned into steel.
When they placed their hands on it—
the door opened inward
—into them.
---
Inside was a classroom.
Old desks. Rotten chalkboard.
And a woman at the front, back turned,
writing formulas that spiraled off the board into the walls.
> "Welcome back, my spirals," she said without turning.
"Class was never dismissed."
Alexis froze.
It was her voice.
But not her.
The teacher turned around—
and wore Alexis's face.
But older. Tired. Smiling like a scar.
> "I tried to break the loop.
But some seeds just don't forget how to grow."