The Academy of Selvaris loomed like a sleeping beast in the distance, half-shrouded in early morning mist. Its spires pierced the clouds, ancient yet intimidating, with ivy creeping up the walls like veins—like the place was alive, pulsing with memory and secrets.
Elara crouched behind a crumbled stone wall as the sun rose behind her. Her breath came in cold, controlled bursts. Dahlia sat beside her, scanning the perimeter through a pair of black lenses that hummed softly.
"Three guards by the east entrance. One drone on a slow sweep," Dahlia murmured. "But the west wing—where the archives are—it's quiet. Too quiet."
"They're expecting someone to come in loud through the front," Elara said, narrowing her eyes. "Good. Let's not."
They moved silently across the dewy grass, keeping low until they reached a hidden side passage—an old maintenance tunnel long abandoned and half-covered in moss. Elara pried open the rusted gate, and the two of them slipped inside.
The corridor smelled of mold and old iron. Lights flickered weakly above, and the walls bore marks of time—scratches, dried blood, and old warnings painted over in black.
"This place…" Elara whispered. "It doesn't forget."
"It was built not to," Dahlia replied grimly. "The founder's idea. That every experiment, every failure, every death—it should leave a mark."
"And yet they keep hiding the truth."
They reached a junction. One path led down toward the student dormitories. The other descended into the underbelly of the academy—a place students were told never existed.
Elara turned left.
The air grew colder with each step. Soon, the hum of generators and surveillance faded into silence. Just their footfalls, steady and echoing.
Then—a door.
Steel. Locked. A biometric scanner blinked red beside it.
"I have this," Dahlia said, producing a small black device. She attached it to the panel. Lights flickered. The lock buzzed. Then—click.
They stepped inside.
The room was vast. Rows of shelves, containers, data drives—all dimly lit in sterile white. On the far wall, a vault gleamed. This was it. The archive. The academy's heart.
But before Elara could move, a voice rang out from the shadows.
"I was wondering when you'd come."
Elara froze. The shadows parted.
A figure stepped forward—tall, composed, dressed in a pristine academy coat. His silver hair reflected the light like metal, and his eyes were a pale, unnatural blue.
"Dr. Vellian," Dahlia hissed.
"I had hoped to speak to Elara alone," he said calmly, hands behind his back. "She deserves to know what she truly is. What we made her to be."
"You don't get to define me," Elara said coldly. "You don't get to speak for the dead."
"Oh, but I do. I've been cleaning up their mess for decades. Your mother included."
Something inside Elara snapped.
She lunged.
But before she could reach him, the floor beneath them shifted. Electric barriers surged up, separating her from Dahlia—trapping them in opposite corners of the room.
Vellian smiled. "You see, child… you're not here to find the truth."
He stepped toward her, eyes gleaming.
"You're here to awaken it."
Elara's body tensed as the electric barrier hissed beside her. She could hear Dahlia pounding from the other side, shouting something, but the sound was muffled—distorted. Vellian's smile remained eerily calm, like a man watching a well-rehearsed scene play out.
"You don't remember it yet," he said softly. "But your body does. Your blood remembers. That's why you're drawn here. Why the letters came to you and not the others."
Elara's hands curled into fists. "I came for answers, not riddles."
"Then let me be clear," Vellian replied, stepping closer, beyond the barrier's reach. "You are not just a girl looking for justice. You are the culmination of a project the academy buried. Project Amaranthe. The dead letters? They were warnings—to keep you away. But you came anyway. Because deep down, something inside you is trying to finish what we started."
"I don't care what you started," Elara hissed. "Whatever you did to me… I'll end it."
Vellian's eyes flickered. "You misunderstand. You are not the end. You are the key."
He raised a remote in his hand and pressed a button. A panel opened on the wall, revealing a small glass container glowing with a deep crimson light. Inside it floated a shard of something—black, crystalline, and pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
Elara's breath caught. That presence… it was the same one she'd felt in the library, in her dreams, even in her bones. It was ancient. And it was calling her.
"You feel it, don't you?" Vellian said. "That's a piece of the Source. The original knowledge—the forbidden code of consciousness. It recognizes you. It always has."
Elara shook her head, stepping back. "You want me to merge with that… thing?"
Vellian tilted his head. "Not want. Need. You are the only one it responds to. You're already linked. The awakening began the moment you read the first letter."
Suddenly, the shard flared. A low hum filled the room. The electric barriers crackled and Dahlia shouted again, louder this time.
"Elara! Don't listen to him! It's feeding on your fear!"
But it was too late.
The room began to vibrate. The lights dimmed, and the air grew thick, like something ancient had been stirred awake. The shard burst from its container, shattering the glass—and hovered in midair, floating slowly toward Elara.
She stood frozen, every instinct screaming at her to run. But her feet wouldn't move. Her heartbeat matched the shard's pulse.
Then, just as the crystal reached her, her mind snapped open.
A flash—of memories not her own.
A girl in a lab, screaming.
A hand writing seven letters in blood.
A voice whispering, "You are the last gate."
Elara gasped.
The shard touched her chest.
And everything went black.
When Elara opened her eyes again, the world had changed. She stood in a void of shadows and whispers—no longer in the academy. The shard glowed within her chest. A voice echoed all around her, both terrifying and familiar:
"Welcome back, vessel of the forgotten."