CHAPTER SIX: THE DORMS THAT REMEMBER (Part six)
The symbol on the floor pulsed once.
Not bright.
Not dramatic.
Just real.
A ripple moved through the room—not air, not wind—
recognition.
The glyph dust slowly settled, but the shape it had formed didn't fade.
Four arcs.
One spiral at the center.
No names. No titles. Just a pattern.
But they knew what it was.
It wasn't a Veilmark.
It wasn't royal.
It wasn't registered.
It was them.
The way they used to be.
Zephryn lowered to one knee, reaching toward it.
He didn't touch it—just let his fingers hover above the curve of the spiral.
"This wasn't drawn," he whispered.
"It grew."
Yolti knelt beside him, her voice unsteady.
"Like it waited for us to stop trying to forget."
Kaelen didn't speak.
He just stepped closer and set the old "Us" drawing on the floor beside the glyph.
Perfect alignment.
Selka moved last.
She didn't kneel.
She didn't speak.
She simply pressed her hand to the center spiral.
And when she did—
The symbol lit.
Not in fire.
Not in resonance.
In remembrance.
A soft glow that touched each of their marks.
Zephryn's pulse shifted under his sleeve.
Yolti's fingertips flared, then calmed.
Kaelen's chest burned once, then settled.
And Selka…
Her eyes closed.
And when she opened them—
There were tears.
But she wasn't crying.
She was anchored.
No one said anything after that.
They didn't need to.
The dorm had spoken.
And it had said:
You are still here.
You are still flame.
You are still Echo.
The resonance taper flickered once,
then went out.
And in the dark,
they stayed together.
Not as who they were.
But as who they remembered.