The words on the Runemap didn't fade.
They stared.
ANSWER ME.
Ink-black, sharp, fresh—like the message had been written from underneath the paper with a claw.
Lina stood in the Umbral corridor with Kai's hand locked around hers, the rune-lockdown circle glowing faintly under her feet like a boundary she wasn't allowed to cross.
Her bones burned.
Not pain exactly.
Pressure.
Like something deep inside her chest was pressing its mouth against a door and waiting for her to unlatch it.
Answer me.
The voice wasn't in the corridor.
It was in her thoughts.
It used the shape of her own inner voice so smoothly Lina almost didn't recognize it as foreign—until the syllables landed with too much certainty.
Kai watched her face like he could hear the shift in her breathing.
"Don't," he whispered. "Whatever you're hearing—don't answer."
Lina swallowed hard. "It's… loud."
Seren's eyes glowed silver in the dim, voice shaking. "It's using you as a relay."
Mira clutched Lina's sleeve like it was the only thing keeping her memory from slipping away. "Relay to what?"
Seren's throat tightened. "To speak into the academy. To rewrite the seal. If Lina answers—she becomes permission."
Reyon let out a thin, terrified laugh. "So the rule is… don't talk to the basement god."
Kai's gaze snapped to him. "The rule is don't speak to anything that asks for your name or your voice."
The corridor trembled again. Dust fell from the stone.
Far away, a scream echoed—cut off too suddenly.
Nightfall.
In daylight.
The academy's "cozy" had peeled away completely, revealing the containment machine underneath.
A Guardian statue's footsteps boomed somewhere beyond the locked doors, heavy and indifferent.
Lina's throat tightened. The urge to respond rose again—hot, invasive.
Say it.Just say it.One word.I can help you.
It sounded like comfort. Like relief.
Which made Lina want to vomit.
"Three-Question Trap," Kai said suddenly, voice low and sharp. "Now."
Seren blinked. "Kai—"
"Now," Kai repeated. His eyes flicked over them—Mira, Seren, Reyon, Jax—like he was checking for glitches.
"Answer fast," Kai said. "No perfect answers."
His gaze landed on Jax first.
"What do you fear most?"
Jax's voice broke immediately. "That I already chose wrong and there's no undo."
Kai's eyes narrowed—human, messy. Good.
"Who do you miss when you're alone?"
Jax swallowed. "My little sister. She thinks I'm brave."
Kai nodded once. "What word do you hate being called?"
Jax flinched. "Traitor."
Kai's gaze snapped to Seren.
"What do you fear most?"
Seren's eyes shone. "Hearing my own death voice say my name."
"Who do you miss?"
Seren's throat worked. "My mom's hands. When she braided my hair."
"What word do you hate?"
Seren's voice cracked. "Cold."
Kai's gaze went to Reyon.
Reyon lifted his hands. "I swear if you ask me something emotional—"
"What do you fear most?" Kai cut in.
Reyon's smile faltered. "That my illusions stop being mine. That they start making decisions."
"Who do you miss?"
Reyon blinked rapidly, caught. "My brother. He stopped talking to me after the accident."
"What word do you hate?"
Reyon's laugh came out thin. "Fake."
Kai's gaze shifted to Mira.
Mira's breathing was shallow. Tears sat at the edges of her eyes like they were waiting.
"What do you fear most?" Kai asked softly—almost gentle for him.
Mira whispered, "Forgetting the people I love while they're still right here."
Kai's jaw clenched. "Who do you miss?"
Mira swallowed. "My dad's voice."
"And what word do you hate being called?"
Mira's lips trembled. "Replaceable."
Kai exhaled once, sharp and controlled.
"All real," he murmured. Then his eyes flicked to Lina. "You."
Lina's chest tightened. "Kai—"
Kai's voice stayed low. "What do you fear most?"
Lina's throat burned. The answer rose instantly—raw, ugly.
"Losing myself," she whispered. "And still feeling everything while I do."
Kai's eyes softened—just a fraction.
"Who do you miss when you're alone?" he asked.
The missing laugh hole in Lina's head pulsed.
"Mira's laugh," Lina whispered, and her voice broke. "I can't hear it anymore."
Mira made a small sobbing sound and squeezed Lina's sleeve tighter.
Kai's jaw tightened, rage flickering beneath control.
"And what word do you hate being called?" Kai asked.
Lina's flame stirred, gold edged black.
"VOID," Lina whispered.
The corridor hummed—almost pleased—as if the underwing liked her saying it.
Kai's grip tightened hard. "Don't."
Lina swallowed, nodding, but the voice inside her surged again, more insistent.
Answer me.Just once.And I'll stop the hurt.
The Runemap fluttered on the mirror-glass panel beside them. Ink crawled like worms.
Seren stared at it, trembling. "The atlas is… trying to route us."
Reyon stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "Or trying to kill us."
A line highlighted itself in the corridor map—bright, confident—an "escape route" through a door marked Echo.
SAFE PASSAGE — ECHO ORDER
Kai's jaw clenched. "The atlas lies near Veilbound."
Seren's eyes glowed brighter. "But Echo doors are… different. Echo hears death. It can't fully lie without leaving a trace."
Reyon whispered, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about dying."
A laugh drifted from the darkness ahead.
Soft.
Familiar.
Warm.
Lina froze.
Because it was Mira's laugh.
The exact sound Lina couldn't remember.
Perfect pitch. Perfect rhythm. Like the academy had stolen it and was now playing it back as bait.
Mira's face went pale. "That's—"
"It's not you," Kai said instantly, voice lethal. "Don't follow it."
The laugh came again, closer this time, and a Nightfall creature crawled into view around the corner—ink-black, too many joints, wearing a stretched version of Mira's smile like a mask.
It tilted its head and laughed again.
Lina's stomach turned.
Seren's voice went thin. "It's feeding on the missing memory."
Reyon's hands trembled. "That's actually disgusting."
The creature's mouth opened, and Mira's laugh turned into words in Mira's voice:
"Lina… come on."
Lina's flame surged.
The urge to respond—to answer—spiked dangerously, because her brain wanted to fill the hole, wanted the laugh back, wanted relief.
Kai yanked Lina backward, pressing her behind him as shadowsteel rippled low along the floor like a line of black metal.
"No," Kai said, voice like a blade. "You don't get to wear her."
The Nightfall creature skittered forward.
Reyon threw a sticky illusion instinctively—an exit door flashing into existence to the left, bright and convincing.
"Go!" Reyon shouted. "Door!"
Kai snapped, "That's not real."
Reyon's face twisted. "It's supposed to be a distraction!"
"And it distracts us too," Kai snarled.
Seren grabbed Reyon's sleeve. "Your illusions are leaving residue. The corridor will remember the wrong door."
Reyon swallowed hard. "Okay. Cool. So I'm accidentally redecorating our death hallway."
The Nightfall creature lunged.
Kai's shadowsteel flared up in a sharp arc—cutting not the creature's body, but the emotion-thread that connected it to Mira's laugh.
The creature shrieked—not pain, but hunger interrupted.
The laugh warped into a wet, choking sound.
It recoiled, skittering back into shadow.
But the corridor trembled—angry now.
The Runemap's ink jerked violently, and the highlighted Echo route pulsed brighter, almost frantic.
Seren stared at the Echo crest on the far door—a faint symbol etched into stone: a silver wave pattern, tiny rune-lines like sound.
Under it, four small icons flickered faintly:
🕯️ 🪞 🧵 🖋️
Seren's breath hitched. "It's reacting to death symbols."
Mira whispered, shaking, "Does that mean it's real?"
Seren swallowed. "It means it's listening."
Kai stepped toward the Echo door, pulling Lina with him.
The Nightfall creature hissed from the shadows, frustrated.
Lina's bones burned harder as they approached the Echo crest—as if the entity below recognized the direction and leaned in.
Answer me.
Lina's mouth went dry.
The Echo door didn't have a handle.
It had a line carved into the stone, tiny and precise:
WHAT WAS THE LAST WORD SPOKEN HERE?
Seren's eyes widened. "It needs an echo. A last word."
"Like Echo Borrowing?" Mira whispered.
Seren's throat tightened. "Yes. But if I pull the last word from this door—"
Kai's voice was urgent. "Do it."
Seren nodded, trembling, and pressed her palm to the crest.
Her eyes rolled back for a split second.
Then her voice layered—cold, not hers:
"Hush."
The Echo crest flared.
The door cracked open.
And as it opened, the Runemap on the mirror-panel wrote one new note beneath Lina's smudged entry:
IF SHE SPEAKS, THE SEAL LISTENS.
Lina's breath caught.
Because the message wasn't written by the atlas.
It felt like it was written by the thing below.
And it was still waiting.
Answer me.
Lina took a shaky breath.
Her lips parted—
Kai's hand tightened, anchor pain sharp.
"Lina," he whispered, forehead nearly to hers. "Stay real."
Lina swallowed the word she almost said.
Held it like a live flame in her throat.
And stepped through the Echo door instead—into whatever listening dark waited next.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.