Cairn didn't look back.
The Tower never placed doors behind you. That was the rule—one of the few he trusted to stay true. You could go forward. You could fall. But you could never go back.
He stepped through the threshold.
And froze.
The chamber was circular. Wide. Maybe thirty paces across. The air was heavy, not stale—intentional. Like the Tower wanted him to feel it. Like it wanted to weigh on his chest. Every breath was a quiet negotiation.
All around the room, spaced evenly between warped marble columns, stood statues. Seven of them.
Human.
Perfectly lifelike.
Each one facing inward, toward the center of the chamber—toward him.
His boots scraped faintly on the floor as he stepped forward. He couldn't stop his eyes from moving from figure to figure.
The first was Ryn, spear tilted against one shoulder, that lazy smirk chiseled into stone. Even her crooked braid. Gods. Down to the scar on her left cheek.
The second, Talan, arms crossed, back straight, gaze accusing even in death. Still in his coat. The one Cairn had stitched.
He turned.
Seri. Marle. Deyr.
They were all here.
All except—
He stopped in front of the sixth statue.
No face.
Just a smooth curve of stone where eyes, mouth, and memory should be. The rest of the form was detailed. A small figure. Narrow shoulders. Arms down, one hand extended toward the center of the room.
Cairn stared. His jaw clenched.
He knew who that statue should've been.
"You left her behind."
The voice came again. Not spoken—installed. Like it had always been part of the room.
Cairn didn't reply.
He stepped closer to the blank-faced statue. There, on its chest, was something new.
A small line. A crack.
It ran from clavicle to stomach. Like the stone was splitting from the inside.
You left her behind.
He flinched.
This time, the voice wasn't the Tower's.
It was Seri's.
But it couldn't be. Seri was dead.
She had died on Floor 27.
He had watched her fall.
Hadn't he?
Cairn's hands tightened into fists. He stepped back from the statue, breath suddenly faster than he meant it to be.
Then all seven statues turned.
At once.
Stone creaked. Dust fell. The room echoed.
Seven heads snapped in his direction—yes, even the faceless one. It stared without eyes.
The center of the room cracked open like an eye blinking, revealing a spiral stairway downward—but the walls began to shift behind him.
And now all the statues were stepping forward.