The air changed at once.
Zenith Hall disappeared behind us. First the corridor, then the lamp-glow, Quill’s polished voice, Magnus’s cane striking once against stone before the door began to close.
The passage swallowed sound. Footsteps didn’t echo; they were taken. The walls sweated cold. The cut marks came and went in the lamplight.
S.C.
A line through a circle.
Three slashes like a hand had slipped.
D.M.
I stopped.
The initials were cut into the right wall, fresher than the others, with a date beneath them.
Five days after the date on the bench.
Kieran swore under his breath.
Hale looked back toward the sealed door.
Caspian’s hand tightened around mine.
“She came this far,” I said.
No one answered.
Below Delphine’s initials, another mark had been scratched so lightly I almost missed it.
An arrow.
Pointing up.
Caswell had stopped ahead of us.
“Verita, keep moving.”
“I’m coming.”
I touched the arrow once.
The Mark on my wrist answered with a flare.
Somewhere ahead, water moved in a basin too large to belong to any classroom.
The sound came up through the passage.
Slow.
Heavy.
Kieran’s breathing changed.
Hale’s Mark answered under his sleeve.
Caspian’s line went cold and bright in my hand.
