---
Darkness.
A breath.
Then another.
Faster.
No sky. No ground.
No up or down.
Only breathing—ragged, panicked.
Only motion—freefalling through nothing.
"Where are you?!
Finn—John—somebody—!"
"HELLO?! I CAN'T—WHERE IS EVERYONE?!"
"WHAT IS THIS?! WHY CAN'T WE SEE—?!"
Their voices echo into the dark.
No response.
Just more falling.
"Hold onto something—anything—!"
"There's nothing! No ground—no sky—!"
"This isn't physics. This is wrong."
"Make it stop—PLEASE—just make it stop—"
"This was supposed to be the way forward."
"We never should've jumped."
"I led us here…"
The darkness thickens. Not just around them—inside them.
Suffocating.
Closing in.
Then—
A voice.
???:
"Was it all worth it."
And then—
---
[PRESENT – INT. GUEST QUARTERS – MORNING]
John's eyes open.
The ceiling is still.
Warm light seeps through narrow curtains. Dust moves around them.
He blinked once.
Then again.
The room was quiet.
Not silent — just... dulled.
He hears breathing.
Someone shifted. A muffled yawn.
Normal things.
But they don't feel normal.
John sat up slowly.
Not on his bed.
His back ached. The stone bench he fell asleep on didn't do him any favors.
He glanced around.
Finn was curled in a blanket pile near the far wall.
Aurora was half-sprawled beside him, one hand shielding her face from the light.
Sally was asleep, upright.
Or pretending.
Jake, already up — staring blankly at nothing, legs pulled in.
Harry.. was writing something. Again.
King, perched near the door, watched the room without watching anyone.
John breathed in.
And out.
It should feel like any other morning.
But it wasn't.
---
They were supposed to leave this place.
That was the plan.
After everything beneath the city, after everything they'd seen—
they were supposed to move on.
They even managed to come to an agreement.
But,
It didn't work out, their way.
The Governor only smiled.
Then,
locked the doors.
With words instead of chains.
"You're free to explore again."
"But only within these walls."
John's fists clenched briefly. He eased them open.
They weren't' prisoners. Not officially. Not yet, anyway.
But they weren't free either.
---
Finn stirred first, stretching like a cat in a tangle of blankets,
then groaning like he'd been stabbed.
"Why does my spine feel like it's in French?"
No one answered. Not right away.
Sally rubbed her eyes with both palms and muttered something about dreams being "a scam." She didn't elaborate.
Jake finally blinked and dragged his legs off the bench.
"Bathroom," he said flatly, to no one.
No one objected. He left like a ghost.
Aurora sat up, slowly. Hair everywhere. One sock missing.
She squinted at Finn.
"You took all the blankets again."
Finn glanced over, bleary-eyed.
"...You weren't using them enough."
She didn't have the energy to argue properly.
So,
she flopped on top of him.
Finn let out a groan like he had died.
John rose wordlessly and moved to the basin.
The water was cold. Of course it was.
The pitcher clanked softly as he poured. The sound echoed too loud in the still room.
Sally stood up and stretched, bones popping.
"You ever think about how we're probably being watched?"
"..Even in our sleep?"
"That's the spirit," Finn said.
Aurora yawned without covering her mouth. On purpose.
Harry finally looked up from his notebook.
The pen hung in midair for a moment, like it wasn't sure whether to keep going.
No one asked what he was writing.
He didn't offer.
King hadn't moved, but his eyes were following everything.
Quiet, sharp.
Like a cat waiting for a bell to ring.
Aurora shuffled toward the washbasin after John stepped away.
He didn't speak, but she caught the glance.
"No, I didn't sleep," she said.
"No, I don't want to talk about it."
"And yes, my hair always looks like this."
He gave a small nod. Not agreement, exactly. Just acknowledgment.
Finn wandered toward the door and hovered there, arms crossed.
"You know," he said casually,
"We could always try running for it. Just bolt. See what happens."
"The guards would love that," Harry replied, flipping a page.
"They don't even blink," Finn went on. "Which is..
Very creepy."
"They do blink," Jake called from the hallway.
"They just do it when we're not looking."
"To spite us, probably," Aurora added.
Sally stood near the window. She wasn't looking out it.
"I miss.. the sky," she said.
They all looked at her.
Finn opened his mouth. Closed it again.
A knock.
Not loud. Not impatient. Just… polite.
Which somehow made it worse.
The entire room froze like someone had pulled a pin from a grenade.
Aurora glanced at the door, then back at the group.
"Who is it?" Finn whispered.
"Why are you whispering," Sally whispered back.
"Why are YOU whispering?"
Jake returned from the hallway just in time to get caught in the tension.
He froze mid-step.
"I didn't knock," he said.
"We know."
one more.
Everyone froze.
Harry grabbed his notebook.
Eyes met across the room — wide, suspicious, absurdly serious. Like they'd just heard a bomb tick.
Aurora mouthed: "No."
Jake was already halfway under his blanket.
Finn crouched slightly, whispering:
"This is how horror stories start. Door knock. Boom. Then they all die."
King stood up— naturally, of course—
and turned toward the door.
Aurora and Finn pounced like synchronized swimmers.
"Nope," Aurora said, grabbing his sleeve.
Finn lunged and grabbed the other arm.
"Buddy. No heroics."
King raised an eyebrow. Not amused.
"...I'm answering a door."
"You're not dying on my watch," Finn whispered, intense.
"It's not a firing squad," King muttered.
"Could be," Aurora said. "Statistically."
King stared at them.
Said nothing.
Resumed sitting.
They let go slowly, like defusing a wild animal.
The knock came again.
More patient this time. Practiced.
Everyone looked at John.
He sighed.
"I'm not the designated doorman."
"You are now," Jake called, muffled.
"Yeah," Aurora added. "You're the face of the group."
"So, naturally..
that means you must open the doors for us!"
Sally nodded from where she was brushing her hair.
He gave them a look.
A very long one.
Then got up and walked to the door like a man accepting his fate.
Finn offered a thumbs-up. Weakly.
Aurora saluted, "May the stars guide you,"
John opened the door.
One of the attendants stood there, perfect as ever—
smooth uniform, gentle expression, one that somehow still felt surgical.
"Good morning," she said.
John nodded. "Morning."
The attendant smiled at the rest behind him, gathered like a mistrustful herd.
"You all slept well, I hope."
No one answered that.
She didn't push it.
"We've prepared the morning schedule. You'll find the itinerary waiting in the foyer. Breakfast will be served shortly."
Her eyes slid past John and settled on Sally.
"Miss," she said.
Polite concern carved into their tone.
"The Governor was deeply saddened by your discomfort yesterday.
How's your stomach, today?"
Sally froze mid-comb.
Everyone else tried very hard not to react.
There was a long pause.
Then—
"Tragic," she shrugged.
"But survivable."
The attendant didn't blink.
"If it returns, we have a tonic."
Sally placed a hand on her chest.
"Your concern. So moving."
The attendant didn't smile.
But her voice remained light.
"Until your breakfast is ready,
you're free to stretch your legs."
She turned and left with a swish of fabric.
John closed the door slowly.
Then turned to the group.
Jake shrugged.
"Definitely poisoned," he said.
He stared at them,
They stared back.
"I hate that I'm the responsible one."
"That's the tax for having those cheekbones," Aurora said, sweetly.
John shook his head.
Finn raised his hand. "Can we agree no more fake stomach aches unless we coordinate first?"
"I didn't think she'd even ask!" Sally hissed.
"Of course she asked!" Finn said. "They always ask!"
Aurora sat back down with a thump.
"Threat averted." she smirked.
King finally shook free of their grip, still on him.
"You're all ridiculous," he muttered.
Finn looked at him, deadpan.
"Buddy, we just saved your life."
.
.
.
The morning passed.
Uneventful. Mostly.
No alarms. No screams. No traps. No.. excitement.
Just warm hallways and polished stone.
---
John walked the perimeter.
Not pacing, not exactly—
just moving.
Trying to map the place in his head.
The halls were too long. The turns too soft.
The whole building..
shaped to make you forget which way you came.
He asked one of the attendants how old the estate was.
She smiled.
"Older than questions."
Not helpful.
---
Finn found the sunroom.
Which..
Had an actual sun.
"Okay," he muttered.
"Did not expect that."
He stood in the light for a while, letting it hit his face.
Then pretended he was being interrogated by the sun.
Then got bored and left.
---
Aurora stopped near the library.
It smelled, too clean.
She hovered by the door, not quite going in.
Inside,
quiet whispers.
A few other guests — locals, maybe. Pale clothes. Careful posture.
No one looked up from their books.
She drifted in, tried to find a title that didn't sound like propaganda.
Half the shelves were blank.
The other half were…
strange.
One was entirely filled with identical green books, each labeled Volume Seventeen.
No other volumes in sight.
She took one. Flipped through it.
Every page:
"YOU ARE SAFE."
She put it back.
---
Sally sat near a fountain in the courtyard. Feet in the water.
Watching the way the ripples never touched the edges.
Like even the fountain was.. pretending.
An attendant passed. She smiled.
Sally smiled back,
sweet as poison.
---
Harry spent time talking to one of the older archivists near the atrium.
They talked about the estate's design — supposedly modeled after "natural flow systems."
Harry nodded along, asked sharp questions.
The archivist answered most of them,
except when the questions had numbers in them.
"Records get... foggy," he said, with a shrug that meant don't ask again.
Harry smiled politely.
Wrote it down anyway.
---
Jake tried to get a map.
They said the estate didn't have one.
"It reconfigures," the attendant said. "According to need."
Jake stared at her.
"...My need is to not get lost."
She bowed slightly, as if that were a profound insight.
---
King...
did nothing.
He sat in a shaded hallway, one knee up, watching.
He didn't speak.
But people noticed him.
They always did.
---
Time passed.
Too easily.
Too quietly.
They wandered. They talked. They listened.
But nobody laughed.
Not really.
And none of them asked each other,
what they were thinking about.
---
John leaned against a stone railing near the north wing garden.
The view was impressive—on purpose.
Just enough nature, carefully wild.
Just.. enough calm,
to make you forget what you weren't seeing.
He held a book in his lap, closed.
He wasn't reading, not really.
He was listening in.
Sally lounged across from him, legs over the bench arm, chewing on something bitter and fibrous.
Local fruit.
Probably not meant to be eaten raw. She didn't seem to care.
Across the way, maybe thirty yards off,
the Governor was speaking to two guests— people John didn't recognize.
Pale sleeves. Polished shoes.
They stood too straight to be comfortable.
John couldn't hear every word. Only pieces.
The Governor's voice had a way of sliding past your ears,
like it wasn't meant to be held in the first place.
"…documentation will be reviewed…"
"…you may continue use of the east corridor, with discretion…"
"…and as always, we are grateful for your presence."
He didn't raise his voice.
Didn't move his hands.
He didn't command attention.
He just let people give it to him.
John watched his posture. The stillness of it. The weight.
And, the governors smile.. as he turned to go.
Just a moment — only a flicker — the smile dropped.
Not into a frown. Not into anything.
Just off.
Like the mask didn't need to be worn anymore.
He disappeared down the inner hall. An attendant followed silently.
John blinked, slow.
"Something bothering you, Captain?" Sally asked.
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he nodded toward the archway where the Governor had vanished.
"You ever notice where he goes after he's done talking?"
Sally squinted toward the doors.
"Not really. Always just assumed he evaporates."
John sat back. Arms folded.
Eyes still on the space where the Governor had been.
"That room off the main stairwell. The one with the red inlay.
It's always locked, isn't it."
Sally chewed slower. Then:
"...You think that's his?"
John gave her a look.
Sally exhaled.
"Right, right.
Of course you do."
John continued,
"...If anywhere in this place that has any information about what's going on—
And, the reason we're still here—it's there."
She tilted her head.
"And what, you think he's just keeping all that info neatly stacked in his desk drawer, waiting for us to snoop?"
John smirked.
"If it is," he said,
"I want to see it."
Sally stretched her arms above her head with a groan.
"Well, guess we're looking into a haunted desk later."
"That is, if we can get to it in the first place."
He stood. She followed.
No plan yet. No tools. Just curiosity slowly turning into intent.
---
Jake didn't believe in ghosts.
…At least that's what he said, anyway.
But this place—
It did its best to convince him otherwise.
He walked with his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff.
The estate hallways were wide, too clean, and too quiet.
As if sound itself was being filtered.
King trailed a few paces behind.
Not trying to hide his mood.
His steps were slow, deliberate, and just annoyed enough to make a point.
He didn't want to come. He hadn't even been asked, either— he'd been dragged.
Jake had cornered him near the courtyard stairs and said:
"Come on. Let's go find some snacks!"
That was the full pitch.
No plan, no direction. Just "snacks."
And no attendants around, either.
They were conveniently absent, like they always were when you actually wanted something.
So they wandered.
Jake led them through two corridors, a side hall, and a short set of stairs that curved too tightly for no reason.
No snack room. No kitchen. No scent of food.
Nothing.
King finally broke the silence with a flat, unimpressed:
"You do know snacks doesn't mean wild animals, right?"
Jake glanced over.
"They don't?"
King didn't respond. Only sighed.
They turned another corner, passed a door with no handle,
and entered a stretch of hallway with a skylight above — narrow and high, like it was ashamed of being there.
That's when Jake noticed it.
He slowed.
King stopped too.
Jake stepped closer to the far wall. His shadow stretched ahead of him — long, clean.
But the column across the hall?
Its shadow bent.
Not away from the light.
Toward the wall.
Just slightly.
Just enough to feel.. wrong.
Jake stared at it for a beat, then pointed.
"...You see that?"
King took a step forward, reluctantly.
His eyes scanned the floor. The stone. The seam between wall and shadow.
"Mm."
"Mm yes?" Jake asked. "Or mm no?"
King crouched down. Ran his fingers lightly along the edge.
"Cold."
Jake raised an eyebrow. Crouched beside him.
"Colder than the other side?"
King didn't answer. Which was his way of saying yes.
Jake stood slowly. Looked further down the corridor.
Light fell strange on the corners.
Not broken. Not dark. Just… unaligned.
Like the space was made for something else.
He glanced back at King.
"This is still about snacks, right?"
King exhaled once through his nose.
"Was it ever?"
Jake smirked.
"Nope."
They kept walking.
The hall felt just a little tighter now.
---
Finn sat upside-down on a stone bench.
Not metaphorically.
He was fully inverted — legs up the backrest, head hanging off the edge, arms dangling like forgotten laundry.
Aurora sat nearby, eating something crunchy that definitely wasn't meant to be food.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
The estate had settled into its usual rhythm: gently suffocating peace.
Aurora threw the core of whatever-it-was into a nearby bush.
"I'm bored," she announced.
Finn let one hand flop to the ground.
"I think my spine is asleep."
They sat there a while longer.
Then:
"You wanna break into something?" Finn asked.
Aurora didn't even blink.
"Yeah."
---
It started with a crack in a wall.
Not dramatic.
Not glowing.
Just… a crack.
About the size of Finn's pinky finger.
They found it behind a low stone ridge in the garden wall — where the plants grew too straight and the moss looked suspiciously arranged.
Aurora had pointed it out.
Finn nudged her and smirked, barely holding a laugh "..Hrm, moss."
Aurora didn't understand the joke.
Which meant they had to investigate.
Naturally.
The two of them were already half-kneeling in the dirt when Harry showed up, holding an empty teacup.
He sipped nothing from it. Loudly.
"Why," he asked flatly, "are you so eager to get arrested."
Aurora looked up. "We're getting arrested!"
Harry looked at her.
She looked at harry.
Finn: "...are we?"
Then, harry looked at the wall. At the crack. Then at them.
Then sat down cross-legged and took out a folded piece of paper from his coat.
"Well. If we're really doing this, I'm logging it."
"Logging what?" Aurora asked.
He didn't answer.
---
To be clear: Harry had not been invited.
He had been walking by. Then stopped. Then decided, internally and irrevocably,
that if they were doing something stupid, he should be there to at least document it.
Also, as he later claimed:
"I once made a bet with myself that if I ever saw you two in the same place, alone, for more than thirty seconds, something catastrophic would happen within the hour."
Finn had just grinned and replied:
"Dude...
Thirty?"
---
Back in the present—
Finn jammed a stick into the crack, grunting.
"It's hollow behind this."
Aurora peeked around his shoulder.
Finn gave the stick one final jab. Something clicked.
They all froze.
A thin line opened down the center of the wall.
Then folded outward with a grinding, mechanical whrrr sound.
Behind it: a downward ramp of black stone. Narrow. Cold.
Finn beamed.
Aurora tilted her head.
Harry stood and took one step back.
"Nope."
Finn turned. "Come on, you're here now."
"I came to witness, not descend into hell."
Aurora, already stepped forward into the entry.
"I'm sooo~ bored."
Harry looked as Finn followed her without hesitation.
He stared at the entrance for a beat.
Then glanced around.
No one else.
He sighed,
pulled a pen from his coat,
and sighed again:
"I must commit. I must commit. I mus-"
...He stepped inside.
The wall began to seal behind them.
---
The bell over the door chimed softly.
A gust of street air slipped in — dry, tinged with ash.
Evening had fallen over Vash'Kael.
Lanternlight pulsed low in the fog.
A man stepped in.
Not someone important.
Just… a regular.
He shook the dust from his coat,
blinked twice to adjust to the dim light, and stepped further inside.
The place looked the same.
Same crooked tables. Same patched curtains.
Same cracked tile near the second booth.
He smiled faintly.
It smelled like smoked broth. A hint of citrus peel.
And that, sharp burn..
from Daro's infamous pepper blend. Comfort food, basically.
He nodded to himself. Familiar.
He moved to his usual seat — corner booth, left side.
And slid in with a soft grunt.
His fingers tapped the edge of the table. Three times.
A habit.
Then he waited.
No one greeted him right away.
But that wasn't unusual.
Daro liked to let you settle. He thought.
So the man waited.
Minutes passed.
The lantern above his booth flickered once. Then held.
Behind the counter,
a figure moved.
At first, he assumed it was Daro.
Broad shoulders. Apron. Same slow way of wiping a glass,
like the act was more about thinking than cleaning.
The man raised a hand.
The figure looked up.
Not sharply.
Not even directly.
Just…
slowly.
Like acknowledging a faint knock on a far-off door.
The man offered a smile.
"Evenin'.
Same as usual?"
The figure set the glass down.
Then stepped out from behind the counter.
They walked like Daro. Heavy steps. Confident.
But not quite the same.
The gait was… smoother.
Less burdened. Less lived-in.
The man's smile faded — just a little.
The figure stopped beside the booth. No notepad. No warm banter.
Just a stillness. Watching.
Too long.
Then — finally — a voice.
Not Daro's.
It was too even.
Too hollow.
Like it had been rehearsed in a quiet room for years.
"…The menu is unchanged."
The man blinked.
"Right. I'll have the—uh, wait…"
He leaned forward, squinting.
"...You're not Daro."
The figure didn't respond.
Just tilted their head — barely.
Like the question didn't make sense.
The man straightened up, uneasy now.
"I mean… he's usually here. Runs the place. Big guy. Graying beard. Real talkative?"
Still no answer.
The figure stared.
Then finally said:
"He is not here."
Something about the way they said it…
The tense of it.
"He's not here."
Not gone. Not out.
Just… not here.
The man swallowed. Tried to smile again.
"Okay. So… when's he coming back?"
The figure turned away,
walked back to the counter.
Not another word.
No food.
No offer.
The man sat back slowly.
Fingers tightening around the table edge.
The place still looked the same.
But everything else?
Wrong.
Too clean. Too quiet.
Too… watched.
He stood, slowly.
Left a few coins anyway.
Out of habit.
No.
It was,
Out of fear.
He didn't look back as he stepped out the door.
The bell above him rang once.
---
Back inside the restaurant…
The figure behind the counter resumed wiping the same glass.
Their face still hidden in shadow.
There was..
No expression.
No breath.
Just movement.
Then they stopped.
And said — to no one:
"Would you like to try the special?"
No one answered.
There was no one left.
Just the flickering lantern.
And a nameplate behind the bar.
Clean. Polished.
Where it used to say
"Daro"…
Now, it said nothing.
Just a thin strip of empty brass.
---
[TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 17]