The next morning, Callum woke early. His dormitory window was open. Cold air drifted in from the lake below the tower. He stared at the ceiling for a while, then got dressed.
At breakfast, Nora sat down across from him. She didn't speak. She just passed him a folded paper.
He opened it.
"Page 12 of the Grimsby Charter. Footnote four. There's a line about 'unclaimed studies' housed beneath the primary collection. It's vague. It probably means the Archive is legal, but just forgotten."
Callum folded the note and slid it into his pocket.
"We need to go back," she said.
"Tonight?"
"No. Lunch. Thorne has her tea hour then."
They slipped into the Archive room while the bell tower chimed twelve. This time, Nora brought a notebook. She copied parts of the scrolls. Callum read more about the Assembly.
Each meeting record ended with a single word: "Unresolved."
Nora tapped a locked book on the stone shelf. "Look at this binding. That's stabilizing thread. It's used to seal volatile magic."
"Volatile how?"
"Dangerous. Or incomplete. Or both."
Callum looked around the room. "What happened to these people?"
"The Assembly? My guess is they either got taken into the Council or erased. Maybe both."
He opened a drawer in the desk. Inside was a wooden case of lenses, filters, and spell scopes.
"Someone did research down here. They lived in this room."
"These weren't just rebels. They were scholars. Real ones." Nora said.
They worked in silence for an hour. Then they heard a voice echo from above.
"Students in the basement. Identify yourselves. Now."
Callum grabbed the nearest book and stuffed it in his satchel. Nora blew out the lamp. They ran.
Up the stairs. Out the door. Through the tapestry.
They made it back to the study wing before anyone saw them.
They didn't speak again until evening.
That night, Callum opened the book he had taken. It was filled with diagrams and ciphered notes.
He turned to the back. Someone had drawn a map.
Not of the school. Not of Grimsby.
It was a map of the tunnels beneath the old city. Places no one was supposed to know existed.
In the corner, one word was written in red ink:
"Rescind."
Callum closed the book. He sat still for a long time.
Callum didn't speak to anyone the next morning. The tunnels weren't marked on any student guidebook. They weren't mentioned in lectures or during campus tours. Yet someone had mapped them out, linked them to the Archive, and left the word "Rescind" written at the edge.
In the common hall, he passed Nora a folded page torn from his notebook. She read it under the table.
"We meet in the west field tonight. Not the Archive. There's too many eyes."
She looked up once, then tucked the page into her cloak.
The west field was near the tree line. stone walls circled the edges, covered in moss. Once used for dueling lessons.
Callum arrived first. The sun had just set. The towers behind him were dark. Only the upper spires of the faculty dorms still glowed with candlelight.
Nora appeared soon after, carrying a satchel of notes and a pocket torch.
"You brought the map?" she asked.
"Yes."
He laid it flat across a bench. Nora studied it.
" She pointed to a faint path drawn between the Archives and a point labeled only as "Wellhouse."
"That well is sealed," she said. "It's fenced off behind the dining hall."
Callum nodded. "But it's real. And there's more. See this symbol? Same as on the tapestry near the Archive door. The broken wheel."
"I looked that up," she said. "It's a glyph. It means interruption. A breaking of process."
"So 'Rescind' isn't just a word. It's a command."
"A banned one."
"We need help," Nora said. "This is deeper than we thought."
Callum frowned. "Who can we trust?"
She thought for a while. Then she said, "Professor Leclair. Ancient Glyphs. She once got into trouble for citing unapproved sources."
They waited until the next day. After class, Nora approached Leclair while Callum watched from the hallway.
Leclair was older than most staff. Wore thick glasses. Her robe hems were always ink-stained.
After a short exchange, Leclair nodded.
Later that night, she met them in the empty lecture room.
They showed her the map. The Archive. The book.
She read everything. Quietly.
Then she said, "You will not speak of this to anyone else. Not a word."
"Why?" Callum asked.
"Because you're not the first to find these things. And the last student who did left this school without a word. His room was emptied the same day. No farewell. No notice."
Callum and Nora looked at each other.
Leclair tapped the word "Rescind."
"You need to stop digging into this. But if you won't, understand that you're trespassing enemy territory.
She stood. "That map is real. The tunnels exist. And if the Assembly still exists, someone will want to keep it quiet."
She left the room without another word.
Callum sat back, eyes fixed on the page.
Nora looked at callum, "Then we keep going. Quietly."
Callum didn't wait until nightfall. He wanted to see the tunnel entrance for himself. If the map was real, then there should be a gate beneath the east dormitory's utility hall. The space was rarely used because it was too cold, and too damp. Only fourth-years assigned to maintain the place ever visited.
He left early from class. No one stopped him. No one asked questions.
The utility door creaked open with a groan. Pipes lined the walls. A scent of rust filled the air. Callum kept his steps quiet. He passed the storage lockers, turned a corner, and saw it.
A hatch.
It didn't have a latch. Just a ring of four words scratched around the edges: "Only Bound Hands May Enter."
He didn't touch it.
He turned back, left the way he came, and returned to class as if nothing had happened.
That evening, he and Nora sat in their usual corner of the east library. She read over his notes.
"So it exists," she said.
"yeah callum, replied.
"What do we do now?"
"I'm going back. But not alone."
She closed the notebook. "You said no one else."
"I meant no students."
Nora narrowed her eyes. "Who then?"
"There's someone who's been watching me. He works in restoration. He keeps the the scrolls intact. His Quiet and Never says much. But he always lingers when I'm researching."
"You think he knows something?"
"I think he's waiting for someone to ask."
Callum found the man in the northeast wing of the library. The room was lined with tomes and dried racks. The man wore plain gray robes. Thin. White beard. Glasses perched on a long nose.
Callum didn't speak at first. He waited until the man looked up.
"You've been reading Assembly texts," the man said. "Most don't."
The man closed the scroll he'd been brushing. " that means you've found the map, then."
Callum's breath caught.
"Don't look so surprised," the man said. "They never burned all the copies. Some of us made sure of that."
"Who are you?"
"Elias March. Restoration chief. Class of 978."
"That's almost—"
"—sixty years ago, yes. Time doesn't move as fast down here."
Callum pulled the folded map from his coat. Laid it on the table.
"You know where this leads?"
"I do."
"And?"
"There are things in the Underfold that were meant to stay hidden. Left there by the Assembly. They called it cleansing."
Callum waited.
"You want to see it?" March asked.
"Yes."
"Then come at second bell. Leave no traces."
Second bell came just after midnight. Callum and Nora met near the east dorm stairwell. March was already waiting, hood drawn over his thin face.
They followed him down through the maintenance hall. The hatch looked the same.
March pressed both hands to the ring. Whispered a phrase Callum didn't catch. The hatch opened without sound.
They climbed down the tunnel.
At first, the tunnel was narrow. Then it widened. Somewhere in the dark, water dripped.
March walked with purpose. He carried no lantern.
Nora reached for Callum's hand. Neither spoke.
After what felt like ten minutes, the tunnel opened into a vault. Lined with sealed doors. On each.
March turned to them. "The Council sealed these chambers after the purge. Memory storages. Ritual blueprints. Some say even names."
"Of what?" Nora asked.
"Those they made disappear."
A low groan echoed behind one of the sealed doors. It wasn't loud.
March didn't flinch.
Nora stepped closer. "What do we do with this?"
"That depends. Do you want the truth? Or do you want to stay safe?, march replied.
Neither answered.
March smiled.
"From this point on, you speak of this to no one. Not even your friends. Not even the staff. If you write, you write in silence. If you think, you think with caution. There are eyes in Grimsby that are always watching."
He turned and began to walk again.
Callum followed.
Behind them, one of the sigils above the sealed doors pulsed.