Noven didn't sleep.
Not really.
He lay in bed with his eyes closed, but his mind didn't rest.
Sleep was dangerous. Sleep meant dreams.
And his dreams… remembered too much.
This time, the dream came cold.
He was back in Unit IX.
Naked. Alone. Standing in ankle-deep water that shimmered like glass.
All around him—mirrors. Dozens. Hundreds. All showing him.
But none were the same.
Some showed him smiling. Others bleeding. Some showed him younger. One… showed him without a face at all.
His reflection blinked.
But he hadn't.
He took a step back.
All of the mirrors cracked at once.
A sound like bone and thunder.
Then a voice—his voice, but wrong—spoke from nowhere.
"You think you're the one who escaped."
He turned.
Nothing.
"But I'm still inside you."
The water turned black.
The mirrors melted.
And something reached through the cracks—*
—
Noven woke sitting upright, cold sweat soaking his back.
His shirt clung to his scars. His breath was shallow.
But his face was still blank.
There was no light outside.
3:17 AM.
Perfect hour for monsters.
He stood, dressed quickly, and slid the window open. Cold night air swept through the room.
Something was wrong.
A sound—so faint even trained ears would've missed it—clicked in the hallway outside his dorm.
He moved without noise, barefoot, stepping to the door.
Another sound.
Metal on wood.
Someone was picking the lock.
So bold now, he thought.
He opened the door before they could finish.
A student stood there. No. Not a student.
Wearing the uniform. But wrong posture. Wrong eyes. No fear.
Their hand hovered near the doorknob, holding a strange black key.
Noven said nothing.
The imposter didn't blink.
Then they spoke, voice sharp and flat.
"You weren't supposed to open it."
Noven replied without emotion.
"You weren't supposed to be real."
The stranger's hand twitched.
And suddenly—
They attacked.
Not with fists.
With silence.
The hallway warped. Sound died. The world around them folded inward like a sheet of paper burning at the corners.
Noven's shadow didn't move.
He raised one finger.
The air shattered.
The false student flew backward, slammed into the far wall with such force the plaster cracked like glass. Blood sprayed from their mouth as they slumped to the ground, unmoving.
Noven walked over, crouched.
He didn't ask who sent them.
He already knew.
Unit IX was getting desperate.
They weren't sending assassins.
They were sending reminders.
He dragged the unconscious body into the room and locked the door again.
Then he looked out the window, eyes glowing faintly crimson.
Across the lawn, up on the northern tower balcony—
She was there.
Avalith.
Watching.
He didn't smile.
But he didn't look away.
Not this time.
⸻
Meanwhile – The Chamber Below the Academy
Beneath the Academy, hidden behind walls of aura-etched stone, a chamber pulsed with slow magic.
Seven chairs.
Seven figures seated.
Only one of them spoke.
"He's awakening too quickly," said the woman in the violet robe. Her voice echoed unnaturally. "The restraints are failing."
A second figure replied, faceless under a deep hood.
"He used the Specter Shift without training. Killed operatives without contact. We cannot delay anymore."
A third, older voice:
"The Princess has read the prophecy."
A pause. Then the first woman again.
"Then she must choose. Now."
"The Hollow Crown will not wait."
They all turned to the center of the table.
A crystal orb hovered, flickering with an image—Noven, alone in his room, red eyes gleaming in the dark.
"He must be ended before he forgets what mercy is."
"Who says he remembers it now?"
⸻
Back at the Academy – Dawn
Noven stood beneath the statue of Saint Valerra again, the sun barely peeking over the walls. Light struck his face.
He didn't squint.
He didn't move.
He waited.
And she came.
Avalith.
No guards.
No cloak.
Just her.
Her white hair glowed in the light like frost under fire.
She walked up slowly, stopping just short of him.
"I saw," she said.
"I know," he replied.
A pause.
Then—
"Do you know what you are?" she asked softly.
His answer came without thought.
"No."
"Do you want to know?"
He turned his head to her. Slowly. Carefully.
"I already do."
Her lips parted—but no words came out.
Then, after a long silence:
"They want you dead."
He nodded.
"They always have."
Another silence. Thicker. Deeper.
Her hands clenched at her sides.
"There's a prophecy," she whispered. "It says you end everything."
His reply came like steel wrapped in calm.
"Maybe I will."
"Then why… why not leave?"
He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the tired red behind his eyes.
"Because I don't want to."
She blinked.
And for the first time—
Just the briefest moment—
She saw something else in his expression.
Not emotion.
Not warmth.
Just will.
A kind of gravity that pulled everything toward it.
She hated him for it.
But she couldn't look away.
He leaned in slightly.
"If you're going to kill me, Princess," he said, "you should do it before I give you a reason not to."
She stared.
Then slowly stepped back.
"No," she whispered. "Not yet."
He tilted his head, studying her.
She turned and walked away.
Not in fear.
But in chaos.
Not knowing if she wanted to stop him—or save him.
⸻
Far Beyond – Facility Zero
In the deepest sublevel, lit only by red pulse-lights, a man stood before a sealed chamber.
Inside—barely visible through reinforced glass—floated a massive humanoid shape. Tubes, needles, wires all connected to it.
But the face was wrong.
Because there was none.
A sign above the pod read:
SUBJECT ZERO – INACTIVE
The man stared at it, then whispered:
"He's waking up."
Behind him, a scientist murmured:
"Subject One?"
"No," the man said.
He turned.
Face like shadow.
Eyes like frost.
"The other one."
⸻