Zephryn left after second dusk, just as the Lyceum’s upper spires dimmed and the floating lanterns began their rotation.

The card in his pocket pulsed—barely visible, just a faint glow that tugged at the corners of his awareness.

Not a beacon.

A whisper.

“Only at night. Only alone.”

He followed.

The Lyceum’s lower halls were older. Less polished.

Here, the glyphlight flickered with age, humming in rhythms no longer taught.

He passed forgotten doors.

Archivist chambers.

Storage wings lined with empty racks and sealed crates branded with the Doctrine’s crest—covered in dust that no pulsekeeper had disturbed in years.

The card flared brighter as he descended a tight spiral stairwell behind a crumbling tapestry.

No signage.

No sound.

Only stone.

And pressure.

At the base of the stairs, the hallway narrowed.

Then opened.

A chamber. Low ceiling. Circular.

At its center: a mirror, cracked across the center—ringed with seven empty glyphs carved into the stone.

No reflections.

No pulse.

Only memory.

Zephryn stepped forward.

The card in his hand disintegrated the moment he crossed the threshold.

No fire. No noise. Just a quiet folding into light.

The glyphs around the mirror began to hum.

Each in a different frequency—some high, some deep, some so low they made his bones ring.

His pendant pulsed once.

And the hum answered.

Not from the glyphs.

From within.

Behind him, a soft shuffle.

A figure stood in the doorway.

Not the student from before.

Not an instructor.

Not anyone he knew.

They wore robes stitched with mirrored thread and no insignia. Their face hidden behind a veil of fractured glass.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the voice said. Not a threat.

“But I knew you would come.”

Zephryn didn’t move.

“What is this place?”

“A failed archive. A severed pulse. A wound the Lyceum never healed.”

The figure tilted their head.

“You touched it, didn’t you?”

Zephryn clenched his jaw. “Touched what?”

“The part of the world that remembers.”

The glyphs glowed blue.

The mirror pulsed once.

And Zephryn’s hum—

answered.