The world hadn't moved.
Noé sat on the stone like time itself had chosen to leave him behind.
The chapel was silent now.
Not even the wind dared pass through the half-built walls.
He should've followed them.
Should've insisted.
But some part of him—the part that pulsed with the mark, the part that echoed every time that backwards bell rang—knew better.
He wasn't meant to witness what was inside.
Not yet.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
The ticking was gone.
But something remained.
A feeling. A thought.
A voice.
Soft. Familiar. Older than memory.
"You always wanted to protect them. Even when you didn't know who they were."
Noé's eyes flickered open.
The sky above was the same shade of pale.
But the air had changed.
He stood slowly.
And saw her.
Not Mira. Not Lysira.
A woman—mid-twenties, silver cloak, dark eyes that shimmered like dusk. She stood by a tree that hadn't been there seconds ago.
She wasn't there a second ago.
Her voice didn't match her face.
It sounded like someone reading from the end of a book.
"You don't remember me yet," she said. "But I remember every version of you."
Noé stepped forward. "Who are you?"
She tilted her head. "Does it matter?"
"I was your first secret.
The one you promised to forget."
He froze.
The wind whispered.
Leaves turned, even though there was no breeze.
"They'll come out changed," she added, nodding toward the chapel.
"So will you.
But only if you choose to remember."
She reached into her cloak.
Pulled out something—glowing, warm.
A watch.
Old. Cracked. But still ticking.
"The world gave you a name.
But I gave you time."
She placed it on the stone he had just sat on.
Then turned.
And walked toward the trees.
As if they'd been waiting for her.
Noé didn't follow.
Not yet.
He picked up the watch.
It pulsed once.
And whispered his name—
But it wasn't "Noé."
When Mira and Lysira stepped out of the chapel, the light had changed.
Not in brightness.
In tone.
The sky was still pale. The forest still quiet.
But their shadows fell differently.
Noé stood with the watch in his hand, the ticking barely audible beneath the sound of their footsteps.
He didn't speak.
Neither did they.
For a few seconds, they just looked at each other.
Like strangers.
Then Mira exhaled.
"I don't... know what just happened."
Her voice was soft. Unsure. Not like her.
Noé raised an eyebrow.
"Did something attack you?"
She shook her head. "No. Not really. It was..."
Lysira stepped beside her, arms crossed, voice steady—but slower than usual.
"There were doors."
"Doors?" Noé asked.
"Not real ones," Mira added. "Just... they looked like places I used to dream about. A lighthouse. A classroom. A train station at night."
Lysira nodded. "Mine were... older. A battlefield. A library. A room full of broken clocks."
Noé swallowed. "And?"
Mira looked at him.
And then, quietly:
"You were in every one of them."
The words hung in the air.
Noé didn't know what to say.
"I don't remember being there," he said eventually.
"I know," Mira replied.
And that was worse somehow.
Because she believed him.
But something inside her didn't.
They sat under the trees, not far from the chapel.
No one suggested leaving.
Not yet.
Noé rested against the stone with the watch beside him, still ticking. He didn't look at it. Not directly.
Mira picked at a leaf in her lap. Lysira stared at the dirt between her boots.
Silence stretched.
And in that silence—
A memory slipped loose.
Noé didn't ask for it.
It just came.
He stood beneath a tree, warm sunlight flickering through the leaves.
A hand touched his cheek.
Soft.
Then—lips.
He didn't know if they were Mira's or Lysira's.
Because the memory shifted halfway through.
One blink—and it was Mira. Her eyes closed, her voice saying his name.
Next blink—Lysira. Her hand trembling just slightly as she leaned in.
The kiss never changed.
But the person did.
Like the memory was trying to decide what it wanted to be.
Noé opened his eyes.
The ticking was louder now.
Not from the watch.
From inside him.
Mira looked up suddenly.
"Do you think we'll ever be normal again?"
Noé didn't answer right away.
"What do you mean?"
She hesitated.
"I mean... before the grave. Before the visions. Before this feeling like I'm walking through someone else's dream."
Lysira scoffed lightly, but there was no bite in it.
"Define normal."
"I don't know," Mira said. "Waking up and not wondering if the world remembers you."
Noé smiled softly. It didn't reach his eyes.
"I think we passed that point a long time ago."
Another pause.
Then Lysira asked something unexpected:
"Do you remember kissing either of us?"
Noé blinked.
Mira turned scarlet.
"Wh—Lysira!"
"What?" she said flatly. "We all saw it. Two versions of the same memory. Same kiss. Different girl."
She turned to him.
"Well?"
Noé looked down at the watch.
It pulsed.
"I remember it."
He didn't look at either of them.
"I just don't know... which one is real."
The silence that followed Noé's words wasn't angry.
It was heavy.
Full of questions none of them could ask.
Mira looked away first.
She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes locked on the ground.
"So... it wasn't just a dream."
Lysira leaned forward, arms on her knees, her expression hard to read.
"It wasn't," she said. "But maybe it wasn't truth either."
Noé finally looked at them.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" Mira asked.
"For... being part of a memory I can't even give back to you."
Lysira exhaled slowly. "You didn't choose this."
Noé smiled, but it was tired.
"I don't think I chose anything."
Far away, beyond the forest and past the shimmerline that marked the end of mapped space—
Arkana Academy pulsed with quiet panic.
In a chamber below the main courtyard, Professor Lior stood before a circular glyph, spinning slowly like a mirror made of light.
"They're off-grid," he muttered. "The medallion link cut itself."
Across from him, Professor Elenya Vael leaned forward.
"That shouldn't be possible. Not unless—"
"Unless he activated something old," Lior said. "Something the system didn't expect."
Elenya stared at the glyph. Three dots blinked red.
"Do you think they ran?"
Lior's voice was low.
"No. He's not running. He's searching."
She was silent a moment. Then: "Should we send someone?"
"I already did."
Back in the forest, Noé stood.
The sun was slipping behind the trees. Shadows stretched.
"We should move," he said.
Mira stood too, brushing dust off her coat.
Lysira rose more slowly, her eyes flicking back to the chapel.
"Whatever was in there..." she began, then paused. "It changed something."
Noé didn't ask what.
He already knew.
Not in words.
But in the way they moved now—less certain, more aware.
As if the world had started to remember them back.
They left the clearing.
Behind them, the watch on the stone ticked twice more.
Then went still.