The elevator shaft groaned under their feet as Luma, Ion, and Juno descended deep beneath the Spire. The air grew colder, denser—as if the pressure of truth itself was thickening the lower they went. The platform was powered by a rotating gravitational coil, humming softly with every meter it dropped.
"How far down are we going?" Juno muttered, gripping the rail. "My ears are popping like popcorn in a vacuum."
"There's no such thing," Luma replied dryly.
"There is now," Juno shot back, smirking. "You've been making stuff up all arc long. Time I joined in."
Ion didn't speak. He was staring into the shaft's darkness, eyes flicking with something deeper than calculation—memories.
At last, the lift clanged to a stop at a vast platform carved into polished stone. Before them, an ancient hall stretched wide and round, ringed with gravity stabilizers and kinetic dampeners, all dormant. In the center stood a circular stone stage with seven bronze chairs—empty now but humming faintly, as if echoes of former lectures still circled the room.
"This is the Chamber of Reconciliation," Ion said quietly. "Where professors were once judged… and where I was expelled."
Luma turned sharply. "This is that place?"
Ion nodded.
Before she could speak, footsteps echoed through the chamber. Five figures emerged from behind the circular pillars—Spire scholars in flowing robes. In the middle stood Professor Aldane, his silver clasp glinting.
"Ion," Aldane said, hands folded. "You return to the roots you severed. Seeking what? Redemption? Or just to spread the infection of doubt?"
"I return," Ion said calmly, "because there's still something worth salvaging."
Aldane's eyes narrowed. "Then defend it."
Without warning, the room changed. The stabilizers activated, shifting the gravitational fields. Each step now held weight in strange ways—lean forward, and you'd feel lighter; lean back, and your limbs would drag.
"It's a debate trial," Ion whispered. "Arguments weighed—literally—by the resonance of truth."
"I want to do it," Luma said, stepping forward.
Ion blinked. "You…?"
"Let me. I've been carrying the weight of this arc. Might as well literally do it now."
Juno raised a thumbs-up. "Break physics, not bones!"
Luma stepped into the gravity-warped center. Aldane raised an eyebrow but gestured to the opposing podium. "Very well. One question. Is idealism compatible with science? Defend your truth."
Luma took a deep breath.
"Science," she began, "is built on asking questions. On curiosity. But what drives curiosity? Hope. The belief that there's something better to discover. That's idealism."
Each word caused gravity around her to fluctuate. She swayed, adjusted her footing, and pressed on.
"The Spire says idealism clouds judgment. But without it, we'd never have reached the stars, questioned false laws, or believed a 14-year-old girl could make a difference."
Aldane countered. "Idealism leads to delusion. To ignoring hard evidence for wishful thinking."
"Then why are you here," Luma snapped, "in a chamber that measures resonance of belief through gravitation?"
Silence. A soft tremor rippled through the floor.
Luma stepped closer to the edge of the podium. "We're not asking to replace logic. We're asking to guide it—with heart, with purpose. If that's idealism… then it's the mass that keeps our science grounded."
With that final word, the chamber resonated. The opposing podium tilted—Aldane staggered slightly as the gravity around him lightened. The bronze chairs vibrated softly, a low tone of approval in their metal.
Aldane's face twitched. He nodded slowly. "You've made your point. But this chamber holds no authority anymore. The ones who listen now… are out there."
He gestured above.
Luma turned to Ion, breathless. "Did… did I pass?"
He smiled. "More than passed. You gravitated."
Juno groaned. "Ugh. That pun… has mass."
They laughed—tired, small, real. Then, from the far end of the chamber, a hidden panel slid open. A ramp led deeper underground, faint blue lights illuminating the path.
"Kaelen's final records lie below," Ion said.
"Then we're not done," Luma whispered.
Not by a long shot.