Silence clung to Arwa's skin like humidity as she stepped out of Room 308. The corridor stretched ahead, too quiet, too clean. For a moment, she expected the door to vanish behind her, like none of it had ever happened.
But it didn't.
It stood there.
Waiting.
Watching.
She walked away.
Her mind, though, stayed seated in that room.
The girl on the screen—crying, begging, saying her name.
That voice: "You have seen. You have sat. Now you will choose."
Her body moved on instinct, tracing the quiet path back to the dorms. Velridge at night was a different beast. The usual whispers of academia—footsteps, murmurs, the low hum of electricity—were swallowed by a thicker silence, like the entire building held its breath.
She tapped her ID at the dorm gate.
Green light.
She was back.
But didn't feel arrived.
---
Next morning, At breakfast,the cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise. Students in perfectly ironed uniforms. Laughter polished just right. But Arwa couldn't hear any of it properly. Everything felt half a second delayed.
Like she hadn't returned fully.
"Hey, Arwa."
She flinched.
It was Zayaan. His uniform was crisp, but his eyes were tired, ringed in shadow.
"I didn't see you leave last night."
She forced a smile. "Just had some…studying."
He nodded, slowly."Did something happen? You're pale."
Before she could respond, a vibration ran through the floor.
Then a flicker.
The lights above the cafeteria blinked—just once—then stabilized.
Hardly anyone noticed.
But Zayaan did.
He met her gaze.
So did another girl across the room. Arwa recognized the slight turn of her masked profile. Samra.
And in the far corner, arms crossed, leaned back with the indifference of someone who knew things, Rayyan stared at her like he was waiting for her to blink first.
They were all there.
From the room.
From last night.
Only Hadi was missing.
---
Later that afternoon, her ID pinged again. A new notification.
Velridge Archives Access Granted. User: A. Nasir Location: Sub-Level B, Chamber 6. Time Limit: 00:30:00
She hadn't requested access.
She didn't even know what the Archives were.
Yet something tugged at her. Curiosity... or obligation?
She followed the directions.
Down past the classrooms.
Below the faculty offices.
Through a hall she'd never noticed, where the air smelled of copper and old paper.
At the end: a thick black door, no signage.
It opened for her.
Inside, a circular room lined with screens. Empty, except for a single chair in the center.
Not black stone like the one in Room 308. This was cold steel.
And directly across the room—
Another screen.
It lit up.
A timestamp blinked: 00:00:00:01.
The footage began.
She saw herself.
Entering Room 308. Sitting in the fifth chair.
The video cut to static.
Then—Hadi. Alone. In a different room.
Screaming.
The same voice played again.
"Trust slowly."
"Watch carefully."
"Some chairs are heavier than others."
---
The screen went black.
Her thirty minutes weren't up, but the lights dimmed again.
She stood, heart racing.
As she turned to leave, the door sealed shut.
A hiss.
Then silence.
For five seconds.
Ten.
A soft click.
And it opened again.
She was free to go.
But she understood now—this wasn't about just watching.
This was surveillance.
This was selection.
This was stage one.
---
Elsewhere, behind rows of flickering monitors, someone adjusted the feed.
All five screens were active now.
Five names. Five files. Five fates.
The fifth chair was no longer empty.
The trial had begun.
And Arwa?
She was already being watched.
But so were the others.
And only four would leave the circle.