The rest of the day passed like it wasn't entirely real.
The school bell rang late again—three minutes off. The announcements played twice. Half the cafeteria served soup that no one had ordered.
Ivy noticed it all.
But no one else did.
By fourth period, she sat in the back of Room 117 with her head resting on her arm, watching the light flicker through the blinds like Morse code.
No one sat in the desk beside her.
Arlo's desk.
She hadn't seen him since she collapsed in the courtyard. Since she met the girls in the mirror.
Since she heard them speak.
She closed her eyes and whispered under her breath, "It's not real. None of it's real."
But the air shimmered, just slightly.
And the girl in the front row turned her head—just for a second—and looked at Ivy like she'd heard it.
The bell rang.
Ivy didn't move.
The rest of the class stood and filed out.
Then someone spoke from behind her.
A voice she'd never heard before.
"You said the first word."
Ivy turned.
The teacher at the front of the class was not Ms. Halloran. Not the math teacher she'd had for two years.
This woman wore charcoal-gray robes. Her hair was silver—not dyed, not aged. Just silver. Her eyes glowed faintly violet in the shadows. And her badge read:
Professor Yseult Mire
She wasn't on the staff list.
She wasn't supposed to be real.
"Your name isn't on the roster," Ivy said quietly.
Professor Mire smiled like someone watching a test unfold.
"And yet here you are, Ivy Calen."
Ivy stood slowly.
"How do you know my name?"
"I knew all your names," Professor Mire said. "Before they were taken."
Ivy's pulse quickened.
"What was the word I said?" she asked.
Professor Mire turned back to the board.
In chalk, written in a symbol Ivy hadn't noticed before:
"Neh'varein"
The moment Ivy saw it, she remembered saying it.
Back in the orchard. In the mirror.
She hadn't even realized it was a word.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
Professor Mire's smile didn't change.
"It means anchor. In old Crownwoken tongue."
Ivy felt dizzy.
"You called something," Mire said. "And now it's listening."
Before Ivy could ask what—
Arlo appeared in the doorway.
His face was pale.
"There's a room," he said breathlessly. "A ripple room. Hidden in the geometry. It's shifting."
Professor Mire nodded, like this was inevitable.
"She's breached the threshold," she said.
"She has to close it," Arlo said.
"I don't know how!" Ivy snapped.
"You already said the word," Mire replied. "Now say it again, and mean it."
Ivy's heart raced.
"Neh'varein."
The air folded inward.
The windows shattered.
The lights died.
And somewhere down the hallway, a locker door slammed shut—even though no one had touched it.
Arlo looked at her like he recognized something.
"Ivy," he whispered. "You're not just remembering. You're waking it up."
---
End of Chapter Twelve