Ivy didn't remember walking back to the real Morley.
She didn't remember how her feet carried her through the shimmering crack between the ripple-space and the hallway behind the art wing, or how her hand reached out on its own to push open a door that didn't exist yesterday.
She just was there.
And Arlo was already waiting.
He stood with his back to the wall beside the girl's restroom, holding the broken mirror shard she'd left behind. The name carved into the glass—Mirelen—was still there.
He didn't speak until she did.
"I saw her again," Ivy whispered.
"Which one?"
"Calla," she said. "But not the one I know. The Veil's version. The one who took the Crown."
Arlo's jaw tightened.
"She told me I erased Eli."
Arlo looked down at the shard, the jagged edge of it catching the dull hallway light. "Maybe you did. Maybe you didn't."
"That's not helpful."
"It's not supposed to be," he said softly.
He looked up then—and his expression changed. Not shocked. But sharper.
"You're marked again."
Ivy glanced down at her wrist.
The violet crown sigil that had once curled gently across her skin now pulsed with three pointed arcs.
"Second mark," Arlo said. "The second word."
"You knew this would happen?"
"I hoped it wouldn't."
Ivy stepped back. "What does it mean?"
"It means you've passed the second threshold," said a third voice.
She turned quickly.
Professor Mire stood at the edge of the hallway like she had always been there.
No clipboard. No ID. Just the ripple-silver hair and the eyes that never looked surprised.
"Come with me," she said.
Ivy hesitated. "Where?"
"You've met versions of yourself in the Veil," Mire said. "Now it's time to meet the ones who remember who you were."
---
She led them to the West Wing—past the ripple lockers, past the janitor's stairwell, down a hallway Ivy hadn't noticed in any map or walkthrough of the building.
The air grew colder.
The lights dimmed.
The walls narrowed until it felt more like walking into a memory than a place.
Then Mire touched a loose brick in the wall and whispered the word Ivy had spoken just hours ago.
"Kiren'velleth."
The wall dissolved.
Behind it: a narrow stairwell, spiraling downward, lit only by candlelight.
They descended in silence.
At the bottom was a wooden door with no handle—just a mirrored surface set into its center.
It didn't reflect Ivy as she was.
It reflected her as she used to be.
Crowned. Eyes glowing faint silver. Mouth open as if speaking something ancient.
The door clicked open.
Inside, a circular chamber stretched wide with bookshelves pressed against every wall and seven figures seated at a round table of glass and salt-stone.
Some were old.
Some were not.
But they all turned when Ivy entered.
And each one whispered a single name, in perfect unison:
"Mirelen."
Ivy froze.
She didn't remember any of them.
But they remembered her.
---
Mire stepped forward. "This is the surviving memory council of the Crownwoken. Hidden under the skin of Morley since your fall."
"I didn't fall," Ivy whispered.
A voice at the table spoke—an older woman with raven-colored robes and a serpent glyph woven into her collar.
"You were pushed."
"Your memory was fractured and buried," another added. "Your magic sealed. Your bond with Eli broken by design."
Ivy shook her head. "I don't remember any of this."
"You don't have to," a younger man said. "You lived it. The Veil remembers."
Arlo stepped beside her.
"You were the Crown's last heir," he said quietly. "And they locked you in the only prison they couldn't guard—your own rewritten life."
Ivy swayed slightly.
"I'm not ready for this," she murmured.
Mire stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You're not here to carry the past," she said. "You're here because the third word is waking. And we can't let you speak it without knowing what it costs."
---
Back in her dorm room that night, Ivy stared at her reflection in the dark mirror above her desk.
She didn't look different.
But her eyes… they weren't just hers anymore.
Behind her, Eli flickered.
Not walking. Not breathing.
Just there.
Fading in and out like a signal caught between timelines.
"Ivy," he said softly. "I need your help."
She turned slowly.
"You're not stable."
"I'm being erased."
"What do you want me to do?"
Eli stepped closer.
And placed something cold into her hand.
A small, broken crown of mirrored glass.
"I need you," he whispered, "to remember why you shattered this the first time."
---
End of Chapter Sixteen