Gray gasped weakly. His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat clinging to his skin despite the cool air that drifted from the vents above. His eyes darted around the dim dorm room, heart pounding as if it hadn't yet realized the nightmare was over.
For a long moment, he lay there, staring at the ceiling. The dream still burned behind his eyes—the mountain splitting apart, the thunderous sound of stone collapsing into nothing, and the white-haired boy standing within the void, white eyes fixed on him.
And then… the words.
They still echoed faintly in his mind, like whispers trapped beneath layers of thought.
"Vh'laen… dosk thrynn… ashaar…"
The syllables were sharp and fluid at once, neither familiar nor human. He mouthed them softly, tasting each strange sound. The moment he did, a faint chill slithered down his spine, as though something unseen had brushed the edge of his consciousness.
"What the hell…" he whispered, sitting upright. His breath was ragged, the remnants of fear clinging to him like a shadow that refused to fade.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his thoughts. "That mountain… that boy… and those words." His voice cracked slightly. "What was any of that?"
He tried to recall every detail, forcing the memory to replay. The mountain's peak—impossibly high, breaking the clouds. The shattering, the void, the boy turning with eyes that bled color. Had he really entered his mind?
And the words…
He froze.
He'd heard them before.
But where?
He couldn't remember exactly. Maybe in passing—a whisper in a corridor, a page in one of the texts about strain awakenings. The fragments slipped away before he could grasp them.
Gray swung his legs off the bed and stood, the chill of the floor biting at his feet. He moved on instinct, crossing to the small bathroom at the end of the dorm. The cold water from the shower hit his skin, forcing his thoughts to slow. For a few moments, there was only the steady rhythm of droplets striking tile.
When he stepped out, towel around his shoulders, his eyes landed on the dim glow of the computer across the room. It sat quietly atop the desk, its black screen reflecting the faint morning light that spilled through the window.
He remembered something the man had mentioned when he first entered his room. The system had a search function, meant to be used for specific purposes.
Maybe he could look it up.
Gray sat down and pressed the button on the side. The screen flared to life with a faint hum. Strange icons filled the surface. He squinted, reading through them until his eyes found one word that made sense: Search.
He clicked it, though it took him a few awkward tries to realize the mouse was the key. The cursor jerked wildly as he fumbled with the device before finally settling in the search bar.
"Alright…" he muttered, typing slowly, approximating the sounds as best he could remember: Vlaen dosk trynn ashaar.
The search ran for a moment. The blue circle spun.
Then—nothing.
Only one result blinked on the screen, faint and unmarked, its title half-erased by digital static. Gray leaned forward, heart thudding. He clicked.
The screen flashed white—then threw him back to the homepage.
He frowned and clicked again. The same thing happened.
"Come on…" he whispered, trying once more. Again, he was thrown back. This time the message "ACCESS RESTRICTED — ARCHIVE CLASSIFIED" flickered faintly before vanishing.
He stared at the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to do. Someone, or something, was blocking it.
He leaned back slowly, jaw tightening. "So even here, I can't look into it…"
For a long time, he sat motionless, staring at his faint reflection on the black screen. Finally, he exhaled and stood. "Library, then," he murmured. "Later."
His eyes flicked toward the wristband at his arm. The surface shimmered faintly, displaying the day's schedule: only one class. Corruption Theory.
He sighed, rubbing the side of his temple. "Guess I'll start there."
***
The classroom was quiet when he arrived, rows of curved seats descending toward a raised central platform. Pale blue lights traced the edges of the ceiling, humming faintly. A few students were already seated —among them, a familiar figure with silver hair and amethyst eyes.
Adel sat slouched in her chair, spinning a pen lazily between her fingers. She glanced up the moment Gray walked in, her lips curling into a grin.
"Well, look who actually decided to show up," she said, tilting her head. "You look like death. Rough night?"
Gray hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Something like that."
"Dreams?" she guessed, voice teasing but not unkind.
"Yeah," he admitted quietly.
Adel twirled the pen once more, her grin softening. "You might want to take a nap after class. You don't look too bright."
He gave a weak smile. "I'll try."
Before she could say more, the instructor entered. The man was older, hair streaked with silver, a long coat of dark navy trailing behind him. He carried no books—only a small crystal sphere that pulsed faintly in his palm.
"Settle down," he said. His voice carried a weight that silenced the low chatter.
The lights dimmed slightly. The crystal floated above him, projecting symbols into the air. They shimmered—spiraling patterns of violet and black, slow and almost alive.
"Today," he began, "we discuss Corruption."
The word alone was enough to draw a murmur from the class. The instructor raised a hand.
"Corruption," he continued, "is one of the two divine forces that descended upon Nyxterra at the dawn of our era. The other, as you know, is Purity. Both are opposites—not in morality, but in function. Purity seeks to stabilize Vyre, to bind it into order. Corruption… unravels it."
The image above him shifted, the colors twisting into chaotic strands that burst outward like a star imploding.
"Corruption is not inherently evil," he said, pacing slowly. "It is entropy given form. A principle of decay. Of change. The end of all that resists it. And yet, without it, no evolution would occur. No adaptation. No rebirth."
Gray leaned forward slightly. The words struck something within him—that same strange chill he'd felt when the whispers echoed in his mind.
The instructor's gaze swept across the class. "For decades, scholars have attempted to understand its core. We have measured corruption through exposure, studied its effects on the soul, the strain, and even the body's Vyre veins. But despite all our progress… not a single major revelation has been confirmed. We understand its symptoms, not its nature."
He raised the sphere, and the projections dimmed until only one line of text hovered in the air:
"Corruption is the breath between death and rebirth."
A hush filled the room.
Adel leaned toward Gray and whispered, "Sounds poetic. Also creepy."
Gray almost smiled. "Both, yeah."
The instructor continued, his tone heavy with conviction. "Remember this: Corruption is not something to fear. It is something to respect. For those who think themselves immune…" His eyes darkened. "They do not last long."
The bell tone echoed through the room, soft but final. The projections dissolved, and the students began to rise. The class was short, but informative.
Adel stretched, stifling a yawn. "Well, that was cheerful." She stood, brushing her silver hair over one shoulder. "Where're you headed now? The others are probably in the canteen."
Gray paused, looking at the faint glow of his wristband. "I'll be there," he said. "Just… after a quick stop."
Adel raised an eyebrow. "Library? I heard from Renn you already went there and proceeded to be late to your next class. You're really making a bad habit of that."
"Yeah yeah i know, luckily I only have one class today."
She grinned, walking past him. "Try not to find any cursed tomes, yeah?"
Gray watched her go, the smile fading slowly from his lips.
When the classroom emptied, he exhaled and turned toward the exit. The corridors outside were quiet, the hum of energy through the walls constant. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the towering doors at the far end—the entrance to the Sanctuary's library.
The words still echoed faintly in his head.
"Vh'laen… dosk thrynn… ashaar…"
And for the first time, he wasn't sure if they were calling to him—or from within him.