It started with a whisper.
Blair froze mid-step. "Did you hear that?"
Everyone paused in the middle of the winding tunnel. The air was thick, damp, and humming with something strange—not quite magic, not quite alive. Then it came again.
A voice. Faint, echoing. Not Keitha's usual whispers.
But someone else.
"Help us..."
Zora's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't the city."
"No," Enzo muttered. "That was human."
They followed the sound deeper through the ruins, into a passage overgrown with glowing vines and thick fog. The way forward pulsed beneath their feet, as if Keitha wanted them to go there—but for once, it didn't feel like a test.
It felt like a warning.
They emerged into a massive underground chamber. Cracked lanterns hung from stalactites. Broken stone benches lined the edges like a long-forgotten courtroom. In the center stood a large circular platform, etched with the same ancient symbols from Athena's sketchbook.
Then... figures stepped into the light.
People.
Not illusions. Not visions. Real people—in tattered clothing, eyes wary and wide. Their skin had a faint shimmer to it, as if Keitha's magic had soaked into them over time. Some looked barely older than the AMP Squad. Others looked ageless.
"Who..." Sylvia whispered. "Who are they?"
A woman stepped forward, her silver-streaked hair tied back in a tight braid. Her gaze was piercing. "We are the Banished Ones."
Silence.
"You mean like—ghosts?" Asher asked.
The woman shook her head. "We were the first. Explorers. Scholars. Survivors. Keitha let us in. But... we broke the rules. And the city doesn't forgive easily."
Blair stepped closer, cautious. "How long have you been here?"
"Time doesn't flow the same in Keitha," another replied. "For you, maybe weeks. For us, it's been decades. Centuries, perhaps."
Athena clutched her sketchbook tightly. "Why didn't you leave?"
"We tried," a younger girl with green eyes snapped. "But once Keitha marks you as unworthy, it closes every door. We're stuck in the in-between. Not dead. Not truly living. Just... forgotten."
Enzo frowned. "But you're still here. Breathing. Talking."
"Because we adapted," the leader replied. "We stopped fighting her. Learned to speak her language. To hide from her storms. We survived."
Zora stepped forward, eyes scanning the room. "Why show yourselves now?"
"Because you're different," the woman said, locking eyes with her. "The city hasn't rejected you. Not yet. But it will. It always does."
The words sank into them like ice.
Keitha had already started to glitch. Their powers were changing. Their dreams were darker. The city's trials were growing crueler. Was this their future?
Athena stepped forward. "You're not cursed. You're a warning."
The Banished leader nodded. "We are what happens when you lose yourselves. When fear outweighs unity. When you forget who you are."
Sylvia's voice was barely above a whisper. "So how do we stop that from happening?"
"You stay together," the woman said simply. "No matter what. Because Keitha feeds on division. Doubt. Isolation. She lures you in with beauty, then turns you against each other."
Blair looked around at her friends—Zora, Enzo, Axel, Asher, Athena, Sylvia. Her heart beat faster. "Then we won't give her that chance."
"You say that now," the green-eyed girl muttered. "We said it too."
Before they left, the Banished Ones handed them a carved medallion—ancient, glowing faintly.
"If the city closes in... this may buy you time," the leader said.
They turned to leave, but Athena looked back.
"Do you want us to try to save you?"
For a moment, the woman's expression cracked. Her voice was softer now.
"If there's still a way... we forgot how to hope. Maybe you'll remember."
Back in the AMP House, no one spoke for a while. The encounter had shaken them. For once, it wasn't about magic or monsters.
It was about what they could become.
Late that night, Axel stood at the window, staring into the jungle.
"We're not ending up like them," he whispered.
Behind him, Sylvia answered quietly.
"Then we better stay human... even if the city tries to make us something else."
Keitha rustled outside.
Listening. Watching. Waiting.