CHAPTER FIVE–The Thing That Answers....
The sound didn't stop.
It rolled beneath the observatory like thunder trapped underground, low and endless, vibrating through stone and bone alike. I pressed my hands to my chest, breath shallow, because whatever it was whatever had woken it felt too close. Too aware.
Lucien was the first to move.
He took a careful step back, eyes no longer amused, no longer polite. "That," he said softly, "is earlier than expected."
Caelen didn't answer. He stood rigid, shoulders squared, like his body had slipped into some instinctual stance he didn't need to think about. His eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight silver, sharp.
"What is it?" I asked.
The ground pulsed again.
Caelen finally spoke. "The fail-safe."
"The what?"
Lucien glanced at him, irritation flickering. "You told her nothing, then?"
"I told her what she needed to survive," Caelen snapped. "Not this."
My head spun. "I'm standing right here."
"Yes," Lucien said quietly, "and that is precisely the problem."
The sound deepened, stretching into something that felt almost like… breathing.
In.
Out.
The observatory dome creaked above us, ancient metal protesting as hairline cracks spread across its surface.
I took a step back. "We should leave."
Lucien shook his head. "It's already listening."
My stomach dropped. "Listening to what?"
"To you," he replied.
The word hit harder than the sound itself.
Me.
Another pulse surged through the ground, stronger this time. I cried out as heat flared in my veins sharp, sudden, unbearable. It felt like my blood had been poured into fire.
Caelen was at my side instantly. He didn't touch me, but his presence grounded me, like an anchor.
"Focus," he said urgently. "Don't answer it."
"I'm not" My voice broke. "I don't even know how."
Lucien watched us closely, eyes dark with calculation. "Instinct doesn't need language."
The vibration climbed my spine, settling at the base of my skull. Images flashed behind my eyes stone halls, old symbols, blood soaking into earth that had seen too much history.
I staggered.
The world tilted.
And then
Silence.
Not the absence of sound.
The weight of it.
The ground stilled. The night air went unnaturally calm, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Lucien exhaled slowly. "Interesting."
Caelen swore. "Damn it."
I clutched my head, heart racing. "Make it stop."
Lucien looked at me, something like awe slipping through his carefully constructed composure. "You didn't answer it," he said. "You acknowledged it."
"That's worse, isn't it?" I whispered.
"Yes," he admitted. "Much."
---
We didn't stay at the observatory.
Caelen insisted on walking me back, and for once, Lucien didn't argue. He peeled away at the edge of the quad, disappearing into shadow with a final look that promised unfinished business.
"Sleep," he called softly. "Your dreams may not be yours tonight."
I didn't respond.
The walk back felt longer than it should have. The campus lights flickered occasionally, casting shadows that lagged just a fraction of a second behind their owners.
I noticed.
Caelen noticed that I noticed.
"Tell me," I said quietly, breaking the silence. "What is that thing beneath Blackridge?"
He didn't answer right away.
"That's not comforting," I added.
He sighed. "It's not a thing. Not really."
"Then what is it?"
"A mechanism," he said. "A boundary."
I frowned. "That doesn't explain anything."
"It does," he replied. "Just not in a way you'll like."
We stopped near the dorm entrance. The building loomed above us, warm lights glowing in the windows like nothing was wrong.
"Blackridge was built on a convergence point," Caelen continued. "A place where bloodlines overlap. Where anomalies… happen."
"Like me."
"Yes."
I swallowed. "And the fail-safe?"
"It was created to detect and suppress contradictions."
I stared at him. "Suppress how?"
His jaw tightened. "By erasing them."
My chest felt hollow. "So it woke up because of me."
"It stirred," he corrected. "Because you're here."
"And it answers when I react," I finished.
"Yes."
I let out a shaky laugh. "That's great. Truly."
Caelen's gaze softened. "You're not alone."
"You keep saying that," I replied. "But everyone who notices me seems to have an opinion on whether I should exist."
He didn't argue.
That silence said everything.
---
I dreamed.
Not images memories.
Not mine.
Stone corridors stretched endlessly, carved with symbols that pulsed faintly with power. Voices echoed witches chanting, wolves howling, vampires whispering promises in languages I didn't understand.
At the center of it all was a chamber.
Empty.
Waiting.
I woke with a gasp, sheets twisted around my legs, heart hammering like I'd been running.
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
For a moment, I let myself pretend it had all been a nightmare.
Then I saw the mark.
It sat just below my collarbone, faint but unmistakable an intricate symbol pressed into my skin like a bruise shaped by intention. It glowed softly, then faded as I stared.
I pressed my fingers to it.
Warm.
Real.
"Oh no," I whispered.
Mila burst in mid-panic, toothbrush in hand. "Why are you whispering like that?"
I yanked my shirt up instinctively. "Nothing."
She squinted at me. "You sure? You look like you saw a ghost."
"Something like that."
She shrugged. "Okay, but hurry up. We have class, and apparently the administration sent out a notice."
My pulse spiked. "What kind of notice?"
"Something about 'structural concerns' and restricted areas," she said. "They're closing off part of campus."
I swallowed hard.
---
The restrictions spread fast.
Yellow tape blocked access to certain buildings. Security presence doubled. Professors avoided questions with practiced ease.
The campus was tightening around me.
Between classes, my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
You've been marked.
I stopped walking.
Me:
How do you know?
A pause.
Because I helped design the response.
My breath caught.
Me:
Is it permanent?
The reply came slower this time.
Not if you're careful.
I clenched my jaw. Careful how?
By choosing who you listen to.
Before I could reply, another message came through from a different number.
Caelen:
Do not answer anyone you don't trust.
I almost laughed.
Who exactly did that leave?
---
By late afternoon, the pressure behind my eyes returned, dull and persistent. The mark beneath my collarbone tingled faintly, reacting to something I couldn't see.
I skipped my last lecture and headed for the library.
Seraphina was waiting.
She stood near the restricted wing, hands folded, expression unreadable. When she saw me, her eyes flicked briefly to my collarbone.
"You're marked," she said.
"I figured that out."
Her lips thinned. "That complicates things."
"I'm past caring about complications," I snapped. "I want answers."
She studied me for a long moment. "Then you need to understand this."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a thin, old-looking folder. The pages inside were yellowed, edges worn.
"Your bloodline wasn't erased because it was dangerous," she said quietly. "It was erased because it was inconvenient."
I held the folder with shaking hands. "Inconvenient how?"
"Because hybrids like you don't break balance," she said. "You expose the lie that balance ever existed."
My throat tightened. "What lie?"
"That the world is fair," Seraphina replied. "That power follows rules."
She met my eyes.
"You are proof that it doesn't."
The mark beneath my skin pulsed faintly, warm and alive.
Outside, somewhere deep beneath Blackridge, the silence shifted again—not loud, not violent.
Patient.
Waiting for me to decide what to become.
---