As Samuel, Owen, Jace, and Ava walked through the quiet streets of the city, everything around them felt reborn. The air was crisp and cold, brushing softly against their skin like a sigh of relief from the world itself. The smell of rust, rot, blood—gone. In its place came oxygen. Clean, untainted, and fresh.
They strolled along the pavement, their steps slow, as if savoring every moment of peace. Above them, the sky was painted in hues of soft pink and gentle blue, streaked with cotton-white clouds. Though there was no sun, the light of dawn embraced the horizon like a silent promise.
Ava looked up, her expression calm yet curious.
"There is no sun?" she asked.
Owen let out a breathy chuckle, the sound light but tired—like a man who'd just been to war and was finally allowed to sleep.
"No, there isn't," he replied, his voice carrying a strange comfort. No threats lurked here. No puzzles. No death.
Ava didn't respond. She just nodded and continued gazing at the sky. She hadn't realized how long it had been since she took a breath that didn't carry the weight of fear. She inhaled slowly, and it hit her lungs like magic. Like breathing for the first time.
It was a rush of something indescribable. The air entered her chest and lit every nerve, awakened every cell. Her eyelids, once heavy with fatigue and despair, now opened fully. The tightness in her ribs was gone. Her dizziness faded. Her thoughts—normally clouded with trauma and dread—felt light for the first time in forever.
She was alive.
And then, the thought came.
If Elliot were still here…
The idea stabbed at her. A silent wound that throbbed quietly under her ribs. Her throat clenched, her eyes misted.
If he had survived, they could've stood here together. Holding hands. Sharing this morning. She imagined it for a second—just a second—and a soft warmth spread across her chest.
A part of her didn't want to let go of that imagined version of reality.
There are moments like this that exist outside of time—and where air smells like something that could've been a reality.
Ava wasn't the only one who felt the weight lifting off her chest. Jace, Samuel, and Owen walked alongside her, each of them silent—but not in discomfort. It was the kind of silence that made space for healing. The air, cool and gentle, brushed against their skin like a balm. The sky, streaked in pastel hues, looked almost surreal. The war was over—for now—and they were still standing.
Their minds slowly unclenched, releasing thoughts they hadn't dared to process. The fear, the blood, the twisted games—it all felt like a distant echo now, dulled under the soft embrace of the breeze. But while their minds were beginning to heal, their bodies reminded them otherwise—bruised, beaten, and aching for rest.
Samuel let out a long sigh, his eyes lifting toward the painted sky.
"We really survived that, huh?"
Owen, walking beside him, gave a tired nod, his hands buried in his jacket pockets.
"Yup… we did."
Samuel stretched his arms behind his back, but the motion made him wince. His ribs flared with pain from the brutal fight with Victor. He breathed through it and glanced at Jace, who, as always, walked a step behind, quiet and unreadable.
"Hey," Samuel said, looking over his shoulder at him. "You haven't said much. How are you holding up?"
Jace didn't answer right away. He walked a few more paces, his eyes focused on the pavement ahead. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low but clear.
"Tired."
He paused.
"But I'm glad we made it. That's all that matters right now."
There was something simple and honest in the way he said it. No elaborate words, no forced optimism. Just truth.
Owen gave a faint smile, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
"That's the most you've said in hours, man."
Jace almost smiled. Almost.
They kept walking, their steps in sync, the city welcoming them back like old friends returning from a long, dark journey. Peace, for now, wrapped itself around their shoulders like a warm blanket.
"Well. That's good, Jace," Samuel replied, giving him a nod before looking ahead again.
But as they walked a few more steps, something tugged at Samuel's attention. He slowed down, just a bit, and turned his head for one final glance.
The tower still stood there—cold, towering, eternal. Its dark silhouette stretched up toward the sky, untouched by the dawn's gentle light. It looked dormant now, like a beast that had gone back to sleep.
But Samuel knew better.
He stared at it for a moment longer, the others walking slightly ahead of him, unaware of the heavy thought that coiled in his chest.
"We'll be back."
"Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, we'll have to walk back through that door. We'll have to go into that madness again. For others. For answers. For ourselves."
"The tower won't just take you once and forget you. It will remember us. And eventually... it will definitely call us again."
He didn't hate the tower. No. What he felt was stranger—respect, maybe even understanding. It was the cruel guardian of every phase, every truth they needed to find. As much as he wished they could forget it forever, deep down, Samuel knew—
"The story isn't over."
He turned back around, picking up his pace to rejoin the group. The wind picked up behind him, gently brushing at his back like a whisper.
"But not today," he murmured under his breath.
Not today.
And definitely not until the other member's are back from the tower as well.
The walk toward the hotel felt like a blur. After everything they'd endured, the clean streets and gentle morning breeze made it feel almost unreal—like a dream stitched from exhaustion and relief.
But even with the calm air and peaceful surroundings, there was a faint sense of unease between them. They were about to meet someone new— Jonathan.
Samuel's mind lingered on that name. Jonathan. The others—Ethan, Alice, Kacey—they had spoken of him, but never in detail. Jonathan had appeared injured, broken, as if he'd been through hell before ever stepping foot into the phase. And the one responsible for that damage… Jason Todd.
"He came from him," Samuel thought quietly. "But we'll leave that truth untouched. For now."
They approached the hotel.
Owen stepped forward first and pushed open the door, leading the way inside. Ava hesitated slightly behind him, her hands clenched, uncertain. Jace followed in silence, and Samuel brought up the rear, scanning the quiet lobby as the door closed behind them with a soft click.
Finally, they could relax.
Or so they thought.
Soft footsteps echoed from upstairs—someone descending with purpose. A door creaked open, followed by more hurried steps.
Ava's heart skipped. She hadn't met anyone outside the doomed members of her old group.
Everyone she had known was gone—Elliot, even the background voices of strangers who had died without names. Now, she was about to meet someone entirely new. Someone from outside the nightmare.
Owen glanced toward the sound, dropped his bag of supplies onto the nearby table with a thud, and sighed as he sank into a chair.
"I guess that's Noah," he muttered.
Samuel stayed near the entrance, quietly watching, while Jace walked further in, pulling out a chair to sit beside Owen.
The footsteps grew louder—faster now.
And then, from the stairwell, a figure emerged.
A young boy. Maybe fourteen. Short, wiry frame, with tousled dark hair and sharp eyes widened in panic the moment he laid eyes on the group.
He froze.
And then—
"NOAH!!"
"THERE ARE INTRUDERS IN HERE!!"
The boy's voice cracked with fear as he yelled, stepping back into the stairwell defensively.
Samuel stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.
"What?!"
Owen pushed himself out of the chair with a grunt, half-confused, half-annoyed.
"Intruders?! What the hell is this kid even talking about?"
The young boy, clearly panicked, darted back up the stairs without even looking back. His voice echoed down the hallway:
"NOAH! MADISON! WAKE UP! THERE ARE PEOPLE DOWNSTAIRS—INTRUDERS!"
Ava instinctively moved behind Samuel, her voice small and shaken.
"Intruders? What does he mean? Are we... not supposed to be here?"
Samuel kept his eyes on the stairs, jaw tight.
"I literally have no idea."
Owen shrugged, throwing up his arms in disbelief.
"We've never even seen that kid before. But if he knows Noah..."
Samuel and Owen exchanged a quick glance, confusion growing between them.
Then Jace finally spoke, calm and observant.
"Maybe while we were inside the tower... someone else showed up. Maybe more survivors found this phase."
The idea made everyone go quiet for a second. It made sense. Unsettling—but possible.
Ava looked at each of them, her voice quiet.
"So... you guys really don't know him?"
Owen shook his head.
"Nope. Not a clue. But he seems to know us, or at least thinks we're not supposed to be here."
Without waiting for a response, Owen sighed and started walking toward the stairs, motioning for the others to follow.
From upstairs, they could hear the muffled commotion—the boy's frantic voice rising:
"Madison, get up! Noah, seriously—wake up! There are people downstairs! I saw them! I think they broke in!"
Footsteps shuffled across the floor above. Furniture creaked. A door slammed.
Samuel placed a calming hand on Ava's shoulder before stepping toward the stairs.
"Let's go talk to them. Clear this up before it gets even more out of hand."
Ava nodded slowly, still clinging to Samuel's presence like an anchor. Jace followed close behind, one hand casually resting on his weapon—not out of aggression, but out of instinct.
Samuel, Owen, Ava, and Jace climbed the stairs, their footsteps slow, cautious. The hallway at the top was dimly lit, a faint hum of wind coming through the narrow windows. At the far end, the boy who had called them intruders stood stiff, clearly rattled, eyes flicking between them and the door behind him.
Then it opened.
Noah stepped out first, rubbing his eyes, half-awake. But the moment he saw them—he froze.
Right behind him, a girl appeared. She stood just a little taller than the boy—maybe 5'4—with long, dark brunette hair cascading past her shoulders. Her skin had a soft, golden tan, and her build was curvy—noticeably so, even in the loose, worn clothes she wore: long cotton trousers and an oversized t-shirt that did little to hide her figure. Her face was striking, almost model-like—high cheekbones, full pink lips, deep brown eyes lined with long lashes, and a narrow jawline. Despite her petite frame, she exuded a mature presence, calm and watchful.
She looked like she could be the boy's older sister—close in appearance but clearly more aware of what was happening.
Noah's tired expression shifted to disbelief the moment his gaze fell on the group.
"Samuel? Owen? Jace?" Then he noticed Ava, unfamiliar to him.
"You guys are—"
Owen stepped forward, lips tugging upward, exhausted but alive.
"Back."
The tension that hung in the hallway finally broke.
The boy blinked rapidly, turning to the girl—Madison—who narrowed her eyes slightly but relaxed when she saw Noah didn't seem alarmed anymore.
They sat around the large dining table, the golden morning light spilling in through the hotel's arched windows. Madison moved briskly in the open-concept kitchen, preparing a hot meal for the exhausted survivors. Her younger brother, Logan, hovered beside her, trying to be helpful—handing over utensils, pouring juice, fetching bread. The scent of sizzling eggs, toast, and something sweet wafted through the air.
Meanwhile, in the adjoining dining room, Noah sat across from Samuel, Owen, Jace, and Ava. His brows furrowed in confusion as he scanned their weary faces—bruises, scratches, and bandages told a story before any of them spoke. They had cleaned up, but the exhaustion in their eyes remained sharp.
"What happened?" Noah asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern. "Where are the others?"
No one answered at first. Samuel leaned back in the chair, sighing, his fingers tapping slowly against the table. The silence stretched. Ava looked down. Jace remained still.
Owen finally spoke up, voice low and steady.
"It's... a lot."
Noah waited patiently, and so Owen continued.
"When we entered the tower, we found out it's a central hub—like a spine connecting every phase. All 9,999 of them. The tower links them all together... and lets us travel between them."
Noah blinked, his expression unreadable.
"That's insane."
Owen nodded grimly.
"Yeah. But we couldn't leave the tower. Not unless we completed at least one phase. That's one of the rules."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice growing more serious.
"There's something called the Echo Effect. If someone died in a phase... we relive their final moments. Their pain, fear—everything. It's like we become them, just for that instant." Owen hesitated. "It nearly broke us."
Noah's eyes widened, saying nothing.
"And then," Owen gestured toward the red wristbands on their arms, "we found these—Bands of Conjunction. If we don't wear them, we get scattered randomly to different phases. With them, we stick together."
Owen kept going.
"Only four people can go into a phase at a time. We had to split up. But Kacey got pulled in too, so our plans shifted. Ethan, Milo, Lena, and Riley went to Phase 5. Nathan, Ivy, Alice, and Harper to Phase 20. Derek, Toby, Zara, and Kacey were sent to 25. We skipped Phase 15 because we assumed someone had already died there—and we didn't want to face another echo."
Noah remained silent, absorbing everything.
"Samuel, Jace, Victor, and I went to Phase 10," Owen said. "That's where we met Ava. It was... hell. Horrifying. We thought we were finally done, but turns out—there was a hidden key to escape, and it wasn't even mentioned in the rules."
Owen looked over at Samuel.
"Victor had taken the key. Before we even knew it existed. Samuel figured out he was the traitor."
"We fought him," Samuel said, his voice low and bitter. "Almost died. Ava too."
"Jace nearly killed him," Owen added. "Victor dropped the key and ran. We let him go. The tower will probably kill him... eventually."
Noah wasn't exactly shocked—but the weight of it still settled in his chest like a stone.
"Damn, he actually…?" he mumbled. "Did he really do that?"
Samuel nodded slowly, his expression blank.
"Yeah. And he was actually really strong."
Jace, who had remained quiet for most of the talk, spoke up with a low voice.
"He was skilled. I think he used to practice martial arts." He paused, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Though... his technique went far beyond anything you'd expect from a high-level fighter."
Noah's brow furrowed. He leaned forward, burying his face in one hand. "Trusting Victor was a mistake…"
Owen nodded silently in agreement. No one argued.
A heavy silence followed, not uncomfortable—just tired.
Samuel finally leaned back and exhaled a deep breath.
"Let's just... forget about everything. And try to rest a bit."
Noah looked up at them, offering a faint smile of understanding.
"Yeah. You all should relax. For now... we wait. For the others."
Everyone nodded.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity—there was no screaming, no dread, no entities chasing them through a twisted nightmare. Just the hum of life returning to stillness... and a much-needed breath of peace.
Logan came walking in, balancing glasses of orange and apple juice in both hands. His steps were slower now—clearly a little awkward after the commotion he'd caused earlier by screaming about intruders.
He placed the drinks carefully on the table, setting one beside Owen.
Then he glanced up at him.
"I—" he hesitated, then looked away.
"I'm really sorry, alright?"
"I didn't know where you guys were from."
"Plus, you all looked like people from absolute wreckage slums."
"Anyone would've gotten shocked."
Owen raised an eyebrow at that, then looked down at himself. His clothes were still torn at the edges, dirt and old blood faintly marking the fabric. His hair was a mess. They really did look awful before arriving.
He snorted.
"Fair enough."
"I probably would've called us intruders too."
As Logan gave a small, relieved shrug, Madison walked in behind him, holding a warm bowl of oatmeal. She placed it gently in front of Noah without saying a word.
As Madison leaned forward to serve the oatmeal to Noah, her oversized shirt shifted slightly. The fabric dipped just enough to reveal a subtle glimpse of cleavage, her movements unintentional but undeniably graceful. Her legs bent inward with a natural curve, hips accentuated under the loose trousers that still did little to hide her seductive shape. A strand of her dark brunette hair slipped from behind her ear, cascading forward as she gently tucked it back. The faint scent of vanilla trailed from her — soft, warm, and lingering.
Noah froze.
His face flushed instantly — a deep, obvious blush spreading across his cheeks.
Jace noticed but remained silent, expression unreadable. Owen and Logan, on the other hand, exchanged a look — Logan arching a brow, Owen stifling a quiet chuckle under his breath.
Ava's gaze shifted between Madison and Noah, lips slightly parted as she watched the awkward energy rise. She looked unsure, not out of jealousy — but maybe nervousness at connecting with someone new.
Logan let out a soft sigh, clearly recognizing what was going on but choosing not to comment.
Samuel, meanwhile, was too drained to care. Slouched back in his chair, he looked half-asleep — completely oblivious to the minor drama unfolding.
Then Madison spoke, her voice smooth and angelic, almost melodic — a feminine, mellow tone that filled the room like a warm breeze.
"Maybe before eating the breakfast I've prepared…"
She glanced around at all of them — Noah included.
"…you all should shower and clean up?"
She gave a light pause, her lips curling into a slight smile.
"You guys kinda…" she tilted her head, playful but honest."…smell."
The room went quiet for a second, her delivery unexpectedly charming.
She might've been petite, but her presence was commanding — effortlessly womanly in a way that stood apart from anyone they'd met. There was power in her softness.
Samuel blinked up at her from his chair and gave a slow nod.
"Yeah… that's fair."
Owen stretched his back, groaning as he stood.
"I could use a damn shower."
Jace simply nodded, and Ava gave a small shrug in agreement.
Then Madison turned to Ava directly, her eyes warm, expression gentle.
"Ava, maybe you could come with me?"
She smiled — welcoming, not forced, like a silent offer of sisterhood.
Ava hesitated for a second, then nodded softly, visibly relaxing at the invitation.