The key was colder than it should've been.
It hung from Zephryn's hand like something ancient—etched with silver lines that didn't shimmer so much as hum, faintly, when he passed through the threshold of the Harmonic Lyceum.
The doors had been opened for them.
And yet, the silence felt earned.
Kaelen stepped in first, his boots thudding against the stone floor with a soldier's weight. Yolti followed, glancing back only once before letting the scarf around her neck settle. Selka didn't say anything, but she paused when they crossed the threshold—as if the air caught her, or maybe she caught it.
Zephryn moved last.
The dormitory hall curved like a crescent, its walls glowing faintly with glyphlight. Not from lanterns or fire, but from the stones themselves. The air felt watched, not in the way danger feels—but in the way old things remember.
Each door bore a sigil:
One shaped like flame.
One shaped like mist.
One shaped like wings.
One shaped like silence.
And when Zephryn stepped past the third, his key began to tremble.
"Fourth door," Kaelen said, stopping. "That's yours."
Zephryn nodded and approached.
The key clicked before he even turned it. The door creaked open slow—like it had been holding its breath for years.
Inside, the dorm was simple: a desk, a bed, and a circular window rimmed in obsidian. But on the far wall, carved just above the pillow, was something none of them expected.
A mark.
Not a name.
Not a number.
But a Veilmark symbol—silvered, cracked, and glowing faint.
Yolti was the first to whisper.
"That's the same mark Sarien wore."
Kaelen's voice dropped. "No way they knew."
Selka stepped forward, placed her hand against the stone, and for the first time since entering, she spoke.
"They always knew."
Zephryn didn't say anything.
He walked forward, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at the mark above him.
Then quietly, he whispered:
"This isn't a dorm."
Kaelen turned. "Then what is it?"
Zephryn looked up, eyes steady.
"It's a memory. And someone wanted me to live in it."
The hum returned.
Subtle. Soft. Just enough to make the glass tremble in the circular window.
And for the first time in years, Zephryn didn't flinch.
He listened.