The clash between the two shadows no longer felt like a fight.
It had become a storm.
The white shadow moved with calm precision, every strike controlled, deliberate, like it still believed restraint could fix what was broken. The black shadow, on the other hand, burned with rage—every movement violent, every attack heavy enough to crack the space around them. When their blows met, the air shattered like glass, thunder roaring outward in invisible waves.
Each hit hurt them both.
Neither was willing to stop.
Lightning tore through the strange sky above them, illuminating fragments of memories frozen in midair—faces, screams, laughter, moments that no longer belonged to any timeline. The storm wasn't just around them anymore; it was them.
"You never listen," the black shadow snarled, its voice echoing like broken stone.
The white shadow didn't answer. It stood its ground, breathing slowly, as if forcing itself not to drown in the chaos. Its light flickered—not weak, but tired.
Far away from that destruction, unaware of how close the world was to tearing itself apart, Kim and Roger followed the two boys through the halls of a school that existed ten years in the past.
Peter walked ahead, blond hair catching the faint sunlight spilling through the corridor windows. His steps were confident, almost excited, as if the danger itself pushed him forward. Noah followed close behind, black hair shadowing his eyes, one hand gripping a small torch he'd found earlier. His shoulders were tense, his gaze sharp, always scanning.
Kim and Roger moved silently, like ghosts stitched into the memory.
"They can't see us," Roger whispered, though she already knew.
Kim nodded. "But this place… it feels like it knows we're here."
The school looked normal on the surface—lockers, posters on the walls, old notice boards filled with faded announcements. But the air felt heavy, charged, like something terrible had once happened and never truly left.
Peter stopped suddenly.
"There," he said, pointing ahead.
The music room.
The door stood at the end of the corridor, polished and ordinary, the same one Kim and Roger remembered from their own time. The sight sent a strange chill through them both.
Noah hesitated. "Peter… maybe we should stop."
Peter turned, eyes bright. "This is where she was last seen. If there are answers, they're in there."
Noah's jaw tightened. "Answers don't always want to be found."
Peter didn't reply. He reached for the handle.
Kim felt a pulse run through his chest. "Roger… this is it."
She swallowed. "Yeah. This place again."
Peter opened the door.
The music room looked… normal.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, dust floating lazily in the air. Instruments rested in their usual places—pianos, violins, drums—everything exactly how it should be. The faint smell of polished wood and old sheet music filled the room.
No signs of danger.
But that's what made it worse.
Peter stepped inside first, scanning the walls. "Nothing's changed."
Noah entered slowly, torch raised, though the room didn't need it. "That doesn't mean anything."
Kim and Roger followed, their eyes darting everywhere. Even as observers, their bodies tensed. This room held power—memory power, the kind that didn't fade with time.
Peter moved toward the shelves, flipping through old music sheets. "Elisabeth loved this room," he said softly. "She used to stay here even after classes."
Noah stood near the door, his back stiff. "And she disappeared right after."
A sound echoed.
Not loud.
Just… wrong.
A faint scrape, like something shifting where it shouldn't.
Noah froze. "Did you hear that?"
Peter looked up. "Hear what?"
The sound came again—closer this time.
Kim's breath caught. Roger instinctively stepped nearer to him.
"This memory is changing," she whispered.
Peter turned slowly, eyes narrowing. "Did you invite anyone else here?"
Noah's voice was rough. "No."
The door slammed shut.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the room, vibrating in the instruments. The windows rattled, the light flickered, and suddenly the air felt heavier—thicker, like it was pressing down on their lungs.
Peter rushed to the door, grabbing the handle. "Hey—what the hell?!"
It wouldn't budge.
No lock.
No chain.
Just… closed.
Noah raised the torch higher, his breathing uneven. "This place… this isn't right."
The temperature dropped.
The instruments began to hum softly, strings vibrating on their own, keys pressing down without hands. The sound wasn't music—it was a warning.
Kim felt his pulse spike. "This is exactly how it started for us."
Roger nodded, eyes wide. "The room wakes up."
Peter backed away from the shelves. "Noah… I don't like this."
Another movement.
This time, unmistakable.
Something was in the room with them.
The shadows in the corners thickened, stretching unnaturally along the walls. The hum grew louder, discordant, painful to hear.
Noah whispered, "We shouldn't have come."
The floor creaked beneath their feet, even though no one moved.
And then—
Silence.
Total, suffocating silence.
Far beyond the school, the two shadows collided again.
The storm intensified, thunder ripping through the space between worlds. The black shadow drove the white one back, energy flaring wildly.
"You think saving them mattered?" the black shadow roared. "Look at what it caused!"
The white shadow staggered but didn't fall. Its voice finally broke through the storm, low and strained.
"I wanted to save them."
The black shadow laughed bitterly. "I would've been happy if you had saved yourself that day."
The words hit harder than any blow.
For a fraction of a second, the white shadow faltered.
Memories surged around them—faces, names, screams swallowed by time.
But the fight didn't stop.
Back in the music room, Peter's breathing grew fast. "Elisabeth…" he called out, voice shaking. "If you're here—"
The hum turned into a sharp, piercing note.
Noah grabbed Peter's arm. "Stop. This place doesn't answer calls."
Kim clenched his fists. "They're triggering it. Just like we did."
Roger felt her chest tighten. "We can't help them. We're just watching history break again."
The walls seemed to close in, shadows crawling higher. The instruments began to play a twisted melody, one that didn't belong to any song.
Fear filled the room.
And the door remained shut.
Somewhere between worlds, thunder cracked again as the two shadows struck each other with renewed force—one fueled by regret, the other by rage.
Two memories unfolding.
Two timelines colliding.
One truth still buried.
And in the music room, the past was about to repeat itself—
whether anyone was ready for it or not.