The new opening was not in the shape of a door.
It was an error left open.
The walls in front of them did not separate: they became offset, as if two versions of the same corridor had decided no longer to align. The air trembled for an instant, then stabilized into something passable.
Aurelian was the first to move. Not impulsively. With armed caution.
"We go in and don't touch anything," he said. "If this is a passage granted by the Keepers, it means it is not neutral."
Cedric peered past the threshold. "Perfect. A corridor that lies. That's always how serious problems start."
Marikka took a step forward.
The mark on her wrist remained silent.
It wasn't guiding.
It wasn't warning.
It was just there.
The corridor on the other side looked normal. Too normal. Smooth stone, low shelves, regular lights. No strange vibration. No pressure.
Aurelian narrowed his eyes. "This sector should be closed."
"Should we close our eyes too and pretend it's open?" Cedric suggested.
They ventured in.
After a few meters, Marikka felt something ring false. Not a strong vibration. An absence.
The floor beneath her feet didn't react.
The walls didn't listen.
It was like walking in a place that pretended to be the Athenaeum.
"This place is not alive," she murmured.
Aurelian nodded immediately. "Structural replica. Used for tests, detours... or traps."
Cedric swallowed. "I hate replicas. Replicas are always worse than the original."
The corridor curved slightly. The shelves began to repeat. Same crack. Same crooked book. Same half-etched symbol.
"No," Cedric said, stopping. "No no no. We already passed that book."
Aurelian turned slowly. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Absolutely sure. It has a smudge that looks like a face. It judged me."
Marikka placed her hand on the spine of a book.
Nothing.
It wasn't mute.
It was empty.
"It's not registering our passage," she said. "This corridor does not remember."
Aurelian stiffened. "Then we are not just observed."
"We are replicable," Cedric concluded in a thin voice.
A noise came from behind.
Footsteps.
Not heavy.
Not regular.
Too... similar to theirs.
Aurelian drew a seal. "Don't turn around quickly."
Cedric whispered: "I don't like it when you say things that imply 'us' is behind us."
Marikka turned last.
Three figures were advancing down the corridor.
They had their height.
Their posture.
Even their way of walking.
But they had no vibration.
They were functional copies. Shells built to observe, follow, perhaps replace.
One of them spoke.
The voice was Aurelian's.
Without inflection.
"Stabilization procedure in progress."
The real Aurelian gritted his teeth. "Reflective containment protocol."
Cedric pointed to his own copy, which was tilting its head exactly like him. "I don't like it. That one is doing my panic face better than I am."
The copies advanced.
They weren't running.
They didn't need to.
Marikka felt her heart accelerate. Not out of pure fear, but instinct. Something inside her did not accept that presence.
The mark on her wrist warmed for the first time since they had left the Convergence Chamber.
It wasn't guiding.
It was reacting.
"Don't touch them!" Aurelian shouted. "If they make contact—"
Too late.
Cedric's copy reached out its hand.
The real Cedric screamed and instinctively recoiled.
The hand crossed the space between them...
and failed.
As if it had hit a surface that didn't exist.
The corridor trembled.
Marikka felt a vibration rise from the floor, slow, deep. Not the Fragment's. Not the Inquisitor's.
The system's.
The copies stopped.
The mark on her wrist pulsed only once.
The corridor decided.
The walls contracted. The shelves collapsed in on themselves like wet paper. The floor tilted abruptly, forcing the copies to lose their balance.
One of them fell...
and never hit the ground.
It simply ceased to be.
The other two froze, like images mid-sentence.
Cedric breathed in gasps. "Marikka... tell me it wasn't you."
Marikka didn't answer right away.
Because she didn't know.
Aurelian stared at her with tense attention. "You didn't push them back. The corridor did."
The mark cooled down.
Silence returned. An embarrassed silence, as if the place had realized it had made a procedural error.
After a few seconds, a new path opened laterally. Not elegant. Not stable.
But real.
"This place lied," Cedric said quietly. "And then it corrected itself."
Aurelian nodded. "Because something in us was not replicable."
He looked at Marikka. "Or rather... in you."
Marikka felt a sudden fatigue. Not physical. Decisional. As if the world had relied on her without asking permission.
They moved towards the new passage.
Behind them, the false corridor closed, erasing all trace of the copies.
But Marikka was certain of one thing:
From that moment on, the Athenaeum would not merely chase them.
It would try to understand them.
And someone, somewhere, would want to understand her first.