They sat in a circular chamber where broken mirrors still clung to the walls.
Rehaan did not sit far from Ira.
Devansh noticed.
He did not comment.
"You feel different from him," Ira said, studying Rehaan. "Like… something tore instead of sealed."
Rehaan's mouth curved faintly. "That's one way to describe freedom."
Devansh's gaze sharpened. "You did not earn freedom."
"No," Rehaan agreed. "I survived it."
He leaned forward slightly.
"When I left Vayukshi, I thought the worst was over. The hunger. The stillness. The years that didn't pass."
"And?" Ira asked.
"And then I started feeling things that weren't mine." His fingers curled. "Grief that wasn't attached to memory. Fear without source. Longing without face."
Ira's breath slowed.
"That's what happened to me," she whispered. "Before I ever came here."
Rehaan looked at her sharply.
"You had it outside?"
"Yes."
Devansh turned to her. "You never told me this."
"You never asked."
Rehaan exhaled slowly.
"Then it's worse than I thought," he murmured. "The binding system isn't contained anymore."
"System?" Ira repeated.
Rehaan's gaze lifted to the ceiling. "Immortality wasn't magic. It was architecture. Emotional engineering. Someone designed it."
Ira's heart gave a heavy, hollow beat.
"And who," she asked, "would design something like that?"
Rehaan looked at her.
"You tell me," he said quietly. "Why does the city respond to your hands?"
Silence.
Then—far below them—
something pulsed.
Not sound.
Impact.
The chamber shuddered faintly.
Devansh's jaw tightened.
"She's stirring," he said.
Ira's blood chilled.
"Who is she?"
Rehaan's voice lowered.
"The first one who never woke."