Ink remembers.
Even when it dries, even when it's buried—
its stories linger in the margins, waiting for a chance to bleed through again.
Day Seven.
Aren Kael woke to a message burned into the ceiling of his dorm room:
"We were left behind. We are not done."
The ink shimmered like heat haze, then vanished as he blinked.
He sat up slowly.
Outside, the academy bell had not rung.
Because the system was silent.
No alerts.
No timecodes.
No magical overlays.
Just... absence.
That had never happened before.
System Note: UNRESPONSIVE
Network connectivity: Failed
Schedule protocols: Frozen
Voice channels: Disabled
Aren stepped into the hallway.
He wasn't alone.
Students peeked from their rooms, glancing around with expressions ranging from confusion to fear.
Kairen appeared beside him, barefoot and wide-eyed.
"Something's wrong," she whispered.
"The system's not just off—it's been muted."
