Headmistress Virelle did not sleep.
She didn't need to.
Her office was a cathedral of silence — all ticking clocks and unblinking mirrors. The walls were lined with portraits of former headmasters, their eyes stitched shut. The air smelled like lavender and order.
She stood at her window, watching the Obsidian Tower pulse faintly in the distance.
Something was shifting.
And it had a name.
Lyra Vex.
The Report
A parchment hovered before her, ink writing itself in real time.
> Subject: Vex, Lyra. Class Obsidian. Dorm anomaly confirmed. Memory bleed increasing. Book activity accelerating. Suspected contact with Root confirmed.
Virelle's lips tightened.
She waved her hand. The parchment folded itself and vanished into flame.
The Mirror Archive
She descended into the Mirror Archive, a hidden chamber beneath the school. The mirrors here didn't reflect — they recorded. Each one held a moment, a memory, a breach.
She found the one labeled VEX, L.
It flickered.
Lyra, standing in the fifth tower.
Lyra, speaking with Madame Calyx.
Lyra, becoming.
Virelle turned away.
"She's waking," she whispered.
The Council
The professors gathered in the Clock Room, where time bent and truth was negotiable.
Professor Umbra stood in shadow. "She's not just stitched. She's resonating."
Professor Thorne, from the forbidden wing, folded his arms. "She's remembering what we buried."
Virelle's voice was cold. "Then we unbury nothing."
Umbra hesitated. "If we silence her, the tower may retaliate."
Virelle's eyes narrowed. "Then we silence the tower."
The Directive
That night, a new rule was etched into the walls of every dorm:
> "Unauthorized descent beneath school grounds is now forbidden. Violators will be reassigned."
Lyra read it.
Maris whispered, "They know."
Lyra nodded. "They're afraid."
The Surveillance
Virelle watched through the mirrors.
She saw Lyra reading the book.
She saw Maris whispering warnings.
She saw Nova Quinn dancing too close to the truth.
She saw Zephyr Vale staring at the sky, as if waiting for something to fall.
She saw the stitched ones gathering.
And she saw the fifth tower pulsing beneath the school, like a buried heart.
The Memory
Virelle returned to her private mirror.
She touched it.
It showed her — younger, in a velvet classroom, sitting at Madame Calyx's feet.
Calyx smiled. "You must never fear emotion."
Virelle whispered, "I don't fear it. I control it."
Calyx's smile faded. "Then you've already lost."
The Book Again
In Lyra's dorm, the book pulsed.
New ink appeared:
> "She watches. But she forgets: mirrors reflect both ways."
Maris stared. "She's spying."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Then let her see."