Chapter LXXXVII: Memorization Adhesion, Part 2
The storm has passed, but the sky still bears its bruises. Clouds linger like ash above the mountain peaks, and the air smells faintly of burnt ozone and rain. The six of them—Nathaniel, Theo, Edison, Kingsley, Pauline, and Maisie—stand before the Gate of Thorns, their silhouettes cut against the eerie silver glow of the castle beyond.
The gate is colossal—iron vines twisted into the shape of roses and thorns, pulsing faintly as if alive. Six stone columns rise from the ground, each etched with faded numbers. Below them stretches a pattern of rows—twenty-seven of them—like an ancient puzzle carved by something that didn't trust time.
Nathaniel steps forward first, his boots scraping against gravel. The gate hums softly at his presence.
Theo squints at the massive lock. "Six columns... twenty-seven rows. That's... what, some sort of cipher grid?"
Edison, ever the pragmatist, taps the cold iron. "Looks more like a numeric passcode interface. But who the hell builds a gate with a 6-by-27 number pattern? Even the royal archives don't use something that ridiculous."
Maisie folds her arms, her gaze never leaving the structure. "You're assuming this gate follows human logic. It's vampiric architecture—every piece is made to confuse, to guard something they never want found."
Kingsley kneels by the engravings, tracing a hand across the surface. "These numbers aren't random. They hum with a kind of resonance... a sound that repeats every few seconds. Listen."
They all fall silent.
At first, nothing. Then, faintly, a rhythm—six beats, then a pause, then another sequence of twenty-seven soft pulses echoing like a heartbeat buried in metal.
Pauline frowns. "It's alive."
"No," Kingsley replies. "It's listening."
A heavy silence hangs over the group. The forest behind them is utterly still—no wind, no birds, just the quiet hiss of the mist against the iron vines. The castle's windows flicker faintly in the distance, as though something behind them is watching, waiting.
Theo breaks the tension first, his tone low. "You don't think Eris is—"
"—watching us?" Kingsley finishes. "I already thought of that. But don't worry."
He stands, brushing off his coat, and raises his hand toward the sky. A faint shimmer ripples through the air like sunlight on glass.
"We cast an anti-detection barrier around the castle perimeter. If she checks her map, she'll see nothing but ruins and dead land. She won't see us."
Maisie lets out a slow breath. "Good. Because if she does, we're finished."
For a while, they all stand there, staring at the impossible puzzle before them.
Then Nathaniel speaks. "Wait."
The tone in his voice makes everyone look.
"I... I think I might know what this is."
Theo blinks. "You know this gate?"
"No. But I've seen it before." Nathaniel steps closer, his eyes narrowing as memory flashes through his mind—something distant, familiar, unwanted. "Her wallpaper. The Gate of Thorns. She used it as her phone's background once."
Maisie's brow furrows. "Whose wallpaper?"
He hesitates. "...Eris'."
The name drops like a stone into water—ripples of tension spreading through the group.
Kingsley crosses his arms. "Explain."
Nathaniel exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Back when we were still together. It was a normal day... or it looked like one. We were in London. She wanted to grab coffee at Starbucks near Leicester Square."
He half-smiles, but there's no warmth in it—only irony.
"She went to the restroom, left her phone on the table. I didn't mean to look, but her phone buzzed—notification from Chrome. I thought it might be something important, but when I saw it..."
Theo raises a brow. "What was it?"
Nathaniel's face twitches. "A notification that said: 'Resume watching Boku no Piko and Shoujo Ramune?'"
Theo chokes on air. Edison looks mortified. Pauline stares blankly.
Maisie mutters, "Oh my god, she's a monster."
Nathaniel sighs. "Exactly. But that's not what caught me—it was her wallpaper. Behind the notification, I saw this exact gate. Same shape, same iron roses, even the Latin engraving. And above it was a name—'Eunice.' I didn't think much of it then, but maybe..."
Kingsley's eyes sharpen. "Eunice... could be the passcode."
Nathaniel nods slowly. "E, U, N, I, C, E—six letters. Six columns."
Theo whistles softly. "You might actually be onto something."
Edison glances at the columns. "If each letter corresponds to a numeric position... E is 5, U is 21, N is 14, I is 9, C is 3, E again is 5."
Pauline steps forward. "Try it."
Nathaniel inhales deeply and begins turning the wheels one by one: 5... 21... 14... 9... 3... 5.
Each click echoes like a heartbeat in a tomb. The final wheel locks into place—and for a long, terrible moment, nothing happens.
Then the ground trembles.
A low rumble rises from deep beneath the earth, vibrating through their bones. The iron vines shift, uncoiling like serpents. The thorns retract with metallic screeches, and the massive gates part down the middle with a slow, agonizing moan.
Theo breathes out, stunned. "Well... damn."
The mist billows inward, revealing a long corridor of stone leading to the castle's massive front doors. The air beyond glows faintly with violet light, like veins of energy running through the walls.
Edison eyes the path warily. "Everyone, watch your step. If this is anything like the rest of the Gravenholt estate, we're stepping into a trap."
Pauline draws her blade. "We've come this far. We're not turning back now."
Nathaniel leads the way, his pendant glowing faintly beneath his coat, the silver sand swirling as though sensing something ancient ahead.
The moment they step past the gate, a sudden click echoes beneath their feet.
Before they can react, the floor bursts open.
The intricate Mandala-shaped carpet at the entrance unravels into a spiral of glowing runes, swallowing light and sound. Wind roars from nowhere, and gravity collapses beneath them.
Theo screams, "Not again!"
Pauline reaches out for Nathaniel's arm, but her fingers slip through empty air. Edison curses. Maisie's crossbow clatters from her grasp as they're each pulled in different directions—sucked into a whirlpool of light.
Nathaniel feels his body split from his shadow, his mind tearing from thought to thought as the world inverts.
Then darkness.
Cold, absolute.
He wakes with a gasp.
He's lying on marble, face pressed against a cold, ornate floor. The room is massive—lined with golden arches and chandeliers dripping with cobwebs. Dust hangs in the air like frozen time.
But he's alone.
"Theo?" His voice echoes. "Kingsley? Anyone?"
Only silence answers.
Nathaniel pushes himself up, heart pounding. The silver pendant glows faintly again, like it's trying to communicate, its sands swirling faster.
Then—a whisper.
"...Nathaniel..."
He spins around. The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"...so you've come back..."
The shadows ripple. A faint scent of roses—decay and perfume blended in impossible harmony.
He grips his pendant tight. "Who's there?"
The whisper fades into laughter—soft, melodic, and hauntingly familiar.
Meanwhile—
Theo crashes into a separate chamber, landing on what appears to be an inverted library, the shelves nailed to the ceiling. Books float in midair, pages turning themselves.
He groans. "Oh great. Magical hellhole number two."
Elsewhere, Pauline lands in what looks like a grand hall filled with mirrors, each reflecting distorted versions of herself—some crying, some screaming, some smiling with fangs.
Edison tumbles into a corridor lined with gears and chains that move like clockwork, sparks flying as if time itself is being forged in metal.
Kingsley awakens in a chapel filled with blood-red candles that burn without heat. The walls hum with runes that react to his presence.
Maisie crashes into what looks like a moonlit garden—roses made of glass, their petals sharp as blades.
Each of them separated, scattered across the castle's different hearts.
Nathaniel clenches his fists, forcing his breathing steady. "Think, Nate. This place wants to divide you."
He glances at the chandelier above—it's twisted into the shape of an hourglass. At the very center, faint inscriptions glow: "Tempus Meus, Non Vestrum."
He mouths the words. "My time... not yours."
He straightens, eyes narrowing. "Fine. Then I'll make it mine."
His pendant pulses once, brighter than before—silver light cascading across the walls. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolls, and the other five feel the same flicker of energy surge through their rooms.
Maisie grips her bow tighter. "He's alive."
Pauline smirks at her reflection. "Then so are we."
Theo shouts, "Guys, if anyone hears me, meet up in the biggest death trap you can find—it's probably where he is!"
Edison adjusts his goggles, grinning. "Typical Theo. No plan, just pure chaos."
Kingsley whispers a prayer before stepping through his chapel's burning sigils. "Guide us through, old friend. Your will... and his light."
The castle shifts again, the walls breathing as if aware of their defiance. Somewhere deep within, something laughs—a sound that sends shivers through the corridors.
Nathaniel steps toward the grand door at the far end of his hall, its carvings alive with shadow and silver. He touches the handle; it's cold as death.
"I don't know if you're watching, Eris," he murmurs, "but if you are... then know this."
He pushes the door open, light flooding the room.
"I'm not the same man you left bleeding in the dark."
The scene cuts to the others—each facing their own trial, each walking forward through different corners of the labyrinthine castle.
And as the chapter closes, the camera would pan upward—past marble halls, twisted chandeliers, broken frescoes of angels with black wings—toward the spire where a single rose-shaped window glows faintly red.
The castle has accepted their entry.
But it will not let them leave so easily.