Felix woke up slowly, his head weighing heavily, as if the air itself was pressing down upon him.
The chamber in the Foundry was empty. The bronze ball was quiet, its glowing center dark and still, as if nothing had occurred there at all.
He narrowed his eyes. The gold light spilling from the ceiling bounced off the smooth walls of the chamber, but it was too bright, too defined. All the shadows were accentuated, reaching out like fingers.
Nia and Aya were with him. Tomas lingered nearby, his face still white after what he had seen.
"Are you—okay?" Nia
Felix raised his head. His eyes were not the same. Not red-rimmed, not bloodshot, but dark and almost mirror-smooth, like puddles of melted chocolate shining with ambient light. "I think so," he whispered. "But… I can still hear it."
Aya frowned. "Hear what?"
"The city," Felix whispered. "The Foundry. It's still… talking. Every street, every river, every window—-it hums. And it knows me,"
Nia looked around nervously. "It knows you?"
"Yes," Felix said dreamily. "It's calling my name. Every time I shut my eyes, I see it — Bitter District, and the fountain, and it's all waiting there for me to come back to it."
"We can't allow him to return there," Tomas shook his head. "That place—it's not safe."
"Dangerous? Maybe. But it's beautiful," Felix laughed softly, almost to himself. "All it remembers, all it holds—all of it, I can see it, taste it."
"You can't… eat memory," Aya insisted, moving closer
Felix smiled slightly, holding up his hand to reveal the slightest trace of red remaining under his skin. "It's not like chocolate. It's alive. It flows into you… and you become part of it," he explained.
The chamber quieted, growing almost too quiet. And then a whisper flowed along its walls, barely audible and shaking with terror:
"Remember me."
Nia froze. "Did you hear that?"
Felix nodded slowly. "It's always there. Even in the quietest moments. Even when I sleep."
"This is not safe. You can't keep listening," Aya insisted, grasping his arm.
"I don't want to stop," he pleaded. "It shows me things that l've never been able to imagine—flavors l've never tasted, faces of people l've never met—all the stories of the city."
"This is what Vellum warned us about," muttered Tomas.
"Exactly," Felix confirmed, leaning back against the wall. "But I would like to see it. I would like to understand it. Don't you?"
Nia looked at Aya. Neither of them was able to answer.
The hours passed. The city above them seemed to breathe differently.
The Hall itself was not immune. The rivers of golden syrup shone darker, and their machinery hummed with an undercurrent of something alive, something that watched.
As they made their way back to their quarters, Felix's image in the window was ever so slightly out of sync with his movement. Nia's eyes squinted in effort. "Did you see that?"
Felix's eyes flickered towards the glass. "I saw it."
Aya swallowed. "It's… the Foundry. It's still reaching for you."
"And I'm reaching back," Felix smiled faintly.
None of them slept that night. All mirrors, all glass windows, all smooth chocolate surfaces seemed to shimmer ever so slightly, casting Felix's reflection first, then dissipating. And with each reflection, a whisper:
"Sweetness remembers. Sweetness keeps. Come back."
The children were quiet by dawn. The city was alive around them, its sounds softer, more waiting, almost as if it was resting. But Felix was standing at his window, his eyes fixed on far-off spires of Bitter District, with a red glint in his eyes.
The city waits for me, he muttered. And I'd like to come along.