The moment Horace stepped into the fractured corridor,
the air changed.
It didn't get colder.
Or hotter.
Or heavier.
It got full.
Like something invisible rushed in to fill the space—
breaths, whispers, remnants of emotions
pressed into old walls
now awakening around us.
The cracked floor pulsed faintly beneath Horace's boots.
A warm draft seeped up from below, carrying traces of something sweet, faded, and yet sharp enough to sting my lungs.
It was scent—
but not from anyone living.
Ghost scent.
Old Omega markers.
Left behind from the collapsed wing.
Horace tightened his arms around me as if I weighed nothing at all.
"Elleanore," he murmured,
"stay focused on me."
I clung to him harder.
"Trying."
Rowan's words echoed in my skull:
If her threshold spikes, the scent ghosts might respond.
My heartbeat hammered.
Horace's breath brushed my ear.
"I've got you.
I promise."
But the walls breathed too.
The Corridor Remembers
The deeper we moved,
the thicker the air became.
Chandler and Rowan were several meters ahead, guiding the path—
but even their scents faded under the weight of the corridor.
The ghost scent wasn't a single smell.
It was a mixture of things—
old flowers, heat, something sugary, something metallic—
a thousand Omega emotions smeared into stone and concrete over years.
Horace muttered under his breath,
"This is worse than I remember."
I blinked weakly.
"You've been here?"
Horace hesitated.
"Yes."
"When?"
Horace didn't answer.
Rowan did.
"Two years ago," he called softly from ahead.
"When the collapse was still under investigation."
Chandler kicked a rock aside.
"More like when the Academy tried to pretend the collapse wasn't because of faulty scent ventilation—"
"Chandler," Rowan warned.
But I already knew.
The old Omega wing had collapsed because too many students had been forced into chemical suppression.
"Horace," I whispered,
"you smelled this before?"
Horace tightened his arms.
"I don't want you here long enough to smell it at all."
A tremor underfoot rattled the air ducts.
A small piece of ceiling dust rained down.
Rowan's head snapped up.
"We need to move faster."
Chandler hissed,
"Faster? Huh? Sure. Love the idea. Not the place."
Horace moved.
Even faster.
I could hear his breathing—steady but tense.
Even with my eyes half-closed, I felt how tightly he held me.
Like he expected the walls to close in on us.
And maybe… they were.
Scent Spike
Halfway across the cracked floor,
the warm air from below surged again.
Harder.
Hotter.
Sharper.
It slammed into me like a wave.
My breath hitched—
and suddenly the corridor wasn't just dark.
It was spinning.
"Elleanore?" Horace whispered sharply.
"Elleanore—!"
I gripped his coat.
"I don't—Horace—my chest—it's—"
Rowan spun around.
"HORACE—BACK UP—HER SCENT IS SPIKING—!"
But we were already too far in.
The ghost scent latched onto my pulse—
the new, raw, awakened Omega instinct I didn't understand—
and amplified it.
Every breath I took made it stronger.
Hotter.
My heartbeat roared in my ears.
Horace felt it immediately.
His scent flared in response—
not dominance
not claim
but panic.
"Elleanore—look at me."
His voice broke.
"Look at me—right now."
I tried.
But my vision blurred.
Chandler swore violently.
"Oh hell—Rowan—her scent—its everywhere—"
Rowan cursed,
"I KNOW—keep moving—HORACE—anchor her NOW—!"
Horace cupped the back of my head, forehead pressed to mine.
"Elleanore—breathe with me.
Just breathe."
But the walls—
The walls felt alive.
A heat shimmered across the cracked concrete.
Shadows shifted.
The old scent markers throbbed faintly in rhythm with my pulse.
Chandler backed away, terrified.
"What the—Rowan—is that NORMAL?!"
"No," Rowan whispered hoarsely.
"She's resonating with the corridor."
Horace's grip trembled around me.
"Elleanore—shut it down."
"I—I can't—"
His voice dropped into a low, urgent whisper.
"Then focus on me.
ONLY me."
My breath trembled.
Another wave hit—harder.
My scent burst outward—sweet and sharp and bright—
mixing with the baked-in scent ghosts.
Rowan stumbled, nearly collapsing.
Chandler braced him against the wall.
"Rowan—HEY—stay with me—"
Rowan gasped,
"I—I can't—my instincts are—fighting—"
Even the air vibrated.
Echoes of emotions trapped in the walls—fear, comfort, longing—
all of them pressed into the corridor and now reacting to me.
Horace hissed between his teeth,
"Elleanore—don't drown in it—stay here—stay with me—"
But the ghost scent was drowning everything.
My body shook.
My lungs stung.
My mind blurred.
"Horace—"
My voice cracked.
"It—hurts—"
Horace's arms tightened instantly.
"I know—I'm here—I'm here—hold on—"
But I couldn't.
I couldn't even feel the ground.
Rowan shouted,
"HORACE—GET OUT OF THE SCENT BAY—NOW!"
Horace gathered me against his chest and prepared to run—
But the corridor suddenly shook.
A low groaning sound.
Something shifting in the walls.
Chandler yelped,
"UH—WHY IS THE TUNNEL BREATHING—?!"
Rowan choked out,
"It's reacting to her threshold—her scent is too strong—the walls are opening—!"
Horace growled under his breath.
"I don't care—I'm getting her OUT!"
He sprinted.
The cracked floor vibrated under us.
The ghost scent surged, pulling at my senses.
My vision whitened.
"Horace—" I whispered weakly.
"I—I can't—breathe—"
Horace's breath broke.
"No—NO—Elleanore—keep your eyes open—HEY—stay awake—!"
He pressed his forehead to mine again, desperately grounding me.
But my scent—
wouldn't obey me.
It swelled again, painfully, uncontrollably—
and the walls shivered.
Old scent markers—buried for years—rose like heat waves.
Rowan screamed,
"HORACE—RUN FASTER—SHE'S TRIGGERING A FULL REVERB—THE CORRIDOR CAN'T HANDLE IT—!"
Chandler grabbed Rowan, dragging him ahead.
Horace ran as if the entire world was on fire behind him.
"Elleanore—please—stay with me—just a little more—please—"
My consciousness flickered.
The corridor pulsed one last time—
and then—
everything snapped.
Darkness slammed over me.
Somewhere Else
I woke to warmth.
A humid, heavy warmth pressed against my skin,
scented with cedar and something soft and smoky.
Horace.
I felt him before I opened my eyes.
His breath hitched in relief the instant I stirred.
"Elleanore—?
Elleanore—can you hear me?"
My lashes fluttered open.
Horace knelt over me on the ground,
hands trembling on either side of my face.
His body shook.
His scent trembled with fear.
He looked like he'd aged three years in ten minutes.
I tried to speak.
"…Horace…"
He exhaled with a sound that was almost a sob.
"You're okay.
You're okay.
You're with me."
His forehead rested against mine.
Chandler's voice came faintly from nearby.
"Uh—Rowan? Is it normal for them to be that close or am I interrupting a moment—"
Rowan smacked him.
"HUSH."
Horace didn't move away.
"My instincts were—" he breathed shakily,
"—I thought I lost you."
My heart clenched.
"What… happened?"
Rowan answered softly.
"You crossed your third threshold."
I blinked.
"…what does that mean?"
Rowan knelt beside us.
"It means your awakened scent fully destabilized the old Omega markers.
The corridor collapsed behind us.
Lucian can't follow."
I exhaled weakly.
Horace's thumb brushed my cheek again.
"Elleanore… you scared me."
I whispered back,
"I didn't mean to."
He swallowed hard.
"I know."
Chandler asked timidly,
"So… are we dead? Or safe? Or both?"
Rowan inhaled deeply.
"We're in the old medicinal sublevel.
It's stable.
And more importantly—"
He looked up at Horace.
"Cassian and Aiden are already headed toward the rendezvous."
Relief washed over me.
"And Lucian…?"
Rowan shook his head.
"He can't track you through this much broken scent architecture."
For the first time in hours,
Horace actually relaxed a fraction.
He leaned closer, voice quiet.
"Elleanore…"
I met his eyes.
"…you did the impossible."
The warmth in his expression almost knocked the breath from my lungs.
Then Rowan cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Please save the emotional moment until we're out of the tunnels and not about to get buried alive."
Chandler nodded.
"Yeah, we—uh—we DEFINITELY should keep moving."
Horace sighed softly but lifted me carefully into his arms again.
"Elleanore…
we're not out yet."
He turned toward the darkness ahead, expression fierce and determined.
"But I swear—
we will get out."
The Weight of Instinct
Horace steadied his grip on me before he stood.
Even shaken, drenched in sweat, and bleeding from his knuckles, he carried me as if I were the one weight he never wanted to let go of.
Rowan swept his tablet light through the darkness, illuminating the narrow service corridor now branching into three fractured tunnels.
Chandler muttered anxiously,
"Okay, so… which one doesn't lead to sudden painful death?"
Rowan frowned.
"…None of them look safe."
Chandler groaned.
"Great. LOVE hearing that."
Horace tightened his hold slightly.
"Elleanore stays with me.
Rowan, find us the most stable route."
Rowan nodded immediately, fingers tapping across the cracked tablet.
Chandler paced restlessly, letting the glow stick swing wildly in the dimness.
Cassian and Aiden weren't there—
they had gone earlier through the bypass tunnel Rowan had identified as their only chance.
A heavy ache twisted in my stomach.
"Are… are Cassian and Aiden really okay?" I whispered.
Rowan didn't look at me.
"We won't know until we reach the rendezvous."
Horace's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Something in the silence felt wrong.
Chandler cleared his throat, voice softer than usual.
"Hey… Cas won't let anything happen to Aiden."
Horaceed responded in a low murmur:
"Cassian is strong. He'll keep Aiden safe. And we'll catch up."
But his scent trembled faintly—worry bleeding through his composure.
Rowan suddenly froze.
"…Horace.
We have a problem."
Horace tensed.
"What is it?"
Rowan pointed the tablet toward the far-left tunnel.
The air shimmered faintly with something like heat distortion.
Horace inhaled sharply.
"That's—"
"A scent trap." Rowan finished.
Chandler tilted his head.
"A what now?"
Rowan swallowed.
"Sometimes collapsed Omega wings leave areas that amplify or trap scent signatures.
This tunnel is a full resonance echo. Anyone passing through will hit every smell that's ever been trapped there."
Chandler blinked.
"In English, please."
Rowan turned, voice trembling slightly.
"It's dangerous for all of us…
but for Elleanore?"
He shook his head.
"It could collapse her system again."
Horace shifted his stance instantly, instinctively placing more of his body in front of me.
"So that route is off the table."
Rowan nodded.
"Yes."
Chandler shined his glow stick down the middle tunnel.
"What about this one? Doesn't look cursed."
Rowan scanned it, jaw tight.
"No scent traps—but it's unstable."
The ceiling sagged.
Dust drifted down in thin lines.
The floor sloped at a sharp angle.
Horace shook his head.
"If that collapses behind us, we'll be cut off from Chandler and Rowan.
We're not splitting again."
Chandler didn't argue this time.
He actually moved slightly closer to Rowan.
"…So that leaves the right tunnel," he muttered grimly.
Horace nodded.
Rowan scanned the last tunnel.
The tablet flickered but stayed green.
"It's old, but reachable. No scent anomalies detected."
"Then we take it," Horace said.
But Rowan's expression didn't change.
"…There's something else."
Horace stiffened.
"What."
Rowan swallowed.
"There's a sensor breach on the other side.
Something tripped the environmental alarms not long ago."
Chandler's face paled.
"Oh saints—please tell me that's not Lucian."
Rowan shook his head.
"It's not him."
Chandler blinked.
"Oh. Good. Wait—NOT good? Who else could be down here?!"
Rowan exhaled shakily.
"I don't know.
But whatever caused the breach… it was scent-based."
My heart jumped.
"Do you mean… an Alpha?"
Rowan hesitated.
"It's possible."
Horace positioned his hand on my lower back, instantly protective.
"Then we proceed cautiously."
Rowan nodded and turned toward the right tunnel.
Horace followed, carrying me more firmly than before.
Chandler narrowed his eyes.
"What if the sensors got tripped by an animal or something? Rats? Cats? A ghost? A weird raccoon—"
Rowan paused.
"Chandler."
"Yeah?"
"These tunnels don't have animals."
Chandler blinked.
"Oh."
—
The Tunnel With Too Many Shadows
The right tunnel widened into a slanted passage—
pillars cracked and leaning
metal pipes bulging from the walls
smelling faintly of rust and… something else.
Horace inhaled sharply.
Rowan quieted.
Chandler stopped walking completely.
"…Does anyone else smell that?" Chandler whispered.
Rowan whispered back,
"It's faint, but… yes."
Horace didn't say a word.
But his body stiffened, and I felt it through him.
Another scent.
Distant.
But there.
Like citrus and something burnt.
A scent I'd smelled before.
My breath caught.
"…That's—"
Horace finished for me, voice cold and certain.
"Aiden."
Rowan spun around.
"Horace—are you sure—?! That's—"
"I'm sure."
My chest tightened painfully.
"Then—then they're nearby—Cassian and Aiden—they're close—!"
Rowan's expression remained troubled.
"Yes.
But Aiden's scent is too strong.
Stronger than it should be.
He shouldn't be emitting that much—he was collapsing—he—"
Chandler swallowed.
"You don't think… something happened to Cassian—right?"
Silence.
Horace didn't answer.
Rowan lifted the tablet again and scanned the air.
The reading spiked sharply.
Chandler's eyes widened.
"Uh—Rowan?
Why is it flashing red like that—?"
Rowan inhaled sharply.
"…Oh no."
Horace murmured,
"What?"
Rowan held up the tablet so we could see:
ALPHA SCENT - LEVEL REDUNSTABLE / OUT OF CONTROL
My stomach dropped.
"That's Aiden's scent signature."
Chandler gasped.
"No—no no no—what does that mean—?!"
Rowan answered quietly.
"It means Aiden is not in control of his scent.
He's either in a feral state…
or his instincts have snapped."
My breath hitched.
"Because… of me?"
Horace's grip tightened.
"No.
Because of what Lucian did before he ever met you."
Rowan nodded quietly.
"Aiden's been unstable for months.
You only triggered what was already breaking."
Chandler swallowed.
"…So he's—feral. Great. SUPER great."
I whispered,
"Cassian's with him…"
Horace looked down the dark corridor.
"And we're going to find them before anything happens."
Rowan pulled out a small syringe from the emergency kit strapped to his belt.
"It's a suppressant stabilizer. Not as strong as a medical-grade shot, but—"
Horace interrupted.
"We use that only if there's no other choice.
It could knock Elleanore out too."
Rowan nodded.
"Right."
Chandler gripped a broken pipe from the floor like a makeshift weapon.
Rowan stared at him.
"You're not actually going to hit Aiden with that.
He'll kill you."
Chandler shrugged.
"Then I'll aim for NOT hitting him."
Rowan sighed.
"Elleanore," Horace murmured softly as he shifted me in his arms,
"if Aiden charges, close your eyes.
Don't breathe deeply.
Don't move."
I nodded, my heart pounding.
"But… we can'really hurt him, right?"
Rowan nodded solemnly.
"No.
We can't.
We're here to save him too."
Chandler muttered,
"Yeah, says the guy who literally tackles him every time he's feral."
Rowan flushed.
"I do NOT tackle him."
"You DO."
"Only sometimes when Cas needs help."
"THAT'S WHAT I SAID."
Horace breathed out through his nose.
"Focus."
We continued down the tunnel.
The scent grew stronger.
Spicier.
Hotter.
With a bitter edge that made my lungs ache.
Aiden.
But not Aiden as we knew him.
Aiden without control.
Rowan suddenly froze.
"Horace.
They're close."
Horace tightened his hold on me.
"Where?"
Rowan turned slowly.
And pointed.
To a collapsed section of wall—
where faint breathing echoed.
And a shadow moved.
Not fast.
Not loud.
But jagged and wrong.
Chandler whispered,
"Uh… guys…"
A figure crawled from the debris.
Body trembling.
Breath ragged.
Eyes glowing in the dark like an animal backed into a corner.
Aiden.
But his scent—
It hit us with a wave of heat so intense Horace staggered back a step.
Rowan gasped.
"Oh no—
no no no—
this is bad—HORACE—his instinct has LOCKED—!"
Aiden's head snapped toward us.
Not to Rowan.
Not to Chandler.
Not to Horace.
To me.
His scent surged—
sharp, desperate, feverish—
and something else.
Pain.
He took one unsteady step toward us, growling low in his throat.
Chandler whispered,
"We're gonna die.
Rowan—just tell me if we're gonna die—"
Rowan didn't answer.
Horace lowered me gently to the ground behind him.
"Elleanore."
His voice was tight with fear.
"If he comes at us—don't move.
Don't breathe.
Don't call his name."
I whispered back,
"Where's Cassian?"
Aiden's head twitched at the sound of Cassian's name.
Then—
from behind the fallen debris—
a pained voice whispered,
"—E…Elle…
don't…
come… closer…"
Cassian.
Pinned under a section of collapsed ceiling.
Blood dripping down his forehead.
Aiden turned—
eyes hollow—
snarl ripping from his throat.
Chandler yelped.
Rowan gasped.
Horace snarled.
And I felt it—
Aiden wasn't trying to hurt Cassian.
He was trying to protect him.
From us.
From anyone.
"He thinks we're threats," Rowan whispered.
"He'll rip through any of us if we step closer."
Horace exhaled shakily.
"Elleanore—
Stay behind me.
No matter what."
Aiden's chest heaved violently as he stared at me with trembling, feral desperation.
Cassian whispered again,
"—Aiden…
no…
don't—
don't hurt them—"
Aiden snarled.
And stepped toward us.
Horace moved—
But something in my body reacted faster.
A pulse.
A push.
A wave of scent—
warm
sharp
protective—
escaped from me without my permission.
Aiden froze mid-step.
Horace stiffened.
Rowan's tablet went wild.
Chandler nearly tripped.
Aiden inhaled sharply—
and for the first time
in hours
maybe days—
his eyes flickered with recognition.
"El…
leanore…?"
His voice cracked.
He took another step.
Horace's arm shot out, blocking him.
Aiden stopped.
But only because my scent caught him mid-breath.
Rowan whispered,
"…She stabilized him."
Chandler sputtered.
"Wait—HER scent can do THAT too?! What IS she—a walking miracle?!"
Rowan murmured darkly,
"Primordial Omega traits…
they're far more than we understood."
Aiden's breathing slowed—
but his body trembled violently.
Horace didn't lower his guard once.
"Rowan.
Get Cassian out from under there."
Rowan nodded and crawled toward Cassian.
Chandler hovered behind him, gripping the pipe uselessly.
Cassian looked up at me, dazed.
"Elle…
he… didn't want to hurt me…
he… he was trying to find you…"
My heart cracked.
"I know."
Horace stepped slightly aside so Aiden could see me—but not reach me.
Aiden wavered on his feet.
"Elleanore…
hurts…
everything… hurts…"
His voice broke into a sob.
Aiden Valehart—
always strong
always stubborn
always loyal—
sobbed like a wounded animal.
Cassian reached toward him weakly.
"…Aiden…"
Aiden flinched.
Horace looked at Rowan.
"Can he walk?"
Rowan shook his head urgently.
"Not in this state.
He'll collapse again.
His instincts are running off pure scent response."
I swallowed.
"So… what do we do?"
Horace took a slow breath.
Then he whispered,
"Elleanore…
you're the only one who can bring him down from this."
My stomach dropped.
"…Me?"
Rowan nodded.
"Your scent anchored him.
You need to give him a steady signal.
Not too strong.
Not too close.
Just—enough."
Chandler blinked.
"WAIT—
she has to WHAT—?!"
Horace turned to me.
"Elleanore."
He lowered his voice.
"You won't touch him.
You won't even go to him.
Just let him smell you.
Gently."
"I—what if I can't control—"
"You can," Horace whispered.
"I know you can."
Aiden looked like he was barely standing.
Cassian whispered hoarsely,
"Elle… please… help him…"
Horace's hand trembled as it cupped the back of my neck.
"Elleanore… I'm right here."
His forehead touched mine—
steady
warm
real.
And with his scent grounding me—
I let out a soft breath.
A slow, controlled, careful breath.
My scent diffused into the air—
gentle
soothing
warm enough to calm
but not strong enough to trigger resonance.
Aiden inhaled sharply—
and crumpled.
But not from collapse.
From relief.
He dropped to his knees, crying quietly as Cassian crawled toward him.
Horace caught me as my legs weakened.
"You did it," he whispered.
Rowan pulled Cassian free of the debris.
Chandler exhaled shakily.
"Holy hell…
we're alive."
Rowan nodded faintly.
"For now."
Horace lifted me again.
"Elleanore…
let's go."
And as we moved deeper into the tunnels—
Rowan's tablet flashed a warning.
MULTIPLE SIGNATURES DETECTED.
MOVING FAST.
Chandler's face drained of color.
"…Who the hell is THAT—?!"
Rowan whispered,
"Not soldiers."
He swallowed.
"Something else."
Horace's grip tightened around me.
"We run now."