The hallway swallowed sound.
Dust drifted through the stale air like pale snow.
Broken lockers lay crushed against the walls, and the floor was covered in cracked tiles that glimmered faintly under the moonlight leaking through shattered windows.
Han Islat walked without hesitation.
Eshar clung close behind him, eyes darting to every shadow.
The faint red light pulsed again at the far end of the hall.
Slow.
Steady.
Like a heartbeat that didn't belong in a dead world.
Han's footsteps stopped.
Eshar whispered nervously:
"Don't… don't be scared. She's not like the others."
"She?" Han asked.
"Yeah." Eshar nodded. "She protects this place."
Han didn't answer.
He didn't know if he needed protection.
Or if something in the dark needed protection from him.
The red light grew brighter.
A shape emerged from the shadows.
A girl—
maybe Han's age, maybe younger—
standing in the middle of the hallway with a lantern made of red glass.
Her long black hair reached her waist, uneven from being cut with something dull.
She wore an old school uniform: torn, dusty, but still carefully maintained.
Her eyes…
They weren't normal.
Not glowing.
Not monstrous.
Just too sharp.
Too awake.
She looked at Han as if she had already seen him before.
"Eshar," she said quietly. "You're late."
Eshar scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "Sorry… we were chased by a Crownless."
The girl's face froze.
Her knuckles whitened around the lantern.
Then—
her eyes flicked to Han.
She studied him without speaking.
Not with fear.
Not with suspicion.
With recognition.
Han felt a cold ripple run down his spine.
"…Do I know you?" she asked softly.
Han blinked. "No."
Her gaze didn't move.
Her voice remained calm.
Too calm.
"You look like someone I saw once."
"When?" Han asked.
The girl took a slow breath.
"When the sky first cracked."
Eshar visibly shuddered.
Han remained still.
She continued, voice distant:
"A man stood at the center of the world… just before the Great Silence spread. Everyone remembered his shadow. Everyone felt it. A presence that wasn't supposed to be born."
Han's heart tightened.
A man.
A shadow.
Seen by millions… just before humanity vanished.
The girl took one step closer.
The red lantern flickered.
"You look like him," she whispered.
Eshar's mouth fell open. "…What? The guy from the stories? The one who—"
"Enough," she said sharply.
Eshar fell silent.
The girl lowered her lantern, red light forming a soft halo around her.
She spoke calmly.
"My name is Aeyin."
Han nodded. "Han Islat."
Aeyin's lips pressed together, as if testing the name on her tongue.
"…You're not lying," she finally said.
Han's brow twitched. "What makes you think that?"
Aeyin tilted her head slightly.
"The world started dying when humans learned how to lie."
She looked straight into his eyes.
"So the ones who can't—stand out."
Han didn't respond.
Eshar stepped forward quickly. "He saved me! When the Crownless appeared, Han—"
Aeyin lifted a hand.
Eshar shut up instantly.
Her attention stayed on Han.
"Come," she said. "There's something you need to see."
She turned and walked deeper into the building.
Eshar motioned for Han to follow.
Han hesitated.
Just for a moment.
There was something in Aeyin's eyes.
Not fear.
Not danger.
Something else.
Recognition.
Memory.
As if she knew a version of him that existed before this world lost its voice.
Han followed.
Aeyin guided them to a staircase leading down into darkness. The walls here were covered with chalk markings—symbols, drawings, dates, tallies, sketches of strange shapes with too many limbs.
Survival notes.
Warnings.
Observations.
But one drawing stopped Han cold.
He stared at it.
Eshar and Aeyin noticed.
It was a sketch of a man—
a shadowed silhouette—
standing under a fractured sky.
Around him, all other figures were drawn collapsing, fading, or turning into mist.
The hand-written words under the drawing read:
"THE ONE WHO STOOD WHEN THE WORLD FELL."
Aeyin spoke gently:
"People called him the Witness. The Last God. The Echo of the End. Nobody knew what he was."
She turned to Han.
Her expression was unreadable.
"But they all saw him."
Han felt the world tilt for a moment.
"And you think I'm him?" he asked quietly.
Aeyin shook her head.
"No."
Han exhaled slowly.
But she added—
"Not yet."
Silence spread through the stairwell.
Aeyin continued walking, lantern held steady.
"We're close," she said. "There's something under the school. Something that only reacts to certain people."
Eshar gulped.
Han kept walking.
"What is it?" he asked.
Aeyin stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Her lantern flame burned bright red, illuminating a massive metal door covered in glowing etchings—shifting symbols that rearranged themselves like living runes.
Aeyin whispered:
"A divine fragment."
Han's breath caught.
Her next sentence was even worse.
"It's been waiting for someone."
Then she turned to him—
—and the divine symbols on the door flared violently, pulsing like a heartbeat synchronizing with Han's own.
The entire hallway trembled.
Eshar stumbled back.
Aeyin didn't move.
Her eyes stayed locked on Han.
"Open it," she said softly.