The metal entry swallowed them in one breath.
Not a doorway—
A seam.
A memory.
A wound.
Cold air slid across Manraj's skin as soon as he stepped inside, raising goosebumps along his arms. The tunnel wasn't dark exactly; it was lit by a faint, humming glow that came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Root-light.
Alive. Watching. Judging.
Zoya didn't seem surprised.
Manraj did.
"This… doesn't feel like a place," he whispered. "It feels like… a decision."
Zoya nodded without turning around. Her Silence hovered around her like a thin mist, reacting sharply to the Root-light — crackling at the edges.
"That's what a Root-entry is," she said. "A place where it decides what counts as part of itself."
Manraj shivered.
"And what doesn't?"
She finally looked at him.
"Exactly."
The tunnel curved downward, the metal walls bending like ribcages. Faint whispers slid across them — not language, just impressions. Echoes of things that used to live here.
Manraj walked closer to Zoya.
"Why is this still functioning? You said this branch was cut."
"It was," she said, brushing her fingers along the wall. "But Azhar didn't let it die."
He blinked.
"He kept it open?"
"No." Zoya's voice softened. "He kept one passage open. For you."
Manraj stumbled.
"For me? Why?"
Zoya hesitated. Then said:
"…because he knew the day would come when you needed to stand where he couldn't."
A pulse hit Manraj's ribs.
23 → 23 → 23
Steady.
But awake.
He inhaled sharply.
"It's reacting to this place."
Zoya pressed a finger to her lips.
"Let it react. Don't respond."
They continued deeper.
The tunnel opened abruptly into a wide chamber.
A circular space.
Carved from stone, reinforced with metal, lined with symbols that pulsed faintly.
But it wasn't the structure that made Manraj freeze.
It was the thing in the center.
A shadow.
Perfectly still.
Perfectly shaped.
Perfectly silent.
Exactly Azhar's silhouette.
Not a creature.
Not a mimic.
Not alive.
Not dead.
Just…
waiting.
Manraj whispered:
"Zoya… is that…?"
"No," she said softly. "It's not him."
The silhouette flickered.
Not like movement.
Like recognition.
Manraj took a step backward.
"Zoya—"
She caught his elbow.
"Don't run. You'll trigger it."
"What is it?"
She swallowed.
"A severance anchor."
"A what?"
She pulled him slightly behind her.
"When the Root cuts a branch, a guardian must leave a shadow behind — an imprint — to prevent the severed energy from collapsing inward."
Manraj stared at the still, Azhar-shaped shadow.
"You're telling me… he left a piece of himself here?"
Zoya nodded.
"And he meant for you to find it."
Manraj's breath shook.
"Why me?"
Zoya stepped closer to the silhouette.
"Because you were built from the piece he had carved out. And this—"
She gestured at the shadow.
"—is everything the Root wanted to erase."
The chamber vibrated.
The silhouette twitched.
Manraj backed up another step until his shoulder hit the wall.
"It's responding to me—"
"Because you're the vacancy it recognizes," Zoya said.
A chill slithered down his spine.
"Zoya… can it hurt me?"
"No," she said.
Then hesitated.
"…I think."
The hesitation made his pulse spike.
23 → 22
He clutched his ribs.
"It's getting closer."
"No," Zoya said, scanning the chamber walls. "This time it's not the Under-Root."
Manraj stiffened.
"Then what is it?"
Zoya pointed at the runes etched around the chamber.
"These symbols… they're reading your core. Measuring the gap. The Root knows you're here."
Manraj's arms went numb.
"Is it trying to pull me again?"
"No," Zoya murmured. "Worse."
The shadows around the chamber walls began sliding inward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like a closing hand.
Zoya's eyes widened.
"Oh no."
Manraj's heartbeat hammered.
"What? WHAT?"
"This chamber isn't a sanctuary," she whispered.
"It's a mold."
Manraj froze.
"A… what?"
"A template," she said, grabbing his wrist. "For what the Root wanted to rebuild."
Manraj felt cold all over.
"You're saying… this room is designed to reshape me?"
Zoya swallowed.
"Yes."
"And Azhar—"
"Destroyed most of it," she said quickly. "He disabled everything. Broke half the runes. Cut the entry-link. He saved you."
The silhouette twitched again.
Shivering like it was remembering a shape.
Remembering him.
Manraj's knees nearly gave way.
"No—no—no—Zoya—this place feels like it's trying to decide what I should be—"
"I know," she said, stepping in front of him. "Focus on my voice."
His chest convulsed.
22 flashed.
"ZOYA—!"
The runes glowed brighter.
The silhouette stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Manraj pressed himself against the wall.
"IT'S MOVING—"
"That's the imprint responding," Zoya said. "It thinks you're here to replace it."
Manraj's breathing broke.
"I'm not—!"
Zoya grabbed both sides of his face.
"Listen to me."
Her Silence flared, burning white against the Root-blue glow.
"You are not a replacement. You are not a mold. You are not a vacancy filled. You are not the Root's correction."
His pulse steadied.
Barely.
"You are Manraj. And you belong to yourself."
The shadow-anchor froze.
Zoya stepped between it and Manraj, hands lifted.
Her Silence sparked.
"This imprint obeys guardians," she whispered.
"Azhar trained me to override it."
Manraj blinked.
"He trained you? For this?!"
"No," she said. "He trained me in case he didn't survive."
Her voice cracked.
"…and he didn't."
The chamber shook.
The imprint dissolved into wisps.
And reformed behind Zoya.
Manraj shouted—
"Zoya—BEHIND YOU—!"
She spun—
Too late.
The imprint reached out—
Not to attack.
To merge.
Zoya shoved Manraj backward as the shadow hit her Silence—
A collision of black and white sparks.
The light burst.
The chamber roared.
And Zoya fell to her knees.
Manraj lunged toward her—
"ZOYA—!"
She held up a trembling hand.
"I'm fine," she gasped.
Her eyes lifted.
Barely.
"He left a message."
Manraj froze.
"A… what?"
Zoya touched her forehead.
"He—he hid it inside the imprint. In case you ever came here."
Manraj leaned forward, heart breaking open.
"What did he say?"
Her voice cracked.
"He said… 'Tell him he was never meant to replace me. Tell him he was meant to choose something I never could.'"
Manraj's vision blurred.
"And what's that?" he whispered.
Zoya took his hand.
"His own life."
Silence filled the chamber.
The number in Manraj's chest softened.
22 → 22.
The Under-Root was close.
The Root was watching.
But for the first time—
Manraj didn't feel like a vacancy.
He felt like someone Azhar had be
lieved in.
Zoya stood, still shaken.
"Manraj," she whispered.
He lifted his head.
"We're not done."
The chamber lights flickered.
The runes pulsed.
And something deeper in the tunnels answered—
A tremor.
Heavy.
Hungry.
Close.
Manraj whispered:
"…it found us again."
Zoya grabbed his hand.
"Then we move."
Together—
They ran deeper into Azhar's ruins.
And the hunt tightened.