She didn't sleep.
Not even for a second.
Every time Arwa closed her eyes, she was back there. That damn room. That screen. Hadi's scream—too raw, too real to be a recording. That voice again, creeping into her ears like it belonged inside her skull.
"Some chairs are heavier than others."
By the time morning came, her bedsheets were twisted around her limbs like restraints, her breath shallow, eyes wide open and dry.
Her ID pinged.
Another message. Short. Cold. Ominous.
Trial Observation: 1st Movement.
West Courtyard. Outer Path Only.
07:45.
She didn't even ask herself why. She was already pulling on her uniform.
---
The sky over Velridge was a blanket of dull grey. The courtyard, usually buzzing with rushed footsteps and anxious energy, was dead quiet. Too quiet.
Arwa stood there, alone, until footsteps echoed behind her.
Rayyan. Hands in pockets. Hair tousled like he didn't care about anything. But his eyes... too alert. Too steady.
Then Samra arrived, barely making a sound, moving like she belonged to the shadows. Her gaze met Arwa's for a heartbeat. No nod. No smile. Just understanding.
Last was Zayaan.
Disheveled, eyes bloodshot, mouth a thin line. Whatever he saw last night, it followed him here.
They all waited.
The old iron bell rang at 07:45. On the third chime, something shifted under their feet.
A vibration. Then—
Four stone tiles on the outer circle lit up, soft white beneath the morning haze. One. Two. Three. Four.
Not five.
Where's Hadi?
No one dared say it.
---
They each stepped onto a tile.
As if summoned, a drone whirred to life above them—blinking red, hovering like a vulture with a lens.
Then that voice returned. Low. Mechanical. Inescapable.
"Phase One: The Watch.
Assume positions. Observe movement.
Mistakes will not be punished immediately.
But they are remembered."
The tiles began to move—slow, circular motion, rotating them around the courtyard like pawns on a clock.
Each of them walked. No instructions. No tasks. Just... observation.
It lasted forever.
Fifteen minutes of nothing but footsteps and stolen glances. Paranoia creeping up her spine. Every breath too loud.
Then Arwa saw something.
A flicker. Barely there—beneath Rayyan's tile. A shimmer. A shape. It blinked in and out like it was never real.
She blinked. Looked again.
Gone.
No one else reacted.
Did she imagine it?
Finally, the tiles stopped moving. The lights died out.
Trial over.
Samra vanished like smoke.
Zayaan muttered something about class and stormed off like he was running from a ghost.
Arwa turned—
And froze.
Rayyan was still there.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He wasn't smiling.
His eyes met hers—unblinking.
"Whyus?" she asked.
He tilted his head. "Wrong place, wrong time…"
"You're too calm for someone inside a damn nightmare."
"I don't like surprises." He pushed off the wall and walked past her. "So I prepare."
His footsteps echoed like a countdown, fading slowly behind her.
And for the first time since Room 308, Arwa felt it.
This wasn't random.
This was designed.
Every step, every screen, every choice—counted.
And maybe they were already too deep.
---
Far beneath the courtyard, behind screens no one knew existed, a technician paused the playback.
Zoomed in.
Frame by frame.
Tile Three. Rayyan.
There—less than a second—something glowed beneath his foot. A sigil. Circular. Ancient. Then gone.
The system logged it.
Subject 03: Initiated Awareness.
Escalation Approved.
Behind the glass, a figure leaned in closer to the monitors.
The trial had begun.
The circle was no longer complete.
And someone—maybe more than one—wasn't meant to make it out.