Whispers Between The Walls

The next morning, the silence felt different.

It wasn't the cold hush of snowfall or the tight quiet of students afraid of stepping out of line. This silence had weight. It pressed on everything. The walls. The floors. My bones.

I stood at my dorm window, watching as Order enforcers moved through the grounds like shadows in tailored coats. They spoke to no one. They smiled at no one. And yet, somehow, everyone knew what they were there for.

To contain.

To restore.

To remind us: power does not like to be humiliated.

The mirror was gone. But its destruction had left a crack in more than just the glass. It had echoed.

And echoes never stay quiet.

Petra slammed the door open sometime before breakfast, her braid half undone, her coat inside out.

"They're questioning everyone," she said. "One by one. Anyone who was at the Gathering."

I didn't move.

"They'll call you last," she added. "To make you sweat. To make everyone else sweat."

"Let them."

She blinked at me.

"Elena, you shattered their symbol."

"It shattered itself," I said softly. "I just gave it a reason."

Petra let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. Then she crossed the room and sat on the bed beside me.

"I saw Theo sneaking into the East Hall late last night," she murmured.

"He was checking on the archives. Making sure nothing was tampered with."

"And Julian?"

I looked down at my hands. They still tingled sometimes.

"He stayed with me. We talked until dawn."

"Talked?" Petra raised an eyebrow.

"Talked. Slept. Nothing else. Not that night."

She smiled. "It's strange, isn't it? Loving two people like that."

I didn't answer.

Because it wasn't just love.

It was need. It was survival. It was memory.

Theo met me in the library that afternoon. He was already sketching when I arrived.

This time, it was a new image.

Three figures.

One with a mirror for a heart.

One with fire in their hands.

One holding both.

He didn't look up.

"The Headmistress is calling for a Reinstatement Rite," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"A purge."

"Of who?"

"You. Me. Anyone who remembers."

"What happens if we don't comply?"

He looked at me then. "You disappear."

I sat down across from him, pulling the sketch closer.

"Then we make a new rite."

"They won't let you."

"They don't get to decide anymore."

Theo smiled. It was quiet. Broken. Fierce.

"Julian said the same thing this morning."

That evening, the announcement came.

An assembly.

Mandatory.

Midnight.

It was written in gold ink on black parchment. No signatures. Just the Order's crest, pressed deep into the paper's flesh.

I dressed slowly. Not in the red dress.

Not in uniform.

Just black.

Black shirt.

Black boots.

And the silver pin Petra had given me weeks ago, shaped like a feather curling in on itself.

I met Theo at the top of the old bell tower.

Julian was already there.

He looked at me, then looked at Theo.

"We do this together," he said.

"Or not at all," Theo added.

And I said, "No more forgetting."

The Assembly Hall had been stripped of desks. All the walls were draped in crimson and gray. The entire student body stood in rows, hushed and waiting.

The Headmistress stood at the front, flanked by two men in long coats and silver cuffs. Enforcers.

She began to speak.

"Montclaire has suffered a disruption. A fracture in the reflection we uphold."

"Those who cannot maintain the purity of memory must be cleansed."

"The Rite of Reinstatement begins now."

A boy stepped forward. I didn't know his name.

He knelt.

The mirror was gone-but they brought something new.

A bowl of water.

Laced with gold.

He dipped his hands in.

And his eyes glazed over.

Memory erasure.

They'd created a new mirror. One made of forgetting.

Julian tensed beside me.

Theo reached for something in his coat.

And I stepped forward.

The entire hall froze.

"I'll go next," I said.

Whispers rippled.

The Headmistress narrowed her eyes. "Are you certain, Miss Harrow?"

"Completely."

I walked to the front.

Kneeling, I dipped my fingers into the water.

And instead of surrendering-I reached inward.

Not to forget.

To remember.

Anastasia's voice echoed in my skull.

Theo's sketches flared behind my eyes.

Julian's breath caught.

I stood up.

Eyes glowing.

"It doesn't work anymore," I said calmly.

I turned to the students.

"Memory is not weakness. It's power. And you've been taught to fear it."

Gasps. Murmurs.

I turned back to the Headmistress.

"You don't get to rewrite us."

Behind me, Petra raised her hand.

Then Theo.

Then Julian.

And slowly, the whole hall.

Hands lifted.

Not to surrender.

But to choose.

By the time dawn broke, the Headmistress was gone.

The Enforcers, too.

All that remained were students. Fractured. Awake. Remembering.

And me, standing at the center of it all, holding a bowl of water that had failed to wash away anything real.

Julian brushed his fingers against mine.

Theo stood at my other side.

And somewhere, far beneath us, I swear I felt a heartbeat in the stones.

Not the academy's.

Mine.

Fully awake.

Finally free.