copiesofsarah

They say there are only four prodigies in the academy.
Four chairs. Four minds. Four futures.

But then came the fifth.

No one knows who reserved it.
No one knows why it’s always left empty.
And no one dares to ask—

And the truth?
It was never about who sat in the chair…
It was about who was missing from it.

The Fifth Chair

Both of them were quite for a long time.

The echo of her voice... the version of her... trapped in that recording — still hung between them. Like a third presence in the room. One that had known too much too soon.

He powered off the monitor...grabbed the portable drive from the console...and slipped it into the inner lining of his jacket. Arwa watched him in silence and...still gripping the doorframe like the ground might shift again without warning.

"Let's go," Zayaan said softly.

Her eyes had glazed over — not in detachment, but in that slow-focusing way someone has when the past is finally catching up in jagged, out-of-order flashes.

"They made me forget you."

Her voice wasn't angry. It wasn't even sad. It just… was.

Stating a fact, like she was still trying to believe it.

Zayaan didn't answer. He didn't know how. What could he possibly say that wouldn't feel too small, too clean?

"I wasn't supposed to remember what we were."

Zayaan stepped toward her, slowly. "But you do now."

"I don't remember everything. Not the good parts. But my body… it reacts to you like it knows."

She placed a hand flat against her chest. "Like it missed you before I even knew your name."

Zayaan swallowed hard. The air between them had shifted — it wasn't romantic, not exactly. It was something older. Heavier. Like grief that hadn't had a place to land.

"I think they tried to turn me into a warning," she said. "And now I'm just… what's left."

"No." His voice came sharper than he meant. "You're not what's left. You're what's waking up."

And then, without warning, she took his hand. Fingers cold, grip steady.

"Let's go," she said. "Before they decide remembering is a threat."

They moved fast. Back through the dark hallways...past long-dead machines and flickering corridor lights. Arwa's footsteps grew surer with each turn — like the path was imprinting into her bones as they walked it.

They reached the outer gate just as the emergency lights cut out entirely.

Zayaan tapped into the panel. The override took longer this time.

She stood frozen, eyes fixed on a long-abandoned wall to their right. Dust-covered. Cracked.

One phrase was faintly visible, half-erased beneath the grime.

"You were never meant to be a subject. You were the signal."

Zayaan followed her gaze. Read it. And read it again.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

Arwa's voice was barely a whisper.

"It means they weren't just watching me."

"They were waiting for you to find me."

Chapter 25: Tether