12

The red light on the monitor pulsed, casting a faint glow over Ken's face.

He didn't blink.

Crow was twenty minutes away—maybe less.

And Ravyn walked beside him like she belonged to no one. Not to the school. Not to the Board. Not even to herself.

Ken stared at the screen for another heartbeat before turning to Misty. "We need to move."

Misty was already helping Dawn to his feet. His legs wobbled under him, muscles frail and unused.

"I can walk," Dawn muttered, but his voice was barely stronger than a whisper.

"No offense," Misty said, throwing his arm over her shoulder, "but you're literally coming back from the dead. Let us help you."

Ken searched the room for anything they could use. There were no windows, no back door—just the front entrance they'd come through, which now felt more like a trap.

Then he spotted a hatch near the floor—a ventilation duct, wide enough to crawl through.

"We're not going back the way we came," he said. "They'll be expecting it."

He knelt, pulling the cover off. Misty and Dawn followed without question.

As Ken crawled into the vent, the cold metal bit at his knees, but he didn't care. The tighter the space, the more real everything felt.

They'd made it this far.

They weren't going to be erased now.

Crow wiped sweat from his forehead as he stepped into the clearing outside Room R. The forest behind him whispered secrets he didn't want to hear.

Ravyn walked beside him, humming quietly. A lullaby, maybe. Or something that sounded like one.

"You don't have to do this," Crow said, keeping his voice low.

She didn't answer.

"I know you don't care about the Board. About any of this. So why are you still here?"

Ravyn smiled faintly. "Because I was made to watch."

Crow stopped walking.

She didn't.

"Watching isn't the same as believing," he said.

Ravyn glanced back at him. "Then why are you still holding the gun?"

Crow looked down.

The pistol in his hand felt heavier than before.

Like it was made of regret.

Inside the vents, Misty's breathing quickened. "They're right above us."

Ken nodded silently, gesturing for her to keep moving. Dawn's weight was shifting between them—he was stronger now, but still shaky.

A voice echoed through the metal.

"Ken."

Crow.

Misty froze.

"He found us," she whispered.

Ken looked at the small mesh opening ahead. They were under the floor of the observation room now. A dim red light seeped through.

Another voice followed.

Softer. Feminine.

"Let them come out on their own," Ravyn said.

"They won't," Crow replied.

Ken leaned forward until he was right against the grate. He could see their boots.

And then Ravyn's voice, crystal-clear:

"Dawn is waking up. We can't let him fully remember."

"Why not?" Crow asked.

Ravyn paused. Then:

"Because if he does... Ken will too."

Ken's pulse thudded in his ears.

There was more. More that they'd kept from him.

He felt it in the way his head ached. In the flashes of memories that didn't belong—white rooms, screaming voices, his own reflection staring back, twisted and afraid.

Dawn wasn't the key.

He was.

And that terrified them.

Ken shifted back, whispering to Misty. "Get ready to run."

"But—"

"Now."

He kicked the grate open with both feet. It crashed into the room.

Crow spun around, gun aimed.

Ken leapt forward and slammed into him, knocking the pistol from his hand.

They hit the ground hard.

Ken rolled, scrambled to his feet. Crow was fast—up again in seconds.

They faced each other.

Crow's green-and-white hair was disheveled, his face bruised, lip split.

"You really want to do this?" Crow asked.

"I'm done running," Ken replied.

Behind them, Misty helped Dawn through the vent. Ravyn turned to face them, arms crossed.

"You're just a boy," she said.

Ken didn't flinch. "So were you once."

Ravyn's expression changed—just a flicker. A twitch in her left eye. A ghost of something real.

Then Crow moved.

He lunged.

But not at Ken.

At Ravyn.

She dodged him easily, sidestepping and striking him in the back with her elbow. He fell hard.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he shouted.

"I changed my mind," she said simply.

Misty looked stunned. "You're helping us?"

"No," Ravyn said, walking to the fallen gun. She picked it up, turned it over in her hand, then tossed it into the fire pit at the room's center.

"I'm choosing not to hurt you. That's different."

Ken didn't know if he trusted her—but right now, she wasn't trying to kill them, and that was enough.

Crow groaned and sat up, cradling his arm.

"I was supposed to bring you in," he muttered. "I thought I could control it."

Misty knelt in front of him. "Control what?"

Crow looked at her.

"You," he said.

Ken stepped forward. "You really thought you could?"

Crow didn't answer.

Ravyn glanced out the door.

"We need to go. Now. There's a perimeter drone five minutes out. They'll trigger the failsafe."

"What's the failsafe?" Misty asked.

Ravyn met Ken's eyes.

"They wipe your minds. All of you. Permanently."

Ken looked at Dawn. His friend's expression was calm—but his hands were shaking.

"No more erasing," Ken said.

"We can still get out," Ravyn said, already moving toward the trees. "But the longer we stand here, the less chance we have."

Crow struggled to his feet. "You're not leaving me here."

"No," Ken said. "You're coming with us."

Misty frowned. "Are you serious?"

Ken nodded. "We don't leave people behind. That's their way."

He turned to Dawn. "Can you run?"

Dawn nodded slowly. "For you? Always."

And together, they vanished into the forest.

Behind them, the room began to shake. A low siren wailed from somewhere deep underground.

The failsafe had activated.

And Room R—the room that had once been a prison, a tomb—began to collapse.

Ken didn't look back.

Because the future was ahead.

And this time, he was awake.