They rested in the corridor between floors.

Kael sat against the wall, turning his three Shards in his hands like worry stones. Guilt. Loneliness. Longing. Three crystals, three stolen emotions, each one pulsing with faint warmth against his skin. He was learning to distinguish them by feel alone — Maren's guilt was heavy and round, like a river stone worn smooth by centuries. The Drowner's loneliness was sharp, angular, with edges that nicked his fingers if he wasn't careful. And the longing from the mirror forest was the strangest — it shifted shape constantly, as if it couldn't decide what it wanted to be.

"You keep touching those." Sera sat across from him, legs stretched out, back against the stone. Her arm was healing — the bandage needed changing less often now, and color had returned to her face. But the dark circles under her eyes spoke of something no bandage could fix.

"They help me think." Kael tucked the Shards back into his pocket. "Each one feels different. Like — separate people's pain, crystallized."

"That's exactly what they are." Sera pulled her sword across her lap, began running a whetstone along the edge. The sound — *sshk, sshk* — echoed in the narrow space. "Every Shard is a piece of someone's worst moment. The Tower captures it, stores it, offers it to the next climber who passes through."

"Why?"

"Nobody knows. Some climbers think the Shards are fuel — the Tower needs fear to run, like a machine needs oil. Others think they're gifts. The Tower wants you to understand what came before you." She paused, the whetstone hovering. "I think it's neither. I think the Tower is lonely."

Kael blinked. "Lonely?"

"It's a living thing trapped in one place forever. It can't move, can't change, can't die. All it can do is collect pieces of the people who pass through it." She resumed sharpening. "Sounds like loneliness to me."

He thought about the Drowner's Shard — that aching, hollow emptiness of waiting in dark water. Maybe she was right.

"You said you've been climbing for three years." He was careful with the question. "You mentioned your brother."

The whetstone stopped.

---

Sera didn't answer immediately. She set the sword down, crossed her arms, and looked at the ceiling — the pulsing blue light reflected in her gray eyes.

"His name is Cade." Past tense would have been easier. She used present. "He was seventeen when he entered the Tower. I was nineteen."

"He came in first?"

"He didn't *come in*. He was taken." Her jaw tightened. "We lived in Ashford — a mining town on the edge of the Blight. When I was nineteen, the Blight surged. Pushed closer to town than it had been in decades. The Hearthstone held, but barely. And one night — Cade heard voices."

"The Whispers."

"He didn't call them that. He called them dreams. Said someone was asking him to come, that there was a door in the ground near the mine. I told him he was sick. Fever from the Blight-air." Her voice was flat, controlled, but her hands — gripping her crossed arms — were white-knuckled. "Two days later, he was gone. His bed was empty. The door in the mine was real — and it was open."

"So you followed."

"Not right away. I searched for weeks first. The mine, the tunnels, the old passages the miners had abandoned. Nothing. Then one night, I went back to the door — and it was still open. Waiting." She uncrossed her arms, looked at her hands. "I've been climbing ever since. Floor by floor. Looking for him."

"You reached Floor 15."

"And found traces. On Floor 11, I found his knife — the one our father gave him. On Floor 14, I heard his voice through the walls. Just once. *Sera, I'm here. Keep climbing.*" Her voice cracked on the last word. She caught it, forced it back. "So I went back down. Restocked. Healed. And now I'm climbing again."

Kael was quiet for a moment. Then: "Ghost."

Sera looked at him sharply.

"The voice I heard — on Floor 3. It said 'hello.' You didn't hear it." He chose his next words carefully. "What if it's connected to Cade?"

Something flickered in her eyes — hope, fierce and immediately suppressed. "Don't. Don't give me hope unless you have evidence."

"I don't. Not yet. But I'll listen for it."

She studied him. Then, slowly, she nodded. One sharp dip of her chin.

"If you hear that voice again," she said, "you tell me. Immediately."

"I will."

She picked up the whetstone. The sound resumed — *sshk, sshk* — slower now, steadier. And in the rhythm of blade on stone, Kael heard something he hadn't heard from Sera before.

Trust.

---

They ate in silence — dried meat and hardtack from Sera's pack, washed down with water collected from a trickle in the wall. Tower water, she said, was safe to drink. One of the few kindnesses the structure offered.

"Floor 4 is next," she said, breaking the quiet. "I need to warn you."

"About what?"

"The Warden."

The word dropped like a stone into still water.

"I mentioned it before — the thing that hunts between floors. On the lower levels, it stays away. Watches. But Floor 4 is different." She met his eyes. "Floor 4 is where the Warden gives you your first real test."

"What kind of test?"

"It depends on the climber. For me, the first time, it wore my mother's face and asked me why I left her behind to chase a dead boy." She said it matter-of-factly, but her hand twitched on the sword grip. "For others — I've heard stories. It shows you the worst version of yourself and asks if you'll become that."

"And if you fail?"

"You don't die. You get sent back to Floor 1. Start over. Lose all your Shards." She paused. "Some people never recover from that. They sit on Floor 1 forever, afraid to climb."

Kael looked at his pocket — three Shards. Three pieces of grief he'd earned with blood and fear. The thought of losing them — of losing Maren's guilt, the one piece of his mentor he still carried — made his stomach clench.

"How do you beat it?"

Sera stood, sheathed her sword, and offered him her hand.

"You tell it the truth."

He took her hand and stood. Together, they walked toward the next door. Behind them, the corridor sealed itself — another path closed, another choice made.

Ahead, something waited. Something with many faces and no mercy.

But Kael had three Shards, a borrowed knife, and Sera.

For now, it was enough.