The spiral collapsed.
Not with an explosion—
but with a breath.
And suddenly—
they were back.
In the city.
But not the one they remembered.
This city was… younger.
Buildings unfinished.
Streetlights flickering like thoughts.
The city was still being written.
Amelia knelt and touched the sidewalk.
Warm.
Soft.
Not stone—flesh.
> "We're inside the first draft," Alexis said, voice thin.
"This is before the edits. Before the erasures."
A tower loomed in the distance.
Twisting.
Organic.
Its windows blinked.
> "That's the root," Amelia whispered.
"Room 303 was a classroom.
That—
that's the mother."
A deep voice echoed through the air:
> "Students who pass must plant their own seeds.
Welcome to the spiral's heart."