For three days, the tenth door was all Eliora talks about.
Morning walks to school, she walked ahead of them, arguing with the air about shifting districts and overwritten streets.
At lunch, she pushed her food aside and spread rough sketches across the table, redrawing the city from memory. During classes, she lost focus and the teacher noticed immediately.
"The tenth door isn't gone," she insisted again and again, kneeling in the field and drawing invisible lines in the dirt. "It's relocating. You saw the map. The alignment was wrong."
Kalderon was lying on his back, staring at the sky.
He signaled Iremiel to talk with her. Because they both already discussed that he should be the one to talk to her. For she never listens to Kalderon and thinks of him as her enemy.
"Elio…" he tried gently.
She didn't look up. And kept drawing. So he called her name again.
"Eliora."
That made her pause. She looked at him, irritation flashing first, then something sharper.
"What?"
He hesitated. He hated confrontation. Hated being the one to slow her down. Kalderon hadn't said it directly, but his silence had been loud enough.
"We need to talk," Iremiel said carefully.
"We are talking."
"I mean about the door."
The air shifted.
Her jaw tightened. "I thought we finally agreed on this matter."
"Yes we did," he said quickly. "But exams are in four days."
"So?"
That was what he had feared that she would choose the door over everything else. Kalderon pushed himself upright.
"We can't fail finals chasing something that may not even exist," he said, calm but firm.
"It exists," she snapped.
Silence fell between them.
Iremiel swallowed. His pulse was louder than it should be. He was scared. He thought, Why should he be the bad guy? Why not Kalderon. If he doesn't like Eliora's idea he should be the one to say it.
"Then let's find it," he said, so all the weight on his chest left him.
Both of them turned to him.
"After exams," he continued before either could react. "We will focus now. Finish our exams properly. Then we look for it. Together."
Kalderon exhaled sharply through his nose. Disapproval, but restrained.
Eliora studied Iremiel's face. She couldn't believe what she just heard.
"You mean that?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
Her expression shifted frustration melting into bright, reckless excitement.
"Fine," she said. "After exams."
And just like that, a pact was made.
The next four days were relentless.
Eliora studied like a storm fast, intense, and unstoppable. She was good at studies.
Kalderon was methodical. Structured. Disciplined.
While Iremiel tried. He truly did. But whatever he learns slipped through his fingers like sand. History dates were blurred. Structural theories tangled. And every time he closed his eyes to focus, he saw the map again.
Ten doors.
Not nine.
It was like the tenth door had taken over his mind.
Exam day arrived under a cloudless sky.
The classroom was sealed under suppression magic, a faint shimmer at the windows ensuring no one could use spells to cheat.
Even whisper charms were useless. Desks were arranged in strict rows. Eliora sat three seats away. Kalderon beside Iremiel like always.
The invigilator's voice was cold and precise.
"You may begin."
Pages turned.
Pens moved instantly.
Eliora wrote with sharp efficiency, barely pausing between answers. Kalderon wrote slower but steady, each line controlled. While Iremiel stared at the first section.
Nothing settled.
His chest tightened.
He glanced sideways.
Kalderon didn't look at him but after finishing one answer, he subtly angled his paper just enough that Iremiel leaned closer and copied quickly.
Shame burned in his stomach. He told himself he would study harder next term. If there was a next term that mattered.
Questions passed.
Time moved too fast.
All he did was to copy.
Then he reached it.
"State the number of sealed Gates currently recorded within the city structure."
His pulse faltered.
Nine.
Everyone knew it was nine. He didn't need help for this. His hand moved.
10.
The ink touched the page. And the world stopped.
The sound vanished completely. No scratching pens. No breathing. No shifting fabric. He looked up. The classroom was still there. But drained. Colorless.
Eliora sat frozen mid-motion, pen hovering above her page. Kalderon was still too still. The light from the windows dimmed. The edges of the room blurred like wet paint.
And then suddenly the walls began moving inward.
Slow.
Silent.
Desks around him faded into shadow one by one, dissolving into nothing.
His throat tightened.
"I didn't—"
The ceiling lowered.
The space shrank.
His lungs refused to fill.
The number on his page pulsed.
10.
It looked wrong. Too deep. Like it wasn't written but carved.
The walls pressed closer, compressing the air around him. He tried to stand, but the floor narrowed beneath his feet.
"Iremiel."
The voice cut through the silence. Sharp. Real.
"Iremiel."
The world snapped back violently.
Sound flooded in.
Chair scraping.
Pens scratching.
The ticking clock.
Kalderon's hand gripped his wrist tightly.
"You okay?" He asked, low enough that no one else heard.
The classroom was normal,bright, wide and alive.
Iremiel looked down.
The answer sheet read:
9.
The zero was scratched out harshly. His breathing was uneven. Too fast. He forced a nod.
"I'm fine."
He wasn't. His fingers trembled against the edge of the desk. Kalderon watched him for a moment longer than necessary. Then returned to his paper. But he did not fully relax.
Just three rows ahead, Eliora's pen slowed just slightly. As if she had felt something too. Some sort of magic.
The bell rang soon after.
Exams were over.
Freedom began.