Prologue – “The Day the Music Died” It began as music. A low hum from the campus speakers during Ravenwood University’s annual fest. Students laughed, danced — until they started bleeding from their ears. By nightfall, the city went silent. Ravenwood was sealed. And the world forgot them. They called it The Sound Plague — a virus spread through frequency, turning people into something half-alive, half-remembering. --- Kashish Malhotra, psychology major, always felt emotions stronger than most. Now, she can feel the infected approaching before they appear. Her heart’s both her gift and her curse. > “I won’t leave anyone behind. Not again.” Zayn Alaric, robotics genius, blames himself — his neural transmitter tech caused the outbreak. Quiet, brilliant, haunted, he leads with guilt more than courage. > “If I made the noise, I’ll find a way to silence it.” Rhea Kapoor, med student, is their medic and backbone — fiery, blunt, and unbreakable. > “You faint, I’ll drag you. You lie, I’ll kill you.” Aarav Das, hacker and troublemaker, keeps their systems alive. > “If Wi-Fi was love, I’d be married by now.” Ibrahim Khan, mechanical student, builds weapons from junk. Calm, practical, rarely smiles. > “Everything breaks — except will.” Noor Rahman, ex-security cadet, became their soldier and shield. > “You want to live? Follow orders.” Elina Verma, biology student, studies the virus like it’s a final exam. > “It’s not infection — it’s communication.” Samar Qureshi, law student, trusts logic over hope. > “Morality doesn’t survive pandemics.” Laila Bennett, fine arts major, paints stars over boarded windows. > “If I die, I want the sky to look pretty.” Ava Sinclair, radio club head, broadcasts nightly signals to whoever’s left outside. > “This is Ravenwood. If you hear me, hold on.” --- Now, they live in the college library — one of the last safe zones. The generator hums. Food is low. Hope is lower. That night, Kashish jolts awake. A faint whisper hums through her comm-link. > “Kashish… help me.” She runs to the control room. Zayn’s already there — the monitor pulsing blue. “It’s coming from the lower labs,” he mutters. Aarav frowns. “The ones we sealed?” Noor loads his gun. “Then something’s still down there.” Rhea grips her med-kit. “Alive or not, we need to know.” Kashish glances at Zayn, voice trembling but steady. > “Then we find out who’s still calling our names.” The sound rises again — soft, melodic, familiar. It’s not just infection. It’s memory. And it remembers them all.