They Were Never Meant to Wake

Lira didn’t tell Eren what she found in the archives.

Not the files.

Not the photo.

Not the fact that Cassia had been down there too—whispering into the dark like it might answer her back.

She didn’t know what terrified her more: the Society, or the thought that Cassia might be part of it.

But by morning, Cassia was different.

Quieter. Sharper.

She barely glanced at Lira as they dressed in silence. The envelope she’d taken was gone. Her hands trembled when she laced her boots, but she said nothing.

At breakfast, she didn’t touch her food.

And when their eyes met across the table, Cassia blinked like she was trying to remember who Lira was.

Or what she was.

---

That afternoon, Eren found her behind the greenhouse, where the ivy grew thick enough to block the windows.

“You went into the archives.”

It wasn’t a question.

Lira swallowed. “You knew I would.”

“I told you not to.”

“I found files on both of us,” she said. “They were watching me before I woke up. They called me a failed subject. They said you were… suppressed.”

Eren didn’t flinch. But his silence was louder than denial.

“What does that mean, Eren?”

“It means,” he said slowly, “you were part of a ritual. We both were.”

“A ritual?”

“It’s what the Society does,” he said. “They choose students. Isolate them. Break them down. See who survives. See who comes back... changed.”

Lira’s mouth went dry. “But I died.”

“No,” Eren said. “You were taken.”

---

That night, she couldn’t help herself.

She followed Cassia.

Out of the dorm. Past curfew. Through the hedge gate that led to the chapel ruins—once burned down, now just black stone columns and weeds.

Cassia moved like someone in a dream.

Lira stayed back, hidden in the trees.

Then she saw them.

Figures—eight or maybe nine—cloaked in dark robes, hoods pulled low. They stood in a circle around the ruins, hands joined, faces lit by flickering candlelight.

Cassia stepped into the center.

One of them spoke—an older voice, trembling with power.

“Have the offerings returned?”

Cassia answered: “One has risen.”

A shiver ran down Lira’s spine.

The figure nodded. “Then the second must fall.”

Cassia flinched.

The circle broke. Two of them moved toward her. One held a glass vial. The other, a silver blade.

Cassia stepped back. “Wait. You said I wouldn’t have to—”

The older voice cut her off. “We gave you her place. Her name. Her life. The Hollow does not give without cost.”

Lira’s blood ran cold.

They weren’t testing Cassia.