CHAPTER 58 — The Empty Bed
The Academy, at dawn, had that particular silence of days when something is not right. Not the silence of rest, not that of revision or the morning after a celebration. A tense, held-back silence, as if the walls themselves had decided to stay quiet and listen.
Zayn walked through the dormitory corridor, eyes still heavy, coffee in hand. He hadn't slept well. He had dreamed of Blackhowler, of the luminous maw, of the roar that wasn't a cry – a vibration, a wave that passed through bones.
He stopped at the door of a Zenith student's room. A quiet boy, a little shy, who played piano in an empty room at night.
He opened the door.
The bed was empty.
Not unmade. Not rumpled. Empty. The sheets were pulled tight, the pillow placed, the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. As if no one had slept here. As if no one had ever slept here.
Zayn set his coffee on the nightstand.
He looked around. The belongings were still there. Books, clothes, a family photo on the shelf. Nothing had been taken. Nothing had been stolen.
"He's not here, he's just…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
A sound behind him. He turned. Cynthia stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face pale.
"Did you see him?"
"He's not here."
"He didn't come to class."
"Maybe he's sick."
"His things are still here. No one leaves without their things."
Zayn didn't answer. He remembered the disappearances, the rumors, the whispers stifled in the corridors.
"That's the second one this week."
"I know."
Cynthia approached the bed. She placed a hand on the pillow, as if searching for a warmth that was no longer there.
"Liana came back."
Zayn looked up.
"What?"
"She was in the garden last night. She looked at me. Then she disappeared."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm not sure of anything. But it was her."
Zayn sat on the edge of the bed. He thought. The disappearances, the dream of Blackhowler, Cynthia's face when she spoke of Liana – everything seemed connected by an invisible thread, too thin to grasp, too strong to ignore.
"We need to talk to Yojuro."
"He already told me he senses a presence."
"When?"
"This morning. Even before I asked."
Zayn stood.
"Let's go find him. And let's find out what's happening. Because I'm not going to let another comrade disappear without understanding why."
---
Yojuro was sitting on a bench in the empty courtyard.
He wasn't reading. He wasn't looking at the sky. He was looking at the ground, as if the cracks between the flagstones were speaking to him.
Zayn sat beside him.
"A student disappeared."
"I know."
"How do you know?"
"I can feel it."
Yojuro looked up. His eyes were calm, but a strange glimmer shone deep within – something not entirely human.
"Since I came out of the labyrinth, I perceive things. Not sounds. Not images. Just… presences. As if someone was brushing the edge of my consciousness."
"And what do you do about it?"
"I ignore them."
"Why?"
"Because they might be decoys. And because if they are real, I'm not sure I want to face them."
Zayn looked at him.
"Yojuro, people are disappearing."
"I know."
"And you want to just sit here?"
Yojuro turned his head toward him. His gaze wasn't cold. Not indifferent. It was tired – tired of carrying the weight of the dead, of secrets, of Lucifer lurking in some corner of his mind.
"I'm not going to let them disappear. But I'm not going to charge in without knowing either."
"That's cautious."
"No. It's cowardly. But it's better than getting killed stupidly."
He stood.
"We'll start by interrogating the last person who saw him alive."
"Who?"
"His room."
Zayn raised his eyebrows.
"There's no one there, we already checked."
"Yes. But his room has witnessed his absence. It might tell us something."
He walked away without waiting.
Zayn turned to Cynthia.
"Sometimes I wonder if he's human."
"Sometimes, so do I."
They followed him.
---
The room was still empty.
But Yojuro didn't approach the bed. He approached the window.
He placed his fingers on the sill. He lifted them.
"Dust. Not normal dust – a fine gray powder."
"What is it?"
"Ashes."
Zayn approached. He looked at the sill. A thin layer of gray ash, almost invisible, covered the stone.
"How did you see that?"
"I look where others don't."
Yojuro turned to the bed. He lifted the pillow, turned it over.
"No signs of struggle. No blood. No tears."
"He disappeared like… like he was erased."
"Yes."
Yojuro set the pillow down.
"Someone knows how to erase an existence without leaving traces."
"A Djinn?"
"Maybe. Or something else."
He turned to Cynthia.
"You saw Liana. She looked at you. Then she vanished."
"Yes."
"Did she speak to you?"
"She smiled. Just smiled."
Yojuro was silent for a long moment.
"I'm going to sleep in the empty room tonight."
"What?" Zayn turned to him. "Are you crazy?"
"No. I'm going to see if the ashes return. And if they speak."
"We're coming with you."
"No. If something or someone is waiting in that room, it's better that I'm alone."
He wasn't smiling. He didn't look like he was joking.
Zayn looked at him, searched for a retort, found nothing.
"Let me know if you disappear."
"Promise."
The wind blew through the empty corridors.
In the distance, a door slammed.
Silence returned.
And in the empty room, under the pillow that Yojuro had lifted, a thin layer of gray ash continued to glow – so faintly one might have thought it was a reflection of the moon.
But there was no moon that night.
---