Orphaned Seed
Copyright© 2026 by Fantasylover11
Chapter 13: The Veiled Annex
The research library after hours was a different building.
During the day it swallowed noise in polite gulps. At night it held it, tight and watchful. Noah moved through dim aisles with Masking wrapped around him, his Focus draining in slow, steady bites.
He’d learned the campus cameras the way you’d learn a stranger’s moods: by watching, by making mistakes small, by never letting anyone see you do the math.
Still, his skin prickled every time he crossed a pool of light.
The overlay floated at the edge of his vision.
MAIN QUEST: ENTER THE VEILED ANNEX OBJECTIVE: FIND THE DOOR CONDITION: DO NOT BE FOLLOWED
He didn’t look behind him.
He listened.
The library made small, ordinary sounds. The click of a vent cycling. The faint rattle of an old radiator. Somewhere deeper, a book shifting as air pressure changed.
Nothing that sounded like footsteps.
That didn’t reassure him.
It meant whoever wanted him to feel safe had done a good job.
Noah reached the service stairwell he’d found earlier that week and went down.
The air got colder with each step.
Under the library, the corridor was narrow and unadorned. Painted cinderblock. Pipes overhead. A faint smell of dust and damp stone.
The pressure in his ears returned, sharper than anywhere else on campus.
He followed it like a thread.
Halfway down the corridor, he spotted a camera.
It was mounted above a door with a simple metal placard: STORAGE.
Noah slowed.
The camera’s red indicator light was on.
He held still long enough to count three breaths.
Then, for a single beat, the red light hiccuped.
Not off.
Corrupted.
Like a frame dropped out of a video.
The overlay pulsed.
WINDOW: 00:07
Noah didn’t think.
He moved.
He crossed the camera’s line of sight in a controlled walk that would look like a blur only if someone tried to pause the footage. He swiped his sigiled keycard without looking at the reader for longer than it took the lock to click.
The door opened.
Noah slipped inside.
The space beyond wasn’t storage.
It was a narrow vestibule lined with dark wood paneling that smelled faintly of old paper and varnish. The air pressure changed again, deeper, like he’d stepped into a sealed room.
The door shut behind him with a soft, final sound.
The overlay confirmed what his body already knew.
ENTER THE VEILED ANNEX: IN PROGRESS NOTE: RECORDING UNRELIABLE
Noah took a slow breath.
He’d been afraid of this place for months.
Now that he was inside, the fear didn’t go away.
It just became useful.
The corridor beyond the vestibule opened into a commons that felt too warm to be underground.
Lamps cast a steady amber light. Chairs clustered around low tables. Bookshelves lined one wall, the spines a mix of real titles and blank bindings that looked like props.
Students.
Not many, but enough.
They stood in small groups that looked casual until Noah noticed the spacing. The sightlines. The way no one fully turned their back to anyone else.
Hidden-track open-mindedness wasn’t loud.
It was careful.
Noah kept Masking on and moved to the edge.
He found Sienna near a side table stacked with folders. She wore the same composed expression she’d worn in the library, as if she’d already decided what this place was and refused to be impressed.
Her gaze met his.
A brief flicker of recognition.
Then she looked past him as if he were any other student.
Noah understood the move.
Don’t give people a line to follow.
Before he could decide whether to approach her, a door at the far end of the commons opened.
An older woman stepped into the room and the conversations cut off like someone had thrown a switch.
She wasn’t Mara.
This woman was younger, sharper dressed, and openly bored by the fact that she had to speak.
“Welcome,” she said. “If you’re here, you already know the surface story. You are honors freshmen. Research track. Nothing that would interest anyone.”
Her gaze swept over them like inventory.
“Down here,” she continued, “you are candidates on a ladder. If you climb, you earn access. If you fall, you lose it.”
Noah felt the words settle into his ribs.
Meridian had called it training.
This sounded like a market.
“The Veiled Annex, the buried wing under the research library, is divided into Houses,” the woman said. “Not dorms. Operational units. Social units. A structure designed to keep you from being a lone problem.”
Houses weren’t labels; they were obligations—who trained with you, who covered you, who got punished when you didn’t play along. Lantern kids got sent to the ring first and expected to take hits; Tide kids made networks fast and paid in favors; Ash collected rules until rules became weapons; Mirror watched, recorded, and got watched back.
Noah’s mouth tightened.
“You will be assigned based on what you are likely to become,” she said. “You will not lobby. You will not argue.”
Sienna, across the room, didn’t move.
Noah watched her anyway.
The woman turned a page on her clipboard.
“House Lantern–front-line types who don’t hide skill.” A few students stepped forward.
“House Tide–adaptable, social, hard to pin down.” More.
“House Ash–rule-bound, controlled, hard edges.”
Noah’s pulse ticked up.
The woman looked up.
“House Mirror–observers and quiet operators,” she said.
Noah felt the pressure in the room shift, subtle and sharp.
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