Amelia was halfway across Greenhaven University's main campus when it hit her. Her mother had walked this path before. Not once, but twice—first as a student, then years later as a scientist working in the Environmental Sciences department. Amelia couldn't remember those years—she was barely more than a toddler. But standing here now, it made sense. Helpmann had sent her to the right place. Somewhere inside this sprawl of stone, glass, and greenery, Evelyn Lockwood had built a career. A life. One that had ended too soon.

  Marv walked alongside her, scuffing the gravel with his sneakers. The path curved ahead, cutting through a large, well-trodden lawn that linked libraries to labs and lecture halls to office blocks. Cherry trees lined the route, their branches jagged and bare.

  "So, this is university," Marv said, looking around. "I thought there'd be more… y'know… students."

  "Same."

  "It is Saturday, I guess."

  "Yeah. Maybe that's why." Amelia stopped walking. She couldn't see a soul. She looked left and right, uncertain which route to take.

  A sound broke the quiet.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  They looked at each other. Neither of them spoke.

  Amelia turned towards the sound and started walking. Marv hesitated, then fell in beside her. They followed it down a long pathway lined with chokeberry bushes leaning in on either side, blackened fruit still clinging to the stems.

  Someone passed them heading in the opposite direction—an older man, not in a hurry. Maybe a professor.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  Ahead, the path opened into a large stone ring circling a pond. A low lip rose at the water's edge, a few inches higher than the path. The surface was so still it looked like an extension of the pavement—until the middle.

  An enormous plume of water exploded from the centre, a hundred feet high before it shattered and fell. Six smaller columns churned around it, each the height of a man. The roar drowned everything. Mist stung her arms and face, colder than it should be, and a shiver crept down her back—whether from the spectacle or the cold, she couldn't say.

  She stood still.

  Then, underneath, she heard it—

  Thump.

  She started walking again, following the sound.

  They came to a courtyard. The university's main hall rose in front of them, its walls a patchwork of dark grey, black, and warm amber stone. A narrow stained glass window rose beneath a steep tiled roof. Heavy wooden doors were set into the base. Words were carved into the surrounding stone:

  Under the Lord's light, the truth shall be seen.

  Smaller buildings enclosed the courtyard on every side, built from the same stone and linked by low arched walkways. Yew bushes, clipped into perfect domes, dotted the grass at precise intervals.

  Amelia stopped.

  The sound was much louder here. Clearer.

  A bass drum, lying down a steady pulse. A snare snapping around it. Horns punctuating the rhythm, dissipating, returning.

  Music.

  A constant buzz bled through from the other side of the arches.

  "Come on, Marv." Amelia moved quickly, up the steps and through one of the archways.

  On the other side, steps descended into a parking lot filled with people. Trucks, tables, and tents stretched across it. Pickups and SUVs sat nose-to-nose, canopies rattling in the breeze. Folding tables sagged under coolers and plastic cups. Smoke drifted up from barbecue grills, the smell of charred meat and fried onions thick in the air.

  "What is this?" Marv said, his eyes wide.

  "I think it's… a tailgate." Amelia nodded toward a banner stretched between the eaves of two buildings.

  GREENHAVEN GULLS vs. LOS DORADOS DUST DEVILS.

  SILVER COAST BOWL.

  "The Gulls in a Bowl game? That's a big deal. No wonder everyone's here."

  "There are a lot of people between us and the science block," Amelia replied. "I don't know if that helps us or not. We can blend into the crowd—makes us harder to spot if anyone's looking for us."

  "Who do you think could be looking for us? You mean, like, Alexander Bennett?"

  "I mean Bennett. Neville Browning. Campus Security. Anyone."

  The tailgate pulsed with the Gulls' colours—white and grey jerseys with blue and orange trim. Occasional flashes of red and black marked opposition fans weaving quietly through the crowd toward the stadium. Beyond the mass of bodies, a line of buildings rose—stone spires among glass and metal boxes. The science block.

  Amelia pointed. "It's this way. Let's go."

  They moved down the steps into the crowd, Amelia leading and Marv trailing behind. Shoulders and elbows pressed in on either side. Faces blurred past—some painted, some not. Conversations overlapped and ran into each other. Amelia's foot crushed a discarded cup. Then another. And another. The sound of the plastic cracking was too loud. Her shoulders tightened. The smoke stung her eyes. A backpack grazed her ribs. She couldn't get a full breath. Underneath it all, the band kept playing.

  She wanted to stop. To turn back. But she thought of her mom. Reaching the science block was all that mattered. She pushed her fingers deeper into her palms and kept moving.

  They broke through near the far edge of the crowd, close to the brass band. It was loud here, but at least Amelia could breathe. She put her hands on her knees and pulled in air.

  Marv appeared beside her. "You ok, Ames?"

  "Yeah. Just catching my breath. You know I'm not great with crowds."

  A man in a seagull suit barrelled past, nearly knocking Marv over. He gave a loud squawk and high-fived the people around him. A hot dog drooped from one feathered hand, though the costume had no mouth hole. He jerked into some kind of robot dance, then threw both arms up.

  Marv grinned broadly. "That guy… he's my new hero."

  "Aim higher," Amelia replied, straightening up. She caught him by his backpack strap and pulled him toward the edge of the crowd.

  They reached a service road. People were drifting away in small groups, heading toward the stadium as kickoff approached. A golf buggy rumbled past carrying three campus security guards. One of their walkie-talkies crackled something indecipherable. Amelia glanced over her shoulder.

  Farther up the road, a man sat cross-legged on a blanket with scarves and caps spread out in front of him. Amelia walked toward him.

  "You take EverCoin?"

  "Who doesn't?" he replied, pulling a handheld EverPay portal from his pocket.

  She held two fingers up. "Two hats."

  Her phone tapped the reader. It chimed.

  Marv blinked. "What are we doing?"

  Amelia grabbed a vintage baseball cap—dark blue with orange trim, Gulls stitched in white across the front. She pulled it on and tugged the peak low.

  "Blending in." She tossed Marv a grey-and-white beanie with an oversized orange G on the front.

  He jammed it on, flattening his hair.

  "How do I look?"

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  Amelia didn't answer.

  "Go Gulls!" He pumped a fist and added a squawk for good measure.

  The corner of Amelia's mouth twitched, but she kept walking.

  "Come on. We need to keep moving."

  They walked for a few more minutes. Marv's attention snagged on a food stall piled high with trays of freshly cooked pretzels steaming under heat lamps.

  "Okay… Ames… just hear me out."

  Amelia didn't slow down.

  "We're trying to blend in, right?" He matched her pace, trying to stay in her eye-line. "We've got the merch, which was a great idea by the way—really smart. But there's still something missing. You know what it is? Nothing says 'normal football fans' like pre-game snacks."

  "We're not here to eat, Marv."

  "But… maybe we should be, if we want to blend in." He smiled and nodded toward the crowd. "Look around. Literally everyone is stuffing their faces with something."

  "You think a tray of pretzels will make us invisible?" Amelia's sarcasm was palpable.

  "No." He grinned. "But it might make my hunger disappear. I haven't eaten in, like, three hours."

  She shook her head and kept walking.

  Marv lagged behind, eyes lingering on every stall they passed. Amelia tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the people around her. She couldn't help but see it now—every pair of hands was full. A girl strolled past balancing a plate of onion rings. Two guys held burgers piled high with toppings. A group of students stood in a circle sharing pizza, grabbing slices straight from the box and holding them up in the air. The smell of barbecue sauce and warm dough hung in the air.

  Amelia stopped, spun around, and folded her arms.

  "Fine."

  Marv blinked. "Really?"

  "Quickly. Before I change my mind."

  He was already gone.

  When he returned, he held out a steaming tray filled with pretzels. "Want one?"

  "No." She nodded at the tray. "Just eat."

  For once, Marv did as he was told with no further comment.

  They followed the path until they came to a pair of tall wrought-iron gates framing the entrance to the science block. The architecture ahead was a collision of two eras—gothic spires, elaborate stonework, and arched windows rising beside modern boxes of glass and metal.

  Amelia noticed a security camera tracking them as they passed a large lab building. She pulled the peak of her cap lower and hooked Marv by the arm, dragging him along.

  "Hey—what's the big rush?" Marv asked, dropping the empty pretzel tray in a nearby trash can.

  Amelia scowled in response.

  As they moved deeper into the block, she scanned the plaques in front of the buildings.

  Physics. Engineering. Applied Mathematics.

  Nothing yet…

  It must be somewhere around here.

  They passed under a covered walkway connecting the Neuroscience and Biology buildings. Overgrown bushes pressed in from both sides, branches thick with cobwebs and litter. A long thread of ivy trailed across Amelia's face and she pushed it away as they emerged into a more open space. This area was tucked away from the main concourse, almost self-contained. Buildings boxed it in on three sides, their walls casting long shadows. Around the edges, old trees leaned at odd angles, their branches tangled with ivy.

  Amelia spotted a squat rectangular building at the far side of the square. Its cladding was chipped and discoloured, moss growing in patches across the wood. An empty flowerbed stretched in front. A rusty metal plaque jutted from the wall near the doors.

  Environmental Sciences & Climate Studies

  Dept. Head - Dr. G. Vale

  A pair of dark red double doors stood slightly off-centre. No handles on the outside.

  Amelia moved to the doors and peered through one of the dusty glass panes. A metal push bar with a built-in lock held them from inside. Past the doors, a hallway bathed in fluorescent light stretched ahead. Perfectly still. No movement, no shadows.

  Marv shifted beside her. "So what do we do now?"

  "We go in."

  "Or—" He glanced back toward the path. "We could wait. See if anyone comes out."

  "Everyone's at the game, Marv. You saw them."

  "Most people. That doesn't mean everyone." He hesitated. "Look, if someone's in there—"

  "Then we'll deal with it." She tested the doors, rattling them.

  Locked.

  She scanned the frame until she found a metal box. She pried open the front panel to reveal a ten-digit keypad, fingers hovering over the keys.

  "Amelia—" Marv hissed.

  She glanced back over her shoulder.

  "You can't just put in random codes. That might trigger a permanent lockout. Or worse, a silent alarm straight to campus security." He paused. "Remember the guys in the golf buggy? I don't fancy seeing them again, do you?"

  She stepped back. "Fine. But I'm getting in there, Marv—even if I have to break a window."

  "Okay, okay." He held up his hands. "I get it. You're doing this with or without my help."

  Amelia turned, cocked her head to one side, and smiled.

  He sighed. "You might as well let me take a look then."

  Marv dropped to his knees to get a better view of the keypad. "It's an old numeric system. Four-digit PIN, probably. Maybe six. That's a minimum of ten thousand possible combinations, so I don't think we're guessing our way in."

  Marv reached into his pocket and pulled out a small screwdriver. "Good job I'm always prepared." He gave the tip a little wave like a wagging finger. "Shouldn't be too hard to crack. This thing was cutting-edge when my bike had training wheels."

  His fingers moved quickly. Faceplate off, wires exposed—red twisted with green, a yellow one he ignored completely. He worked the circuit board loose from the back of the keypad, tongue stuck out the side of his mouth.

  "How's it looking?" Amelia asked, glancing both ways. "You good?"

  "Relax. This is—"

  "A walk in the park?"

  He glanced up. "I was going to say 'an old-school offline locking mechanism with exposed terminals and no anti-tamper protection.' But—"

  He paused, looked up at her, and winked.

  "Yeah—you were right too."

  The lock clicked. Marv stood and pushed the door open, sweeping his arm toward the corridor. "After you."

  They stepped inside. Red linoleum stretched toward double doors at the far end. Fluorescent strips buzzed overhead. One flickered halfway down. The smell was strange—not clean like she'd expected. Old earth and stale rain. Behind them, the red doors clicked shut.

  They edged forward, moving carefully on the linoleum.

  Through the doors, the lab sat empty. Benches lined both walls, black surfaces dull and scratched. Soil trays were stacked high on the left beside plastic bottles filled with cloudy water. On the right, wire mesh strainers piled in a deep sink. At the back, a freezer hummed, the only sound in the room.

  Maps covered nearly every wall. Amelia moved slowly around the room, studying them. Storm charts. Sea level projections from around the world. One collection showed ice shelves retreating year by year, sticky notes marking specific regions.

  She stopped at a familiar shape—the United Commonwealth. A large map was pinned to the wall, surrounded by images and newspaper clippings. Some marked in pen, others buried under sticky notes. Colored lines swept across it, looping and crossing.

  Toward the bottom, a thick red circle. Around it, several clippings of the same place. Hurricane Leda hitting the South Coast. Her stomach tightened. Before and after. A city full of life reduced to rubble and floodwater.

  Someone had traced the hurricane's path across the map.

  Seraluna.

  Amelia opened a binder on one of the benches. A cup of milky coffee sat beside it, half-empty. She touched it. Stone cold.

  A corkboard on the far wall caught her attention. A photograph pinned at the center, slightly crooked. A research team—maybe twenty people—clustered around one of the benches in this same lab. Young faces, students probably, except one older man: thick glasses, gray hair, ill-fitting lab coat, hands folded behind his back. He stared at the camera while everyone else smiled.

  Marv drifted beside her. "Who's Doctor Buzzkill? He looks intense."

  "No idea." Amelia scanned the faces again. "But there's no sign of my mom. Not in this photo. Not anywhere."

  "We haven't looked everywhere yet."

  "We're not going to find anything. She hasn't worked here in over a decade. Why would anything still be here?" She shook her head. "What was Helpmann thinking, sending us—"

  She stopped.

  Footsteps. In the corridor. Coming toward them.

  Marv's face drained. His eyes cut to the door.

  Amelia's heart jumped. The corridor was the only way out.

  She spotted two doors at the far end of the lab.

  "Move."

  She grabbed Marv's arm and pulled him along the wall. They ducked low behind a bench. A stool rocked as his foot clipped it—Amelia caught it, pulse hammering. Marv reached the first door and wrenched the handle. It didn't budge.

  The footsteps drew closer.

  "Quick—try the second one."

  Marv's hands fumbled for the handle. It pushed down—the latch opened. He yanked the door and they stumbled through.

  Amelia swung it shut behind them.

  A small window high in the back wall let in dim light—enough to soften the shadows. They were in a storage room. Metal shelving units lined both walls, sagging under outdated equipment. Cardboard boxes with faded labels. Plastic crates filled with murky bottles. Rubber boots caked in dried mud. A mop and bucket leaned against the shelving. The air smelled stale—dust and old plastic.

  The lab door opened. Footsteps entered. Then stopped.

  Marv squeezed behind the shelving, pressing into the corner.

  Amelia sank into the opposite corner, arms wrapped tight around her knees.

  The closet door had a frosted panel at eye level. She stared at it. Outside, footsteps moved. Back and forth. Searching.

  A clatter made Amelia jump. She looked over—Marv's arm was straight, tensed, gripping the mop. He'd managed to stop it from falling.

  But the bucket had tumbled across the floor.

  They froze.

  The footsteps stopped.

  Amelia's breath locked. The smell of dust and old wood pressed in. Waiting for the door to open.

  A shadow rose against the frosted panel. Tall. Distorted. Stretched thin by the glass.

  It leaned in closer. Right outside.

  The handle shifted in its socket.

  And then it began to turn.