The elevator stopped. Not with a jolt—just a quiet halt, like the tower had paused to think.
Then the door snapped open.
The room beyond was small. Stone walls, dim light. No sound but breathing. Mine and hers. One door behind us. One ahead.
And in front of the far door stood something that shouldn't have moved, but did.
A skeleton.
It wasn't dramatic. It just stood there. Still. Upright. Waiting.
Half-covered in something that looked like armor, but wasn't. A single leather strap dangled from its shoulder like it had once meant something. Its weapon was rusted through—barely a sword, more like a jagged hunk of metal shaped into a point.
I didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
The sockets where its eyes should've been felt like they were staring through me. There was no sound. No breath from it. Just presence. Like it had been waiting here a long, long time.
I should've run. Or screamed. Or done anything.
But my body locked up.
I couldn't take a step forward.
Then I heard the chains shift beside me.
She moved past me—the girl with the chains. Her movements were tense, deliberate. The links around her wrists rattled softly. She looked like she was holding her breath too, but she kept going.
I wanted to stop her. Say something. I didn't.
She raised her hands, chains coiled like makeshift weapons, and dropped into a fighting stance. Her boots slid slightly against the cold stone.
She was afraid. I could see it in how her shoulders locked, how her jaw clenched. But she moved anyway.
She charged.
The chains whipped forward. Hard. They cracked against the skeleton's ribs with enough force to echo through the room. The sound hit like lightning.
And the thing didn't move.
Not a step. Not a flinch.
She stumbled. I saw her wince as her arm recoiled. Her wrist bent too far—wrong. She gasped and backed away.
Then she tripped. Her foot hit a chunk of stone. She went down hard. I heard the breath leave her chest when she hit.
And the skeleton raised its blade.
It didn't hesitate. It didn't scream. It just lifted the rusted weapon and brought it down.
Straight for her chest.
And I moved.
I didn't think. Didn't even open my eyes all the way. I just threw myself forward—arms out, useless, terrified.
I didn't know what I meant to do. I had no weapon. No strength.
But something happened.
CRACK.
The room exploded.
Dust erupted. A boom like stone shattering tore through the silence. I hit the ground beside her. We both coughed, blinded by the sudden haze.
And then it was quiet again.
Too quiet.
The skeleton was gone.
Only the shattered bulk of the entrance door remained—ripped clean from its frame and crushed against the floor in a pile of bones.
It hadn't been a coincidence.
Something pulled it down. Maybe the tower. Maybe the thing in my eye. Maybe me.
I didn't understand.
And I didn't want to talk about it.
The girl with the chains groaned from the floor beside me. "So… not the worst first fight."
I didn't respond. My eyes were locked on the bones. My hand was still trembling.
She stood slowly, wincing. Her hand went to her arm, rubbing where the chain had hit back.
"…We should probably call each other something," she muttered. "Before we die horribly on the next floor."
I shrugged. A small one. Enough to say sure without saying anything.
She didn't let the silence win. "I'm not yelling 'hey you' while something's trying to rip my face off."
She turned to me, studying me for the first time—really looking.
"You've got that cold look. Like... you're not all here. That eye too. I'm calling you Blue."
I blinked.
Blue.
It felt… right. Cold. Detached. Easier than explaining who I wasn't.
"Alright," I said.
My voice was quiet. But it was mine.
She looked down at the busted shackles on her wrists and smirked.
"I guess I'm Chains," she said.
She chuckled, more breath than sound. It was real.
I didn't laugh. But I didn't look away either.
She didn't ask who I was. Didn't ask what that was, back there, with the door. And I didn't ask why she ran in first.
That was enough.
When we stepped toward the next door, we weren't walking side by side.
Not yet.
But we weren't strangers anymore.
And that meant something.