Ten789

"Descension Control to Leo," crackled the comms. "Final check. Bio-signs?"

The bottom was not a floor. It was a mirror. ten789

For the first three kilometers, the shaft was wide as a cathedral. Stalactites of singing glass glowed faintly amber, vibrating at a frequency he felt in his molars. His suit's audio pickups translated the hum into a low, wordless choir. Stay, they seemed to say. Listen. "Descension Control to Leo," crackled the comms

Above, the purple sky waited. The comms crackled: "Leo? You're ascending early. Report." It was a mirror

And the singing glass all around him—the dark, dead shards—ignited at once, not with light but with sound. A single, perfect note: the note his brother had hummed the night before the trials, the last sound Leo had heard before walking away.

Leo nodded, though no one could see. The platform shuddered. Magnetic clamps released. And he fell.

Ten years of guilt. Seven kilometers of descent. Nine minutes of mercy turned to seven seconds of truth.