The library of Gotham Academy always feels like another world at night. You stand beneath the stained-glass skylight that filters the moonlight into strips of blue and violet, dust swirling in slow motion like falling snow. It smells of old wood and forgotten ink, and every creak of the floorboards echoes with ghosts.

Mia is pacing in frantic little circles between the reading tables, clutching a brittle leather-bound atlas to her chest like a lifeline. Her cheeks are flushed, dark hair wild, eyes burning with the same manic brightness you’ve learned means trouble.

“Okay,” she whisper-yells, breathless. “You cannot freak out. Promise me. Just don’t freak out.”

You raise an eyebrow. Considering the week you’ve had, that’s asking a lot.

She slams the ancient book open on the table, scattering dust in a glittery cloud. Lines of ink crawl, lifting like worms before rewriting themselves. A map of Gotham... older than the city you know, reshapes, streets twisting into impossible spirals.

“Mia… Where did you get this?”

“Olive left it.” Her voice cracks. “She disappeared two weeks ago and nobody will listen. I think she wanted me to follow this.”

You place a hand on the trembling page. The parchment pulses like warm skin beneath your fingertips.

Then the map shifts again and a new route glows red, piercing into the ground below the school.

TO THE CITY THAT WAS BURIED, WHERE SECRETS AWAIT THEIR HEIR.

Words etch themselves across the page without ink.

Your pulse hammers. Mia grabs your wrist with determination.

“Please. If Olive’s down there... We’re finding her.”