"We work in the dark, we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art."

~Henry James

Cognitive wheels spun in place, rivets rolling deep inside the clockwork of a fallacy known as time. Golden hues lit the sky in glory, ascending to the highest aptitude, before the descent began. The glory was different this time, a path leading the way to slumber. All continued on in cycles, rolling and rolling without pause.

As twilight lit the canvas, time seemed to give a small reflecting pause. Nothing in this cycle would ever be real, simply a fabricated dream that all clung to in hopes of normalcy, a strange thing. Time rushed in, only slowing for the bored, and left impressions upon the earth and sun.

Ib blinked as she realized the day had passed by rather quickly. That morning she had walked with Amelia and Garry to the cafeteria where they had situated themselves at a different table that Luno was already seated at when they arrived. Luno and Garry had made it their personal mission to make sure that both of the girls' backs were towards those they once considered friends.

Lumi had appeared briefly with some guy in tow, surprised at the tension and made Luno promise to tell her what happened later, before having to go practice for the concert that was taking place the next day.

Most of school passed in a similar fashion. Many students involved were excused from classes and were rushing around to practice or prepare. By the time lunch came around, they were all thankful for the small relief. Garry and Ib proposed eating outside for a change, pointing out that fall was right around the corner and soon it would be too cold to eat outside. The other two agreed and the duration of lunch consisted of the concert and where they should meet to go as a group. The conversation also dipped into the festival, information gathering on the Gallery (which nothing had come of), and finally Ib reminding them of the strange painting in the room next to her.

"I totally forgot!" Amelia cried, "Why don't we check it out tonight instead?"

They had agreed and lunch ended, but the last period class flashed by in an instant. Dinner had rolled around and they found themselves seated at the same table they had used at breakfast. It wasn't long before they finished and headed to the female dormitory.

Ib slowly walked ahead, trepidation kept in a glass case as she gripped the knob to open the door. Her mind debated whether or not to do this. If they confirmed her rising suspicions regarding the painting's possibility of being like Kate's then this would mean that they were dealing with something that was intentionally affecting them somehow...there also was the constant noises and cries. When she had informed the others of the noises and whispers, they had been surprised and uneasy, but a part of them wanted to believe that all this was nothing, just some fabricated hearing that had resulted from an overgrown branch scraping the window or poor maintenance.

Seeing her internal battle, Garry placed his hand over her's while giving her a small reassuring smile. She returned her glance to the door, took a breath, and then turned the knob.

It was locked.

"That was anticlimactic." Luno dryly stated, but even he knew that just walking in would have been too easy.

"Oh! I have an idea!" Amelia chimed before starting towards the door while telling them to stay put.

Nearly seven minutes later they heard something beyond the door followed by a series of clatter before the lock clicked out of place. The door swung open and, as if a gale had been whipping around, air rushed past them. For a mere moment their vision slanted and changed. It wasn't Amelia on the other side of the threshold, but a girl with long black hair and green coloured eyes.

One day

I fell asleep

and

never woke up.

The image blinked out, the words filtering through their minds long after. Ib barely registered Luno passing her to catch Amelia as she wobbled dangerously. Ib herself could feel Garry's grip on her shoulder keeping her from sinking onto the floor.

Once her vision settled, Ib peered straight ahead into the room and felt a wave of uneasiness jolt up and down her spine. There, in the center of the room where it hadn't been before, was the painting laying innocently on the floor.

Ib felt herself shudder and lean into Garry, subconsciously gripping the loose material of his pants for comfort. Flashes of memories blinded her, remembering back to the day they arrived when that thing had sucked her into the floor and that one time when she had gone to the nurse, and in each case she now connected that one sentence to them. However, this was different. Ib had only heard one voice instead of the raucous intertwining of many.

'Are those voices the people who were forgotten?' Ib pondered this as her heart sunk deeper into her chest.

There had been so many voices.

"Ib, are you alright?" Garry asked worriedly, staring down at the girl's tear-stained face.

Ib turned around to bury her face in his chest. It took her a few minutes, but she managed to calm down and face them, apologizing for her sudden fit. The others waved it off, waiting for her to reveal what she must have figured out.

"I've heard it before, that sentence, but in fragments and spoken by a mixture of voices. I couldn't help but wonder if they're the voices of those who've been forgotten."

Amelia's face clouded with a slow horror as she realized the extent of what Ib was saying. Her body shuddered, remembering that one voice that had whirled around her, the haunted tone to it, and couldn't fathom more of them yelling at the same time in despair. It was awful enough to know that Kate was missing and people were in danger, but just how many people were forgotten. Worse yet, how many people that were once close to her had she forgotten, if any?

Amelia felt scared, more so than when she had nearly died.

Luno furrowed his brow in concentration, imploring Ib to explain both instances when she heard these voices. As the brunette filled him in on the extra details, his mind began to sort through the information while also trying to discern why that voice had sounded familiar. His temples began to throb in pain as a blurry image came to mind, but was gone before he could make it out.

It took Ib, Garry, and Amelia's warm hands on his shoulders to realize that he hadn't been paying attention. He looked into their worried eyes and assured them he was fine, just drained from all that was going on, before walking further into the room. He could hear Garry close the door behind them, but knew he did not shut it all the way, just in case.

They all stood around the painting, Ib mentioning that it hadn't been in the middle of the room before, and scrutinized it. To put it simply, the artwork was amazing. Even unfinished it carried its weight from the silver cage to the locks and the girl. Luno's headache came back the longer he stared at her, briefly remembering the image of that girl taking Amelia's place upon opening the door, though brief.

It was then Luno noticed something, and he needed to make sure that he wasn't overthinking this. "Ib, you're an art student, what are some of the symbolic meanings behind eyes?"

"They are the windows to the soul..." Ib trailed off, knowing that Luno had also noticed one of the strangest things about this painting.

The girl's eyes were missing.

Now, normally this could be passed off as something the artist intentionally did or the like, but they had a feeling this wasn't the case. The girl herself was in vivid details, as was the cage and scenery around her. Only one of the locks and various minorities were left unfinished, along with the eyes. The face usually is done before the rest of the scenery, at least in their opinions, and to leave the eyes for last did not seem correct. If anything, they felt that the eyes were not filled in because they couldn't be.

"One day I fell asleep and never woke up," Garry softly whispered to himself, running his mouth over each dip and curve to the sentence. He couldn't make heads nor tails of it, but dread had blossomed in his chest. Whatever it meant, he was sure he wasn't going to like it one bit.

"Okay, instead of just staying here and coming up with nothing, why don't we start off by trying to figure out who used to have this room?" Amelia voiced, wanting to leave the room as soon as possible. "If it's anything like Kate's then maybe it being unfinished proves that whoever lived here may still be alive."

"But, if they've been forgotten no one will remember." Garry put in, his face morphing into a frown at the complexity of the situation.

"We won't know unless we try. Meanwhile, we should also still be looking into the building's history and the counselor." Luno reminded, tearing his eyes away from the painting.

"What should we do about that painting?" Amelia asked, gaze shifting towards the art piece.

Before anyone could respond they suddenly felt an icy chill. It was Garry and Ib who reacted first, pulling the other two out of the room and slamming the door shut just as they heard the voices repeating that one sentence over and over. The door muffled the sound, but it persisted for nearly ten minutes before vanishing as if nothing had ever been amiss.

"That was...freaky," Amelia relented as her thundering heart started to slow back into its normal rhythm.

"Agreed." Garry stated, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hall.

"I think we may have been on to something the other day," Luno suddenly voiced, "Amelia hypothesized that when someone is taken from here that they're forgotten, and Mary told Garry that those who visit the Gallery become vessels for the core. Now, we only know Kate is alive thanks to a painting, and now here's another that might be of another forgotten person. From this we can infer two things, the first is that these paintings are like loading bars and once complete are whole paintings. The second thing is centered on my own thoughts based off the information given, but what if after these paintings are complete that whoever was taken dies?"

"It would make sense. This life energy is being transferred to this core, and so there is nothing left for the vessel." Ib summarized, "But, if this is true then what purpose do these paintings serve?"

"That's another million dollar question," Luno replied while running a hand through his short locks.

Amelia grumbled, whining about more unanswered questions. The others silently agreed, wondering when they would finally be able to obtain a solid answer to at least one of their questions.

"Well, let's regroup tomorrow at around one for lunch. However, let's at least try to look up something useful before hand." Luno stated, reminding the other three that they wouldn't be having classes due to the concert.

After that, they decided to split up. It had been a long hour and they were tired out, but Ib realized she had forgotten something back in her last period classroom and went off to go get it. She sighed inwardly at her own forgetfulness, realizing it had been happening more and more often. To think that she even forgot one of her favourite sketchbooks was an insult! It had been a gift from one of her art teachers in middle school. She had resolved never to use it until she became a better artist; she had started using it two months ago. All her submissions to get into St. Rose were sketched in that book before being redrawn on larger paper.

She arrived back into the classroom, her teacher acknowledging her and chatting with her on the way out. Ib grabbed her beloved sketchbook from the teacher's desk, already having thanked the man for placing it there for safe keeping, and left the room. She got as far as closing the door before someone stopped her.

Familiar pumps clicked against the linoleum floors as they approached and Ib slowly turned when she was addressed by the woman. Apprehension made her muscles jumpy as she recognized the neat graying hair that was tied into a bun, the sharp glasses, and stiff clothes of the very lady who she and Garry had met on their first day. In her mind, Ib had already dubbed her Gray Haired Lady as she hadn't told them her name yet.

"Ah, Miss...Ib, I do hope you have been doing well. It seems you've been getting into some trouble as of late, such as sneaking into the school after curfew." Her tone was even and light, though the words themselves were meant to tell Ib that she had been caught.

"To my office," she didn't wait for Ib to follow as she pivoted elegantly and walked off down the hall, Ib moving to follow with her eyes down casted.

Ib didn't feel bad for blatantly disobeying the rules, only that she was caught. However, hope blossomed in her heart at the idea that this woman was possibly just using some tactic to make her think that she had dirt on her while, in reality, she was counting on a confession. However, Ib wasn't such a great liar and wasn't comfortable with saying anything.

It was when Ib was passing into the woman's office that she noticed something that made her freeze where she stood, "Excuse me, but are you an administrator?"

Ib already knew the answer, but she needed confirmation that she wasn't misunderstanding.

The woman turned and gave a coy smile, her dark eyes peering into Ib's red ones, "Child, you can read that plaque as clear as day. That is who I am, Ms. Creo, the guidance counselor. Now stop your prattling and take a seat."

Ib hesitantly sat on one of the comfy sofas, her eyes never leaving the woman for more than a few seconds. Ms. Creo rolled her eyes at the girl, "There's no need to stare, I don't bite or care about your unease. I simply want to chat with you, as a part of my job, so tell me how the last few days have been for you."

Ib remained aloof as she summarized her time at the school in one word, "Eventful."

Ms. Creo gave a small smile at the simplistic answer before going in, "Ah, but that's not all is there?"

Ib frowned, "That is not my story to tell."

Ms. Creo seemed to realize she wasn't going to get anywhere and switched tactics, "It was brought to my attention that there was a trivial spat in the cafeteria this evening with you, Jones, Braginski, Edmunds, and Garry at the center of it. Care to explain?"

"A fight between friends."

"I understand some horrible things were said, and I need to make sure that no one was seriously harmed. In exchange, I won't take this to the principal and will vouch for that friend of yours if he's reported for nearly punching Braginski." Ib stared at Ms. Creo blankly, considering the offer before nodding her answer.

"Good, now let's start at the beginning. Remember, honesty is the key as anything you say will be completely confidential." Ms. Creo said, her personality shifting, making her seem as if she actually cared about what had happened.

Ib didn't hold back as she recounted the events, not leaving a word out but faltered upon the harsh words that Dmitri had aimed her way, but after stumbling over that the rest went smoothly. Ms. Creo had stopped writing and focused her full attention on the words coming from the brunette's mouth, her mouth etching into a small frown at the emotion that this child was trying so desperately to hid.

"You have problems with your eye colour." It wasn't a question and even if it was Ib was still startled at how Ms. Creo had so casually called it out. Staring at her feet, she nodded her confirmation to this fact. The woman sighed, "Why?"

There was no response.

"I'll tell you what I think then, throughout your childhood people have treated you differently, pointed at you, jeered, and made you feel like an outcast. Your parents did nothing but tell you that it was alright, that you were fine just the way you are, that you had so and so's eyes, but then they left you alone to deal with it. You grew up isolated and felt alone, didn't you?"

Ib nodded as she glanced longingly at the door, wanting nothing more than to just escape, but she remained seated.

"Do you feel as if you're missing something, forgetting something important? I know you do, I know everything, and you need to know that until you can handle your issues then you aren't fit for going back to the...Gallery. You've been holding up, but there's no way some brat like you or your friends can do anything but get yourselves killed." Ms. Creo bitterly went on.

Ib felt anger surge through her and she was standing in an instant, voice deadly as she tried to calm herself to speak clearly, "I will not run away from this and you won't stop us. We promised to help Mary and save Kate, and anyone else along the way. I know that I've been here before, that you attempted to erase Kate from my memories and everybody elses."

"And what if you have to make the choice between yourself and a friend? What would you do?" Ms. Creo also stood up, her voice deadly calm.

Ib balled her fists at her side, using the same tone, "If that ever were to happen then I would sacrifice myself after searching for a different solutions. I am not naive enough to believe that taking someone's place will make them grateful, in fact they may come to hate me for it, but I am also not afraid to make that decision should I have to."

Ms. Creo slowly walked over, never breaking eye contact. She took Ib's hands in hers, cupping them, "I understand, but this will still be dangerous. You should know that trouble does not just lurk in the Gallery, but here as well. Until you are ready, I will be tightening security so that you may not go back. Besides, if you wish to truly accomplish your goals, then you must first defend your home."

"I warn you now, things are going to escalate from here on out. I want you back here in my office tomorrow at seven O' clock sharp, and not a moment later. Come by yourself and I will provide you with some answers."

"What about the others?"

She chuckled, "Ah, it's all about tactics. If all of you were here at once then there would be no trust. Hearing my credibility from you would be worth more than a bar of gold, no hurry back to the dorm."

Ib slipped out of the room and left through the cafeteria, her sketchbook tightly gripped under her arm as she thought over Ms. Creo's words. The woman had always seemed off to her, even when they first met. Oddly, she had never appeared to be affected by the time stopping, always seeming to be near when they returned.

She arrived back to the dorm and set her alarm. Ms. Creo seemed to have quite an extended knowledge on the Gallery, and Ib wasn't going to miss an opportunity like this one, even if it wasn't the safest idea. She closed her eyes and rolled onto her side to stare at the side wall, willing herself to fall asleep.

Tomorrow was going to be an eventful day.

AN: Another short chapter, but that's just how it happened to be written. Next up on the agenda is Friday's talk with Ms. Creo, some findings, and then the concert.

*Edmunds is Lumi and Luno's last name as they were raised in St. Edmunds orphanage. I don't think I ever mentioned it, so now you know.