The morning fog at ZIA didn't feel like a shroud; it felt like a cloak. They entered through the maintenance tunnel behind the South Quad—the land Leya now technically owned. Zazu led the way, his knowledge of the school's layout proving more valuable than any title.
They didn't head for the library or the dorms. They headed for the **Old Chapel**, a stone building from the 1950s that had been converted into a storage facility for "Legacy Records."
"Why here?" Musi whispered, his voice trembling as he wiped mud from his face. "The locker key is for the Central Train Station."
"Look at the tag again, Musi," Zazu said, his voice flat.
Leya held up the brass key. Under the morning light filtering through the stained glass, the text beneath *LOCKER 212* was visible in a different light. It wasn't a station locker. It was a serial number for a **Burroughs & Watts heavy-duty safe**, the kind only used in the school's founding era.
"The 'Central Station' wasn't the train station," Leya realized, her heart skipping a beat. "It was the name of the school's first administrative hub. It's right under our feet."
They pulled back a heavy, moth-eaten rug in the vestry. Beneath it was a circular iron hatch. Zazu used the tire iron to lever it open, revealing a narrow spiral staircase that smelled of cold copper and old ink.
At the bottom sat a single, massive safe. Locker 212.
Leya inserted the brass key. It turned with a heavy, satisfying *thunk*. The door swung open, and instead of gold or ledgers, there was a single cassette tape and a manila envelope.
Leya opened the envelope first. Inside were photographs. Not of accounts, but of people.
The first photo was of her mother, Lombe, and Zazu's mother, Chileshe, laughing together in 2011. The second was a photo of a third woman—the woman who had been the "silent partner" in the 2012 audit.
"Mrs. Mulenga?" Zazu gasped, leaning in.
In the photo, a younger Mrs. Mulenga was handing a briefcase to a man whose face was obscured by shadow, but his ring was unmistakable. It was the signet ring of the **Consortium's Lead Counsel**.
"She didn't help us because she wanted the truth," Leya whispered, the betrayal stinging more than the stone splinter on her shoulder. "She helped us because she wanted to know if we had found the evidence she'd been hiding for ten years. She was the one who leaked the encryption to the Consortium."
Leya fumbled with the cassette tape, sliding it into an old deck sitting on a nearby desk.
*Hiss. Pop.*
> **LOMBE'S VOICE:** *"If you are hearing this, the debt has been called. Chileshe thinks she's saving the country by siding with the Board. She doesn't realize that the Board is just a front. The real enemy is the one holding the pen. The Librarian. She was the one who altered the 2012 audit to frame me. She didn't do it for money; she did it because she believed the country wasn't ready to own itself. She thought we needed 'guardians.' But guardians are just jailers with better manners."*
"The Heritage Society," Zazu said, his voice a low growl. "She didn't want us to restart it to fight the Board. She wanted us to restart it so she could control the narrative again. She's the one who told Musi's father about the cello."
"I have to go," Musi said suddenly, backing away toward the stairs. "If she finds out I told you... my father is already finished, but she'll destroy me too."
"Musi, wait!" Leya called out, but he was already gone, disappearing into the fog above.
Zazu looked at Leya. The blue light of the basement made him look older, harder. "We have the tape. We have the photos. But Mulenga has the school's security network. She knows we're here."
"Then we don't hide anymore," Leya said, pocketing the tape. "She wants a 'Heritage' meeting? Let's give her one. At the morning assembly. In front of every student, every teacher, and the cameras."
"Leya, that's suicide. The Consortium's men are still out there."
"They won't shoot in front of five hundred witnesses and a live feed," Leya said, her jaw setting in that familiar Kapiri line. "The only way to kill a ghost is to drag it into the sun."
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