The school bell rang with a final, groaning buzz, and the sound echoed through the mostly-empty halls. Samantha stepped out of the art room first, the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. Ron followed behind, hands shoved into his pockets, sneakers squeaking on the floor. Neither said much. Words felt too fragile after everything that had been said inside.
They moved through the side corridors like shadows themselves, dodging the security guard by slipping past the storage hallway. It was dumb luck or divine timing—either way, they made it outside without being seen.
Afternoon light cast long lines across the pavement. Students had cleared out hours ago. The school felt more like a skeleton now, empty and echoing. As they reached the gate, Samantha slowed, Ron falling into step beside her.
"You okay?" he asked, nudging her with his elbow.
She nodded. "Fine. I'm just tired."
Ron looked at her, unconvinced. "You sure you don't want me to walk you the rest of the way?"
"I'll be fine," she said, this time with a faint smile. "Thanks, though."
He hesitated. "If you see him again—don't go after him alone."
Samantha raised an eyebrow. "So you do believe me."
He shrugged, looking off. "Let's say I believe you believe it. That's enough for me right now."
Her expression softened. She turned to leave, casting one last glance over her shoulder. Ron raised a hand in a lazy half-wave.
"See you tomorrow, Brooke."
"Later, emotional support sidekick."
—
Home was dim. The kind of dim that felt more like apathy than the atmosphere. Samantha dumped her backpack by the front door and kicked off her shoes, toeing them aside.
"You're back?" her mom called from the kitchen.
"Yeah."
A pause. Then: "Everything okay?"
"Just school stuff."
Her mother hummed like she didn't quite buy it but didn't press further. Samantha walked to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and then slipped away before any deeper conversation could be attempted. Her mom had always been one to poke at cracks without realizing how wide they already were.
Upstairs, her room welcomed her like a space she barely remembered. She collapsed onto her bed, fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling. Her mind replayed the figure's words from the river, the look on Ron's face, the weight of how real it had all felt.
It wasn't just a vision. It couldn't be.
Outside, the world dimmed further, slipping into nightfall without ceremony. Somewhere between blinking and breathing, Samantha drifted off.
When she opened her eyes, the room was different. Not in the appearance, but rather the feel of it.
The air was sharp. Painfully chilly. Her breath fogged up the air in front of her, and her fingertips had gone numb from where they curled against her blanket.
She glanced up at the clock on her bedside table.
2:17 AM
The clock shone in bright green.
She sat up slowly, deciding to close the windows. Maybe the breeze had slipped in through the windows. She rose, the floor cold against her feet, and moved to the window.
She moved. She stopped.
He was there.
Right in front of the yard fence
Still observing.
The hooded figure stood under the streetlight, shadows curling unnaturally around his frame. His face was hidden, as always- but his presence was as prominent as it could be. The pull hit her immediately.
Her blood ran cold.
She didn't think. She didn't stop. She didn't even grab a coat for the cold, nor did she wear her shoes.
She ran.
The night air nipped at her skin, slicing through her clothes like paper. Grass clung to her socks as she went across the yard. The figure hadn't moved.
"Who are you?" She demanded. "Why di you keep appearing? Why are you following me?"
He said nothing.
"Say something! You had no problem doing that last time. "
Finally, he spoke. His voice contrasting with his appearance. Soft, incredibly so.
"You are not losing your mind. You are finding it,"
The words sounded ridiculous. Samantha blamed the distance between them
"What the heck does that even mean?!"
"Your consciousness knows what I speak of. The veil is weakening - and you were born near the breach. "
"What- what breach are you talking about?"
"The seam between what is seen and what is forgotten. You live in the middle of both"
Samantha felt her chest tighten. It made no sense whatsoever.
"I don't understand," she whispered tiredly.
"You will."
He reached into the folds of his cloak and produced something. He held it tightly in his fist but didn't give it.
Samantha took a cautious step forward. "Why me?"
The figure tilted his head, a gesture that seemed oddly curious and ancient.
"Becuase you're not looking for answers," he spoke slowly-like he was telling a secret. "You're looking for the truth."
Samantha took a step closer.
She was almost there!
Then suddenly—light
The upstairs window flickered on.
Her mother's silhouette appeared behind the curtain.
Samantha startled, turning instinctively towards the light. "Damn it..."
She turned back.
Gone
He was gone, again.
No footsteps, no traces, no rustle
Just silent absence.
"Wait!" She spoke, looking frantically around. Scanning the shadows. "No. This isn't happening."
The grass was still wet against her socks. The yard was quiet.
Almost like he had never been there.
But Samantha knew, and she was more convinced when something caught her eye.
She crouched down to the glinting object, it was a strange pendant. Circular, metallic and carved with symbols she had never seen before.
It felt incredibly warm against her freezing palm.
Behind her, the window screeched open.
"Sam? What are you doing out there at this hour?" Her mother asked groggily.
Samantha didn't answer.
She stood there, frozen.
The pendant clenched in her hand.
The cold still in her bones.
And a feeling—the conviction —that a lot of things were about to change.