Cris stared, unsettled. "That's… weird. So… is that other one also petrified?" She pointed to the second statue.
"No," he chuckled, the sound low and oddly hollow. "He's just a statue, milady."
"We have to get out of here. Do you know a way?" Cris's voice held a thin thread of hope, but Jack's blank expression told her he didn't even recognize the place.
After running through every idea, they were left with nothing. "We're doomed, milady," he said flatly.
"If you say that again, I'll rip your head off." Her patience was splintering.
"You… can do that?" His stare lingered too long.
"Mhm." She tried to hold his gaze, but the truth in her eyes broke it.
"My apologies, milady, I—"
"Quiet." A thought clicked. "Ripping your head off just reminded me of something… that might work."
After outlining her plan, she told him, "Hide under the bed. Don't move until I say."
He obeyed without question.
Cris went to the door and began pounding, her fists striking the red tile over and over until the waves came—stronger this time, crawling deep into her bones.
She turned, and there it was again: the tall figure in the cape, scythe glinting in skeletal hands. It drifted toward her, silent except for the faint scrape of metal across the air. The blade rose.
At the last instant, she dropped aside. The scythe tore into the door, glass exploding outward. The thing vanished in a shriek that scraped the inside of her skull.
Jack scrambled from under the bed, and together they bolted through the dining room. "How did you come up with this idea?" He panting.
"Your annoying behavior reminded me of a stupid friend!" She giggled.
This time, the mansion didn't resist—they were outside in seconds.
"This is strange," Jack muttered. "No one tried to stop us."
"Yes. The mansion's huge—maybe they're in another wing and didn't hear," Cris said.
They hurried out, following the path she'd taken before. A bar's sign flickered nearby. "We should rest," Cris panted. Jack nodded, and they slipped inside.
After two drinks, Jack leaned in. "You're saying I came from the past?" His gaze roamed the room. "This era… It's too..."
"Advanced!" She added.
They both knew it wasn't his time. "There must be a way back," he murmured, voice heavy.
"It'll be fine. We'll figure it out—after I find my friends," Cris said, assuring him they'd help him.
Jack's eyes lingered on a couple dancing in a strange, rhythmic way. "Can you teach me to do that?" he asked, offering his hand.
She hesitated, then accepted. They moved together awkwardly at first, then more fluidly.
"You're a tough dancer," Cris teased.
"Thank you." His smile was almost boyish.
But as they twirled, Cris's eyes caught something—three faces in the crowd, watching. Katherine. Matilda. Josh.
Her chest tightened. "They're the ones who took us," she whispered into Jack's ear. "We're leaving. Now." She gripped his hand, pulling him out into the night.
They ran until the bar's lights were swallowed by darkness. The Blackridge Academy loomed ahead, fog curling low to the ground. Inside, the muffled thump of music and laughter grew louder. The party was still alive.
Through the haze, she spotted a figure—familiar posture, familiar dress. Me.
"Zinnia." She tapped my shoulder. I turned—except it wasn't me. Matilda stood there in my dress, smiling too widely.
Cris stumbled back, colliding with someone. She turned and found Katherine, silent, unblinking.
Her chest tightened. Jack was gone. As she pushed through the crowd, her stomach dropped—every second face was Matilda, Josh, or Katherine, each in different costumes, all watching.
She bolted for her room, slammed the door, and pressed her weight against it. When she turned, a girl stood before the mirror. Herself.
But as the reflection pivoted, black smoke bled from its eyes.
Cris's scream tore the air. The other her didn't move—just opened its mouth impossibly wide and let out a shrill, breathless squeal.
The sound scraped at her skull. She clamped her ears, yanked the door open—only to find the hallway crammed with them. Josh, Matilda, Katherine, all exhaling that same black smoke, closing in.
"No!" she cried, lunging for the window. She crashed through and plunged into a pool below, which was way down below. Cold water swallowed her. She clawed to the surface, gasping, pulling herself out.
When she looked back, bodies tumbled from the window, hitting the water hard; some fell down on the ground and died.
Her breath caught. She turned—more were coming. They moved like zombies but weren't. Eyes drowned in darkness. Skin pale and lifeless. Lips cracked and wrinkled like something long parched. Male, female—impossible to tell anymore, they didn't look like Josh, Matilda, or Katherine anymore.
They were so thin their skin clung to bone, faces hollow and stretched, eyes like pits that swallowed the light. Cris was hemmed in, her breath sharp and shallow, until the sharp squeal of a horse cut through the air. Hooves pounded closer, crunching into brittle bodies, scattering the starving things aside.
Without hesitation, she threw herself onto its back. She'd ridden before, but never anything this fast, this furious. The reins bit into her hands as she clung tight, the world around her blurring into a smear of shadow. Behind, the creatures shrieked, but the sound thinned with distance.
She prayed with her eyes clenched shut, her tears hot against the freezing wind. Hours passed—or maybe minutes—in a world without moon, without sun, without any hint of when the darkness would end. She wished her friends could find her.
I wish I could tell her we were coming.
"And I promise we are," I whispered, pressing my palms together. "We'll search until we find you. I won't stop." If I could just reach her, tell her how sorry I was for that night, how much I missed her. A tap on my shoulder snapped me back.
"Are you sure?" Liam's hands gripped my shoulders. "Shawn and I can go if you—"
I cut him off with a nod. "Cris stood by me through everything. Now it's my turn." I didn't tell the others what happened to me in that place, but Shawn knew it had left its mark. None of that mattered more than getting her back.
"So… you and Shawn?" Liam's tone was loaded, enough to make me laugh.
"Of course not. What we have is deeper than that. He's always there for me, and I love him—but not that way. No romance. Just… connection. When I'm broken, he knows how to fix me, and I can do the same for him. We even try setting each other up, only to tear apart the people we choose. Does that make sense?" I giggled.
Liam smiled. "It does."
But how could I tell him the truth? Why Shawn never moved on. Why I never would again.
We left as soon as Mrs. Leonardo gave her half-hearted permission. She didn't know the plan, but she knew stopping us would be useless.
She was in her office when Ryan confronted her. "I can't believe you let them go!"
"Do you know about the gem in your new suits?" Her smile was thin.
"Other than the color-change? No."
She picked up a knife and lunged. "Whoa—" He froze, the blade a breath from his throat. She didn't strike. Instead, she nodded toward a gem on her desk.
"Go to it," she ordered, keeping the knife at his neck. He obeyed. "Two fingers—index and middle."
The instant his skin touched the stone, his mind lit up. Everything that had just happened to him unfolded again inside his skull, every detail replayed with perfect, merciless clarity.
She pulled the knife from his throat and leaned back in her chair. "It shows you the face of whoever's in danger… and the exact way trouble found you." Her lips curved into a proud, unsettling smile.
Ryan gave a slow nod, lips pressed tight, then turned and left without another word.
Later, we went searching for the lab where Liam had been kept, but instead of sterile halls and steel doors, we found a school—old, silent, and abandoned. Asking around only earned us ghost stories from the locals.
It was almost amusing—until we noticed her. A woman lurking, watching us with too much intent. Before we could confront her, she came straight toward us. Liam's hand went to his gun, but he didn't draw it.
"Samantha Willow!" she shouted.
We froze. She closed the distance, extended her hand to me. I took it, and she said, "The owner of this school… Samantha Willow. I'm Ruby."
I gestured toward the building. "You know her personally?"
Ruby's eyes darkened. "She eats people."
The words hung between us like rot in the air.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She didn't answer—just turned and walked away. Then she stopped, looked back, and pressed a finger to her lips. The message was clear.
We followed her to a nearby café. She led us to a shadowed corner booth, where she ordered coffee but didn't drink right away.
"My son was a student here." She finally sipped, then set the cup down. Her throat worked as if swallowing something bitter. "He vanished… like so many others."
"I'm sorry," I said, placing my hand over hers. "But why Samantha?"
Ruby's gaze locked onto mine. "Because she's still here."
"Because my son told me he saw her—Samantha—throwing a girl into a black portal. I didn't believe him… not until he vanished." Her voice cracked. "It's been three months. No sign of him. And since then, more kids have disappeared."
I leaned closer. "This portal—did your son say where exactly it was?"
She nodded, eyes haunted. "A rusted door in the basement. That's where it was."
We bowed our heads briefly, then slipped into the empty school. The halls were silent, broken only by our footsteps. The basement was a proper floor of the building, with a wide stairway. In one of the walkways, we found the door—old, corroded, hanging loose. Broken.
"The Obscure's already gone," Shawn whispered, voice low. "No other way it got here."
Inside, as planned, Robin cut her wrist, letting the blood drip in a slow pool at the center of the room. Liam pressed his palms together, then parted them—but the portal refused to open.
"What's wrong?" I asked, heart pounding.
Robin's eyes scanned us all. "It needs to open for everyone. We all have to bleed."
"Why didn't you need blood last time?" I asked Liam.
"That wasn't another realm," he said softly. "And this is our first time together."
"Then let's do it." I steeled myself as Robin pulled a small bottle from her pack.
She slit our wrists one by one, letting our blood drip into the pool. When it was Liam's turn, he inhaled deeply and peeled off his glove. Dark vines crept from the corners of the walls, twisting and curling like living shadows.
"Quick!" he shouted. Robin wasted no time, dipping into his fresh wound. Liam slid the gloves back on as the vines retracted silently into the stone, leaving no trace.
I saw the tension in his eyes—fear barely masked by resolve. Robin began whispering an ancient chant, the words lost to the thick air as she poured the blood into the center.
Liam repeated his gesture, palms parting, and a jagged black gate tore open before us, smoke billowing like a choking fog. It was monstrous—a swirling abyss pulsing with the stench of blood. Within the smoky veil, flashes of lightning flickered, illuminating something alive and terrible just beyond reach.
A crack of thunder echoed through the room as lightning struck somewhere near, the flash visible even inside the dark chamber.
"We can't keep it open long! We must go now, or it'll tear this world apart!" Robin shouted.
Grasping hands, we faced the rising storm. The wind lashed at us, sharp and unforgiving, ripping at hair and flesh, stealing breath with its fury. Yet, driven by desperation and hope, we stepped forward into the black maw.
For Cris. For every soul worth saving. This was all we could do.