The wind howled through the skeletal trees, their branches clawing at the bruised sky like desperate fingers. Lila tightened her scarf around her neck, the icy air biting into her skin as she hurried across the deserted campus. The usual hum of student life had been swallowed by the storm, leaving only the occasional flicker of lamplight to guide her way.
*Just get to the library,* she told herself. *Then you can figure this out.*
But the weight of the journal in her bag felt heavier with every step. The pages were filled with her grandmother's cryptic notes—sketches of symbols, fragments of an old language, and warnings about things that lurked in the dark. Things that shouldn't exist.
A shadow moved at the edge of her vision.
Lila froze, her breath hitching. The streetlamp above her flickered, casting long, twisting shadows across the pavement. She forced herself to keep walking, but the sensation of being watched prickled along her spine.
"Lila."
The voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it sent a jolt through her. She spun around, heart hammering.
Ethan stood a few feet away, his dark eyes reflecting the dim light. His usual easy smile was absent, replaced by something unreadable. The wind tugged at his coat, making him seem almost spectral against the storm.
"You scared me," she breathed, pressing a hand to her chest.
"Sorry." He took a step closer, his gaze flickering past her, scanning the empty quad. "You shouldn't be out here alone."
Lila frowned. "Since when do you care?"
The words came out sharper than she intended, but the tension between them had been building for weeks. Ever since that night in the old chapel, when she'd seen something in his eyes that didn't belong to a normal college student. Something ancient.
Ethan's jaw tightened. "I've always cared."
A gust of wind tore between them, carrying the scent of damp earth and something metallic. Lila shivered. "What's going on, Ethan? Why does it feel like everyone on this campus is hiding something?"
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver pendant. The moonlight glinted off its surface, revealing intricate carvings that matched the symbols in her grandmother's journal.
"Because they are," he said quietly. "And so am I."
Lila's pulse spiked. She took a step back. "What is that?"
"A ward. It'll keep you safe—for now." He held it out to her, his fingers brushing hers as she took it. The metal was warm against her palm, humming with an energy she couldn't explain.
"Safe from what?"
Ethan's eyes darkened. "The things that come out during storms like this. The things that hunt."
A distant scream cut through the night, sharp and sudden. Lila's head snapped toward the sound, but the campus was still, eerily silent.
"We need to go," Ethan said, gripping her arm. "Now."
She wanted to argue, to demand answers, but the urgency in his voice left no room for debate. They ran, their footsteps swallowed by the wind. The library loomed ahead, its arched windows glowing faintly.
As they reached the steps, the door creaked open on its own. Lila hesitated, but Ethan nudged her forward. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old paper and candle wax. The usual librarian was nowhere in sight.
"What is this place?" Lila whispered.
Ethan didn't answer. Instead, he led her to a secluded corner where a single candle burned atop a worn wooden table. Shadows danced across the walls, twisting into shapes that made her stomach knot.
He turned to her, his expression grim. "You've been marked, Lila. That's why they're after you."
"Marked? By who?"
"By *what*," he corrected. "The same thing that's been watching you since you arrived here. The same thing that's been whispering in your dreams."
Her blood turned to ice. She *had* heard whispers—soft, insistent voices that slithered through her mind when she slept. She'd blamed it on stress, on the weight of her grandmother's legacy. But now…
"How do you know all this?" she demanded.
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Because I'm one of them."
The admission hung between them, heavy and suffocating. Lila's breath caught. "What?"
"Not like *them*," he said quickly. "I'm a guardian. Or at least, I was supposed to be." His voice dropped. "But I broke the rules when I fell for you."
The world tilted. Lila gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. "This isn't real. None of this is real."
Ethan reached for her, his touch gentle but firm. "Look at me, Lila. Really look."
She did. And for the first time, she saw it—the faint silver glow in his irises, the way the shadows seemed to bend around him.
"You're…"
"Not human," he finished. "Not entirely."
A crash echoed from somewhere deeper in the library. The candle flickered violently.
"They're here," Ethan muttered, pulling her close. "Listen to me. No matter what happens, don't let go of that pendant. And don't trust anyone but me."
Lila's fingers tightened around the silver charm. "What are we going to do?"
Ethan's lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "We run."
The library doors burst open. A gust of wind extinguished the candle, plunging them into darkness.
And then the whispers began.
Lila's heart pounded as unseen fingers brushed against her skin, cold and hungry. Ethan's grip on her hand was the only thing anchoring her to reality.
"Stay close," he urged, pulling her toward a hidden door she hadn't noticed before.
As they slipped through, the last thing Lila heard was a voice—sweet and familiar—calling her name from the shadows.
Her grandmother's voice.
The door slammed shut behind them, sealing away the nightmare. But the echo of that voice lingered, twisting into a question that clawed at her mind:
*What if the real monsters weren't the ones chasing her?*
And as Ethan led her deeper into the unknown, Lila realized the truth.
She had no idea who—or what—to trust.