Ivy didn't remember leaving the old classroom.
She remembered Arlo's glowing eyes. The weight of his words. Her own name spoken like it didn't belong to her anymore.
But after that, everything blurred—like the world skipped a frame.
One moment, she was on her knees.
The next, she was back in the West Wing hallway, blinking up at harsh fluorescent lights.
Her hands were shaking.
Her sketchbook was missing.
She stood slowly, steadied herself against the locker-lined wall, and walked. No plan. Just movement.
The hallways were mostly empty now. Students had gone back to class, and the silence of the building felt too clean. Every footstep echoed like it was trying to fill in missing time.
She turned the corner near the west stairwell—and collided with someone.
Hard.
Ivy stumbled, nearly fell, and felt hands grab her shoulders.
"Watch it," the girl muttered.
Ivy looked up.
And froze.
The girl was tall, sharp-edged, and unmistakably out of place. She wore the Morley uniform but had customized every inch of it—sleeves rolled to the elbows, collar pinned with a silver glyph Ivy didn't recognize. Her hair was raven-black with an undercut stripe dyed storm gray.
Her eyes were pale, but not soft. Steel, not ice.
And she looked at Ivy like she already knew her.
Like she'd been waiting.
"You're the new unstable," the girl said, voice quiet, nearly amused. "I was wondering when you'd crack."
"Excuse me?" Ivy blinked.
"You just crossed. Didn't you?" the girl asked. "You've got the look. Disoriented, threadburned, Veil-flickered. How bad was it? Did your shadow split yet?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ivy muttered, stepping back.
The girl didn't move. She just tilted her head, watching Ivy like she was trying to see something through her.
Then she smiled—soft, almost sad.
"You don't remember me, do you?"
Ivy didn't speak.
"Calla," the girl said, offering nothing more. "Calla Storme. Former containment risk. Crownwatch dropout. Oh, and your ex-best friend."
The name hit like static in Ivy's ears.
"That's not possible," she whispered. "I don't know you."
Calla nodded like she expected that.
"You will."
She stepped past Ivy and kept walking. But before turning the corner, she added—
"If Arlo's waking you up again, you better hurry. The Veil doesn't like second chances."
---
Later, in biology class, Ivy sat at her table with the burner off and her gloves still on, even though they weren't doing labs today.
She couldn't focus. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Across the room, someone spilled beakers.
Behind her, someone whispered her name and then denied it when she turned around.
She wasn't imagining it. The tension was real now. Like the school had started watching her the way the mirrors had.
The teacher passed out a worksheet. Ivy's was blank.
But when she blinked, words started appearing. Not printed—written.
In her own handwriting.
A single sentence formed across the bottom margin:
You were never supposed to come back.
Ivy pushed the paper away. Her stomach twisted.
Outside the window, the crows were back. Dozens of them, perched along the powerlines. Still. Watching.
Then one of them burst into black smoke and vanished.
---
End of Chapter Five