By lunch, the sky had turned a bruised shade of gray.
Not cloudy. Not storming. Just gray—like the light had given up trying to be anything else.
Ivy sat alone under the awning near the back courtyard, picking apart the edges of a granola bar she hadn't touched in over ten minutes. Her sketchbook was still missing. Her phone was quiet. Her brain was louder than ever.
"You just crossed."
"You were never supposed to come back."
"I only exist when you remember me."
None of it made sense.
And worse—some of it did.
She rested her chin in her hand and let her eyes close just long enough to forget where she was.
That's when the fire alarm went off.
Except it wasn't the normal shriek. It was a low, warping buzz that made her molars ache. Every student in the courtyard jolted. One kid dropped their phone. Another screamed.
The sky flickered.
Yes—flickered.
Like a strobe light hidden behind clouds. For a half-second, the courtyard turned black and white. Students stood frozen like mannequins, mouths open, sound suspended.
Then it snapped back.
Ivy stood up slowly.
No one else moved.
Not yet.
She turned in a slow circle.
And realized she was the only one moving.
Thirty students. A dozen faculty.
All frozen.
Mid-step. Mid-laugh. Mid-chew.
A bird in the sky had paused mid-flight.
The world wasn't slowed.
It was paused.
Like someone had hit "stop" on a cosmic remote.
She stumbled backward, heart hammering, and ran.
---
The first place her brain told her to go was the library. It was the one hallway always dim enough, quiet enough to feel like an escape.
She shoved through the double doors, still breathless.
Arlo was already there.
Of course he was.
He stood in the poetry aisle, holding an open book like he'd been waiting for her to find him all along.
"How much did it pause?" he asked softly.
Ivy didn't answer. She reached the nearest shelf and held on like it might keep her upright.
"What was that?"
"A ripple."
"That's not an answer."
He closed the book gently. "The Veil is reacting to your presence again. And this time, it's not subtle."
She stared at him. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've seen it before. In one of the timelines you don't remember."
"I'm not in a timeline," she snapped.
"You are," he said, "but less so than most people."
Her skin crawled. "I'm going crazy."
"You're waking up."
Ivy felt her vision go sharp—like the world was trying to pull into focus too fast.
Then a voice cut through the library.
"That's not your decision to make, Arlo."
Ivy spun.
Calla stood in the doorway, hands in her coat pockets, hair half-loose from the storm outside. Her boots were wet. Her eyes were not.
Arlo went still.
"Calla," he said, carefully.
"You weren't supposed to wake her yet," she said.
Ivy stared between them. "You two know each other?"
Arlo said nothing.
Calla did.
"We've always known each other," she said. "All three of us."
She walked forward, and the lights above flickered once.
She stopped beside Ivy and said:
"You're not just the girl who forgot.
You're the girl they made forget.
And that's going to start killing people."
---
End of Chapter Six