The morning after felt heavier than usual. The sun rose weakly behind a veil of clouds, painting the academy in dull shades of gray. Elara dragged herself to class, her body aching from a night of fractured sleep. The whispers had been merciless, clinging to her mind until dawn.
She slid into her seat quietly, ignoring the stares from students who still hadn't grown used to her presence. A few whispered her name like it was a curse. The strange girl. The creepy one.
Elara had learned to live with it. But today, their voices weren't just cruel—they were fearful.
It wasn't until Professor Harland entered the room, his face grave, that she understood why.
"Class," he began, his voice unsteady, "I regret to inform you that one of your peers, Lena Rivers, has gone missing."
A shocked murmur swept through the room. Chairs scraped, voices rose, questions tumbled out. Elara froze, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of her desk. Lena—the girl from the library, the one who had watched her with suspicion. Gone.
Harland raised a hand for silence. "Her bed was untouched this morning. The dormitory doors were locked, no signs of forced entry. Campus security is investigating. Until further notice, all students are to remain in groups. No one is to wander the grounds after dark."
Elara's pulse thundered in her ears. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, but inside, dread coiled like a living thing.
Because the whispers had already told her.
One will vanish… and she has.
The announcement hit Damian like a punch. He remembered Lena's sharp eyes in the library, the way she had looked at Elara with suspicion. Now she was simply… gone.
He glanced across the room at Elara. Her face was pale, unreadable, but her fingers tapped against her desk in a nervous rhythm. Too calm for someone hearing this news for the first time.
Damian's jaw tightened. What do you know, Elara?
His thoughts chased him all day, and when night fell, he couldn't stay in his dorm. He found himself wandering the halls, drawn toward the old library once more. The corridors were silent, the flickering lamps casting uneasy shadows along the walls.
That's when he heard it.
A faint whisper, curling just beyond his hearing. He froze, every muscle taut. Slowly, he turned his head toward the sound.
It was coming from the staircase.
And standing halfway down the stairs was Elara.
Her eyes glimmered unnaturally in the dim light, and for the briefest moment, Damian swore he saw shadows writhing around her like smoke.
"Elara?" His voice was a cautious rasp.
She lifted her head slowly, as if surfacing from a dream. "You shouldn't be here," she whispered.
The air around them thickened. The lamps flickered violently—then one shattered, plunging them into near-darkness.
And somewhere in the shadows, a laugh echoed. Not human. Not kind.