By dawn, Blackwood Academy no longer felt like a school. It felt like a crime scene.
The message on the chalkboard had been scrubbed away, but the memory of those words—SHE BELONGS TO US—lingered in every whisper and every nervous glance. The scent of iron still seemed to cling to the classroom walls, no matter how hard the janitors had cleaned.
And now, the teachers had moved in like investigators.
Dean Ashworth, tall and severe with his gray beard and unblinking eyes, assembled the staff in the lecture hall that morning. Students were ushered in too, lined row by row like witnesses waiting to be interrogated.
Elara sat near the back, her stomach knotted, her hands buried in her lap. She tried to make herself small, invisible.
The Dean's voice cut through the tense air. "Two events in two days. First, a missing student. Now, obscene words scrawled in blood across our classroom walls." His gaze swept the room, sharp and searching. "This academy has stood for centuries, and never before have we faced such… disturbances. But make no mistake. We will uncover the truth."
His words were met with fearful murmurs. A few students stole glances at Elara. She felt their eyes prickling against her skin, as if they already suspected. As if the words themselves had pointed to her.
The investigation began immediately. Teachers questioned students one by one, asking where they had been, what they had seen, whether they had noticed anyone behaving strangely. Elara's chest tightened each time a name was called, dread coiling tighter until finally—
"Miss Winters."
Her breath caught. Slowly, she rose and made her way to the front of the hall. Every step felt like walking to her own execution.
Dean Ashworth peered down at her. "You were in the classroom when the message appeared, were you not?"
"Yes, sir," Elara murmured. Her voice sounded too small in the echoing room.
"Did you see anyone approach the board? Anyone leave the room? Anything unusual?"
She hesitated. The truth rose like a scream inside her—I hear them, the whispers, the voices. They wrote it. They want me. But she swallowed it down, forcing her face into blank composure.
"No, sir. I didn't see anything."
The Dean studied her for a long moment, his gaze heavy, before giving a curt nod. "Very well. Return to your seat."
Relief flooded her as she retreated to the back, but it didn't last. Because even from her corner, she could feel another pair of eyes fixed on her.
Damian.
Unlike the teachers, unlike the other students, his stare wasn't confused or fearful. It was sharp. Accusing. He was piecing things together, and Elara knew it
Damian clenched his fists beneath the desk. He had watched Elara's every twitch, every pause, every careful word when she stood before the Dean. She was hiding something. He was certain of it.
And if the teachers couldn't uncover the truth… he would.