The morning began like any other, but the air around Nyra felt heavier, charged with something she couldn't name. She stood before the mirror in her small bedroom, brushing her hair slowly. Her reflection felt too sharp today, too alive—her skin too pale against the faint blush of her uniform.
Her hands trembled slightly as she buttoned the shirt. She noticed it again: her fingers weren't warm. They looked almost carved from porcelain, unnervingly flawless, with faint silvery veins that pulsed only when the light hit at a certain angle.
"Stop looking," she muttered to herself, forcing her eyes away.
School was supposed to be a distraction. It had been, for years. But now, every day, it felt like the walls of the classroom were watching her just as much as the students inside.
---
The corridors were buzzing louder than usual. Groups of girls laughed near the lockers, their voices carrying down the hall. Nyra kept her gaze low, clutching her books tightly against her chest.
Her best friend, Tessa, waved from the far end of the hallway. She had been gone for almost a month, visiting her sick grandmother in Ashvale, a neighboring town. Now she was finally back, and Nyra felt both relief and dread—relief because Tessa grounded her, dread because she couldn't hide what was happening inside her for much longer.
Tessa looked exactly as Nyra remembered. Her chestnut-brown hair brushed her shoulders with a soft sheen that caught the morning light, hazel eyes bright and curious, freckles sprinkled across her nose like constellations. She had that same easy smile, warm and grounding, the kind of smile that made people forget their troubles for a while.
"Nyra!" she called, her voice cutting through the noise of the hall like sunlight breaking cloud cover.
Nyra nodded, walking faster. She wanted to feel normal around Tessa—someone who could anchor her to the world she used to understand. But even Tessa had started noticing little things: Nyra's distracted stares, the way she winced at loud noises, how cold her hands always felt when they brushed against hers.
"You okay? You look… pale," Tessa said once Nyra reached her.
"I'm fine," Nyra replied too quickly. The lie slid off her tongue like second nature.
But she wasn't fine. Not even close.
---
The assembly was crowded. Hundreds of students filled the hall, the air thick with perfume, deodorant, sweat, and restless murmurs. Nyra sat in the second row beside Tessa, trying to focus on the principal's monotone speech about discipline and grades.
At her other side was Aisha, the transfer student who had joined while Tessa was away.
Aisha sat gracefully, hands folded neatly on her lap. Her uniform was crisp, her navy-blue hijab—specially designed by the school to match—was smooth against her skin, its trim catching faint light. Her bronze-toned complexion glowed softly, and her large almond-shaped eyes watched the principal with quiet patience. Aisha had a poise to her that Nyra sometimes envied, a calmness that seemed unshakable.
Nyra had taken it upon herself to guide Aisha when she first transferred, showing her around, helping her with notes. At first, it was simple courtesy. But slowly, the girl's presence had become steady, like a silent comfort in the storm Nyra couldn't explain.
Nyra shifted in her seat, trying to concentrate on the words from the stage. But then it started again.
The sound.
Not from the microphone, not from the restless whispers. This was deeper. A low hum at the base of her skull, resonating through her bones, like a thousand strings being plucked in unison.
Her breath hitched. Her fingers twitched involuntarily against her thighs.
Every cough, every shuffle, every scrape of shoes against the floor reverberated too loudly, magnified until it was unbearable. Her vision blurred at the edges before snapping into sharp focus again, every face in the hall suddenly too detailed—pores, lashes, even the faint flicker of veins beneath their skin.
She clenched her jaw, nails biting into her palms as the hum deepened, throbbing in her chest.
"Nyra?" Tessa whispered, leaning closer. Concern softened her hazel eyes. "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine," Nyra managed, though her voice shook.
But she wasn't. The hum was stronger now, echoing like a current under her skin. Her teeth ached faintly, her throat dry. She pressed a hand to her stomach, hiding the tremor in her fingers.
The lights above flickered once, making students murmur, but no one seemed to notice what Nyra felt—the way the entire hall seemed to sway, the way sound pressed against her like a tidal wave.
She forced herself to breathe through it. In. Out. Again. The hum didn't stop, but it dulled just enough for her to stay seated. Just enough to keep her secret hidden for another day.
Still, she could feel Tessa's eyes on her. Searching. Worried.
And beside her, Aisha's gaze lingered too—not prying, but thoughtful. As if she sensed something Nyra couldn't explain.
---
By the time the assembly ended, Nyra was drenched in cold sweat, though her skin remained icy to the touch. Students rushed out in noisy groups, laughter echoing against the high ceilings. Nyra rose slowly, steadying herself.
"You sure you're okay?" Tessa asked again, her voice low, protective.
Nyra forced a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
It wasn't true. But what else could she say?
As the three girls stepped out into the daylight, the hum still echoed faintly in Nyra's bones, like a reminder that something inside her was shifting, waiting.
She prayed—begged—it would stay hidden a little longer.