[Sarafina POV]
I should have known something was off the moment I woke up, but looking back, I see it now.
At the time, it just felt like a normal dull pressure at my temples, the kind you get from sleeping wrong, or from dreaming too much.
I blinked up at my ceiling as early sunlight filtered through my curtains, painting the room in gold. My alarm hadn't gone off yet, but my brain insisted on dragging me out of sleep anyway.
"Great," I muttered. "Waking up before six. Happy birthday to me."
I rolled over and grabbed my phone. No missed calls. A few unread messages from Clara. And one from the school group chat reminding teachers to turn in their lesson plans for the week.
I stared at the screen a moment too long, then sighed and forced myself out of bed.
Being a teacher in Valeries City wasn't glamorous, but I loved it, most days. The kids were funny and chaotic and exhausting in a way that made me feel alive. Today was supposed to be one of my easier days, too. No exams. No administrative meetings. Just regular classes and maybe a free period if I was lucky. But the dull pressure behind my eyes refused to fade. I showered, got dressed, and pulled my hair into a loose bun. In the mirror, something about my reflection made me pause. I looked… pale. Not sick, exactly, but like the color had drained from beneath my skin overnight.
The buzzing behind my temples throbbed once, sharp enough to make me wince.
"Get it together, Sara," I whispered. "You're not dying. Not today."
Funny how wrong I was.
The city morning was its usual blur, street vendors setting up, the smell of morning coffee drifting through cracked windows, traffic already honking its impatience. Valeries City was alive in a way I both admired and resented. It didn't care if you were tired, or stressed, or turning twenty-five, it just kept moving.
My bus was half-full when I climbed aboard. I slid into a seat near the window and watched the city roll past in streaks of color. Tall buildings. Glowing signs. People rushing to wherever they needed to be.
The buzzing behind my eyes returned in a faint pulse. Not pain. Not quite. Just there. As if something inside me was tapping gently on a door. When the bus came to a stop, my phone buzzed.
Clara: Happy birthday, old lady
Drinks tonight? No excuses.
I chuckled softly and typed back:
Me: Fine. One drink. Then I'm going home to sleep like a responsible elder.
She responded instantly.
Clara: Coward. Picking you up at 8.
Wear something cute.
The bus pulled up to the school, and I tucked my phone away as I stepped out into the crisp morning air.
"Ms. Ainsley! Ms. Ainsley!"
Two of my seventh graders sprinted toward me, waving wildly. I barely had time to brace myself before they collided into an enthusiastic, chaotic hug.
"You're gonna be late!" one exclaimed.
"You're late every day," the other added.
I raised a brow. "And so are you two."
They paused, looked at each other then burst into laughter and ran toward the building. I followed with a smile, my earlier unease fading just a little. This was why I stayed. Why I tried. Why I woke up every morning despite everything. Because these tiny moments made everything else feel manageable.
But as I stepped into the hallway, the buzzing inside my head returned and sharper now, like a string pulled too tight. I winced, maybe I needed coffee.
The morning passed in a blur of lessons and grading. I taught literature first period, guiding my students through metaphors and symbolism. Their answers ranged from insightful to absurd, and I found myself laughing more than once.
But occasionally, the buzzing behind my eyes spiked sudden, brief surges that made me grip the edge of my desk for balance.
Once, the overhead lights flickered. Just once. No one else seemed to notice. By lunch, the buzzing had settled into a steady hum. A hum that felt very wrong.
I sat in the teacher's lounge with a cup of coffee, staring at the steam rising from the surface. I could hear the distant roar of students in the cafeteria, the constant chatter of teachers discussing schedules, exams, parents, and beneath all of it, that quiet hum. A vibration low in my bones.
I pressed a palm to my forehead and closed my eyes.
"You okay?"
I opened them to see Mrs. Legrand, the math teacher, watching me with raised brows. "Yeah," I lied. "Just tired."
She nodded sympathetically. "These kids could drain the life out of a demigod." I forced a laugh. If only she knew how close that statement was to the truth.
The last class of the day ended with a swarm of goodbyes and weekend questions. I packed my things slowly, exhaustion settling heavy on my shoulders. The buzzing had dulled again, but it lingered, persistent, patient.
I stepped outside into the late afternoon air. The sky was streaked with orange and pink, the city lighting up as the sun dipped. I checked my phone.
Clara:
8 pm. Don't bail.
I smiled. "Would not even dream of it."
I walked toward the bus stop, breathing in the cool air. The city at dusk was one of my favorite things, neon lights flickering to life, casting soft colors over the streets. Everything felt magical for a few minutes before night fell completely. But as I approached the stop, something tugged at my attention. A faint ripple in the air, like the atmosphere shivered. I froze. The buzzing in my blood grew suddenly, making me gasp.
No one else reacted. People kept walking, talking, scrolling on their phones. But the ripple was real. I felt it.
It passed quickly, so quickly I thought I imagined it.
But deep down, I knew I hadn't.
That evening, Clara dragged me out for drinks as promised. She rambled about work drama, bad dates, and the universe conspiring against her eyeliner. I smiled, laughed, nodded at all the right moments. But underneath it all, that humming glow pulsed faintly inside me. Growing stronger, Sharper. Closer to something I didn't have words for.
When Clara finally dropped me close to my home, she called over the car door, "Happy birthday, babe! Try not to be boring tomorrow!"
"Goodnight," I said, waving.
The buzzing spiked one more time, so hard I staggered.
A car passed, its headlights washing over me in a burst of white-gold light. And for half a second, just half, I saw something behind the glare. A shape. A shadow. Watching.
I blinked and it was gone.
My heart thudded painfully against my ribs.
"Get it together, Sara," I whispered.
But the night felt different, colder, sharper.
Like something in the world had tilted slightly out of place.
It wasn't until much later,standing on Starlit Bridge, neon lights reflecting off the water, the buzzing turning to a violent ringing that I realized: This was the last day I ever lived.