The next morning dawned bright but icy, sunlight scattering like shattered glass across the snow-laden rooftops of Green Walls. The schoolyard buzzed with life—boots stomped snow from soles, laughter echoed off the old stone walls, and the crisp air carried the scent of pine from the surrounding forests. Students hurried through the main gates, some clutching steaming mugs of milkshakes to keep warm, their voices mingling with the shuffling of books and papers. Ralph argued loudly with his sister Stacy over something trivial, but Stacy's thoughts were elsewhere—on the tall, solitary figure gliding silently through the hall, his dark coat trailing behind him like a shadow. Nyx Gald. The boy who unsettled her and drew her in, the boy who had made her sleepless with just a single sentence. Today, she resolved, she would speak to him again. Her heart pounded as she walked across the crowded corridor, every step amplified in her chest.
When she finally reached him, Nyx stood near the window, pale morning light carving sharp lines across his face. His green eyes were restless, stormy, and distant. "Nyx," Stacy began softly, her voice trembling but determined. "I… I've been working on the story you asked me for. Do you want to hear how it begins?" Her lips curled nervously as she opened her notebook, words trembling on her tongue. But Nyx's gaze snapped to her, sharp and unforgiving. "Not now. Don't ruin my mood further." The words hit her like a blow. Her smile broke, the notebook snapped shut in her shaking hands, and for a heartbeat, she feared she might cry. She turned away quickly, cheeks burning, and returned to her desk, her eyes rarely lifting from the floor for the rest of the day.
Meanwhile, Nyx was trapped in his own storm. Equations blurred before his eyes, metaphors from literature classes faded to noise, and the usual calm calculation he wielded so easily seemed gone. His mind circled one thought: Joey Grey. Why had he not returned yesterday? Why did he break his promise while the book waited, its secrets gnawing at him? The classroom walls felt like cages, and for the first time in months, Nyx felt restless, almost ruthless. When the lunch bell rang, he wasted no time. Cornering Bob Grey near the cafeteria doors, he grabbed him by the collar, his grip startlingly strong. Students whispered and recoiled. "Where is Joey?" Nyx demanded, his voice low, edged with steel. Bob flushed red with fear and confusion. "Don't get angry—please! He's back. He just didn't come to school today. Said he was too tired from the trip." Nyx released him with a shove, his expression unreadable, but the decision in his mind was already made.
By midday, Nyx signed out with a half-day leave. His excuse was simple; his urgency was not. He strode through snowy streets, boots striking stone with force, until the Grey household loomed ahead. Without knocking, he entered. The familiar creak echoed, the scent of firewood and ink greeting him. Upstairs, Joey sat in dim lamplight. Before he could react, Nyx's hand cracked across his face in a stinging slap. "You broke your promise," Nyx hissed, fury vibrating in his words. Joey staggered, eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to— I was just exhausted! Why are you so angry?" Nyx's green eyes blazed. "Because you forgot. The book isn't something to forget. It's alive in a way words shouldn't be. Before I open it, I need to know who wrote it, who sent it. I will not walk blind into something this dark."
Joey ran a hand through his hair. "The book… it came with a letter. Maybe it means something. But the text was strange. You'll have to decode it."
They left together and walked toward the address scribbled faintly on the parcel. Past shops, past the bonfire square, houses thinned, and the road faded into the edge of the forest. Pines rose tall, their shadows swallowing the last signs of civilization. But when they reached the address, there was nothing—no house, no sender, only the quiet watchfulness of the trees. Joey glanced at Nyx, unease in his voice. "This… doesn't make sense. The letter—maybe we missed something." Nyx's jaw tightened, his thoughts spiraling tighter with every step back toward the city.
Back in Joey's room, the letter lay unfolded, ink faded but mocking. They argued, scribbled guesses, frustration mounting. "It's gibberish," Joey groaned. But Nyx's instincts screamed otherwise. Suddenly, a jug of water tipped over, spilling across the floor. Nyx bent to step over it—and froze. The letters shimmered in the puddle, twisted into legible words.
"The words are inverted," Nyx whispered, voice trembling with revelation. "Open the book only on full moon night. Otherwise, the book will haunt you instead of you hunting it."
Silence pressed down, thick and heavy. Joey shivered. "Haunt you?" he breathed. "What does that even mean?" Nyx's gaze didn't leave the reflection. "It means it's not just a book. It's a trap. A weapon. Or worse." He closed the letter with care, voice low and certain. "We wait for the full moon. No sooner."
They checked the calendar. The next full moon wasn't far—just three days away. And it wasn't ordinary. It was Nyx's nineteenth birthday. The coincidence—or destiny—weighed heavily on them. Nyx stared at the circled date, reflection caught in frost-laced window, face pale but unflinching. Three days. Three days until the book demanded to be opened. A hunger for answers clawed at him, fierce and undeniable. Joey sank into a chair, drained of color, while Nyx remained standing, rigid, mind already racing toward the night to come.
Outside, snow fell lightly, covering the city in quiet silver. But inside, anticipation twisted tightly around their hearts—three days until the full moon, three days until secrets of the book would finally surface. And when morning came, nothing would be ordinary.