Elena's POV
"Greyhound University," I said one more time, rolling the name around in my head as I tried to remember where I had heard it before.
Michael was standing beside me, watching my expression closely as I stared at the paper in my hands. The silence between us felt heavy, filled with years of searching and unanswered questions.
Then it clicked.
Greyhound University was a popular university in the human realm. It was known for its prestige and high academic standards, which explained its low acceptance rate. The name alone carried weight. That realization sent a strange chill down my spine.
But the name was not the only thing that caught my attention.
The paper I held, the same paper Michael and I had scrutinized over and over again, looked like it had been torn out of an old article. The edges were rough and yellowed with age, and the print was slightly faded, as though it had survived decades of neglect. Judging by its condition, it was probably fifty to sixty years old.
The article spoke about an old research facility that had been shut down after inhumane practices were discovered.
I scanned the page again, my eyes slowing as they landed on a familiar shape.
My breath hitched.
Printed clearly on the page was the laboratory's logo, and it was unmistakably similar to the symbol we had searched for over the years. The same lines. The same strange markings. The same unsettling familiarity.
My heart began to pound.
Just below the logo was a picture of one of Greyhound University's founders. He was holding a microscope, posed confidently for the camera as though unaware of the weight his image would one day carry. My eyes narrowed as I leaned closer.
The microscope had the same symbol engraved on it.
For a long moment, I could not speak.
This was too much to process at once. Years of dead ends, false leads, and unanswered questions had led us here. Slowly, carefully, I folded the paper and wrapped it up, my hands trembling slightly as I did.
Michael turned to look at me, studying my face as if trying to read my thoughts. I knew my expression was blank, but inside, my mind was racing.
Confusion twisted with frustration, and beneath it all was a growing sense of dread. We had searched for so long, and this was all we had to show for it.
"So this is it?" Michael finally asked, his voice laced with exhaustion and worry. "This is all we've got?"
"Greyhound University," I replied quietly. "It's definitely not a coincidence."
He nodded slowly. "If that symbol shows up anywhere at this point, it wouldn't be by accident."
We fell into silence again, each of us lost in thought. The implications of what we had discovered weighed heavily on us. Whatever answers we were looking for were buried deep, and they were guarded.
"We need access," Michael said eventually.
"And time," I added with a sigh.
He glanced at me. "You know what we have to do, right?"
"Of course," I replied. "We don't break in."
A small pause followed.
"We walk in," he finished.
"We earn our way in," I said firmly.
Michael exhaled slowly. "It won't be easy, El, but we'll have to try."
I nodded, even though the knot in my chest tightened. Greyhound University was not just a lead anymore.
It had become our target.
And whatever truth waited for us there, I knew it would change everything.
Michael followed behind me in silence as we made our way back to my room. The door closed softly behind us, but the tension that followed was anything but quiet. It clung to the air, heavy and unsettling, as if the walls themselves were listening.
I paced the room slowly, the folded paper clenched tightly in my hand. My thoughts refused to settle. Everything we had uncovered felt unreal, like we were standing at the edge of something far bigger than we were prepared for.
Michael sat on the small couch by my window, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched me move back and forth. His expression was tight, thoughtful. He had that look he always wore when his mind was working through too many possibilities at once.
"This changes everything," he finally said.
I stopped pacing and looked at him. "It changes nothing," I replied quietly. "It only confirms what we already knew."
Michael frowned slightly. "That this wasn't random?"
"That my mother's death wasn't random," I corrected.
Silence fell again.
I unfolded the paper and smoothed it out on my desk, staring at the faded print and the symbol that had haunted us for years. My fingers traced the edge of the page carefully, as though touching it too roughly might erase the truth it held.
Greyhound University.
The name echoed in my head like a warning.
"Greyhound University isn't easy to get into," Michael said after a moment. "It's not just prestigious. It's selective. They don't take just anyone."
"I know," I replied.
"They check everything. Academic records. Backgrounds. Scores. Anything they can dig up."
I straightened slowly, lifting my head to meet his gaze. "Then we give them nothing to question."
Michael studied me for a long moment. "Elena"
"We meet their standards," I continued, my voice steady. "And then we exceed them."
He let out a slow breath. "That means training harder."
"Studying harder."
"Blending in better."
"No mistakes," I added.
Michael leaned back against the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. "This will take time."
"I'm patient," I said without hesitation.
That earned a small, tired smile from him. "Then we start now."
From that day on, everything changed.
Our days became carefully structured. Training in the mornings until our muscles burned and our lungs screamed. Lessons in the afternoons, pushing ourselves far beyond what was required. At night, we studied human history, systems, language patterns, and behavior, memorizing everything that could help us pass unnoticed when the time came.
We became careful with our words.
Careful with our reactions.
Careful with who watched us.
I hid the dagger deeper than before, locking it away where no one would ever think to look. Only Michael and I knew where it was, and we never spoke of it outside my room.
Time moved strangely after that.
Days blurred into weeks. Weeks turned into months.
And before I fully realized it, three years had passed.
By then, I was no longer the girl I had been when my mother died.
I had grown sharper. Stronger. More controlled.
People whispered about me now. Some admired me. Others feared me. I could feel their gazes wherever I went, lingering a second too long. My short brunette hair framed my face differently now, giving me a more striking appearance that I had stopped caring about long ago.
Michael had changed too.
He carried himself with quiet confidence, his presence commanding attention whether he wanted it or not. Tattoos marked his skin now, carefully hidden most of the time, each one a choice made deliberately.
We had no time for distractions.
We had a goal.
When the day finally came to send out our applications, my hands barely shook. I had prepared myself for this moment for years. Michael and I double-checked everything, reviewing every detail until we were sure there were no flaws.
Two weeks later, the waiting nearly drove me mad.
Michael offered to pick up the letters that day while I attended to pack duties with my father. I agreed, though every part of me hated not being there.
When I finally returned home, my father was with me. We were finishing a discussion when the door opened quietly.
Michael stepped inside, holding two envelopes.
My heart stopped.
I saw them instantly.
So did my father.
Michael greeted him respectfully, earning a pat on the back and a small smile in return. My attention, however, was locked on the envelope with my name written across it.
I grabbed it before my courage could fail me.
Michael waited, just like he promised.
I opened mine first.
My eyes scanned the page once.
Then again.
And then my breath left me in a shaky rush.
I looked up at Michael, my chest tight, my heart racing. "Oh my God."
He opened his letter quickly, reading through it as his expression shifted. A smirk slowly pulled at his lips.
Accepted.
We had done it.
I laughed, a sound that felt foreign on my tongue as I threw my arms around him. "We did it, Mikey."
It was the first time I had called him that in a long time.
Behind us, my father picked up the letter I had placed on the table. I watched his expression change as he read the heading.
Greyhound University.
My father did not speak immediately after reading the letter.
He stood there, staring at the page as though it might change if he looked long enough. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, and for a moment I wondered if he already knew more than he was letting on.
"Greyhound University," he said finally, his voice low.
I watched his expression carefully. My father rarely showed surprise, but this was different. His jaw tightened, and something unreadable flickered across his face before he masked it completely.
"You've heard of it," I said.
He nodded slowly. "Yes."
I waited.
"That was where your mother studied".