The piercing wail of sirens sliced through the thick curtain of campus-wide panic, growing from a distant cry to an overwhelming roar.
Two police cruisers and a forensics van rolled slowly through the main gates, their flashing red and blue lights painting streaks across the frightened faces of students and staff.
The arrival of law enforcement didn't bring relief; it solidified the terror, transforming the school from a place of rumor into an official crime scene. Yellow tape was already being unspooled, cordoning off the west wing with a stark, brutal finality.
Rossie, Lila, Becky, and Ethan huddled together near the flagpole at the main entrance, a small, tense island in a churning sea of confusion.
They watched as grim-faced officers began their methodical work, their movements efficient and detached.
One officer knelt by a locker, the ominous, spiraling symbol etched into its metal glinting in the weak morning light. He spoke into his shoulder radio, his voice a low, clipped murmur that was swallowed by the anxious chatter of the crowd.
"They look… lost," Becky observed quietly, her voice barely a whisper.
"They're treating this like a gang thing, or a really disturbed prank."
Ethan nodded, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"They have no idea what they're looking for. How can they, when we barely do?"
Lila's gaze darted around nervously, her fingers twisting the strap of her backpack. She glanced at Rossie, her brows furrowed with a deeper, more immediate concern.
"Where's your dad? He knows about… well, about things being not normal. He said he'd be here to help."
Rossie flinched, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face before she expertly masked it. She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over her father's contact photo for a long moment.
She imagined the conversation: *Hi Dad, you know that ancient, cursed book you found?
Well, it might have turned our friend into a monster who just tore up half the school, and now there are more missing kids. How's your Tuesday?...The thought was absurd, impossibly heavy.
"He's… probably got a lot on his plate these days," she said, her voice carefully neutral as she slid the phone back into her pocket without making the call.
"I don't want to bother him more. This is our mess to handle."
The words felt hollow even to her. She wanted his help. She wanted an adult to step in and take control, but the responsibility, sharp and cold, rested squarely on their shoulders. Before anyone could challenge her decision, a sudden shift rippled through the courtyard.
A hush fell over the students closest to the west wing entrance. The panicked whispers died down, replaced by a tense, watchful silence. The crowd parted, not out of courtesy, but out of an instinctual, primal fear.
From the shadows of the damaged corridor, Mia and Tom emerged. They moved with a chilling, predatory grace, their dark clothing absorbing the weak light. They weren't walking through the chaos; they were the calm at the center of it, their presence a stark and terrifying counterpoint to the surrounding hysteria. Their eyes, sharp and intelligent, swept over the scene—not with shock, but with something that looked unnervingly like assessment.
Rossie's breath caught in her throat. "Mia and Tom…" she whispered, the names feeling like stones in her mouth.
Lila's grip tightened on her arm, her knuckles white.
"This can't be good. Why are they here now?"
Mia and Tom didn't approach the police or the principal. They moved directly toward Rossie's group, their path deliberate and unwavering. The air snapped taut, charged with an invisible current as they closed the distance. When they stopped a few feet away, the space between the two groups vibrated with unspoken history and imminent conflict.
Mia's gaze, a piercing shade of green, locked with Rossie's. It was an intense, suffocating stare that stripped away all the surrounding noise and chaos, leaving only the two of them in a silent duel. Neither moved. Neither spoke.
It was Tom who broke the silence, his voice a low, cold rumble that cut through the tension. His eyes, cold and dismissive, flicked from Ethan to Becky.
"Looking for answers, no doubt," he said, a sneer playing on his lips. "Chasing ghosts and shadows while the real problems are right in front of you."
Rossie squared her shoulders, forcing strength into her voice she didn't feel.
"We're just trying to keep people safe."
A slow, chilling smile spread across Mia's face. It was a thin, dangerous curve that held no warmth, only a profound and unsettling knowledge.
"Safety is relative, isn't it, Rossie?" she purred, her voice soft yet carrying an undeniable threat.
"One person's safety is another's cage. You, of all people, should understand that." Her look shifted, becoming sharper, more pointed.
"Maybe it's time old friends stopped hiding in shadows. This school, this town… they have a right to know who the real monsters are."
Ethan took a half-step forward, placing himself slightly in front of Becky, his expression hardening.
"What do you want, Mia?"
Mia's smile widened, her eyes glittering with malice. She ignored Ethan completely, keeping her focus locked on Rossie.
"Want? I don't *want* anything. I'm simply here to watch the truth unfold. A truth you've been trying so desperately to bury."
She took a deliberate step closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that only their group could hear.
"Maybe it's time the truth came out. All of it. About the book. About Michael. About what he's become… and about who helped him."
The implication hung in the air, venomous and suffocating. She was threatening to expose them, to paint them as accomplices in the very chaos they were trying to stop.
The tension built, becoming a brittle, fragile thing on the verge of shattering. Lila, her face pale, whispered under her breath, a frantic question directed at Rossie but meant for them all.
"Is she the Parador? Is this a power play? Or is Michael the real threat with Mistura's power, and she's just here to watch it burn?"
No one had an answer. The mystery of the Parador, the ancient enemy of the book's guardian, was a terrifying unknown.
....Was it Mia, manipulating events from the shadows? Or was the true enemy the corrupted, supernaturally powerful Michael, a pawn turned rogue king?
The crowd around them had grown silent a bit, They couldn't hear the words, but they could feel the confrontation, sensing the collision of forces far greater than a simple school emergency.
Rossie's fingers tightened around her phone in her pocket, the smooth, cool glass a stark contrast to her clammy palm. She was poised and ready, a soldier bracing for the first shot in a war that had just become terrifyingly public.
The storm gathering inside and outside the walls of Haul Academy was about to break loose.
Unknown to the principal and the teachers the battle that's about to begin between the two groups.