The hallway stretched ahead like a tunnel — quiet, polished, and too perfect to be real. Elena Cresswell adjusted the cuffs of her snow-white shirt, smoothing the stiff fabric over her sleeves. Her school badge — a silver emblem with a sword piercing through a book — gleamed coldly on her chest. First day of senior year at Westveil High. The final chapter. One more year, and she'd be free.
She passed the headmistress's office, the heavy wooden door sealed shut as always. A small brass plate read "Do Not Disturb – Administrative Review." That sign never changed, even though no one had ever seen anyone actually go in or out of that room.
Her footsteps echoed against the floor as she made her way to her locker. All around her, the halls buzzed with the kind of energy only teenagers could bring — laughs, shouts, dramatic gasps from summer gossip now being spilled in person.
Then everything went still.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone standing near the entrance. A boy. Not talking. Not moving. Just watching.
He looked… completely out of place.
He wore the school's uniform, but it didn't sit right on him — like he had never belonged anywhere long enough to make anything feel like home. His black hair fell slightly over his eyes, and a navy-blue sweater clung to his frame, sleeves rolled halfway up to reveal ink stains near his wrist. But it wasn't his clothes or even his stillness that got Elena's attention.
It was the way he looked at her.
As if he already knew her.
And somehow, she knew she had never seen him before in her life.
Their eyes met for a second — then he walked toward her.
Her breath caught.
"What's your name?" he asked. No hello. No smile. His voice was soft, low, like he was used to not being heard.
Elena blinked. "What?"
He tilted his head slightly, studying her face. "You look... different in person."
She took a step back, her heart skipping for reasons she didn't understand. "Do I know you?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he offered a strange half-smile and turned away.
By the time she realized she hadn't moved, he was already gone — swallowed into the crowd of students heading to assembly.
---
The main hall of Westveil High was a place of order. Long stone arches curved overhead like a cathedral, casting shadows that always made Elena feel smaller than she actually was. The walls were lined with class portraits from decades past — rows of perfect faces in stiff uniforms, staring blankly ahead.
She slid into her seat near the back, next to her best friend, Noelle.
"Earth to Elena," Noelle whispered. "You good?"
"I just…" Elena shook her head. "Weird morning."
"Tell me about it." Noelle pulled her dark curls into a bun. "Did you hear there's a transfer student?"
Elena froze.
Noelle raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing. I just… I think I saw him."
Before Noelle could respond, the headmistress took the stage.
"Welcome back, seniors," Headmistress Alden began, her voice as sharp as her posture. "This year marks your final journey through Westveil's gates. Some of you will go on to greatness. Others…" She let the silence linger, eyes sweeping the room. "Let's just say, the walls remember everything."
A strange tension settled over the room.
Beside Elena, Noelle whispered, "She's so dramatic. What's the deal with this place and all its spooky speeches?"
Elena didn't laugh.
Because something about that speech felt less like tradition and more like a warning.
---
After assembly, Elena walked to her homeroom with Noelle beside her, talking about summer trips, college applications, and how Mr. Grayson had finally shaved his mustache. But her mind wasn't with the conversation.
She kept glancing around, looking for him — the boy with the black hair and quiet eyes.
And there he was.
Sitting in her classroom.
In her seat.
Elena stopped at the door. "Excuse me, that's my spot."
He didn't even look up. "It's just a chair."
Her eyes narrowed. "It's my chair."
The teacher, Ms. Hampton, appeared behind her. "Ah, Elena. This is Levi Hale — our new student. He'll be sitting there for now. We had to rearrange a few things."
Levi.
The name didn't sound familiar. Yet it felt… heavy.
As Elena took a different seat two rows away, she tried to stop staring. But it was impossible. He didn't take notes. Didn't ask questions. He just sat there, like he was waiting for something — or someone.
During lunch, the whispers started.
"Did you see the new guy?"
"He transferred from a private academy."
"I heard he got expelled."
"No, his parents died in a fire."
Elena's skin went cold.
A fire.
Later that afternoon, she opened her locker and found a slip of paper folded neatly inside. No name. Just three words in shaky handwriting:
"Remember the hall."
She looked around, heart pounding, but no one seemed to be paying attention.
Except Levi.
He stood across the hallway, staring straight at her.