The rain hadn't stopped all afternoon. Thin rivulets slid down the tall glass windows of the library, blurring the view of the courtyard. Inside, the silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of pages and the occasional cough.
Kael sat at a corner table, textbooks spread out but forgotten. His eyes kept drifting to Riven, who was seated a few tables away with Jordan. The three of them had promised to study for midterms together, but somehow Kael felt like an outsider tonight. Riven leaned in close to Jordan, pointing something out in a notebook, his dark hair falling across his forehead.
Jealousy pricked at Kael—sharp, irrational, unavoidable. He hated himself for it, yet the feeling burned. He knew Jordan wasn't a threat. Jordan was his friend. Loyal, straightforward, not the type to sneak behind anyone's back. But still, every time Riven smiled faintly at something Jordan said, Kael's chest twisted.
Kael shut his book with a quiet thump.
Jordan looked up. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Kael said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
But Riven's gaze lingered on him a second longer than usual. As if he could see through the mask.
By the time the rain eased, the sky outside was already dark. Students began packing their things, the soft shuffle of bags and papers filling the library.
"I'll head back first," Jordan said, stretching his arms. "I promised the photography club I'd help with the exhibit setup."
"Don't stay out too late," Riven replied, distractedly scribbling notes.
Jordan grinned, saluted them, and left.
Kael and Riven were alone.
The silence was thicker now. Kael thought of speaking—of saying something real, something honest—but the words never came. Riven's expression was unreadable, as if he was far away in thought. Finally, Kael sighed and began to pack his things.
That was when a commotion rose outside. Shouts. Running footsteps. Someone burst through the library doors, breathless.
"Has anyone seen Jordan?" the student panted. "He—he was supposed to be at the exhibit setup. But his phone's on the ground outside, near the old science building. And there's blood on it."
The library erupted.
Kael froze. His heart plunged into ice.
Riven shot to his feet, the chair scraping loudly. "What?" His eyes blazed with sudden, fierce intensity.
Kael's mind raced. Blood. A missing phone. Jordan. He grabbed Riven's arm before he could bolt. "Wait—we need to think. If something happened—"
But Riven yanked his arm free. "He's my friend. I'm not waiting."
He ran out into the night. Kael swore under his breath and followed.
The rain had stopped, but the ground was slick and shining under the streetlamps. The old science building loomed at the edge of campus, half-abandoned, its windows dark and hollow.
A small crowd had gathered near the entrance, whispering, pointing. And there, on the cracked stone steps, lay Jordan's phone. The screen was shattered, a smear of blood dark against the pale casing.
"Jordan!" Riven's voice echoed, raw, desperate. He darted past the others, vanishing into the shadows of the building.
Kael's pulse thundered. Every instinct screamed to stop, to call security, to wait for help. But something deeper pulled at him—the same pull that had led him through every vision, every memory. He couldn't let Riven go in alone.
He followed.
The air inside was damp, heavy with the smell of mold and rust. Their footsteps echoed against the cracked tile floor.
"Jordan!" Riven shouted again. His voice bounced through the empty corridors. No answer.
Kael's chest tightened. The shadows felt alive, shifting, watching.
Then he saw it—movement at the end of the hall. A figure. Tall, cloaked, face hidden in the gloom. Standing utterly still, as though waiting.
Kael froze. "Riven—"
But before he could finish, the figure stepped back into the darkness and was gone.
They searched room after room, their calls unanswered. Dust clung to their shoes, cobwebs brushed their arms. At last, in an old lab, they found something—a notebook lying open on a desk, too clean, too recent to belong in this abandoned place.
Riven picked it up, eyes narrowing. "This is Jordan's handwriting."
Kael leaned over. Pages of notes were scrawled inside—messy, hurried. At first they looked like random numbers and sketches. But then Kael noticed the repetition. A symbol drawn again and again: two interlocking circles with a line slashed through.
"It looks like…" Kael hesitated. He didn't know. But something about it tugged at him. Familiar. Dangerous.
Riven's jaw tightened. "He wouldn't draw this for no reason."
Then, from the hallway, came the sound of a door slamming shut.
They both whipped around.
"Jordan?" Kael called, though his throat felt dry.
But no answer came.
The fear, the damp, the silence—it triggered something in Kael. His vision blurred, the world tilting.
And suddenly he was not there.
He was in another hallway, another time. Torches lit the stone walls, flickering shadows stretching long. And there was Riven, his past self, clutching Kael's hand as they ran, breathless, chased by unseen enemies.
"Don't let go!" Riven shouted, his grip fierce, protective.
Kael felt the heat of his palm, the pounding of their hearts as one. Behind them, boots thundered, steel clashed. The symbol—the same two circles with a slash—was carved into the walls.
It was them. The same enemy. The same darkness. Stretching across lifetimes.
Then the vision snapped.
Kael stumbled, gasping, back in the present.
"Kael?" Riven's voice cut through, sharp with worry. His hands gripped Kael's shoulders. "What just happened? You went pale."
Kael opened his mouth—but before he could speak, a sound split the air.
A scream.
Faint. Distant. From somewhere deeper inside the building.
Jordan.
They ran toward the sound, hearts pounding. The corridors twisted like a maze, the shadows endless. Finally, they burst into a wide chamber—the old auditorium, its seats broken, stage collapsed.
And there, at the center of the room, was Jordan.
He was tied to a chair, gagged, eyes wide with terror. His face was pale, a thin cut bleeding down his cheek.
"Jordan!" Riven lunged forward.
But Kael grabbed his arm, stopping him. Something felt wrong. Too easy. Too staged.
And then, from the shadows above the stage, came a low chuckle.
The cloaked figure stepped forward. Tall. Menacing. His face still hidden, but his voice cold, smooth, carrying across the room.
"You shouldn't have come."
Kael's blood froze.
Riven's voice was steady, but furious. "Who are you? What do you want with him?"
The figure tilted his head. "What I've always wanted. Balance. Payment. The past never stays buried, and neither do its debts."
Kael's stomach twisted. Past. Debts. He knew. Somehow, this man was connected to the visions. To the life before.
The figure raised a hand—and the lights above them shattered, plunging the room into near darkness.
Jordan struggled against his ropes, muffled cries filling the air.
Kael's heart raced. They were caught in something far bigger than they understood.
And as the figure's words echoed—"The past never stays buried"—Kael felt the truth strike deep.
Because he knew, with bone-deep certainty:
This was only the beginning.
Riven stepped forward, rage burning in his eyes, ready to fight. Kael felt the weight of destiny pressing down. The cloaked figure's shadow loomed, Jordan's muffled cries echoing through the chamber.
And then—the doors slammed shut behind them, locking them inside.