Summer's over. Way too short this time, like the season just packed up and left before I even had the chance to enjoy it. The school gates rise in front of me, tall and familiar, swallowing me back into routine. The iron bars are warm under the sun, the faint smell of sea salt drifting even this far inland, as if reminding me that freedom still lingers just beyond the shoreline.
As I walk into the building, I spot faces—some familiar, some new, all carrying that same tired "first day" energy. Shoes squeak on the polished floor, lockers slam shut in uneven rhythm, and the hallway hums with gossip that feels both new and recycled. The courtyard is already filled with chatter when the head teacher steps up and launches into the same speech we've heard a hundred times: "You've grown, you're not kids anymore, take responsibility, blah blah blah."
I sigh, tuning it out. Same old, same old. It's all just auditory clutter—a chaotic noise I have to endure until the timer in my head finally rings.
Then, in the crowd, someone catches my eye.
No way. That can't be…
"Hey bro, move already! You're holding the line!" someone snaps from behind, jolting me out of my daze. I stumble forward, my shoes dragging over the concrete, my mind still on that glimpse I thought I saw.
Of course, none of my friends are here yet. Lucky them, still clinging to the last shreds of summer while I'm stuck here.
I check the class sheet posted on the wall, running my finger down the list. Huh. Looks like I actually landed in the same class as my friends this time. Small miracle. But then… another name jumps out at me.
My breath hitches. No way… could it really be her?
And then she walks in, like my thoughts summoned her.
Aria Harper.
The last time I saw her was maybe third grade—five years ago. She's taller now, her hair a bit longer, but it's her. No mistake. My mind races. Does she even remember me?
She steps up to the sheet, scanning for her name.
"Don't worry," I say before I can stop myself. "You're in this class."
Her head turns, and her eyes widen in recognition.
"…Kael?"
I grin, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah. What are the odds, right?"
"Totally. I had no idea you went here!"
"To be fair, it wouldn't have been my first choice. But, uh… studying isn't really my strong suit."
She laughs softly. "Guess that part of you hasn't changed."
I smirk. "So how are you? What've you been—"
The bell cuts me off.
We trade a quick look, then shrug in unison.
"Oh, what's our first class?" she asks.
"Doesn't matter. First day, no books—teachers won't make us actually study. Hopefully."
She glances around, probably looking for a seat.
"Wanna sit next to me?" I offer.
She raises her eyebrow. "What about your friends?"
"They didn't show up."
"Skipping school on the first day? Bold move."
"You could say that."
We sit, and the lessons blur past in a haze. The jabber of teachers mixes with the scrape of chalk on boards, but most of it slips past me. Most of the time, we're just whispering to each other, catching up on everything we missed. Five years is a long time. By the time lunch rolls around, I've almost forgotten how much I used to enjoy talking to her.
But then… lunch.
"Ooh, I was just getting hungry," she says, her eyes sparkling. Rookie mistake.
"You coming?" she asks.
"Ugh… I usually don't eat here. But if you want, I'll keep you company."
She tilts her head. "Don't tell me… is the food that bad?"
"'Bad' is one word for it. Maybe you'll like it… my beef with school food goes way back."
"Okay, now I have to see what's got you so dramatic."
The cafeteria greets us with a thick mix of smells that instantly turns my stomach. Fried oil, overcooked pasta, and something burnt that refuses to be identified. The air hangs heavy, humid, sticking to my clothes. I bail out with a quick tuna salad from the bar while she braves the line. By the time she joins me at a table, some classmates are already pestering me about "the new girl." I wave them off, telling them she's a childhood friend. She looks a little confused.
"Where'd you get the salad?" she asks, eyeing my plate.
"There's a salad bar."
"There's even a salad bar, and you still don't eat here?"
"Yeah, I mean, the salads are fine. But I'd rather skip the calories."
She giggles. "It's lettuce, Kael. What calories?"
"Even one is bigger than zero," I reply, grinning.
She shakes her head, still laughing. For a moment, it feels like old times again.
When she takes her first bite, her face twists. "…It's not good."
I smirk. "Called it."
The bell spares her from finishing the meal.
"What's next?" she asks.
"PE. Unfortunately."
"Why unfortunately? Not athletic?"
"It's not that. I could use the exercise, sure. But with the university exams creeping up, doing pushups feels… pointless."
She raises a brow. "Or maybe you're just lazy."
"Also true."
The gym is the same as ever: scuffed floors, balls in the corners, hoops, nets. The scent of varnish still lingers, mixed with old sweat baked into the walls. Sunlight cuts through the high windows, throwing stripes of light across the wooden court. We go through the motions until the teacher finally blows the whistle and sets us loose.
"Hey, they've got boxing equipment," she says, eyes lighting up.
"Oh yeah. Nobody ever uses it though."
She smirks. "Then let's be the first. Come on."
"Wait, like… sparring?"
"What, scared I'll beat you?"
"I'm not scared—" I stop, realizing I sound exactly like someone who is scared. "I just mean… I'm in a whole different weight class."
"Excuses," she teases, already strapping on gloves.
Great. Now I have to.
We glove up, and before I can blink, she's bouncing on her toes like she was waiting for this.
"You… have some experience?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
"You could say that."
Her footwork is sharp. Too sharp. This isn't a casual thing for her.
"Okay, so what are the ru—"
A jab cuts my sentence short. I dodge—barely—and stumble back.
"Nice! But can you dodge this?" She follows with a right hook, her fist landing heavy against my block.
"Ugh, how about going easy?" I gasp.
"Wow, you're not completely hopeless."
I grit my teeth. She's good. Too good. The crowd forming around us doesn't help either—half the class is watching now.
She closes in, firing off a combo. I'm forced back, scrambling to keep up. On instinct, I try a counter—slipping to the side, throwing my own shot. For a second, I think I got her.
But she sways, feather-light, and taps my chest with a clean hit.
Air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I drop back onto the mat.
"Gotcha," she grins.
I wheeze out a laugh. "Thanks… for going easy."
The class erupts with cheers and jokes. "How'd you lose to a girl, man?" But I barely hear them. My eyes are fixed on her.
"How did you…?" I start.
She smirks. "First time a girl kicked your ass?"
"…First time anyone has."
She shrugs. "Guess I practiced a lot." But something in her tone feels… off. Like there's more she's not saying.
The bell rings, and gym is over. The noise of students filing out quickly fades into background chatter, like a tide pulling away. The rest of the day slides past in a blur.
By the final bell, Aria's nowhere to be seen. Not even a quick "See you tomorrow." I text her. No reply. Not even "delivered."
Strange.
With a sigh, I start heading home. The sun hangs low now, spilling orange across the rooftops. Shadows stretch long, cicadas buzz relentlessly in the thick air, and the salt of the nearby sea grows sharper with every step.The streets are quiet, cicadas buzzing in the summer heat. Gravel crunches under my shoes. I'm halfway home when—
"Hey—wait! Please!"
I freeze. A voice. Faint, desperate.
At first, I think I imagined it. Then it comes again. Clearer.
I bolt toward the sound, heart hammering, cutting through the forest trail. Branches claw at my sleeves, and dry leaves crackle underfoot. The air cools as the canopy thickens, the light thinning into streaks between trunks. The trees blur by as I push forward, following that trembling cry.
And then… a clearing.
I stop dead.
A circle burns faintly into the dirt, eight jagged crystals driven into the ground around it like teeth. Pale light pulses between them, binding whatever's trapped inside.
Wings thrash against invisible chains—black, leathery, unnatural. A bat, but unlike any I'd ever seen. Too large. Too unnatural. Its eyes gleam in the glow, its chest heaving.
Every instinct screams run.
But then—
"Kael…"
The voice. Clear. Human. Familiar.
My blood runs cold.
The voice came from the bat.