The first time Mark realized his life wasn't going to be "normal" was when his best friend Luke dragged him out of the hostel, at five-thirty in the morning, just to fix a broken motorbike.
"Bro, trust me. She just needs a little tightening," Luke grinned, wiping his oily hands on Mark's hoodie sleeve like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Mark sighed. He wasn't exactly a morning person, and he definitely wasn't a bike person. He was nineteen, a first-year engineering student, and more interested in circuits and codes than rusty bolts. Still, when Luke looked at him with that childish enthusiasm, it was hard to say no.
"You've been saying that for the past two hours," Mark muttered, pulling his hoodie tighter against the early chill. "At this rate, you'll tighten the entire bike out of existence."
Luke laughed, and his laughter was contagious, echoing across the quiet street.
But Mark's smile didn't last long. For a fleeting second, a shadow passed at the corner of his vision — tall, almost human-shaped, but melting into the air before he could blink. He froze. His chest tightened.
Not again.
"Mark?" Luke's voice cut through the silence. "You okay?"
Mark shook his head quickly, forcing a laugh. "Yeah. Just… lack of sleep. You and your bike problems, man."
Luke raised a brow but didn't push. He never did. That was Luke — loyal, stubborn, and always there, even when Mark didn't ask for it.
---
By mid-morning, the campus was buzzing. It wasn't just another day at the engineering college. Across the street, the medical college gates were overflowing with students in white coats, books clutched to their chests, laughter spilling like music.
Mark spotted them instantly.
Luna — the bubbly first-year medical student who always seemed to have an extra energy drink in her bag. She waved dramatically at Luke, her brother, who pretended to ignore her but secretly softened when he saw her. And beside her was Mika, Luna's older sister. Mika carried herself differently — calm, composed, the type who could silence an entire crowd with just a look.
Mark smiled faintly. The sisters were different, but somehow, both of them felt like pieces of light. He liked that.
---
On the other side of campus, the rumble of engines rolled like thunder. The air shifted.
Everyone turned when two bikes pulled in, sleek, shining, the riders moving like they were born on the road.
Ciar and Joss.
Ciar pulled off his helmet, shaking out his dark hair, eyes scanning the crowd with a sharpness that made people move out of his way without realizing. He was twenty-one, a racer, and an architecture student who carried himself like he owned the place.
And then there was Joss, Ciar's best friend, a year younger. His grin was softer, easier. But his eyes… there was something ancient about them, like he knew secrets he never spoke. Most people only knew him as a racer and fellow architecture student. Only a few knew he was also something more — a shaman in training.
Mark didn't know it yet, but Joss had already noticed him. The way his aura flickered, unstable, like a candle fighting the wind.
---
The day unfolded like any other. Classes, jokes, cafeteria chaos. But the air had started to shift around them. Small things. Strange things.
When Luna opened her notebook, a page was already torn out — ripped so clean, it looked like it had been done with a blade.
When Mika passed by the hospital's anatomy lab, the lights flickered even though it was broad daylight.
When Joss leaned against his bike that evening, he felt the air thrum, like the ground beneath his feet was remembering something.
And Mark…
Mark saw the shadow again.
This time, it wasn't fleeting.
He was alone in the library, books piled high, when the temperature dropped. His breath fogged in front of him. And there, at the far end of the aisle, stood the figure. Tall. Thin. Its head tilted at an unnatural angle.
"Mark…"
The whisper wasn't loud, but it crawled into his bones.
His pen slipped from his fingers. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
"Not… again…" he choked out.
Before the shadow could move, a hand grabbed his shoulder.
"Hey."
Mark spun around, his chest heaving, only to see Ciar standing there, brows furrowed.
"You're pale," Ciar said flatly, scanning him. "What happened?"
Mark shook his head too quickly. "Nothing. Just—just tired."
Ciar didn't believe him, but he didn't push. Instead, he handed Mark the pen he'd dropped. Their fingers brushed for the briefest moment, and Mark felt a jolt he couldn't explain.
Ciar tilted his head, studying him, but before he could say anything else, Joss called from the doorway, "Oi, lovebirds, library closes in five. Move it."
Mark flushed red, stammering, "We're not—!" but Ciar only smirked, brushing past him like nothing happened.
Still, as they walked out, Mark couldn't shake the feeling. The shadow wasn't gone. It was following.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
And somewhere, in a place between worlds, two spirits stirred.
Chadyon smiled, his voice like broken glass.
"Found you again."
Menaka's laugh was low, serpentine.
"This time, he won't escape."
---