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The Killers Concord

0zara
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Nobody warns you that Duskmoor Academy smells like rain and rust. The place looks like an old cathedral someone forgot about—cracked statues, rotting gates, windows that never open. They say it’s a school, but the kids here don’t act like students. They watch. They whisper. Some of them don’t come back after curfew. My first night, I saw a body at the gates. No screaming. No alarms. Just rain washing the blood into the cracks in the pavement. The guards dragged it away like trash. And now I’m sitting with five kids everyone avoids. They move like predators, talk in riddles, and look at me like they know something I don’t. I thought I was just another transfer trying to survive a weird school. Turns out, I walked into a hunting ground.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: Blood at the Gates

Rain's been falling since I got here. Not soft rain, either—the kind that chews through your jacket and settles in your bones. The courtyard lamps flicker like they're ready to give up, and the whole campus feels like it's breathing. Old stone buildings lean in close, windows blacked out, ivy clinging to the walls like veins.

I should be in bed. First week here, first night in the dorms, and I'm already breaking curfew. I told myself I needed air, but really, I couldn't sleep. Not with the whispering. I thought it was the wind at first, but it wasn't. Someone was talking outside my window.

Now I'm barefoot in somebody else's slippers, crossing a slick path toward the gates like I know where I'm going. The rain smells like iron.

That's when I see it.

A body, slumped against the front gates.

At first, my brain doesn't process it. Just a dark shape, clothes plastered to skin by rain, head tilted too far back. Then I notice the arm twisted underneath, the hand reaching through the bars like it was trying to claw its way out.

"Hey," I call out. My voice is hoarse. "You okay?"

No answer.

I get closer, knees shaking. The lamps are useless out here, but the lightning does the job. A flash cracks the sky—and I freeze.

The face is… wrong. Like someone blurred it out with a paintbrush. There are features, but they don't make sense. Too smooth. Too empty.

I stumble back. My breath fogs. The rain sounds louder now.

And that's when I see him.

A figure standing on the other side of the gates. Hood up. Hands in his pockets. Just… watching me.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My body locks up. I don't know if it's fear or instinct, but something in me screams not to move. Not to blink.

He tilts his head slightly, like he's curious. A slow smile creeps across his face. Lightning flashes again, and for a split second I swear his eyes glow.

Then he's gone.

No footsteps. No sound. Just gone.

My knees buckle, and I crouch next to the body. My fingers hover over its neck. Cold. Really cold. There's a black mark burned into the skin, shaped like an eye.

The whispering starts again.

I spin around, heart pounding, but there's no one there. Just shadows and rain.

"Hey!" A voice cuts through the storm. A flashlight beam hits me in the face.

Two guards jog toward me, their boots splashing in puddles. They're both huge, wearing black coats with hoods pulled low. One of them swears when he sees the body.

"Another one," he mutters.

The other guard doesn't react at all. He just kneels down and checks for a pulse, like he expects not to find one. He doesn't even flinch at the face.

I back up, hands raised. "I—I just found him here."

They glance at me. Their eyes are flat. One pulls out a notebook and scribbles something down.

"Name," he says.

I give it. My voice cracks.

"Dorm number."

I tell him.

They don't ask how I got out after curfew. Don't ask why I'm shaking or barefoot or standing in the rain. They just grab the body like it's a trash bag and start dragging it toward the side path.

"Wait," I say. "A guy—there was a guy here—he was—"

The guard closest to me cuts me off with a sharp look. "Go back to your room. You'll see the headmaster in the morning."

That's it. No explanation. No reassurance. Just orders.

I stand there for a second, stunned. The rain's dripping off my nose, my hair plastered to my face. They're already gone. The body's gone too, dragged off into the dark like it never existed.

When I finally turn back toward the dorms, every instinct I have is screaming at me to run.

So I do.

By the time I reach my room, I'm soaked to the bone. I slam the door shut and lock it, leaning against it like that's going to keep anything out. My hands won't stop shaking. My mind keeps replaying that smile.

I pace the room, peeling off wet clothes, trying to breathe. Telling myself I imagined it. It was the storm. The dark. Nerves. First night jitters.

Then lightning flashes, bright enough to light the entire courtyard.

He's standing out there.

Right in the middle of the path. Hood up. Head tilted. Watching me.

My breath catches in my throat. I take one slow step back.

The next flash of lightning comes, and he's gone again.

And that's when I hear it. A whisper, clear as day, right next to my ear.

"Welcome to Blackthorn."