Maya woke up with a headache and damp sheets. For a few seconds, she thought she'd dreamed the whole thing—the rain, the body at the gates, the hooded figure staring up at her window. Then she swung her legs out of bed and her bare feet hit cold, wet tile.
There was a puddle near her window. Her slippers were gone.
She rubbed her arms, heart ticking fast. She hadn't opened that window.
The knock on her door made her jump. Three sharp raps.
"Veyr." A man's voice. Low. Flat. "Headmaster's office. Now."
She cracked the door. A guard in a dark coat stood there, posture stiff, face unreadable. He didn't even glance at her as he turned to lead the way.
Duskmoor Academy looked worse in daylight. The rain hadn't stopped; it streaked down towering gray windows and turned the stone walkways into black mirrors. Students moved through the halls like they were walking through a morgue. Nobody talked. Nobody looked up.
The headmaster's office was on the top floor, past two more guards and a locked gate. The guard knocked once, opened the door, and gestured for her to enter.
The office was warm but wrong. The smell of old books clung to the air. A grandfather clock ticked irregularly, skipping beats. The walls were lined with maps of the school; some sections were blacked out with heavy ink.
The headmaster sat behind an antique desk. His suit was crisp, his silver hair combed back perfectly, his expression a kind of calm that didn't feel human.
"Miss Veyr," he said smoothly. "You had an… incident last night?"
She froze. "I—yes. I—"
His smile was polite, practiced. "No incidents were reported."
Maya blinked. "What?"
"Nothing on the grounds last night," he said, folding his hands. "Perhaps you were dreaming. It happens, especially to new students."
"No." Her voice cracked. "I saw a body. There was blood—"
"You must be mistaken." His tone didn't shift. "The grounds are safe. You simply need time to adjust."
He stood, walked around the desk, and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Follow the rules, and you'll be fine."
Her stomach turned.
He walked her to the door himself. "Curfew is there to protect you," he added softly. "Don't leave your dorm after dark. Not even for a moment."
On the way back, she noticed the courtyard was spotless. The gates were polished, the stones clean. No blood. No trace of what she'd seen.
A guard leaned close as they passed. "Stay inside at night," he murmured. Then he straightened and kept walking, like he hadn't said a word.
Other students moved quickly, heads down. One girl glanced at Maya, eyes wide, and whispered to a friend. Maya caught the words "she saw it" before they disappeared into a stairwell.
At breakfast, the cafeteria buzzed with quiet conversations. The smell of burnt toast and overcooked eggs hung in the air. Maya sat alone at the end of a table.
Someone dropped a tray across from her.
He was older—maybe eighteen—with messy blue hair and a stare sharp enough to pin her to her seat.
"You were out last night," he said. Not a question.
Maya stiffened. "What—"
"Don't wander again." He stabbed a piece of toast with his fork. "You won't get a second warning."
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Niko." He met her gaze, unblinking. "You should eat."
Then he stood and left without finishing his food.
She watched him go. Students nearby avoided looking at him, like he radiated danger. Another student—a tall boy with dark skin and broad shoulders—watched her curiously, then turned back to his group.
She wasn't sure if she'd just been threatened or protected.
That night, she found the note under her door.
A single word, written in rushed, jagged handwriting:
RUN.
She checked the hallway. Empty.
Her heart pounded as she locked the door and sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the paper. Every creak of the old building made her flinch.
Sometime after midnight, she jolted awake to find her reflection smiling back at her.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The girl in the mirror sat the same way she did, knees pulled up, hair falling over one eye. But the smile—wide, wrong—didn't match her own.
"Stop," she whispered, voice shaking.
The smile grew wider.
She grabbed the nearest object—a shoe—and hurled it at the mirror. The glass didn't crack, but the reflection flickered. For a moment, her own pale, terrified face stared back at her.
A shadow flickered in the corner of her vision. She spun around, but her dorm was empty.
Hands trembling, she crept to the window and peeked through the curtain.
The courtyard was empty, slick with rain.
No. Not empty.
He was there. The hooded figure. Standing under a lamp post inside the gates this time, head tilted too far to the side, like a broken puppet, staring straight at her window.
Maya's breath hitched. She stumbled back from the glass, heart hammering so hard it hurt.
When she looked again, he was gone.