The rain hadn't stopped since the plane landed in Canada.
Amelia Brooks pressed her forehead against the car window, watching gray clouds swallow the forest-lined road ahead. The driver, a quiet man in a navy uniform, had barely spoken since picking her up from the airport. It didn't matter. Her heart was too busy beating against her ribs to notice.
St. Athene Academy was supposed to be a dream—one of those elegant private schools with white stone walls, flower gardens, and scholarships for students who worked hard enough to earn them. She'd spent months imagining what it would be like to start fresh here. But when the car rolled past the front gates, her breath caught.
The buildings were grand, yes—but not what she expected.
Tall spires pierced through mist, ivy clung to the walls, and the windows reflected the gray sky like mirrors. Everything looked old, beautiful, and slightly… tired.
"Miss Brooks?" The driver cleared his throat as he stopped by the dormitory steps. "Someone will help you with your bags."
"Thank you," Amelia said softly, pulling her coat tighter around her. The cold bit through the fabric as she stepped out.
Inside the dorm, the scent of lemon polish and paper filled the hall. The woman at the front desk looked up from her clipboard with a polite smile.
"Name, dear?"
"Amelia Brooks," she replied, handing over her admission letter.
The woman flipped through a stack of envelopes. "Ah, scholarship student. Welcome to St. Athene." She glanced at the form. "You're in… Room 308."
Amelia smiled nervously. "Okay, thank you."
But the woman hesitated. Her pen stopped midair. "Did you say… 308?"
"Yes, that's what it says." Amelia tilted the paper toward her. The number was clear, typed in black ink.
The woman's smile returned—but it was smaller now. "I see. Well, up the third floor, end of the right hallway."
She handed Amelia a key with a bronze tag marked 308.
It felt cold—colder than metal should.
---
The dorm corridors were quiet. Her suitcase wheels echoed as she passed closed doors. On the second floor, girls laughed faintly behind one of them. But the third floor was different. Empty.
No voices. No sound. Only the hum of fluorescent lights.
The further she walked, the dimmer the bulbs became.
When she reached the end of the hallway, she found it: Room 308.
The plaque on the door looked newer than the others—smooth and shiny, as if it had been replaced recently. She slid in the key. The lock clicked open easily.
Inside, the room looked normal enough. Two twin beds. Two desks. Pale curtains.
A faint smell of dust and cleaning spray lingered in the air.
Then someone stepped out of the bathroom.
"Oh!" Amelia gasped.
A blonde girl in a hoodie froze mid-step. "You must be my new roommate."
Her tone was calm, but her eyes lingered too long on the key still in Amelia's hand.
"Yeah," Amelia said, smiling awkwardly. "Amelia Brooks."
"Harper," the girl said after a pause. "Harper Blake."
They exchanged polite introductions, but Harper seemed distracted. Her gaze kept shifting to the walls, then back to Amelia.
"Who assigned you this room?" she asked suddenly.
"The front desk. Is… something wrong?"
Harper's lips parted, then closed again. "No. Nothing. Just—don't open the window at night, okay?"
Amelia blinked. "Why?"
Harper shrugged. "You'll see."
---
That night, Amelia unpacked while Harper sat on her bed scrolling through her phone, earphones in. The rain outside had quieted to a whisper. When the clock struck midnight, Harper turned off her light and rolled over without a word.
Amelia lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
The room was too silent. She could hear her heartbeat, the ticking clock, her breathing.
Then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Three knocks. Soft, deliberate. Coming from inside the wall behind her bed.
Amelia sat up. "Harper?" she whispered.
No answer.
She turned toward the sound. The wall looked perfectly normal. She reached out and pressed her palm against it—cold and smooth.
Nothing.
She exhaled, trying to convince herself she imagined it. But as she settled back under the blanket, a faint voice brushed past her ear.
"I never left."
Amelia froze. Her heart thundered. The room felt heavier, as if the air itself had thickened. She turned on the lamp—and gasped.
The plaque above the door that had read 308 was gone.
In its place was a blank piece of wood.