Sunday sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, scattering fractured colors across the rows of wooden pews. The faint scent of candle wax and incense still clung to the air as Adam knelt at the very front, head bowed, hands loosely clasped together. His lips moved in quiet rhythm, words carrying more weight than he dared speak aloud.
He prayed first for forgiveness. For his mistakes, spoken and unspoken. The lies he'd told, the grudges he'd harbored, the things he'd done that still clung like a stain against his conscience. His voice trembled in the silence of his own mind, almost as if speaking too clearly would draw God's disapproval closer.
Then he prayed for health. His own, battered by training and the constant strain of keeping pace with the endless chaos that seemed to shadow him. For his friends too, Bryce with his hidden grief, Aiva with her stubborn strength, Morris shouldering responsibility heavier than most grown men.
But as he lingered, Adam's thoughts drifted where they always did when the church grew too still. His father.
He closed his eyes tighter, and for a moment, the boyish vulnerability beneath his otherwise calm exterior broke through. He prayed that wherever his father was, he was safe. That he was alive. That one day the silence would break, and the man he hadn't seen in so long would return through the doorway like nothing had happened.
The prayer stretched long and heavy until the last "Amen" slipped out of his lips in barely more than a whisper. Adam opened his eyes, exhaling, as if the words themselves had weighed him down. He rose from the pew, straightened his brown GAP hoodie, and slid his hands into the kangaroo pocket as he stepped out into the late afternoon sun.
The walk back to school was quiet. The streets were half-empty, the weekend winding down with a kind of muted calm. Adam strolled with an unhurried gait, jeans brushing at his sneakers, hoodie swaying gently with each step. For once, his shoulders weren't tense. The stillness around him made him feel almost ordinary, as though all the turmoil and secrets of the past week had been put on pause, if only for a short walk home.
By the time the school's tall spires and brickwork walls came into view, the day had already begun to dip toward its golden hour. The administrative main atrium was hushed, its marble floor catching the fading sunlight. Adam turned right, moving toward the high school wing. His footsteps echoed softly, each one swallowed by the cavernous hall.
As he neared the nurse's office, something caught his ear. A voice, cracking at the edges, straining to stay steady.
Adam froze mid-step.
He knew that voice.
Aiva.
He took two more steps before instinct pulled him back. He stopped just before the doorframe, heart skipping, breath slowing as his head tilted slightly. His hearing, sharper than most, tuned in without effort.
"…it's getting stronger," Aiva's voice broke in a whisper, the weight of fear buried under her stubborn will. "Harder to control. I don't know how much longer I can hold it back."
Adam's chest tightened. Hold what back?
A second voice answered, softer, calm but edged with concern. The nurse. "Has anyone noticed? Do you think someone has seen something off?"
silence. Adam assumed that she must have nodded or shaken her head, but it would be impossible to tell.
"Maybe you should take a break from school until—"
"I don't need a break!" Aiva snapped back, louder than she meant. The sound carried, jagged and raw, before her tone dropped again into hushed urgency. "I can't just… stop everything. I'm fine."
Fine. The word rang hollow, a shield Adam had heard too many times before. His pulse quickened as his mind scrambled for answers. What exactly was she struggling with? What had he missed?
He leaned closer, straining, caught between wanting to know and fearing what he might learn.
Then.
A hand tapped his back.
Adam jolted upright, a sharp breath caught in his throat as his head whipped around. Brandon stood behind him, leaning heavily on his crutches, his right leg wrapped in a cast and secured with fresh layers of plaster.
The sight hit Adam with a quiet wave of relief. The image of the bear attack surged in his memory, an eerie reminiscing of what had occurred. But seeing him here, breathing and standing... well, leaning, felt surreal.
"You scared of going in?" Brandon smirked, one brow raised as he shifted his weight awkwardly on the crutches. "You've been standing there like a kid avoiding a dentist appointment."
Adam exhaled a laugh, still shaking off the startle. "Yeah… something like that." It was easier than trying to explain the truth.
"Don't blame you," Brandon grinned, swinging his crutch forward and hobbling past. "Good luck, man."
With that, he moved down the hall, disappearing toward the dormitory wing.
Adam lingered another second, then knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open.
Aiva was on her feet, bag over her shoulder, eyes darting briefly to him before she quickly looked away. She brushed past without a word, pace brisk, her silence louder than anything she might have said.
Adam's brows knit as he watched her retreating figure, a dull ache settling in his chest. Something was wrong. She was carrying it alone, and he didn't know how to reach her.
"I hope I wasn't interrupting." Adam said innocently as he turned to face the nurse.
"Not interrupting at all," a warm, lilting voice broke through his thoughts.
Adam stepped forward.
The nurse was standing by her desk, smiling gently, her presence oddly disarming. He noticed the little silver tag pinned neatly on the table. Miss Clara.
She was striking in a way that felt almost out of place for a school nurse. Tall, with a presence that carried both poise and approachability. Her hair, a deep brunette, framed her face in loose waves that softened the sharpness of her features. Her eyes, a shade of blue that seemed almost crystalline under the fluorescent light, carried a calm steadiness.
She was built gracefully but not delicately, her figure curving with the kind of natural ease that drew the eye without trying. The fitted white coat she wore only accentuated the contrast, professional yet undeniably flattering.
"Go ahead," she said, gesturing toward the bed as her smile lingered. "What's the problem?"
Adam moved closer, lowering himself to sit. "Ankle. From last night. Thought it was fine, but it's still bugging me."
She stepped closer, her perfume faint but sweet, something floral laced with vanilla. "Let me take a look."
Adam spoke, words simple and direct, but already his thoughts began to wander. His voice dimmed under the growing swell of his own mind, questions and emotions colliding with one another until they rose like static, drowning out the room around him.
Why was Aiva in here? What was she hiding? Why wouldn't she even look at him?
The nurse's touch at his ankle barely registered as his thoughts climbed higher, louder, threatening to crest into something he couldn't ignore.
The noise built to a crescendo, and Adam's eyes drifted away, focus blurring as the scene began to dissolve under the weight of everything unsaid.
***
Night fell quickly, as though the sun itself had been in a rush to abandon the world. By the time Adam sat down on the cold bleachers of the basketball court, darkness had already claimed the campus. The tall windows along the gymnasium walls allowed slivers of moonlight to stretch inside, pale beams tracing across the polished court like thin, ghostly fingers.
Adam sat hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hoodie drawn around him as though it could shelter him from the silence. The place felt empty in a way that wasn't peaceful, it felt hollow, the echoes of bouncing balls and laughter from the day before stripped away, leaving only the sound of his breathing.
He had hoped Aiva would show up tonight. He had wanted... needed really, to talk to her. Ever since he overheard her in the nurse's office, that cracking tone in her voice had been gnawing at the back of his mind. But when he'd gone looking, he was told she was sick. Too sick to join patrols.
The news had left him strangely heavy. He tried not to dwell on it, but sitting here alone, staring at the empty court, it all pressed in on him.
Aiva was the kind of person who hid things behind her smile, and Adam hated the thought that maybe she was hurting and he couldn't do anything about it.
He let out a deep breath and sat up straighter. Maybe tomorrow. He'd find her tomorrow.
With that thought, Adam stood. His sneakers echoed faintly on the hardwood as he made his way off the court. The gym doors creaked softly when he pushed them open, leading him into the glass gangway that connected the sports complex to the high school wing.
Above, the night sky revealed itself through the glass ceiling and walls. A full moon hung there, immense and luminous, casting the campus in an eerie gray wash. Every shadow felt deeper, stretched long and distorted across the tiled floor.
For a moment, Adam slowed his steps, caught by the quiet beauty of it. The moonlight gave everything a silvered clarity, like the whole world was being held under a magnifying glass. Beautiful, but sharp.
He shook it off and refocused. Patrol.
He started from the top floor of the high school wing, walking the hallways with his hands in his pockets, checking that dorm doors were shut and lights dimmed. The automatic system helped, lights clicked on when he passed, then blinked back into darkness when he moved away. It gave the building a rhythm, like it was breathing with him.
But when he reached the lower floor, something broke that rhythm.
The girls' bathroom. Its lights were still on.
Adam paused halfway down the hall. His brows drew together. That wasn't normal. The school ran on strict automation; lights went out unless someone was inside. The only exception was the auditorium, which had manual controls.
Someone was in there.
Adam stepped closer, the rubber soles of his sneakers whispering across the floor. Just as he neared, the door creaked open.
A figure stepped out.
Luna.
But not the Luna he was used to seeing.
Her silver hair, usually sleek and bright, clung in damp strands to her face and shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin glistening with sweat. She was dressed in a thin white nightdress, one that clung to her in places it shouldn't, tracing the curves of her figure in a way that made Adam's throat go dry.
She looked startled to see him. More than startled, she looked rattled, her composure fractured in a way he rarely saw.
"Luna?" Adam asked carefully, straightening from his slight lean. "Everything… okay?"
Her eyes flicked up to his, quick and defensive. "Yeah," she said, her tone sharp but shaky, as though she were trying to convince herself as much as him.
Adam swallowed, his gaze dropping despite himself before he forced it back up. "Why are you… in the school building? In a nightdress?"
The question hung in the air. Luna froze, lips parting slightly as if she hadn't expected to be asked. Her eyes darted aside, and for a second Adam could swear he saw her trying to piece something together, like an excuse she hadn't prepared.
Her voice, when it came, was lower. "I… I'm on my period, okay?" she said quickly, almost snapping it out. "I just… needed some space. Isolation. I didn't want anyone to see me."
Adam's eyes widened a fraction. "Oh—uh, sorry, I didn't—" he stammered, caught completely off guard.
Luna looked away, a faint red tinge climbing her cheeks. "Stop staring at me like a creep," she muttered, brushing past him with an edge of irritation that felt more like embarrassment than anger.
Before Adam could say another word, she was walking down the hall, her white dress flowing behind her.
He stood frozen, dumbfounded. His mind tried to piece together what had just happened, but the whole thing felt too strange. Too forced. Eventually he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Forget it," he muttered to himself. He wasn't going to drive himself crazy over this. He still had patrol to finish.
He continued down the hall, checking doors until he reached the large double doors of the auditorium.
Something was off here too.
The right door was slightly ajar. Just enough to let a thin wedge of darkness spill into the hallway.
Adam's gut tightened. He pushed it open slowly. The hinges groaned faintly, swallowed by the auditorium's cavernous silence.
Inside, it was pitch black.
He pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on, the narrow beam cutting across rows of empty chairs. The place smelled faintly of dust and wood polish, a scent that usually reminded him of assemblies and rehearsals. Tonight it felt heavier.
Adam descended the aisles, light sweeping left and right. His footsteps echoed in the stillness, too loud against the hush. He half expected to catch a couple of kids tangled up in each other near the back rows, but the seats were empty.
When he reached the bottom, near the stage, he stopped.
A sound.
A faint crunching, wet and deliberate. Followed by a low growl—or maybe a purr. So soft it barely reached him, but enough to freeze his pulse.
Adam lifted the light higher, toward the stage.
He climbed the steps slowly, every muscle in his body tightening as if bracing for something unseen.
The sound grew clearer. A wet tearing, followed by the snap of bone.
He raised the flashlight and aimed it backstage.
The beam caught movement.
Then it froze on something that rooted Adam where he stood.
Two figures. Slender, humanoid, but wrong in every way. they're pale skin stretched thin over bone, patches of coarse dark hair scattered across their body. They hunched over the sprawled corpse of a security guard, jaws working greedily.
One of them jerked up at the light, eyes catching the beam. Beady, unblinking, animal.
Blood slicked its teeth as its lips curled back.
Adam's heart dropped, hammering against his ribs. His breath hitched, his legs refusing to move.
The growl deepened.
And in that moment, he knew. He wasn't alone.
The thing had seen him.