Chapter 15:
The silence in the aftermath was thick and heavy, broken only by the soft, absurd sound of Mr. Henderson snoring on the linoleum floor. The feather pillow lay beside him, a stark white against the grim reality of the situation. Ellie's head pounded, the cost of her edit a deep, resonant ache in her bones.
"Can't... stay here," Kael grunted, his own energy clearly spent. The silver static around him was faint, sputtering. He grabbed Ellie's arm, his grip firm, and pulled her to her feet. "Now."
They stumbled out of the lab, leaving the sleeping teacher behind. The hallway was still empty, but the normalcy felt like a thin veneer, a set piece waiting to be torn down. They needed to get out, to find a place to regroup and process the horror of what they'd just learned—that the Ghostwriter could not only skip her consciousness but profile her very mind.
They rounded a corner and nearly collided with Chloe.
"Ellie! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Chloe's script was a frantic, worried swirl. [CHLOE]: "I was so worried! After what happened in Bio, you just vanished!"
Before Ellie could mutter an excuse, Chloe reached out and grabbed her hand, her grip tight with concern. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
The moment Chloe's skin made contact with hers, the world dissolved.
It wasn't a gentle fade. It was a violent, sensory overload that wasn't Ellie's own. A vision, sharp and brutal, flooded her mind through the point of contact, but it was Chloe's mind she was seeing through.
She was standing in the school parking lot after dark. Rain fell in cold, sharp sheets, soaking her to the skin. Headlights cut through the gloom, blinding her. And there, in the beams, was Ellie. But not the Ellie of now. This Ellie was terrified, her face a mask of pure horror, backing away from something the vision didn't show. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. Then, a shadow moved, too fast to comprehend. A sickening, wet crunch echoed, louder than the thunder. Ellie's body crumpled, lifeless, onto the wet asphalt, her unseeing eyes staring right at Chloe.
The vision snapped.
A strangled, guttural scream tore from Chloe's throat. She ripped her hand away from Ellie's as if burned, her eyes wide with a terror so profound it seemed to swallow her whole. She stumbled back, her body trembling violently, and then her legs gave way. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, tears already streaming down her face.
"Chloe!" Ellie cried, lurching forward, her own horror a cold stone in her gut. She'd felt it too, the echo of that death, the phantom impact. She knew what Chloe had seen.
Kael was instantly on alert, his exhausted posture snapping back into readiness. "What happened? What did you see?"
Chloe couldn't speak at first. She just shook, her breaths coming in ragged sobs. Ellie knelt beside her, a terrible cold spreading through her own veins.
"Chloe, talk to me," Ellie pleaded, her voice shaking.
Finally, Chloe looked up, her eyes locking with Ellie's, filled with a heartbreak and fear that shattered Ellie's soul. "You..." she choked out, the words barely audible. "I saw you... you were... dead." A fresh wave of sobs wracked her body. "You were dead, Ellie! In the parking lot... in the rain... something... something killed you."
She grabbed the front of Ellie's shirt, her knuckles white. "What is happening?!" she demanded, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch. "First you zone out and turn into a biology prodigy, then you're fighting with teachers, and now I'm having visions of you dying! What is going ON?!"
The secret, the fragile wall Ellie had built between her two lives, had just been obliterated. The war had just reached her best friend. And the Ghostwriter had sent a message, not through a puppet or a glitch, but through a vision of her own corpse.
The next test, he'd said, would be more personal. He wasn't just studying her anymore. He was showing her her own obituary.
The nurse's office was a pocket of sterile, artificial calm, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside them. Chloe lay on a crisp white cot, sedated into a fitful sleep after her hysterical breakdown. Each twitch, each muffled whimper felt like an accusation to Ellie. She sat in a hard plastic chair beside the bed, her own hands still trembling, the phantom image of her own broken body seared behind her eyelids.
Kael stood by the door, a silent, grim sentinel. The silver static around him was agitated, buzzing with a low, frantic energy.
"She saw it," Ellie whispered, her voice raw. "She saw me… die. How is that possible? She's not a Weaver."
"She's not," Kael agreed, his voice tight. "Which means the vision wasn't hers. It was an implant. A data packet shoved directly into her subconscious."
"The Ghostwriter?"
"It's his style. But this feels… different." Kael finally turned from the door, his grey eyes intense. "The Editor attacks with brute force. The Ghostwriter observes and manipulates. This… a death vision sent through a third party? This is a statement. A performance."
"A warning," Ellie said, the cold stone in her gut growing heavier.
"Or a threat. Or…" Kael paused, a new, more disturbing thought dawning on his face. "A broadcast."
The word hung in the antiseptic air, terrifying in its implications.
"What do you mean, a broadcast?"
"Think about it," Kael said, stepping closer, keeping his voice low. "He didn't send the vision to you. He sent it to her. Why? Because you're connected. Her mind is a node in your social network. He used her as a loudspeaker. He's not just telling you you're going to die. He's showing you that your death will be a public event. It will traumatize those connected to you. It's not just an ending; it's a plot point with maximum emotional impact."
The cruelty of it was so precise it took Ellie's breath away. It wasn't enough to kill her; her death had to be narratively satisfying. It had to hurt.
"But how?" Ellie insisted, her frustration boiling over. "How did he even get it into her head? She's not connected to the script! She's normal!"
"Is she?" Kael's gaze was piercing. "Think, Ellie. You've been best friends for years. You share memories, secrets, time. Your narratives are deeply intertwined. The Ghostwriter has been profiling you, learning your connections, your emotional architecture. He didn't need a direct link to Chloe. He used you as the carrier."
The realization was a physical blow. She was the virus. Her closeness to Chloe had made her friend vulnerable. She had brought this down on her.
"The parking lot," Kael mused, his eyes losing focus as he accessed some internal database of Weaver knowledge. "Rain. A vehicle. It's specific. Too specific for a generic threat. Visions from the Writers are usually symbolic. This feels… literal."
"You think it's a prediction?" Ellie asked, a new kind of fear creeping in. "Not just a threat, but the actual future?"
"It's a possible future," Kael corrected. "One the Ghostwriter is heavily invested in making a reality. He's laid out the script for your final chapter. The setting, the mood, the outcome. He's handed you the spoilers. Now he's waiting to see if you can change the ending."
He looked from the sleeping Chloe back to Ellie, his expression grave. "This isn't just a test of your power anymore, Ellie. It's a test of your agency. He's telling you the destination. The question is, can you change the path?"
The door to the nurse's office opened, and the school counselor peered in. "Ellie? Your parents are here to take you and Chloe home."
The normal world was reasserting itself, demanding her attention. But the script had been set. A time, a place, an outcome.
As she stood to leave, a final, chilling thought occurred to her. The vision was a broadcast. If Chloe received it, who else had?