Raya didn't remember running.
One moment she was in the shattered hallway, surrounded by confused students and flickering lights.
The next, she was in the girls' bathroom, her heartbeat pounding so violently she thought her ribs would crack.
She gripped the sink hard enough to hurt.
"This isn't happening… this isn't happening…"
But it was.
Because the mark on her neck was still glowing.
A thin red line, pulsing—almost alive.
Like something had been branded into her skin.
Her reflection in the mirror looked pale, terrified.
Her eyes were too wide.
Her breath too fast.
What was he?
And how did he know my name?
She pressed her fingers against the mark.
A shock tore through her body.
Raya crashed to her knees with a strangled gasp as visions ripped into her mind—fast, blurry, too violent to understand.
A hand dripping with blood.
Silver eyes glowing in darkness.
Shadows kneeling.
A circle of fire.
A voice whispering:
"You were promised."
Then—
Blackness.
Her body hit the floor.
---
A sharp, cold sound dragged her back to consciousness.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Someone was knocking on the bathroom stall door beside her.
She sat up slowly, dizzy. Her cheek was pressed against the tiles. Her entire body felt like it had been drained.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Not loud.
Not impatient.
Just… steady.
Rhythmic.
She swallowed, forcing her voice to work.
"H-Hello? Who's there?"
Silence.
Then—
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
A chill crawled down her spine.
She wasn't crazy. Someone was there.
The knocking stopped.
Raya pushed herself up shakily and opened the stall door.
Empty.
Every stall?
Empty.
No footsteps.
No sound.
No movement.
She backed toward the sink, hands shaking.
Then she saw something on the mirror.
A fingerprint.
A single, perfect fingerprint made of black ash pressed against the glass.
Her throat tightened.
A new line of writing appeared beneath it—slowly, as if an invisible hand was tracing the letters right in front of her.
"You should not run."
Raya stumbled backward so hard she hit the wall.
"No… no, no—"
The message darkened, then crumbled into dust.
A whisper echoed above her, soft and cold:
"You're already mine."
She screamed.
—
The bathroom door burst open.
"Raya?"
It was Imani, her best friend.
Her eyes widened when she saw Raya trembling against the wall.
"Raya, what happened? Are you sick? Did someone hurt you?"
Raya opened her mouth—
No sound came out.
How could she explain something she didn't understand herself?
Imani touched her forehead. "You're cold… and you look like you've seen—"
Her gaze froze on Raya's neck.
"What is THAT?"
Raya slapped a hand over the glowing mark.
"I—I don't know. It's nothing."
"Nothing? Babe, it's literally red and shining! That's not normal!"
"I know!" Raya snapped, then immediately sagged.
Her voice was trembling. "I know…"
Imani grabbed her shoulders firmly.
"Tell me who did this. I'll—"
The bathroom lights flickered violently.
Imani jumped. "What the—?"
Raya's stomach dropped.
She knew that feeling.
That electricity in the air.
That tightening in her chest.
He was close.
Imani looked around nervously.
"Okay, why did it suddenly feel like the temperature dropped? Raya, what's—"
Raya grabbed her hand.
"Imani. We need to leave. Now."
But it was too late.
The shadows in the corners of the bathroom darkened—stretching upward, thickening like smoke rising in reverse.
And then a voice whispered from everywhere and nowhere:
"I told you not to run."
Imani froze.
"What… was that?"
Raya felt it again—
That burning in her blood.
That pull toward something she didn't want.
Didn't understand.
Didn't control.
Footsteps echoed behind them.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Certain.
Imani's grip tightened painfully. "R-Raya… someone's in here."
Raya couldn't turn around.
She knew exactly who it was.
She could feel him in her blood.