The school looked the same as it always did, which somehow made the rumors worse.
Grayhaven Public High sat between two broad streets, its concrete walls stained by years of rain and exhaust, its windows reflecting the sky like dull mirrors. Students filled the front steps in clusters—laughing, arguing, scrolling through their phones, complaining about tests they hadn't studied for.
Aren walked through the gates with Jace at his side, the noise washing over them in a familiar, comforting way.
"Tell me again why we're meeting Mira after class," Jace said, weaving around a group of first-years who were blocking the path. "Because last time she said 'trust me,' we almost got kicked out of the sports wing."
"That was your fault," Aren said. "You touched the alarm."
"It was blinking at me," Jace replied defensively. "How was I supposed to know it was sensitive?"
Aren shook his head, but he was smiling.
Inside, the hallways smelled like floor cleaner and old paper. Lockers slammed. Someone shouted down the corridor. A teacher barked at a group of students to keep it down.
Normal.
He liked normal.
They stopped at their lockers. Jace immediately started complaining about his schedule, waving a crumpled timetable like it had personally offended him.
"I have chemistry first period. Again. If I die of boredom, tell my story."
"I'll make sure it's very dramatic," Aren said.
They headed to class.
First period passed in a blur of notes and half-listening. Aren sat by the window, watching clouds drift slowly between buildings while the teacher talked about something involving historical trade routes. His pen moved automatically, copying words his brain barely processed.
Every so often, that feeling returned.
Not strong. Not urgent.
Just… off.
Like the air in the room was slightly too tight.
He shifted in his seat and pressed his foot against the leg of the desk. The metal vibrated faintly, then stilled.
Stop it, he told himself. You're imagining things.
He always did that.
Second period was worse.
Halfway through, a low, sharp crack echoed through the classroom.
Everyone jumped.
The lights flickered.
A few students laughed nervously.
The teacher frowned. "Probably just the building settling," she said, tapping her pen against the desk. "This place is older than most of you."
Aren didn't laugh.
He could feel it.
Not danger.
Not yet.
But something in the ceiling above them was… strained. Like a rope pulled too tight.
His fingers curled against the edge of his desk.
Don't.
He didn't move.
A few seconds passed. The lights stabilized. The class went back to normal.
No one else seemed bothered.
Aren wrote the rest of his notes with his jaw tight and his shoulders tense.
By lunch, the rumors started.
They always did.
Jace dropped his tray onto the table and leaned in like he was about to share state secrets. "Okay. So. You didn't hear this from me."
Aren raised an eyebrow. "Then who did I hear it from?"
"Details," Jace said. "Apparently, the Bureau was in the west district last night."
Aren paused. "The Bureau?"
"You know. The disaster guys. The ones who show up when something goes very wrong and then tell everyone it was a gas leak or a wiring issue or—" He made vague hand motions. "—'nothing to worry about.'"
Mira slid into the seat across from them, dropping her bag on the floor. "It wasn't a gas leak."
She said it casually, like she was commenting on the weather.
Jace blinked. "And you know that how?"
"My cousin works in emergency services," she said, peeling the lid off her drink. "They were told not to talk about it. Which means it wasn't normal."
Aren watched her carefully. Mira always looked like she was about to run somewhere—short dark hair tied back, sharp eyes that missed very little, foot bouncing under the table even when she was sitting still.
"People got hurt?" Aren asked.
Mira hesitated. Just a fraction of a second.
"Yeah," she said. "A few."
Jace frowned. "You're doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you leave out the scary part."
Mira smirked. "Maybe I just don't want to ruin your appetite."
Aren didn't say anything, but that tight feeling in his chest came back.
After school, they met near the side stairwell that led up to the maintenance levels.
The rooftop access door was supposed to be locked.
It usually was.
Mira grinned like this was part of the challenge.
"Relax," she said. "I didn't break anything. It was already open."
"That's not comforting," Jace muttered.
They climbed the stairs, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the narrow concrete stairwell. The air got cooler the higher they went. Dust floated in the light from the small, square windows.
Mira pushed the door open.
The rooftop spread out in front of them—flat concrete, low safety walls, a few ventilation units humming quietly. From here, you could see most of Grayhaven: rows of buildings, the river cutting through the city, the tram bridge in the distance.
Jace walked to the edge and looked down. "Okay, I admit it. The view's good. But what's the 'cool thing'?"
Mira pointed toward one of the ventilation structures.
Aren followed her gaze—and froze.
The metal around the base of the unit was warped.
Not bent like it had been hit.
Not rusted.
Warped, like it had been twisted by something that didn't quite follow the rules of how metal was supposed to move.
The air around it felt… wrong.
Tight.
Heavy.
Aren took a step forward without realizing it.
His chest tightened.
That familiar pressure built behind his eyes.
"Aren?" Jace said. "You okay?"
"I…" Aren swallowed. "Something's not right."
Mira's expression shifted. The joking edge faded. "Yeah. That's what I wanted to show you."
The metal gave a faint, sharp creak.
And somewhere, deep under the city, something else answered.