"I won't," I promised, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. I didn't know how long I'd be gone—or what I was even searching for.
The door creaked as I stepped outside, my footsteps echoed softly on the pavement as I made my way toward the school, each step carrying me deeper into the unnatural dawn.
I quickened my pace, my heart pounding with a mix of hope and trepidation. If the school was normal—if the teachers and students were there—it might mean the world hadn't completely unraveled.
But as I reached the gates, my optimism waned.
The schoolyard was empty, the swings creaking softly in the breeze. The classrooms, visible through the windows, showed no signs of life.
I pushed the gate open, its rusty hinges groaning in protest, and stepped onto the gravel path.
My chest tightened as I approached the main entrance, the silence pressing against my ears like a thick fog.
Inside, the halls were as I remembered—familiar yet unsettlingly vacant. My footsteps echoed off the tiled floor, bouncing back at me like whispers in an empty cavern.
I peered into the classrooms as I passed, each one confirming what I already suspected.
Desks sat empty, chalkboards untouched, sunlight streaming through the windows onto a world frozen in its tracks.
I paused near the library, peering through the glass doors to find rows of untouched books sitting like frozen sentinels. No movement. No sound. Just stillness.
My heart sank a little further, the hope I'd clung to faltering. Maybe Jia was right. Maybe there was nothing left of our normal lives.
And I had no idea where either had gone.
But then, just as I turned to leave, I caught it—a flicker of motion at the edge of my vision. My pulse quickened, adrenaline surging as I spun toward the source.
For a moment, I thought I'd imagined it—my mind conjuring ghosts to fill the empty halls. But no, there it was again. A shadow slipping through the doorway at the end of the corridor.
I moved cautiously, my steps lighter now as I followed the movement. The door at the end swung shut, its hinges creaking. My breathing quickened as I pushed it open and stepped out into the amphitheater.
The open-air structure was familiar, but its emptiness felt amplified under the strange light of the frozen dawn. I scanned the area, my eyes darting to every corner.
And then I saw them.
Baihe was crouched behind the seating rows, her face pale and tense. Beside her stood Yike, his expression as cryptic as ever, while Zichen hovered just behind him, his hands fidgeting nervously.
A handful of students were huddled together, their faces drawn and their eyes darting about like frightened animals. They were hiding—why were they hiding?
I stepped closer, my voice low but steady. "Baihe?"
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide as she recognized me. "Taryn," she whispered, her tone urgent. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," I said, my gaze shifting to Yike and Zichen. "Why are you hiding? What's going on?"
Yike's expression darkened, his cryptic demeanor settling over him like a cloak.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice soft yet weighted. "It's not safe."
The words sent a chill down my spine. "Not safe? What do you mean?"
Baihe exchanged a glance with Zichen before speaking again. "There were... people here earlier. Strangers. They were looking for something—or someone."
The fear in her voice was palpable, and it only served to heighten my own unease. "Who? What did they want?"
"They didn't say," Zichen interjected, his voice trembling. "But they were... wrong. Not like normal people."
Conflict brewed inside me as I struggled to make sense of their words.
Were these strangers connected to the frozen dawn? To the strange stillness gripping the world? And why would they come to the school?
"They're gone now," Yike said, his tone unreadable. "But they'll be back. You should leave."
"I'm not leaving," I said firmly, the stubborn edge in my voice surprising even myself. "If you know something about what's happening, you need to tell me."
Yike's gaze held mine, unblinking, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he spoke, his words measured and deliberate. "You don't want to know."
"I do," I shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm tired of being in the dark. If you know something, say it."
Baihe reached out, her grip on my arm tight. "Taryn, please. It's not worth it. Just go home."
Her plea struck a chord, and for a moment, doubt threatened to unsteady me. But the questions burning in my mind refused to be ignored.
I wasn't about to turn back now—not when answers might be within reach.
My chest tightened as I caught a glimpse of figures moving cautiously through the doorway, their presence sending a wave of dread through the group.
Their expressions were blank, their movements unnervingly precise.
Wrong—not like normal people, just as Zichen had said.
"Stay low," Yike hissed, his tone sharp as he motioned for the group to duck behind the seating. I followed suit, crouching beside Baihe as we waited, breaths held and hearts pounding.
One of them moved toward the stage, their gaze sweeping the area with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
I clenched my fists, my mind racing. What were they looking for? Why had they come back? And how were we supposed to escape without drawing attention?
Baihe squeezed my arm tightly, her fear radiating through her trembling grip. I tried to steady my breathing, my pulse thundering in my ears.
One of the strangers turned suddenly, their gaze sweeping across the seating rows. I ducked lower, pressing myself against the hard surface of the bench.
Yike shifted beside me, his cryptic calm irritatingly intact despite the danger. "We need to move," he whispered, his voice just loud enough for the group to hear.
"And go where?" Zichen hissed back, panic clear in his tone. "They'll see us the moment we try to leave."
Baihe shushed them both, her grip on my arm tightening further. My chest tightened as I looked at the strangers again.
They were speaking now, their words too quiet for us to catch, but their gestures made it clear they were searching for something—or someone.