The school basement wasn't exactly off-limits, but nobody went there unless they had to. It smelled like rust and forgotten memories. Nova gripped her flashlight and stepped cautiously onto the creaking stairs.
Mia's words echoed in her mind: "Check the old utility room. You'll know why when you see it."
Dust danced in the beam of her light as she reached the bottom. Pipes groaned overhead. The hallway stretched ahead—dark, narrow, and cold.
She reached the utility door and tugged. It groaned open with a reluctant screech.
Inside, wires hung from the ceiling like vines. Broken lockers lined the wall. But it was the far corner that drew her in.
A small section of the wall had been scraped away, revealing faded paint—spirals and eyes like those in the notebook.
Beneath them, someone had etched words into the wall:
"The ones who vanish don't leave. They wait."
Nova's breath hitched.
She reached out to trace the carving, but just then, her flashlight flickered—and died.
Darkness swallowed the room.
And in that silence, she heard it.
A soft scuffling. Like someone—or something—was moving behind her.
She didn't wait to find out. Nova bolted up the stairs, her pulse thundering.
As she burst into the daylight, she clutched the pendant tighter.
She had seen beneath the surface.
And now, something beneath had seen her.