The world was too quiet when Mira Teyver opened her eyes.
No birds, no cars, no wind, just an eerie, vacuum-like silence that settled into her bones the moment she blinked up at the pale, grey ceiling. Her breath fogged in the morning chill, though the window was shut. At least, it should have been.
She sat up slowly, heart knocking in her chest. The blankets felt wrong, like they'd been moved, folded differently than she remembered. Her alarm clock blinked 6:00 a.m. in a frozen loop. She reached for her phone.
Dead.
Her hand twitched.
Mira rubbed her fingertips together. A faint, warm buzz sparked beneath her skin. Static, maybe. She swung her legs off the bed and stood, crossing to the window.
It was open.
She stared at the latch, unmoving, her breath stilled.
Outside, the sky was an oily violet, a shade too dark for morning. A low fog clung to the trees like smoke, swallowing the tops of houses. Nothing moved, not a person, not a car. It was like the world had taken a breath and forgotten to exhale.
Then she noticed them: faint handprints smudged on the outside of the glass, trailing down the pane like someone, or something, had tried to claw its way in.
Mira stumbled back.
A chill spread through her chest, but she forced herself to move, to dress, to push the crawling fear aside. By the time she left her room, she'd written the whole thing off as a bad dream and a power outage.
Until she stepped outside.
The air smelled like metal and something burnt. The sidewalk sparkled with crushed glass. The neighbor's mailbox lay snapped in half, wires exposed and twitching faintly like veins. The silence wasn't gone, it had followed her.
Even the trees looked thinner, like the light had been drained from their leaves.
Mira walked faster.
School wasn't far, ten minutes tops but every step dragged. Her sneakers scuffed the pavement as if the road tried to pull her back. The fog only thickened near Ravenshade High.
And then she saw it.
The gates of the school stood wide open. One hung on a single hinge, screeching as it rocked in the windless air. Black smoke billowed from the far side of the building. A piercing alarm wailed somewhere deep within, shrill and constant, and then cut out mid-scream.
She froze.
Was this some sort of drill? A prank?
There were no students outside. No teachers. No voices.
The wind picked up, dry and strange, like it had passed over something scorched.
Then, a howl. Distant. Not human.
Mira's pulse spiked. She should turn back. Call someone. But who? Her phone was dead. And her feet, they kept moving.
She crossed into the courtyard.
Trash littered the path. The tall oak in the center had been scorched black, its branches twisted like claws. Lockers hung open, their contents spilled and charred. The front door of the main building was ajar.
Something heavy thudded inside.
She stepped through the threshold, and the air shifted.
Her skin sparked.
A soft glow danced across her palms, brief as a breath, then vanished. She stared at her hands, heart pounding. That had never happened before. Not even close. But somehow, it felt… right.
Mira crept through the halls. Her backpack bounced lightly against her spine. The floor was smeared with something slick, ink? Blood? She didn't want to know. Light fixtures flickered overhead, casting jerky shadows.
She rounded the corner.
Screaming. A sharp, high-pitched voice echoing from down the science wing.
She ran toward it without thinking.
As she neared Room 2B, her footsteps slowed. The door was open just a crack. Something inside moved, something too big, too fast.
Mira edged forward.
Through the haze of smoke, she saw overturned desks, shattered glass, and a strange scorch mark climbing the wall in a spiral. The scent of copper burned her nose. A flicker of movement to the left, something low to the ground.
She pushed the door wider.
Inside, the air pulsed with heat and pressure. The temperature dropped in her bones.
Then—
A shadow rose near the blackboard. Towering. Wrong.
Mira's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
The shape turned.
Eyes, not two, but several, gleamed like molten silver through the smoke. Long, clawed fingers curled around the edge of a desk. The thing shifted, slow and deliberate, and began to smile.
But it wasn't teeth she saw.
It was void.
She stumbled back, the door creaking louder than it should have. The thing tilted its head. Mira's hand flew to her chest, her skin burning with static.
Then the lights blew out.
Everything plunged into blackness.