The fog didn't lift with the morning sun.
Instead, it grew thicker, curling around the dormitory like fingers. From their window, Clara watched the swirling mist devour the campus paths, making the once-bustling university feel like a ghost town. Only the top of the clocktower remained visible, its hands frozen at midnight — even though Clara's phone read 8:43 a.m.
Time had stopped for the school.
Or maybe something had frozen it.
Chloe shoved her recorder into her jacket pocket, a grim look on her face. "There's an old records room beneath the administration wing. It's not on the official map, but I found it in the construction archives. If anything can explain what's happening to Dorm 6A, it'll be down there."
Clara looked at Maya, who was pale but resolute. "We go now. Before anyone else disappears."
They waited until the guards at the front of the dorm rotated shifts. Then, using Chloe's map and a stolen keycard, they snuck out through the fog-cloaked side entrance and headed toward the administration building.
Every step across the quad felt like walking through velvet shadows. They didn't speak — even breathing too loudly felt dangerous.
The door to the administration wing creaked open with eerie ease.
Inside, dust hung in the air like forgotten memories. The hallway lights flickered overhead. They followed Chloe's lead through a maintenance door, down a flight of stairs none of them knew existed, into a basement colder than winter.
At the end of the corridor stood a metal door covered in rust and cobwebs. A warning had been scrawled across it in faded red paint:
"DO NOT OPEN. THEY WHISPER FROM BELOW."
Maya hesitated. "Maybe we shouldn't—"
Clara pressed her palm to the door. "We've come too far."
Chloe forced it open. The hinges screamed.
Inside was a massive archive — rows and rows of steel cabinets and boxes stacked to the ceiling. A faint humming echoed, as though the room itself breathed.
Chloe pulled out a flashlight. "Look for files labeled Dorm 6A or anything about Delilah."
For an hour, they searched. Clara flipped through dusty files of student records, blueprints, and maintenance reports. The deeper they went, the colder the air became.
Then she found it.
A thick file folder marked:
DORM 6A – EXPERIMENT TERMINATED
Clara's hands trembled as she opened it. Inside were old black-and-white photographs, reports stamped with the school's seal, and pages labeled Cognitive Distortion and Shadow Entity Testing. One photo showed a group of girls standing outside Dorm 6A in the 1990s. Each face was crossed out in red… except one.
Delilah.
Clara passed the photo to the others. "She was part of an experiment."
Maya frowned. "But for what?"
Chloe skimmed the documents. "It says the university partnered with a secret group — they were testing fear-induced hallucinations in enclosed dormitories. They thought exposure to a specific frequency in the architecture could summon 'cognitive shadows'… and then control them."
Maya's voice cracked. "Are you saying they built Dorm 6A as a… test lab?"
"Yes," Clara whispered. "And it worked."
Another page explained that the shadow entity they summoned — the one born from fear, grief, and trauma — couldn't be banished. It had learned. Adapted. It fed on the mental vulnerabilities of students. Especially those who were isolated. The researchers tried to shut the program down, but by then, the entity had rooted itself into the dorm.
Delilah had been their first true victim.
"She was the control," Chloe said softly. "They exposed her the longest."
A crash echoed from behind them. One of the filing cabinets had tipped over by itself.
Or so it seemed.
Clara spun around. Shadows writhed along the ceiling — twisting unnaturally, reaching.
"We need to go," Maya breathed.
They grabbed what they could from the file, stuffed it into Chloe's backpack, and ran.
As they rushed back into the fog, something chased them. Not with footsteps — but with whispers. Clara heard her own voice behind her, calling:
"Clara… come back… I'm still here… Clara…"
She didn't turn around. She couldn't.
They didn't stop running until they were back inside Dorm 6A, door slammed shut, gasping for air. The fog pressed against the windows like an ocean tide.
Clara dumped the folder onto the floor. "They knew. All this time. The school, the staff… they knew what was happening."
Maya was crying now. "And they let it continue."
Chloe pulled the photo of Delilah closer. Something about it haunted her. The only face left uncrossed. The way her eyes seemed to follow you no matter how you looked at it.
"She tried to warn them," Chloe whispered. "They didn't listen. Now she's part of it. Or maybe she became it."
That night, Clara sat alone by the window. The fog was thicker than ever.
She didn't sleep.
Not after hearing the whispers return.
Not after seeing Rachel — the first girl who'd vanished — standing outside, barefoot, staring up at her window… and smiling.