I finally came out free, relieved. But for some reason, the hallway felt stuffed, heavy.
I walked aimlessly, my heart weighed down by a feeling I didn't recognize, like it wasn't mine to carry.
Then I stopped in my tracks, panting. I heard soft sobs coming from the girls' restroom.
At the entrance, I sighed and reached for the doorknob. I twisted it open and stepped inside.
The restroom was brightly lit, the overhead lights buzzing faintly in the silence. Sunlight spilled in through the small, frosted window high on the wall, casting a pale glow across the tiled floor. Despite the hour, the place felt strangely hollow, like it had been emptied out by grief.
The sinks gleamed with recent use, but the mirror was speckled with water spots and fingerprints. A faint scent of soap and school-issued air freshener clung to the air, failing to mask the sharp undertone of tears.
I took a few hesitant steps forward. A quiet, shuddering sob echoed from one of the stalls at the end.
I stopped in front of it and gently knocked.
"Hey, Clary? You in there?"
"Fuck off, Terra." Her voice cracked beneath the weight of her sobs, muffled by the stall door.
I sighed, leaning in closer. My hand rested gently against the cool metal, my voice soft.
"Look, I know how you feel..."
She cut in sharply, her voice brittle. "How could you possibly know? It's not your sister who went AWOL." A sob caught in her throat. "Why do you even care, anyway?"
I didn't hesitate. "Because you're my friend."
She scoffed, bitter. "So we're friends now?"
"We've always been friends. Come on out."
Silence fell. The only sound was the slow, rhythmic drip of water from the sink. After a long pause, the stall door creaked open.
Clary stepped out. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks damp with tears. She looked small, like the weight of the world had finally settled on her shoulders.
I held her hand, looking into her face for a moment before gently pulling her into a hug.
She stepped into my arms without a word, collapsing against me like she'd been holding everything in for too long. Her body trembled as she clutched me tightly, sobbing bitterly into my shoulder. I held her close, one hand gently rubbing her back, the other softly patting her hair, like it might soothe the pain neither of us could name.
The restroom was silent around us, the kind of silence that made grief feel louder.
After a while, her sobs quieted. She pulled away slowly, her tear-streaked face lifting to meet mine. Her eyes were glassy, lost, searching.
"Annie was here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"That's what was said," I nodded gently, watching her closely.
She sniffed, wiping at her face with the back of her sleeve. "Why?" Her voice cracked on the word, as if she wasn't sure if she was asking me or the universe.
"I don't know," I said softly, watching her wipe her face. "But… considering she had something to do with Charles' death… maybe she came back looking for answers."
Clary's expression twisted, the pain in her eyes flaring into something sharper, anger.
"Why is she like this?" she snapped, her voice cracking. "Resa was my sister too!" Her fists clenched at her sides. "Can't she just get a grip?!"
Her voice echoed off the tiled walls, trembling with fury and heartbreak. I didn't respond, not with words. I just reached out, gently rubbing her back in slow, steady circles, hoping the simple gesture might anchor her. She was unraveling right in front of me.
Then, suddenly, her eyes widened. A spark of realization broke through her tears.
"Resa and Alexa were killed by magic, Raymond's wand." She grabbed my wrist, her grip tight and trembling. "What if we break it? If we destroy the wand, all of his magic will be undone. Resa and Alexa might come back… and maybe, just maybe Annie will stop all of this."
"Yeah, that's a brilliant idea, Clary," I said, the sarcasm thick in my voice as I stepped back slightly, arms folded across my chest. "Let's just smash the one thing holding the worst of all magic in check. No big deal, right?"
She blinked, startled by the sudden edge in my tone.
I took a breath, trying to rein it in, but the weight of what she was suggesting was too heavy to ignore. "Are you forgetting what Raymond said?" I asked, my voice firmer now, more grounded. "If we destroy that wand, everything it sealed away, everything it kept locked up could come flooding back. Nemus could return."
I looked her in the eyes, hoping she understood the gravity of it.
Her face hardened, voice rising with bitterness. "What if that's just something he made up?" she snapped. "Resa and Alexa are dead because of him. Annie ran away because of him. My family is in pieces and he's walking around this school like none of it matters! Like he's innocent!"
"Clary, calm down..."
She let out a ragged cry, her body shaking again as she broke into fresh sobs. Her anger dissolved into despair right in front of me.
Then the door burst open.
"Clary!" Pink's voice rang through the restroom as she rushed forward, shoving past me to get to her. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Clary didn't respond. She curled inward, crying harder as Pink crouched beside her, wrapping her arms around her protectively.
Pink turned her head sharply toward me, her eyes burning with accusation.
"What did you do?"
I just stood there. The words caught in my throat. My arms hung by my sides, still heavy with Clary's grief.
Eska met my gaze with a quiet nod. I didn't say anything as I turned and walked out, leaving the sound of Clary's cries echoing behind me like a wound that wouldn't close.
I stepped out of the restroom, my chest still tight from the emotional storm I'd just weathered. The air outside felt different, cooler, heavier, like the building itself was exhaling after holding its breath.
The hallway buzzed with murmurs and uneasy laughter. Whispers flitted like ghosts around the lockers: some about Charles, others already shifting to the return of basketball season. Caveroop High always had a strange way of moving on, grief and gossip tangled together, like two weeds growing from the same cracked pavement.
Then, without warning, the air shifted.
Thicker. Heavier. Like fog pressing into my skin.
For a moment I thought it was just my nerves, the lingering weight of everything that had happened.
But then I saw her.
Rejoice.
She stood at the far end of the hallway, framed by the white-blue glow of a flickering light. She wasn't walking she was just… standing there. Motionless. Like a statue carved from shadow.
She was panting lightly, barely noticeable unless you looked closely. Her eyes scanned the hallway with quiet ferocity, sharp as broken glass. She wore black shirt and skinny jeans, a long coat, and boots. Subdued.
And for the first time since I'd met her, she looked tired. Not physically, but soul-tired. Like she was holding the entire world on her back and it was starting to crack her spine.
Our eyes met.
There was no greeting. No smile. No sharp remark.
Just silence.
Then, with a quiet inhale, she turned and walked past me. Her boots tapped steadily against the tile. Not hurried. Not slow. Just… deliberate.
She was heading to the clinic.
I started to follow her, curious, maybe even concerned but a hand grabbed my arm.
Zack.
He appeared beside me, breathless, like he'd run halfway across campus to find me. His hair was messy, his shirt clung to him from sweat, and worry bled from every inch of him.
"Hey," he said, gripping my shoulders. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, still trying to read the tension in his eyes. "Yeah… but you should check on Clary. She didn't take the announcement well."
His jaw clenched as he processed that. His gaze softened just a little as it settled on me again.
"Stay right here," he said gently. "I'll be back."
Then he turned and hurried down the hallway, disappearing around the corner.
I exhaled slowly and turned toward the locker room, the walls closing in behind me as I walked.
...
The clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee. Papers were scattered like leaves across the counter, a few of them already tucked into a worn leather satchel. The room hummed with quiet tension.
Raymond was arranging his desk when the door burst open.
Rejoice stepped inside.
He looked up, startled for a second but the expression quickly faded into something harder to read.
Rejoice didn't say anything at first. She closed the door quietly behind her, then stepped forward with a stillness that felt too calm to be natural.
"I heard what happened," she said, her voice low and steady. "Are you okay?"
Raymond gave a short, bitter laugh. "At least I'm not being accused of murder this time."
Rejoice winced at the sting in his tone. "Ray…" she hesitated, correcting herself, "Mr. Ray, are you really okay?"
He didn't answer right away. He leaned back against the desk, folding his arms tightly across his chest as if holding himself together.
"You shouldn't be here," he said finally. "The last thing I need is more eyes on me."
She tilted her head, almost amused by the suggestion. "Is it really that suspicious to care whether my teacher's alive or falling apart?"
He gave her a long look. It wasn't angry. It wasn't grateful either. It was just… tired.
Then he turned his face away.
Rejoice's patience snapped like a twig.
"Then answer the goddamn question!" she shouted.
"I said I'm fine!" he yelled back, his voice echoing against the sterile walls. He clenched his jaw and turned away again, face carved from stone. "Now leave."
The tension in the room buzzed like static.
She stood there, silent, then scoffed sharply, spun on her heel, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her with a crash that rattled the blinds.
In the locker room, the overhead light flickered as I opened my locker and reached for my bag. My arms felt heavier than usual, like all the emotions of the day had settled into my bones.
I turned and there was Jesse.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his usual easygoing smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi." I slung the strap over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "You seem… happy."
"Didn't you hear the announcement?" he asked as we started walking.
I nodded. "Basketball's back."
"Well," he said, flashing a grin, "after all the insanity, this is the first good news I've had in a while."
"Good for you," I said softly. "You're back in the game."
"And you?" he asked, glancing sideways at me. "I heard what happened in the cafeteria."
"I'm not apologizing," I replied flatly.
He laughed once. "Wasn't asking you to. Honestly? Pink had it coming."
I looked at him and smiled faintly.
We didn't say anything more as we walked out together into the bright buzzing sunlight.
Back in the hostel room, I lay on my bed with my laptop balanced on my stomach, aimlessly scrolling and munching on a cookie. The faint glow of the screen reflected off the ceiling, casting dancing shadows.
The door creaked open.
Pink stepped in.
She looked like someone who'd been through a hurricane, her hair tangled, her shoulders slumped, her eyes glassy. She didn't speak. Didn't even look at me. Just dropped her bag and collapsed onto her bed.
Silence stretched between us, brittle and uncomfortable.
I finally spoke.
"Hey. How's Clary?"
She turned slowly, her eyes meeting mine.
They were icy. Cold. Laced with something deeper than anger, hatred.
"Why do you care?" she said flatly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm just… worried," I replied. "Are you okay?"
She hissed, got up abruptly, and walked into the bathroom without answering. The door clicked shut behind her like a final word.
I sighed and turned back to my screen.
Later that night, the basketball court was a dark, echoing cavern of silence. The bleachers stood like abandoned sentinels, and a breeze stirred dust across the polished floor.
Jennie paced like a caged animal, her boots clicking sharply with every step.
Sofie sat cross-legged on the bleachers, her eyes darting between her glowing phone screen and a leather-bound notebook of scribbled theories and scanned texts.
"Okay, what intel do you have on the Alpha?" Jennie asked, tension vibrating in her voice.
"Well…" Sofie squinted at her screen. "The Alpha is the leader of the pack, obviously."
"I meant who he is," Jennie snapped. "Names. Clues. Suspects. Give me something."
"There's a theory," Sofie said, "that the Alpha might not be a student at Caveroop."
Jennie halted mid-pace. "Not a student?"
"Or maybe he's someone with magic cloaking him. We don't know. No one's shown clear signs."
"Fuck!" Jennie cursed, dropping onto the bleacher beside her, panting with frustration. "What do I do now?"
"I know," came a voice from the shadows.
Both girls froze, then whipped around.
From the umpire stand, a figure stepped down, tall and imposing, wearing a long midnight-black cloak that touched the floor. A sleek mask covered her face from nose to chin, and a hood concealed her hair. The only thing visible were her eyes, dark, glinting, and unreadable.
Jennie stood. "Who the hell are you?"
The figure's voice was smooth, calm, and unsettling. "Does it matter?"
She stepped into the edge of the light, just enough to catch the gleam of her eyes.
"The point is I know who the Alpha is. And I'm willing to make a trade."
Jennie narrowed her gaze, not sure if she believed the strange figure. "What do you want?"