The first threat didn't come in a message.
It came in a locker.
Mine.
Third floor. Hallway B. The one no one used unless they were late or hiding. I didn't even go to it until Lena nudged me between classes and said:
"Someone's been messing with your stuff."
I hadn't told her about the journal page. Or the fire alarm. Or the blog post that said someone was going to die for lying.
I didn't need to.
She already knew.
The hallway was empty when I got there. Quiet in a way that felt… wrong.
Too still.
I spun the combination lock and opened the door…
…and froze.
There was a single item sitting inside.
A Polaroid photograph.
Of me. Asleep in bed.
Taken from above. As if the photographer had stood right beside me.
My breath caught.
No caption. No note.
Just the photo, curling slightly at the edges, smelling faintly of smoke and cedarwood.
I gripped the sides of the locker to keep from crumbling.
Someone had been in my room.
And not just in it, close enough to take a picture without waking me up.
I scanned the hallway. Nothing. No camera. No one watching.
But they'd been here.
The Blogger. Or someone pretending to be.
Either way, it wasn't a game anymore.
****
"You need to come with me tonight," Lena said at lunch, twirling a lollipop in her mouth like a cigarette. "It's a senior thing. Technically illegal. Definitely stupid. But the kind of stupid that might make you feel better."
"Feel better how?" I asked, still shaking from the photo.
"Because drunk people say things they shouldn't. And secrets love bonfires."
"Well, with everything going on, I don't think I want go any party" I said. "Especially getting drunk."
"You would enjoy it" she smiled. "Don't you want y to get to know more about the students activities and stuff?"
I considered it.
****
By midnight, I was standing in the woods behind Ravenshade, staring at a sea of glowing faces and flickering firelight.
The Forest Party was the worst-kept secret at school. Once a month, students snuck out past curfew, hiked half a mile into the trees, and built a fire that could be seen from space. No phones. No supervision. No rules.
Just bodies. Music. Shadows.
And masks.
That part surprised me.
Every student wore one.
Some handmade. Some bought online. All elaborate. All hiding their faces in plain sight.
"What's with the masquerade?" I asked Lena as she slipped a black half-mask over her eyes.
"It's tradition," she said. "Started after the first Blogger post. Everyone's afraid to be seen."
She handed me one, silver, delicate, feathered on one side.
"I don't dance," I said.
"You don't have to," she replied. "Just watch. And listen."
****
I stood by the edge of the clearing, clutching my cup of cider, eyes scanning the crowd.
Someone was laughing too loudly. Someone else was crying against a tree. People whispered names I didn't know and drank from bottles they shouldn't have had.
And then I saw him.
Ezra.
No mask. Of course not. He was the kind of boy who didn't need to hide. Or maybe the kind who wanted people to know he was watching.
He spotted me and started toward me, but I turned away before he got close.
That's when I noticed someone else.
A figure. In all black. Mask covering their entire face smooth, featureless, expressionless.
They weren't drinking. Or talking. Or laughing.
They were watching me.
Only me.
I took a step back.
The figure didn't move.
Another step. Still watching.
I dropped my cup and bolted into the woods.
****
The silence hit like a slap.
No music. No fire crackle. Just my footsteps. My breath.
Twigs snapped beneath my boots as I crashed through trees, not caring where I was going, just away.
Then…a hand.
It grabbed my arm.
I screamed, spun..
And saw Ezra.
He held up both hands. "Whoa. It's me. It's me."
I stumbled back against a tree, panting. "Someone was following me."
"Describe them."
"Black clothes. Full mask. They were just… standing there. Watching."
Ezra's jaw tightened. "You sure they weren't just a drunk idiot?"
"I know when I'm being hunted."
He stared at me, unreadable again.
Then, slowly, he said, "Some people think the Blogger's more than one person. A group. A legacy."
"You sound like you believe it."
"I believe fear is contagious. And sometimes, it grows legs."
That wasn't helpful.
But before I could reply, my phone buzzed.
1 new message.
From a number I didn't recognize.
I opened it.
A picture.
Me. Just now. In the woods.
Standing in front of Ezra.
"Even he can't save you."
-B
We left the woods in silence.
Back in the dorm, I found my journal turned upside down on the pillow.
Another message inside:
"You like playing brave. Let's see how you do blind."
"Next time, no photos. Just bruises."
-B
I didn't sleep that night.
Not because I was scared.
Because I was furious.
They wanted me blind?
Then I'd sharpen every other sense I had.
Because this wasn't a game anymore.
This was war.