My head slammed against the cold, unforgiving floor with a sickening crack. A sharp burst of pain radiated from the back of my skull, and I could taste the metallic sting of blood as it trickled from my nose. I already knew—this was going to be a long, brutal day.

  "Willing to stick up for this kid, huh?" The bully—linebacker-sized and twice as smug—stood over me like a mountain of malice. His sneer was all teeth and venom, and the hallway had gone deathly quiet around us.

  I pushed myself up slowly, using the rough brick wall as a lifeline. The world tilted for a second, but I steadied myself.

  “Stay away from my friend,” I said, voice steady despite the tremble in my ribs. I met his gaze, forcing a grin that barely masked the pounding in my chest.

  He snorted, loud and cruel. “Dillon? That’s who you’re protecting?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “That loser?”

  Laughter rippled through the hallway crowd—a sharp, stinging chorus that cut deeper than the bruises forming on my body.

  I clenched my fists and repeated, “Stay away.”

  Something shifted inside me then. I felt… warmth. Not the kind you get from adrenaline or embarrassment, but a glowing ember deep in my chest, pulsing like a second heartbeat. My skin prickled. My blood seemed to hum.

  The bully took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “Alright then. Hit me. Or are you too scared?”

  Before I could move, his fist smashed into my chest. The breath whooshed from my lungs, and I crumpled, hitting the floor again—hard. My ears rang. My vision blurred.

  The world slowed to a crawl. The laughter around me faded into background static. For a moment, I wasn’t lying on a school hallway floor—I was floating, caught in some strange, liminal place between fear and fury.

  I don’t remember standing, but I was on my feet. My ribs protested with every movement.

  He swung again.

  This time, I dodged.

  Barely.

  I lashed out with a wild punch of my own, but missed completely and stumbled over Dillon, who was still on the ground, watching everything with furious, glassy eyes.

  “You think you’re tough, Jace?” the bully snarled. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  That ember inside me flared.

  And something broke.

  Not my bones—something else. Something deep.

  My chest burned with heat—pure, searing heat—like my blood was trying to boil. Like it wanted out. And I didn’t care. I didn’t care if I got suspended or expelled or arrested. I just knew I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I surged forward.

  My fist collided with his chest.

  He flew backward.

  Not stumbled. Not tripped.

  Flew.

  He slammed into the lockers like he’d been hit by a truck and crumpled to the floor in a groaning heap.

  A shocked silence fell over the hallway.

  Every eye turned to me.

  I stood frozen, chest heaving, heart hammering against my ribs.

  For a split second—just one—I thought I saw something. My hand. Elongated. Clawed. Glowing.

  I blinked.

  Gone.

  Dillon sat up beside me, wincing. “You okay?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

  He gave a weak nod. “Thanks to you,” he muttered.

  That’s when I felt it.

  A chill.

  Not physical—something deeper. A shiver in the bones.

  I turned—and saw him.

  A teacher I didn’t recognize. Tall. White hair. Watching me like he knew something. His eyes weren’t judgmental. They were calculating. Measuring.

  Something about him made my skin crawl in a way the bully never had.

  Then, as if summoned by fate, the principal stormed into view, red-faced and furious.

  “In. My. Office. Now.”

  He spun on his heel and marched away without waiting.

  I swallowed hard. Glanced at Dillon, who looked just as freaked out as I felt.

  “It’ll be fine,” I said quickly, trying to believe it. “We’re not gonna get suspended.”

  I didn’t believe it.

  We were absolutely getting suspended.

  The crowd parted as we walked, eyes burning into my back. I felt like I was walking toward a firing squad.

  When we reached the office, the principal held the door open with a glare that could freeze lava. I stepped inside, pulse thundering in my ears.

  I’d never been here before. Not really. This was where the bad kids went. The ones who picked fights and skipped class and didn’t care about consequences.

  But here I was.

  I wasn’t sure what that made me.

  The principal sat down, fingers steepled. “You know how serious this is, right? That boy’s being taken to the hospital.”

  I stared at him. “I didn’t even hit him that hard.”

  Bad move.

  His eyes narrowed. “Whether you meant to or not, the damage is done. I have zero tolerance for violence.”

  I opened my mouth to argue—but the door burst open.

  The white-haired teacher stepped in, calm and composed. “Excuse me, Principal. I need a word. It’s urgent.”

  The principal stood, scowling. “Vinayak, you can’t just—”

  “It can’t wait,” Vinayak said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it held weight. Authority.

  They locked eyes.

  Then the principal exhaled sharply and followed him out, muttering.

  The door clicked shut.

  I turned to Dillon. “Who is that guy?”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Dillon shook his head. “No idea.”

  We sat in silence. My thoughts raced in circles. My chest still buzzed faintly with heat, like whatever had ignited in me hadn’t fully died out.

  A few minutes later, the principal returned—alone.

  His face was a thundercloud barely holding back a storm.

  “You’ll both be serving detention in my office,” he said flatly. “Every weekend. For the rest of the school year.”

  I blinked. “Wait… we’re not suspended?”

  He stared at me. “One more incident, and you’re gone. Understood?”

  We nodded.

  Dismissed, we left the office. The hallway felt brighter. Sharper. Like I was seeing the world through new eyes.

  I laughed once, weakly. “Dillon, I thought we were toast.”

  He didn’t laugh.

  He stopped walking.

  “You don’t find it weird?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “How the principal was about to suspend us. Then that Vinayak guy shows up, takes him outside… and suddenly everything changes?”

  I froze.

  “No,” I said slowly.

  But deep down?

  I did.

  SCENE 2 (HERE ON OUT IS NEW)

  It was well past noon, but the fight still felt like it had happened seconds ago. I tugged out my phone and stepped into the sunlight. As usual, Dillon was waiting—arms crossed, leaning against the railing like he always did when things got weird.

  “Hey,” I muttered.

  “Hey,” he said back.

  I opened Instagram. There it was: footage of the fight. My stomach turned. I shouldn’t have looked at the comments, but I did.

  Freak. Monster.

  Other words I didn’t even want to repeat.

  I shut off my phone so hard it cracked against my thigh. Dillon had walked ahead, giving me space. I caught up.

  “You see the video?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It was rough,” he said. “But hey, we didn’t get suspended.” He offered a sideways glance that already knew it wouldn’t help.

  It didn’t.

  I could still feel it—that heat just under my skin. That crackle. The stares. The fear.

  And I wasn’t just angry at them.

  I was starting to wonder if they had a reason to be.

  That thought scared me more than the fight ever did.

  We passed the chain-link fence at the edge of school grounds. The field blurred into woods. It used to feel open. Free. Now it felt like a cage.

  “I didn’t mean to do it,” I said under my breath.

  “I know,” Dillon replied. “But they don’t. And probably never will.”

  I stopped walking. “That’s the part that sucks. I’m being punished for something I don’t even understand.”

  “Maybe you’re supposed to,” he said.

  I looked at him. “What?”

  He shrugged. “Just… maybe it’s not random.”

  I hated how much that stuck with me. Because deep down, a part of me—the part that flared hot—agreed.

  We walked in silence. Gravel crunched underfoot. The wind moved through bare trees.

  Then—everything shifted.

  The air went still. Heavy.

  The light dimmed, but no clouds passed over the sun.

  Leaves rustled without wind.

  The trees looked… drained. Like something had sucked the color from them.

  I shivered.

  Dillon did too.

  “So it’s not just me?” I asked.

  “Apparently not,” he said, forcing a weak laugh.

  We kept walking, but the world didn’t feel like ours anymore. It felt like we’d stepped through some invisible crack in reality.

  Dillon slowed behind me.

  “Dillon?” I turned.

  He wasn’t looking at me.

  He was staring into the woods. Wide-eyed. Frozen.

  Then—he gasped.

  It was sharp. Panicked. Real.

  I spun. “What is it?”

  He pointed, hand trembling. “There’s something… in the forest.”

  I looked.

  At first—nothing.

  Then a shadow moved.

  It didn’t walk. It glided.

  Too tall. Too still.

  Too wrong.

  I blinked.

  Gone.

  Silence stretched, louder than a scream.

  Whatever it was… I didn’t want to see it again.

  Headlights cut through the trees. A car rolled to a stop just past the fence.

  It idled there, too perfectly timed.

  The door opened.

  Vinayak stepped out.

  The substitute teacher. The quiet one. The watcher.

  His coat flared in the breeze, and for a moment, he didn’t move. He just stared into the trees—right where we’d seen the thing.

  His eyes met mine.

  Calm. Steady. Too knowing.

  “We need to talk,” he said. “Before it finds you again.”

  He turned and walked into the woods.

  Dillon looked at me like what the hell was that.

  I didn’t have an answer.

  But I wasn’t about to let the only person who didn’t look surprised disappear.

  “Come on,” I said.

  We followed.

  The light in the forest changed. Warmer now. The air eased, but it didn’t feel like relief—it felt like bait.

  “Vinayak!” I called, jogging. He slowed just enough for us to catch up.

  “Thanks for not giving us detention,” I tried.

  He gave a quiet chuckle. It didn’t feel like humor.

  “What’s funny?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, voice heavy. “Only… this isn’t the time for jokes.”

  We walked deeper. The trees thickened around us. The silence felt… intentional.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “There’s much I could say, Jace. And you too, Dillon. But I’m not sure I should.”

  “You can trust us,” Dillon said.

  “It’s not about trust,” Vinayak replied. “It’s about readiness.”

  “Readiness for what?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his coat and handed me a folded note.

  “You want answers? Start here.”

  The paper felt old. Heavy. I unfolded it.

  Find what was buried.

  The words didn’t just sound ominous.

  They felt like a door creaking open.

  Dillon leaned in. “What the hell does that mean?”

  I looked up.

  Vinayak was already walking away.

  “Wait—buried what? Where?” I called.

  He stopped, turned just slightly.

  “You’ll know it when you see it,” he said. “But be careful.”

  A pause. Then:

  “Not everything buried stays dead.”

  He vanished into the trees.

  The silence returned—thicker now.

  I stared at the note.

  This wasn’t about the fight. Or the powers. Or even the thing in the woods.

  This was something older. Bigger.

  Dillon stood beside me.

  “So,” he said quietly. “We digging up secrets now?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Because I was already trying to figure out where to start.

  SCENE 3

  I entered my house and looked around. The wooden floor and walls felt like home.

  “Mom?” I called out. My voice echoed through the house.

  No response.

  I shrugged it off—she was probably at work—and started walking toward the couch, thoughts racing through my head.

  How am I supposed to figure this riddle out? I’m going to get embarrassed if I show up to school tomorrow. And what was that shadowy creature?

  It was all too much. I collapsed onto the couch and sank into it.

  Creak.

  I shot up, looking around.

  What was that?

  I slowly walked through the house. The noise made itself known again, subtle and quiet. Normally, I would’ve assumed it was nothing.

  But after how today went, I wasn’t assuming anything anymore.

  And just then, I looked up at the attic. A screeching noise came from inside.

  I sighed. I’d never gone up in the attic before. Not once. Something about it always felt… off-limits. Like a place frozen in time.

  I ended up grabbing a glass of water and sat alone in the kitchen, my mind still spinning. The glass felt cold in my hand, grounding me just enough to stop shaking.

  What does “find what was buried” mean?

  I flipped the paper around again and again, inspecting it for some kind of hint or clue. Folded it. Unfolded it. Held it up to the light. Pressed my fingers into the corners like some kind of secret message might appear.

  But nothing came.

  A few minutes passed.

  Ding dong.

  The doorbell rang.

  I walked over and opened the door—and to my surprise, it was Dillon.

  “Dillon?” I asked, concerned. Something was off about the way he looked at me.

  “Hi,” he said quietly. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” I replied, stepping aside.

  He followed me in, but the vibe was… weird. Off. The usual sarcasm and confidence were gone. He moved slower. Quieter.

  “You okay? You know… after everything that happened?” I asked, trying to read his face.

  “Yeah. I’m okay,” he said, but he still wasn’t looking at me. “I just wanted to talk. About the whole Vinayak situation.”

  I sat across from him. “Any news? Clues? Or even just where to start?” I asked, more hopeful than I meant to sound.

  He hesitated.

  “I don’t know,” Dillon said. “I’ve been thinking about that note. The one Vinayak gave you.”

  “Yeah. ‘Find what was buried.’ Super helpful,” I muttered.

  He glanced at me, then away. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at us. Like he knew more than he was saying.”

  “He definitely knows more,” I said. “And that thing in the woods? He didn’t even look surprised.”

  Silence settled between us. I studied Dillon for a second. His shoulders were tense. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. He wouldn’t sit still, like his body didn’t know what to do.

  “You sure you’re okay?” I asked again.

  “I’m fine,” he said too quickly. “Just tired.”

  Liar.

  But I didn’t push.

  He stood up a few minutes later. “I should head out. Text me if anything… changes.”

  “You sure?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I just need some space.”

  I walked him to the door. He didn’t meet my eyes as he left.

  I stood there for a moment after it closed. The air in the house felt heavier now, like something was waiting. Like the silence itself had teeth.

  Keys jingled on the other side of the door, followed by the sound of it unlocking.

  Mom.

  She stepped in, coat slung over one arm, her work bag hanging heavy off her shoulder. She looked tired—more than usual. The kind of tired that sits in your bones, not just your eyes.

  “Hey,” she said, setting her keys down. “You eat?”

  “Not really.”

  She glanced at me. “Rough day?”

  I folded my arms. “You could say that.”

  She gave me a look—half concern, half unreadable. Like she already knew what I was about to say, and didn’t want to hear it.

  “I need to ask you something,” I said.

  She paused, then nodded slowly. “Go ahead.”

  “I think… something’s happening to me. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not normal. And I don’t think it’s random either.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “There was a fight. Something… came out of me. Power. Heat. And then there was this thing in the woods. A shadow. It wasn’t human.”

  Still nothing.

  “And then this teacher, Vinayak—he knew. He gave me this note.” I pulled it out and showed her. “It says, ‘Find what was buried.’”

  Her face changed. Just a flicker. But I saw it.

  “You know something, don’t you?” I said.

  Her jaw tightened. “No. I don’t.”

  “Is this about Dad?” I asked, voice rising. “Was he part of something? Was he like me?”

  “That’s enough, Jace.”

  “No, it’s not! I’ve been left in the dark my whole life, and now things are happening that I can’t explain, and—”

  “I said that’s enough,” she snapped.

  I stopped. The silence hit like a wall.

  She exhaled, looked away. “Some things are better left buried.”

  She turned and walked down the hall, leaving me standing there alone.

  Buried.

  I looked back at the note. Then up toward the ceiling.

  The attic.

  My heartbeat picked up.

  What did Dad bury up there?