ATO'S POV

It started with a whisper.

Not a voice. Not even a sound. Just the kind of awareness that slides under your skin-like realizing you're not alone in a dark room. I had just laid down. Lights off. My wolf quiet for once. Sleep was crawling over me when I heard it.

Slide.

A soft paper noise.

I sat up in my bed, listening. The room was silent. Arav was snoring faintly in the bed across the room. One leg hung off the edge like he'd fallen asleep mid-thought. I blinked into the dark.

Then I saw it.

A white envelope slipped halfway under my door. Still shifting slightly as if invisible fingers had just let it go. The seal was unmistakable.

A raven's crest.

Missing an eye.

Same as the ones in my dreams.

I stood, bare feet cold against the wooden floor, and picked it up.

The paper felt heavier than it should have. Inside: a single card, blank except for five handwritten words in ink darker than blood.

"The West Wing welcomes you."

A time: Midnight.

No name.

No instructions.

Just an invitation you couldn't refuse.

I didn't wake Arav. I didn't need to. He was already awake when I turned around.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. He looked at me, saw the card in my hand, and held up his own. "Thought I dreamt it," he muttered. "Guess not."

He stood, stretched, then pulled a hoodie over his head. "Well. Nothing sketchy about secret midnight summons in a haunted school."

His voice was casual, but I saw the way his hands shook slightly as he tied his shoes.

We left the dorm without speaking.

And the hallway was already waiting.

Four figures stood in the dark corridor. Not students. Not staff.

Masks.

All of them wore masks.

Porcelain white. Expressionless. Plague-style, like something out of a nightmare painting. They said nothing. Just turned and began walking down the corridor without a word.

We followed.

I don't know why.

Maybe because I felt it wasn't really a choice.

At the next junction, two more shapes joined us. Girls. One tall, broad-shouldered with a quick, watchful step. The other, shorter, pale-skinned, moving like she owned the shadows.

I didn't have to see her face to know her.

She walked just ahead of me.

Ira.

Her scent hit me again-stronger this time in the sealed, breathless dark.

Ash and clove. Stormlight. A touch of iron.

It curled into my lungs like a spell. My wolf tensed-alert, then aching.

Not just drawn.

Anchored.

The part of me I kept locked down-the animal, the instinct, the curse-pressed forward like it recognized home.

My breath faltered.

The hallway shouldn't have smelled like fire.

But now it did.

Her presence hit me like it had before. Cold. Controlled. Like a predator pretending to be a girl. She didn't look back. Not even once.

And yet, the wolf inside me growled low-not out of warning.

But possession.

Then came the fifth.

A softer shuffle. Snack bag crinkling faintly in the silence.

"Hey," he whispered beside me, barely audible. "If this is a cult thing, I'm allergic to blood rituals."

I didn't respond. He didn't need me to.

The five of us walked like that-escorted by masked figures through the school's winding halls. The deeper we went, the colder the air became. Torches lined the walls now, burning blue.

The hallway ahead turned.

Stone changed color.

We stepped through an arch...

And the silence broke.

I felt it before I saw it.

The West Wing.

Every student whispered about it. Said it was cursed. Said students who stepped inside were never seen again. Some claimed it was sealed forever. Others said it moved at night, changing its shape.

Now, it stood open before us. A vast, arching doorway with a crest above it that had been scratched out, as if the building itself had rejected its name.

No lights.

No torches.

Just black.

The masked figures stopped.

One turned to us and spoke-not in words, but a whisper that slithered into the mind.

"You may enter. You must enter."

And then they vanished.

Literally. One blink-they were there. The next-gone.

No shadows. No steps.

Gone.

We stood in silence.

No one moved.

Then Ira walked forward.

Of course she did.

Didn't hesitate. Didn't speak. Just stepped into the dark.

The rest followed. Arav next, then, who looked like she was calculating every possible trap in her head. The snack boy looked at me before going in.

"I didn't even get to eat my Khakhra," he whispered. Then went.

I was last.

And the second I stepped across the threshold, the door behind me closed.

It was like walking into a cavern carved out of a dead god's ribcage.

The hall stretched forever in both directions, ceiling arching so high you could barely see where it ended. Stone walls breathed cold. Strange murals lined the corridor-blacked-out faces, symbols that seemed to crawl the longer you looked.

The torches burned purple.

Not fire-light. Just light, suspended. Cold. Humming.

I counted four footsteps behind me. We didn't speak. The silence between us had become a pact. None of us knew why we were here. All of us knew we couldn't leave.

Then we saw them.

The torches flared.

A circle of masked figures appeared-twelve of them, standing perfectly still at the edge of a vast, round chamber at the corridor's end. The air was thick with something metallic. It tasted like old secrets.

In the center, there was someone else.

Someone different.

Taller. Shoulders draped in black robes stitched with unreadable runes. Mask different, heavier, shaped like bone and bird fused together. No eyes. No mouth. Just the kind of face nightmares copy.

He turned toward us as we entered.

I didn't breathe.

None of us did.

"You stand in the East Wing of Ravenshade," he said. "This place is not for students. It has not opened in six years. Until tonight."

A crimson circle lit up beneath our feet.

"You are the Forsaken Club of 2025."

The words echoed like bells struck underwater.

"You will spend this year uncovering what this school truly is. Not what they show you. What they bury."

He paused.

"You will not speak of this to anyone."

A beat.

"If you succeed, you will FREE."

Another pause.

"If you fail... you will disappear."

The door behind us creaked open.

The Masked Man turned his back.

"You were not chosen," he said. "You were arranged."

And then he vanished into the dark.

The game had already begun.

ARAV'S POV

Room 34-A was in the western boys' wing, three floors up from the courtyard. One tiny window, two creaky bed, and a door that clicked when it closed-like a whisper snapping shut. I'd just finished rearranging my speaker wires for the third time when the door swung open behind me.

I didn't turn. Just called out, "Don't step on the speaker!"

He froze mid-step. I could feel it-like gravity had walked in and decided to stay.

I popped my head out from behind the bed and nearly swallowed my gum. The guy in the doorway looked like something out of a dark myth-tall, broad, still as a statue. His eyes scanned the room like they were cataloging weaknesses.

My first instinct? Make a joke. Second instinct? Run.

"Arav Ray," I said, flashing a grin I hoped looked more confident than I felt. "Odisha. I talk too much. You're welcome."

Nothing.

He blinked. Once. The kind of blink that made you wonder if he chose to do it.

"Right," I continued, hopping to my feet. "You must be my soulmate-slash-roommate. What's your name, or do I have to give you one?"

"Ato," he said. Just that. One word. Solid. Sharp.

Of course his name was something cool and intimidating. Mine sounded like a guy who missed his school bus twice in one morning.

"Cool," I said, trying to keep it casual. "Sounds like a curse word. I like it. You don't talk much, huh? Brooding type? Tortured past? Deep internal monologue?"

Still nothing. The guy stared like he was waiting for me to either shut up or spontaneously combust.

I gave a mock-sigh. "Got it. Tall, dangerous, mysterious. Girls love that. I, on the other hand, am emotionally fragile, clingy, and extremely likable."

He didn't even blink this time.

Unfazed, I turned back to my bed, humming a lullaby my grandmother used to sing-but in reverse. Something about this place made me want to unmake everything familiar.

I heard him move behind me, felt him setting his bag down. It was strange. We didn't speak. We didn't bond. But it wasn't awkward either. It was like we were... opposite charges. Something about him made the room colder. Sharper.

Eventually, he broke the silence.

"You... sleep with your eyes open?"

I grinned. "Only when I dream about dying. Which is... a lot."

Still nothing. Just a slight shift in the air, like he'd accepted the answer in his own quiet way.

And that was it.

We coexisted.

He, with his shadows and silence.

Me, with my endless words and nervous laughter.

And somehow, it worked.

But that night, as I lay staring at the ceiling, I realized something.

He didn't just walk into this room.

He claimed it.

And something deep in my bones whispered:

Be careful. That one doesn't belong to this world.

~

I wasn't asleep. Just still. Just pretending. Just breathing slow enough that the shadows wouldn't notice me.

The night pressed against the window like a held breath, and for a second, I almost convinced myself it was over. Whatever I'd dreamt, whatever I'd seen-it would just pass.

And then I heard it.

Slide.

Paper. Just paper. But it sounded like a scream had been folded inside it.

Ato moved. Quiet, heavy steps. The wood creaked once under his weight. I opened one eye, barely.

He was standing by the door, holding something pale and stiff in his hand.

The envelope.

Even from across the room, I saw the raven seal-black wax, a missing eye.

Exactly like my dream.

My pulse skipped. Not raced-skipped, like it forgot what came next.

I sat up slowly. My voice came out hollow. "Thought I dreamt it."

Ato didn't turn. Just said, "You knew?"

I nodded. "Sort of. Not exactly."

But it didn't matter what I said. He was already reading the message, and I already knew where we were going. I'd seen the hallway. I'd seen the blue flames, the masks, the way the torches didn't flicker.

Ato didn't ask questions. Neither did I.

We put on our shoes like it was routine, and stepped into something that wasn't supposed to exist.

Four masked figures waited outside the dorm.

Not staff. Not students. Their robes hung too heavy. Their faces were wrong-plague masks, smooth and white, no expressions. Just silence.

They turned without a word and began walking. We followed.

I didn't think. I didn't blink too long. I just moved.

And then-

Footsteps behind us.

I glanced back and saw two more shapes joining the corridor.

Girls.

One tall. Strong step. Hair like night. Shoulders squared like she didn't fear the dark-she was part of it.

The other...

My chest tightened.

The other girl walked like she'd been raised by ghosts. Pale skin. Unbothered uniform. That kind of stillness people mistake for confidence. But I knew better.

I'd seen that stillness before.

In the dream

I slowed, just slightly. Just enough to look again.

It wasn't déjà vu. It was worse.

Because I remembered her face.

I remembered how she had turned-slowly-and looked through me.

I remembered the way she stood at the edge of the hallway that led to nowhere.

I remembered thinking: She doesn't belong here. Or maybe she belongs here more than anyone.

I didn't know her name.

But I'd seen her before the first day even started.

____________________________________

✦ Author's Note ✦

Some friendships begin with laughter.

Ours began with secrets, shadows, and the slow unfolding of trust.

This is where the real choices start.

What would you do if you had one year to survive a curse...

...and maybe fall in love with someone dangerous?

Thank you for reading. Stay haunted, Stay curious.

- Authorechha