Greetings, dear readers! This prologue serves as your gateway into the dark history that underpins our narrative. I'll soon unveil a new conflict that will shake the foundations of our story world. Within these opening pages, you'll discover crucial historical elements that will illuminate the events to come. The horror elements I've woven throughout these chapters intensify the atmosphere, so I encourage you to read this introduction carefully. The shadows of the past hold secrets that our characters must confront, and understanding this prologue will enhance your journey through the gathering darkness that awaits.
It It It was a magnificent day at the academy. Max hunched over his papers while Leo, his lifelong confidant since their earliest days, perched anxiously beside him.
"Hey man, the test is about to start," Leo hissed, drumming his pencil against the desk with increasing intensity. His eyes darted nervously toward the clock.
Max deliberately ignored him, fixated on examining the papers. He craved answer sheets—anything to salvage his abysmal academic record. With F's plaguing every subject and light magic—the most pitiful ability at the academy—as his only talent, desperation had become his constant companion.
"I know you hear me," Leo snapped, his previously cheerful face darkening with unmistakable irritation. "You've been avoiding me all week when I try to help you study."
Still, Max refused to acknowledge him, consumed by schemes to pass this test legitimately or otherwise. The crushing weight of potential failure suffocated any concern for his friend's growing frustration.
The bell's shrill ring interrupted the classroom's chaotic symphony of voices that had persisted for half an hour, signaling their release.
Students rose in unison, streaming toward the exits. As Leo gathered his belongings, he shot Max a disappointed glance. "Whatever you're planning, it's not worth it," he muttered before joining the exodus of students dispersing into the afternoon sunlight.
Max remained behind, his pulse quickening with anticipation as the last footsteps faded down the corridor.
"Now my plan begins," he whispered, a devious smile playing across his lips as he slipped into the teacher's office. Finding the desk bare, he frantically searched other potential hiding places, adrenaline surging through his veins.
Darkness enveloped the room, forcing him to activate the overhead lights—his pathetic light magic proving inadequate even for this simple task. The musty aroma of chalk dust and aged textbooks filled his nostrils.
In the shadows nearby, something observed his frantic movements with calculated patience, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Max triumphantly discovered the papers in the top drawer—exactly what he sought. He seized them eagerly, scanning the answer choices and noting the highlighted correct responses with trembling fingers.
"This is going to be easy," he murmured victoriously, approaching the copier. After duplicating the document and securing it in his bag, satisfaction warmed his chest as he headed toward the exit.
He froze suddenly. Eyes—cold, unblinking eyes—watched him from within the closet, sending icy terror down his spine.
Dismissing the sight as imagination, his rational mind refused to acknowledge the imminent danger. As he extinguished the lights, plunging the room into darkness, everything changed in an instant.
A knife sliced through the air with deadly precision. The blade penetrated his stomach before he could react. He collapsed, gasping in shock and agony as footsteps approached deliberately from behind.
His eyes widened in anguish while blood pooled beneath him, spreading across the cold floor like a crimson tide. His vision blurred, reality spinning violently around him.
The knife hovered above his head. Unable to identify his attacker or glimpse those haunting eyes again, he watched helplessly as the blade descended upon his throat with ruthless efficiency.
Max perished instantly, his ambitions extinguished in a single, violent moment.
The killer abandoned the weapon and retreated into the closet, vanishing completely. Darkness prevailed as the assailant disappeared, leaving only silence and death in their wake.
The following day, Leo approached his classroom, heading toward the teacher's office to quench his thirst at the nearby fountain, his thoughts consumed by the day's upcoming lessons and his unresolved argument with Max.
Before reaching the water fountain, he encountered a nightmarish scene that stopped his heart: blood saturated the floor where Max lay motionless, multiple savage wounds disfiguring his back and stomach, his throat brutally slashed. The metallic scent of blood assaulted his senses.
Leo stood paralyzed with horror before finally fleeing, his heart thundering against his ribs. Words failed him—his friend, despite their recent tension, was gone forever. How could anyone articulate such devastating loss?
He attended classes mechanically, maintaining a façade of normalcy while grief and shock devoured him from within. Days later, other students discovered the body, followed by staff and professors. Eventually, maintenance personnel sanitized the gruesome scene, though the memory remained permanently etched in the collective consciousness of the academy.
Police investigations yielded no suspect. The murderer became infamous as "the Midnight Killer," and tales of these savage slayings continued to haunt the academy's corridors, whispered fearfully in dormitories long after lights out.