The next morning, Shreya couldn't shake the feeling that the walls around her were alive. Every hallway she walked felt narrower, every shadow watching. Even the air seemed heavy, sticky, as though the building itself had lungs.
She walked toward class with Mehul, trying to appear normal, but each step echoed too loudly in the empty corridors. Then she noticed it: the lights overhead flickered rhythmically, pulsing like a heartbeat, syncing to hers.
Something moved at the edge of her vision. A tall figure, thin, no face, following her silently. When she blinked, it vanished, only to reappear closer.
Aarav met her in the library later, face pale. "It's not just seeing the future anymore," he whispered. "It's following. It knows your fear. It grows stronger when you hesitate."
Shreya swallowed. "It can't be stopped?"
Aarav shook his head. "Not unless you face it. But it doesn't exist in one place—it moves between shadows, cracks, reflections. Anywhere reality is weak."
They left the library and walked in silence. The hallway stretched unnaturally as they walked, doors appearing where none existed, tiles bending subtly underfoot.
Shreya felt her stomach knot. Something wasn't just behind her—it was in the walls, the ceiling, the very floor. She could hear it breathe, a low rasping sound that made her hair rise.
Suddenly, a door swung open by itself. A cold wind rushed out, carrying whispers. Names. Screams. Some familiar. Some not.
Mehul grabbed her arm. "We shouldn't—"
A shadow detached itself from the darkness. It moved impossibly fast, and for the first time, Shreya realized it didn't want to harm her—it wanted something inside her.
The hallway wasn't alive.
The hallway was hungry.
And it had chosen her as its next host.