Marcos' eyes were among the last things she saw… before Lucas'.
Wide. Bloodshot. Completely fixed on her.
It didn't matter.
The world spun—
And went dark.
She woke somewhere else.
She didn't know which floor of the school she was on. The only thing she knew was that she had to find her friends… and survive until 7:00 AM.
— I should've made them reconsider…
The guilt came fast.
She knew none of them were capable of dealing with whatever was playing with them now.
Not even her.
Not really.
Because whatever this was… it was bigger.
It had hidden itself from her third eye. Blinded her. Made itself invisible.
Which only led to one question, the same one echoing in her mind since she stepped onto that cursed ground:
What kind of entity… or demon… hides behind the façade of a haunted place to feed on young souls?
And why five?
Every disappearance… always five.
Three boys. Two girls.
— It doesn't make sense…
She moved slowly toward a table.
Books lay open beneath a soft orange lamp, its glow spreading across the surface.
Then she stopped.
A girl.
Leaning over the books.
Reading.
Silent.
— …
But… no one should be here…
Only then did she realize.
They were in the library.
Not the old one.
A new one.
Functional.
Students walked past each other, uniforms bright and vibrant, clashing with the calm, quiet atmosphere.
What…? Is this a memory? A fragment? Something frozen in time?
Questions piled up, unanswered.
Then she noticed something else.
The people.
The devices.
Different.
Not quite the past.
But how could it be the future?
— Impossible…
She whispered.
That cold fear slid down her spine again.
Her eyes shifted—
To the table beside the girl.
And her breath caught.
A figure.
Chest split open.
Bleeding.
Staring straight at her.
— Help me.
The voice came out broken, wet, dragged through a ruined throat.
Carmesim blinked—
And she was back.
The old student records room.
The abandoned one.
No time to process.
No time to separate vision from reality.
Something filled her sight again.
---
The First Death
Location: Library
Time: 02:15 AM
— We need to get out of here! — Hope trembled, gripping the flashlight tightly.
They had split up moments after the staircase swallowed Carmesim into the shadows.
— This isn't fun… this isn't okay… Marcos…
— I know, Hope… this doesn't make sense. None of it adds up. This was supposed to be just an abandoned building… something idiots like us use to mess around…
His voice was rough. Tired. Still shaken by what they had just seen.
He stayed close to her.
He knew she was scared.
At this point… so was he.
Logic wasn't working anymore.
Nothing was.
Somewhere between the study rooms leading to the central library, Rafael stood still, replaying what had just happened.
He had tried the door.
It wouldn't open.
No locks.
No keys.
Still sealed shut.
— The gate's locked! — Rafael wiped the sweat from his face. — I tried to open it. It won't move!
— Someone locked us in! — Lucas slammed his hand against the library door.
Rafael stared at the oil lamp they had taken from the theater room.
The flame flickered.
Almost mockingly.
Like it could taste their fear.
— Or… something. — Rafael glanced at the shelves.
He remembered what Carmesim used to say.
"The supernatural doesn't follow logic. It's never simple. The natural order of the spirit world is always contradictory… and disturbing."
Rafael crouched, resting on his elbows.
Staring at nothing.
Or maybe at her.
At where she should've been.
"Ghosts are slow. They don't have enough strength to maintain contact for long. Ectoplasm limits them. The more they use it, the less 'physical' they become… the same applies to anything that once lived and died."
— She felt it… she knew something was wrong. She heard it… we didn't.
Lucas turned to him.
— What are you saying? That this was a trap? That all of this—
His voice cracked, irritation leaking through.
— I'm saying whatever they are… they took her. And now they're playing with us. — Rafael looked up. — We handed them the game.
Lucas froze.
Remembering.
Carmesim's voice from days ago.
"Ghosts can attack… they can mess with your mind, play tricks. But that's when they're just spiritual residue, disconnected from the body…"
She had squeezed his hand.
Her amber eyes glowing under soft afternoon light.
"But demons… ancient entities… they're different. They can touch. Hurt. Possess. Take forms. Children. Teenagers. Adults. Elderly. They can deceive. They play cruel games… games we are not prepared to survive."
— Shit… fucking shit—!
Lucas stood abruptly, scanning the room.
The rumors had been warnings.
And they…
Had dealt the cards to something that didn't follow rules.
— What? — Rafael asked.
Lucas turned.
The boy who had laughed hours ago was gone.
In his place… someone older. Worn down.
— She was right. We shouldn't have come.
— That's obvious now.
— She said… when we were together… that these signs… they're not ghosts. Not harmless tricksters…
— They're demons.
— Yeah. — Lucas narrowed his eyes. — How do you know that?
— She told me a few days ago. She was uneasy. Said something wasn't right. That the sky felt… heavy. Like it was mourning something ancient. Like the city itself was suffocating.
Lucas stepped closer.
Too many questions.
No time.
A mist began to creep in.
Sliding under doors.
Through cracks.
Like a serpent invading the room.
Then—
Books started falling.
One by one.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
— What the hell—
Before Marcos could finish—
Something yanked him backward.
Behind the shelves.
His scream—
Cut short.
A sickening crack.
— MARCOS! — Hope ran toward the shelves.
He was gone.
Just—
Gone.
Only his watch remained on the floor.
Stopped.
02:17
On the other side of the building—
Carmesim froze.
Her hands covered her mouth.
The scream died before it could escape.
Her legs gave out.
Her body turned cold.
Empty.
Bloodless.
In front of her—
A shadow passed.
Not normal.
No.
She could swear—
It was Marcos.
Dragged.
Chains.
His neck twisted at an impossible angle over his shoulder.
Her knees collapsed.
She hit the ground, shaking.
Breathing uneven.
Her chest tightening as her fingers clutched her clothes.
Tears blurred her vision.
The name formed—
Before the certainty did.
Marcos was dead.
And she didn't need a body to know.
A soul screams louder…
than an empty shell ever could.