The rest of the day dragged on, but the weight in my chest never eased. Every step I took through the hallways felt laden with unseen pressure—as if every whispered rumor and sidelong glance was a silent reminder that war was closer than I wanted to believe. I wasn't paranoid; I was just hyper-aware.
Lunch arrived in a burst of chaos. The cafeteria, alive with laughter, gossip, and the clatter of trays, felt strangely distant—like I was watching a movie in slow motion. I sat at my usual table, picking at my food, trying to drown out the murmurs around me. But then I caught snippets of hushed conversations.
"Did you see them? They look… different."
"The new ones have this eerie look, like they're on a mission."
"I swear they move too deliberately—it's almost like they're hunting."
'' I hear they are hunters, what do you expect''
I turned my head, scanning the room, and that's when I saw them.
The six new students, seated together like a pack. Their movements were unnervingly precise—subtle but controlled. They weren't fidgeting or restless. They were simply observing, calculating. Then, one of them locked eyes with me.
Her gaze was fierce and unwavering—golden eyes that held an unspoken challenge. I held her gaze longer than I should have, unwilling to look away first. And in that brief moment, I recognized her. It was Senya. The teacher had already called her name, and her confident expression confirmed that she wasn't just any newcomer. She was a prospective newcomer
The day continued, and before I knew it, we were in class. we're supposed to be learning mathematics—a subject I'd always excelled in, But the teacher announced a test, a welcome distraction from the uncertainty swirling in my mind. I sat on my seat, pen in hand, determined to focus on the test. Yet the atmosphere was different. There was an almost palpable undercurrent of tension, as if the room itself was holding its breath.
Midway through the test, I sensed something off—a faint, almost imperceptible hint of a wild, musky scent that shouldn't be there. I glanced around. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed dimmer than usual, and a shadow flickered along the corridor as if it were a living thing. For a moment, it made my skin crawl. I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the paper before me.
Then after some time after everyone had submitted the teacher sat down to review our test and give scores.
When the teacher finally called for our tests, I felt a surge of anticipation. The results were announced with a hushed excitement that sent ripples through the classroom. "First place," the teacher said, "Senya, Nice stat Senya." A flicker of disbelief shot through me. Then— "Second place, Raiven." My jaw clenched. I wasn't first, but that competitive fire had been ignited within me. Now class was going to be fun for a change. Finally, a competitor—a feisty one..
After class, while most students hurried out, I lingered in the corridor, the echo of conversations and the low hum of the fluorescent lights creating an eerie backdrop. I caught up with Zeph near the door, his face a mix of concern and amusement.
"Man, you really let that slide today," he said quietly as we walked. "I know it hurts, but sometimes you gotta let the challenge fuel you, not break you."
I nodded, though inside I was a tempest of conflicting thoughts. "It's not just the test, Zeph. It's everything—the warning, that mark, and now these new students. It's like the whole world's shifting, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for it."
He patted my shoulder gently. "You're one of the strongest I know, Raiven. Trust yourself, and don't forget—you're not alone in this."
I glanced back at the corridor, taking in the details: the way the normally bright hallways seemed to carry a heavier, quieter energy today, as if the walls themselves whispered secrets. I couldn't shake the feeling that every ordinary moment was laced with impending change.
By the time the final bell rang, I felt as though fate was literally breathing down my neck. I gathered my things slowly, every step heavy with anticipation and a quiet determination. My fingers brushed the symbol on my neck—a silent reminder that something monumental was pushing me toward a future I still didn't fully understand.
Stepping out into the corridor, I couldn't help but notice a final, subtle detail: a shadow flickering near the new students' table, a reminder that predators lurked among us. I took a deep breath. Today, the war was not just a distant prophecy—it was beginning here, in the mundane hum of everyday life.
I wondered if I could ever escape this destiny. But one thing was clear: if I was to change the rules, if I was to rewrite our fate, I'd have to start by embracing every part of it—no matter how frightening it might be.