Rain hammered the university windows.
Elara sat in the library, staring at the black symbol on her wrist. It had spread overnight, forming delicate lines like ink beneath glass.
Adrian dropped a dusty book onto the table.
"I found something."
"Please tell me it's a cure."
"Worse. It's a biography."
He opened the book to a photograph of a young man standing outside Hawthorne University.
Elara stopped breathing.
The man looked exactly like Adrian.
"What is this?"
Adrian turned the page. Beneath the photograph was a name.
ADRIAN VALE — MISSING, OCTOBER 17, 1998.
"That's impossible," Elara said. "You're Adrian Vale?"
"No. My name is Adrian Cross."
"Then why do you look like him?"
"I was hoping you could explain that."
Suddenly, every clock in the library stopped.
A bell rang somewhere underground.
Adrian grabbed the book. "We need to leave."
A shadow raced across the ceiling.
Books flew from the shelves, opening in midair. Their pages turned violently until every book displayed the same sentence:
THE BOY HAS REMEMBERED.
A figure emerged between the shelves.
It wore Adrian's face, but its eyes were completely black.
"You weren't supposed to bring her here," it said.
Adrian stepped in front of Elara.
"Stay away from her."
The figure smiled. "You said that last time."
It lunged.
Adrian shoved Elara aside as the creature struck the table. Wood splintered. Elara snatched a brass candlestick and swung at its head.
The creature staggered.
"Run!" Adrian shouted.
They raced toward the library doors. Elara threw a handful of loose pages behind them. The pages ignited in blue flames, forcing the creature to retreat.
They burst into the corridor.
Adrian slammed the doors shut.
For several seconds, they could hear something scratching from inside.
Then silence.
Elara turned toward him.
"Tell me the truth. Who are you?"
Adrian looked exhausted.
"I don't know anymore."
He pulled a folded photograph from his coat.
It showed him standing beside Elara's father.
On the back, someone had written:
WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES THIRTEEN, THE ORIGINAL RETURNS.
A clock chimed nearby.
Once.
Twice.
The sound continued until it reached twelve.
Then came a thirteenth chime.
Adrian vanished.
On the floor lay his coat, his photograph, and a fresh message written in black ink.
DON'T TRUST THE BOY WHO COMES BACK.
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