Marcus
Winter break disappeared faster than it should have.
One minute, I was sleeping until noon, eating my weight in cookies while Ella tried—and failed—to convince everyone she was suddenly a baking genius. The next, I was lying in bed at six-thirty in the morning, glaring at my alarm like it had personally betrayed me.
Outside my window, the world was pale and cold. A thin layer of snow covered the lawn and rooftops, making everything look deceptively peaceful. It wasn't enough snow to cancel school, of course. Just enough to make sidewalks slippery and everyone miserable.
I groaned, dragged myself out of bed, and got ready in a daze.
By the time I came downstairs, Mum already had breakfast on the table.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she said, sliding a plate of toast and eggs toward me.
I dropped into my chair dramatically. "This should be illegal. Humans aren't meant to function this early after freedom."
Ella looked up from her cereal, unimpressed. "You're so dramatic."
"Thank you," I said. "I've been practicing."
Dad snorted into his coffee. Mum rolled her eyes but smiled.
For a moment, it felt normal. Easy. Warm.
That should've comforted me.
Instead, part of me was waiting.
For what, I didn't know.
Another dream. Another voice. Another glimpse of red eyes in the dark.
But winter break had been quiet.
Too quiet.
No strange whispers in the night. No burning forests. No waking up with ash on my hands.
I should've been relieved.
Instead, it made me uneasy.
Because after everything that happened before break—the visions, the woods, that thing watching me—I'd gotten used to expecting something.
Silence felt wrong now.
Like the pause before a storm.
"You're spacing out again," Ella said, flicking a piece of toast crust at me.
I blinked.
"Huh?"
She smirked. "See? Gone. Totally gone."
"I was thinking."
"That's dangerous," she said.
Dad laughed. "She's got you there."
I narrowed my eyes at both of them. "I'm surrounded by traitors."
Mum set down another plate and kissed the top of my head. "Eat before you start a war."
I smiled despite myself and dug in.
Maybe I was overthinking.
Maybe winter break being quiet was a good thing.
Maybe life was finally settling down.
That thought stayed with me all the way to school.
Until Noah almost broke his neck in the parking lot.
He stepped out of his car, hit a patch of ice, and pinwheeled so wildly that for a second I thought he was about to achieve flight.
Instead, he somehow caught himself by grabbing the hood of his car.
"I forgot how to walk," he announced, perfectly serious.
I burst out laughing.
Riley, who had just gotten out of Marcus—my—car, tightened her scarf and gave him a deadpan look.
"Noah," she said, "you never knew how to walk."
He placed a hand over his chest. "Wow. That's cruel. First week back and you choose violence."
"Somebody has to humble you."
He squinted at her. "You're enjoying this way too much, princess."
She gave him a sweet smile. "Deeply."
That was enough to make me laugh again.
For the first time that morning, the tightness in my chest loosened.
Same school.
Same friends.
Same chaos.
Maybe that was enough.
Inside, the halls were packed with students complaining about assignments and showing off gifts they got over break. Teachers were already acting like the new year was some kind of fresh start miracle.
By lunch, everyone had fallen back into rhythm.
Noah was in full performance mode at our table, trying to convince the entire soccer team that he had grown at least two inches over break.
"I'm serious," he said, standing up straighter. "Look at me."
Dave, the tallest guy at the table, stood beside him and placed a hand several inches above Noah's head.
"Yeah," Dave said solemnly. "You definitely grew."
Laughter exploded around the table.
Riley didn't even look up from her fries. "You grew delusions."
I nearly choked on my water.
Noah pointed at her accusingly. "You know what? I'm adding emotional damage to your crimes."
"Put it on my tab."
That sent everyone into another round of laughter.
It was stupid.
Pointless.
Perfect.
And for a while, I let myself sink into it.
Classes blurred by after that. Notes, assignments, teachers pretending we cared about deadlines this early in January.
By the time school ended, Noah and I were already freezing before practice even started.
The field was half-frosted, the air sharp enough to sting every breath.
Coach Reynolds stood on the sidelines in his giant coat, clutching his travel mug like it contained the meaning of life.
"Move!" he barked. "Your muscles freeze, you're useless!"
Noah muttered under his breath, "He definitely drinks battery acid in that thing."
I snorted.
Practice was brutal in the way only winter training could be.
Running laps in freezing wind.
Passing drills until my legs burned.
Stretching until I could barely feel my fingers.
At one point, Noah tried to show off some new trick pass he'd clearly been dying to attempt.
He launched the ball with far too much confidence.
It sailed completely off course and smacked straight into Greg's water bottle, knocking it clean over.
Greg turned slowly.
Noah froze.
Then Greg just sighed and shook his head with a smile.
"You're captain," I said, grinning. "You should probably know how to aim."
Noah shot me a glare. "Shut up."
By the time practice ended, my lungs were burning and my cheeks felt numb.
We walked back toward our cars, breath fogging in front of us.
"Same time tomorrow?" Noah asked.
"Unfortunately."
He grinned. "Love your enthusiasm."
"Try not to injure yourself walking."
"No promises."
I shook my head, smiling as I climbed into my car.
The drive home was quiet.
Snow lined the streets in pale mounds under the streetlights, and for once, my mind wasn't crowded.
No dreams.
No voices.
No strange sense of being watched.
Just the hum of the engine and the cold winter sky.
When I got home, the warmth hit me instantly.
The smell of pasta drifted from the kitchen.
Ella was on the couch, wrapped in her favorite blanket like a tiny judgmental burrito.
She looked me up and down.
"You look like you fought a polar bear."
"Soccer," I said, dropping my bag. "Athletes suffer for greatness."
She snorted. "You're exhausting."
I flopped onto the couch and grabbed a corner of her blanket.
She yanked it back immediately.
"Don't."
I pulled harder.
She gasped like I'd committed a crime.
"Mum!" she yelled. "Marcus is being annoying!"
"How many times have I told you not to call me Marcus when you're tattling?" I shot back.
Mum's voice floated in from the kitchen.
"You've both been home five minutes. Behave."
We glared at each other.
Then Ella stuck her tongue out.
I laughed first.
Dinner was loud and easy.
Dad made terrible jokes.
Mum pretended she was tired of all of us, but she was smiling the whole time.
Ella somehow got sauce on her sleeve and blamed me for "bad vibes."
It was ridiculous.
And comforting.
Later that night, after homework and a few dumb memes in the group chat with Noah and Riley, I lay in bed staring at the snow-lit glow outside my window.
The house was quiet.
Peaceful.
Safe.
I let myself believe it.
For a few days, that rhythm continued.
School.
Practice.
Home.
Friends.
No strange dreams.
No supernatural glitches.
Just life.
By Friday, everyone was dragging themselves toward the weekend like survivors of some collective disaster.
The last bell finally rang, and relief rippled through the halls.
I headed to my locker to dump my books when I saw her.
Callie.
She was walking down the hall alone, her bag slung over one shoulder.
Something in me tightened.
It hit me suddenly that I hadn't really seen her much since break started.
Or maybe I just hadn't been paying enough attention.
"Hey, Callie."
I jogged to catch up.
She turned, and for a second, her face lit up the way it always did when she smiled.
But as I got closer, I noticed it.
The shadows under her eyes.
The tiredness she was trying to hide.
"Hey, Marcus," she said softly. "It's been a while."
"Yeah." I studied her. "You okay?"
She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I'm fine."
"You sure? You look tired."
"Winter break messed up my sleep schedule."
It sounded light, casual.
But something about her voice felt off.
Like she was choosing every word carefully.
"How was your break?" I asked.
"Short," she said. "But good."
She hesitated.
For just a second, her expression changed.
Not fear.
Not sadness.
Something closer to dread.
"Marcus…"
The way she said my name made me straighten.
"What?"
She looked down the hallway.
Empty.
Then back at me.
Her voice dropped.
"You need to be careful."
My heartbeat kicked once, hard.
"About what?"
She opened her mouth.
The lights above us flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then everything went dark.
The hallway plunged into blackness.
A scream echoed from somewhere down the corridor.
My breath caught.
And through the silence—
I heard it.
The slow, metallic drag of chains.
Coming closer.