The wind that swept through Blackmoor's courtyard carried more than the rustle of dying leaves. It carried tension—whispers that crawled up spines and dug their claws into every student's heart. Hope felt it before she stepped outside. Something had shifted in the very air around them.
"I don't like this quiet," Raphael muttered as he walked beside her. His sharp werewolf senses twitched. "It's like the calm before a bloodstorm."
Stephen, striding ahead with his coat dramatically billowing behind him, turned around and wiggled his eyebrows. "Ooh, so poetic. Someone's been reading my vampire diary."
Daemon, as usual, didn't even crack a smile. "Focus."
Hope smirked a little but kept her eyes on the hallway leading to the West Wing. The shadows stretched too far here, as if trying to touch them, as if pulling something with it. Celeste had been unusually quiet, trailing behind her sister and Daemon. Her face was pale, drawn—not from fear but from something she hadn't yet shared.
Ever since Richard disappeared, Celeste had been off. Hope noticed it, so had Jessa. But whenever either of them asked, Celeste just shook her head and looked away.
Stephen's voice cut through the tense quiet again. "So, who votes we turn around and pretend this is all a dream and I'm back in bed with silk sheets and blood wine?"
"Shut up," Daemon said.
"You know," Raphael said, "you could just say 'No.'"
"I did," Daemon growled. "I said it with my soul."
They reached the room—once a storage hall for old artifacts—that now looked… disturbed. The wards surrounding it shimmered with broken sigils. Hope reached out her hand, and the faint flicker of magic sparked against her palm.
"Someone's been here," she whispered. "Recently."
Raphael moved ahead and sniffed the air. "There's a scent I don't recognize. Not quite vampire. Not quite witch. And definitely not human."
Celeste spoke for the first time. "I know who it is."
Everyone turned sharply to her.
"I—I didn't say anything because I didn't know if I could trust myself. He came to me… in a dream. Or maybe it was real. I don't know anymore." Her voice cracked. "He wanted me to turn against the school. Said this place would crumble soon. That Richard was the reason everything was falling apart."
Daemon stepped forward. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I didn't know if I believed him," Celeste said, swallowing hard. "He… he made sense. And for a while, I thought maybe… just maybe, he was right."
Hope stared at her, heart pounding. "Do you remember who he was?"
Celeste nodded slowly. "Trent."
Jessa gasped. "But we were watching him!"
"No," Hope said, eyes narrowing. "We were watching a decoy. Trent knew we'd be suspicious."
Stephen put a hand over his heart dramatically. "Well, chalk one up for 'Evil Student of the Month.'"
But it wasn't funny anymore. A pulse of magic shot from the broken door ahead and the group instantly braced. Hope summoned a barrier of golden fire as Daemon lunged forward with his blade. Stephen moved faster than anyone had seen before, already at the side, preparing to strike whatever emerged.
From the doorway, the echo of chanting whispered into the hallway.
Then… silence.
The wall exploded inward. Debris flew. Magic crackled and howled.
Hope was flung back but landed on her feet, breathing hard. The barrier had taken most of the impact. Raphael had shielded Jessa. Daemon stood protectively in front of Celeste. But Stephen…
"Where's Stephen?" Hope shouted.
"Here!" his voice came from above as he dangled from a chandelier. "Why is it always me who ends up airborne?!"
Then—he dropped with perfect vampire grace, landing in front of her. "I really need a raise."
A dark figure stepped through the smoke. Not Trent. Not yet. This was something else.
"You're not supposed to be here," the figure said. His voice echoed like two souls speaking at once.
"Neither are you," Daemon snapped.
The figure lifted its hand, and a spell shot toward them—but London appeared at the last second, intercepting it with a glowing gold shield he didn't even know he could cast.
Hope blinked.
London stared at his own hand. "I… did that?"
The spell faded from his shield.
The figure paused, watching London. And then it smiled.
"Ah… there you are."
Before any of them could move, the figure vanished in a black blur.
"Did… did that guy just vanish like a cheap magic trick?" Stephen said, blinking.
"No," Daemon murmured. "That wasn't magic. That was something else."
Hope turned to London. "Are you okay?"
London just kept staring at his hand. "I think… I'm starting to remember something."
And deep in the shadows behind them, a whisper rose.
"The Hollowing begins…"