Chapter Five - Missing

Daniel pulled Lina out into the corridor, his grip tight on her wrist. Her legs wobbled beneath her, her mind still reeling from the words gouged into the floorboards.

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “If anyone hears us screaming in the middle of the night, they’ll ask questions we don’t want to answer.”

Lina swallowed back panic. “Daniel, she’s—she’s getting stronger. She’s not just whispering anymore, she’s here.”

He glanced back into the room. The carved letters gleamed pale in the moonlight, sharp and deliberate. His jaw clenched. “I know.”

They moved quickly through the hall, every lamp flickering as they passed. Lina felt the school breathing around her, the walls too close, the silence too deep.

Finally, Daniel ducked into a small storage room and shut the door behind them. Shelves of broken chalk, old registers, and stacks of moth-eaten uniforms filled the space.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “You need to keep your head down. Julia feeds on fear. The more you give her, the stronger she gets.”

“She already knows my name,” Lina whispered. “She spoke it.”

Daniel’s face darkened. “Then she marked you.”

The words sank into her bones like ice. “Marked me for what?”

He didn’t answer.

---

The next morning, exhaustion clung to Lina like a second skin. She stumbled into the Great Hall with the others, her eyes gritty from lack of sleep. The air felt heavier than usual, every step echoing as though they walked into a tomb.

Headmistress Blackwood stood at the lectern, the chalk poised in her hand.

“Adams,” she began.

“Present.”

The roll call continued, each voice trembling slightly. Lina noticed it now—the way students sat straighter, the way some whispered their names too quickly, as though afraid to be skipped.

“Winters.”

Her throat tightened. “Present.”

The chalk scrawled her name.

“Julia Ashworth.”

The pause was unbearable.

Present.

Clearer. Louder. Almost human.

A ripple passed through the hall. Someone stifled a scream.

Blackwood’s chalk snapped in two again. This time she didn’t dismiss them immediately—she simply turned, erased the board with one violent swipe, and strode out without a word.

The students scattered quickly. No one lingered.

---

By midday, rumors buzzed like flies. In the cafeteria, Lina caught whispers.

“She sounded angry this time.”

“She’s not supposed to get louder.”

“It means someone’s next.”

Lina sat alone, pushing food around her tray. She felt the weight of stares—curious, fearful, accusing.

Then a voice snapped her attention.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Julia’s new pet.”

The tall bully—her name was Veronica—slid onto the bench across from her, her two companions flanking her like shadows.

Lina stiffened. “Leave me alone.”

“Oh, come on,” Veronica sneered. “We’re just curious. She called your name, didn’t she? Whisper in your ear?”

Lina’s blood ran cold. “How do you know that?”

Veronica’s smile widened. “Because it’s what she does. She chooses someone new every few years. She likes the outsiders. The ones no one will protect.”

The other girls giggled cruelly.

“Maybe she’ll drag you up the tower like she did before,” one said.

Veronica leaned closer. “Or maybe she’ll let you live—if you answer for her.”

The words sent a chill down Lina’s spine. But before she could retort, the overhead lights flickered.

One by one, they went out, plunging the cafeteria into darkness.

Screams erupted. Trays clattered to the floor.

In the pitch black, Lina heard it—chalk on a board. Slow. Deliberate.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

A name.

“Veronica Hale.”

The voice was everywhere, all around them.

Veronica’s laughter broke, replaced by a choked gasp. “No—no, don’t—”

“Veronica Hale.”

The second call rattled the air.

Students screamed for the lights. When they flickered back on, Veronica was gone.

Her tray lay overturned on the floor, her chair empty. The other girls shrieked, clutching at each other.

Lina’s heart slammed against her ribs. She scanned the room. No sign of Veronica. No sign of anyone who could have taken her.

But scrawled across the cafeteria wall in jagged white letters was a single word:

PRESENT.

---

The rest of the day passed in chaos. Teachers barked orders to “return to your lessons,” but the fear in their eyes betrayed them. Students whispered in every corridor, huddled in groups, glancing over their shoulders.

Veronica’s companions sat silent in class, pale and trembling. One of them burst into tears during the roll call, her voice breaking as she answered her name.

Lina couldn’t focus. She replayed it over and over—the way Julia’s voice had filled the cafeteria, the way Veronica vanished into thin air.

She found Daniel after dinner, waiting in the courtyard.

“You saw it,” he said quietly.

She nodded. “She called Veronica. And then—she was gone.”

“That’s how it happens,” Daniel said grimly. “Julia doesn’t forgive bullies. The ones who hurt her—they’re always first.”

Lina hugged her arms around herself. “So Veronica was one of them?”

“Everyone knows she was.” He looked away. “But this is only the beginning. Julia won’t stop until every name is answered.”

The fog thickened around them, curling like smoke. The bell tower loomed above, its windows dark and empty.

Lina stared up at it, her chest tight.

“Then who’s next?” she whispered.

The tower gave no answer.

But somewhere deep inside the school, the sound of chalk began again.