Between The Living and The Lost

Maloi exhaled sharply as she ended the call, tucking her phone into her pocket before turning to face Sheena, Mikha, and Gwen, who were still lounging on the wooden bench beneath the shade of the garden’s acacia tree. The faint scent of flowers lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp afternoon breeze.

“Aiah and the others are in Sentinel’s clubroom,” Maloi announced, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “She wants us to head over there.”

Sheena stretched her arms over her head with a groan. “Finally. I was starting to feel like we were just wandering around playing detective with no real leads.”

Mikha and Gwen exchanged looks before standing up as well. As they started walking through the campus grounds, the afternoon sun cast long shadows along the pavement, painting the scene in warm gold and deep amber. The rustling of leaves accompanied by their shoes crunching softly against the gravel path, the conversation naturally drifted back to their earlier encounter.

“That was weird, right?” Gwen started, frowning slightly. “Like, really weird. It was like she was interested in what we were saying at first, but the moment she realized what we were actually asking, she panicked.”

Mikha nodded. “Yeah, and the way she kept looking around like someone was watching? That wasn’t normal. It’s like she was afraid even being seen talking to us would get her into trouble.”

Sheena snorted. “Or maybe she was just terrified of Maloi’s overwhelming charm.” She turned to Maloi with a teasing smirk. “I thought you had a way with people, huh? What happened to that silver tongue of yours?”

Maloi rolled her eyes, giving Sheena a light shove with her shoulder. “Oh, shut up. It wasn’t my fault she clammed up. Besides, my charm only works on people who aren’t scared shitless of whatever it is we’re digging into.”

Sheena let out a dramatic sigh. "No, no, it must be devastating for you. The heartbreak, the failure. Maybe you should consider early retirement from your role as San Antonio’s social butterfly."

Maloi clutched her chest with mock hurt. "How dare you? My reputation is flawless!"

"Uh-huh, sure," Sheena teased, "except when it comes to getting answers. That girl practically sprinted away from you."

Mikha, who had been quiet until now, chuckled. "She does have a point. It’s rare to see you take a lose like that, Maloi."

Maloi groaned, stumping her feet. "Oh, so now you’re all enjoying this at my expense, huh? Unbelievable."

Sheena nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! When else do we get to witness Maloi Fernandez failing miserably?"

Maloi crossed her arms and huffed. "You guys are the worst."

"We just keep you humble," Mikha said with a grin.

Gwen shook her head at their antics but quickly refocused. “Jokes aside, it makes me wonder… If someone like her, a regular student, is that scared just hearing Jhoanna’s name, what does that say about the people involved in all of this?”

That sobered the mood almost instantly. The air around them grew heavier as silence settled in. The weight of their questions, of the unknown dangers looming ahead, pressed down on their chests like an unspoken warning. Before anyone could answer—

"You know Jhoanna?"

The voice came directly behind them.

All four of them jumped in fright, Sheena letting out a yelp and immediately grabbing Maloi, using her as a human shield.

Maloi gasped. "Excuse me?! Sheena, let go of me! I am not a shield!"

Mikha and Gwen spun around first, their eyes widening as they took in the figure standing behind them. A female student, standing tall and unmoving, her dark hair neatly tucked behind her ears. She wore thin-rimmed glasses that reflected the dimming sunlight, obscuring her eyes for a moment before they sharpened into focus. There was something unsettling about her—not just in her sudden appearance, but in the way she carried herself. Still. Unreadable. Like she was assessing them just as much as they were assessing her.

Her presence sent an unnatural chill down their spines, as if she had stepped out of the very shadows that stretched across the campus. She didn’t smile. She didn’t blink. Her expression remained impassive, but her gaze was intense, as if she were peeling back their layers to see the truth underneath.

Sheena, still clutching Maloi, whispered, "Why does she look like she’s about to read our souls?"

Maloi, finally breaking free of Sheena’s grip, straightened herself and cleared her throat, trying to regain some composure. "Who are you?" she said, crossing her arms.

The girl remained silent for a moment before she adjusted her glasses slightly. "That doesn’t matter," she said flatly. "Do you know Jhoanna Ramirez or not?" Her voice was steady, but there was a weight behind it. A heaviness that made their stomachs tighten.

Something about the way she asked made them all realize the same thing at once—

Whatever they said next would matter.

Sheena, Mikha, and Gwen exchanged uncertain glances, as if trying to gauge whether they should even answer her. There was something strange about this girl—something they couldn’t quite place. She stood unnervingly still, her posture rigid yet composed, like a predator waiting for its prey to make the wrong move.

Maloi pursed her lips, assessing her, while Sheena leaned slightly closer to Gwen and muttered, "Is it just me, or does this feel like the setup to every bad decision in a horror movie?"

Gwen, ignoring her, exhaled sharply and turned to Mikha, whose fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. Mikha hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper when she finally said, "We do."

The moment the words left her mouth, the girl’s gaze darkened—not in surprise, but in something closer to certainty, as if she had expected that answer all along.  Without another word, she turned sharply on her heel. "Follow me"

None of them moved. Instead, they stood frozen, their eyes trailing after her as she walked away with slow, measured steps, each one eerily calculated.

"So, we’re just going to follow a mysterious girl who won’t even tell us her name?" Maloi deadpanned.

"Oh, absolutely not," Sheena scoffed. "She could be leading us to some sketchy basement where they harvest organs."

Mikha sighed. "That’s ridiculous."

"Is it, though?" Sheena countered, raising an eyebrow. "How many times have we ignored warnings? And now, poof, some random girl just appears out of nowhere? Feels like a trap to me."

"She could be connected to the people who warned us to stop digging!" Maloi added, throwing up her hands. "Maybe she’s the final warning before we mysteriously disappear!"

"Maybe she’s part of some secret society, and this is the initiation where we have to prove our worth," Sheena whispered dramatically.

"Or," Maloi gasped mockingly, "she’s actually a ghost, leading us straight into the afterlife."

"Or maybe," Gwen interrupted, exasperated, "she’s just someone who knows something, and we’re wasting time being idiots."

"Are you coming or not?"

Before they could argue further, the girl’s voice cut through the air, sharper this time, and much closer than expected. 

They all jumped, turning to see her standing just a few feet away. None of them had even noticed her double back. She hadn’t made a single sound as she returned, her expression now edged with something colder, more impatient.

"Can you not do that?" Maloi blurted, pressing a hand against her chest. "We almost died right there."

"You almost died from your own paranoia," Gwen muttered.

"This is how people in psychological thrillers die," Sheena hissed under her breath.

"Be quick," the girl said in a low, firm voice, eyes narrowing slightly. "And follow me."

Her voice sent a chill crawling up their spines. There was something in the way she spoke—not quite a warning, but not a request either. Like she knew something they didn’t. Like she had already seen the path they were walking, and she was the only one left to guide them through it.

Their hesitation warred with curiosity. Finally, Maloi exhaled through her nose. "Fine, but if anything happens, I’m blaming Gwen and Mikha."

"Excuse me?" Gwen scoffed.

Sheena sighed, dramatically shaking her head. "Yeah, if we die, it’s on you guys."

"We’re not going to die!" Mikha hissed.

"That’s exactly what people say before they die," Sheena shot back.

"Oh my god, I swear—" Gwen started, only for Maloi to interrupt.

"Whatever, let’s just go before she appears behind us again. I can’t handle another jumpscare."

Despite their bickering, the four of them eventually fell into step, trailing after the girl, the air around them growing heavier with each step they took. And for the first time since this started, none of them dared to look back.

---------------

At the same time……

Aiah inhaled deeply, forcing herself to push aside the weight of Geo’s warning. “We should start looking,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Stacey and Colet exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. The three of them rose from their seats, their movements slightly hesitant, as if shaking off the lingering unease. The weight of the unknown pressed against them, but curiosity—and the stubborn refusal to let things remain buried—urged them forward.

Their steps were slow as they approached the door at the end of the clubroom. It loomed in front of them, an unassuming wooden frame, but something about it sent a shiver up Aiah’s spine. She hesitated, hand hovering over the handle. The air felt heavier here, as if the secrets of the past still lingered just beyond this threshold.

With a small exhale, she grasped the handle and turned it. The door creaked as it opened, the sound cutting through the silence, making all three of them flinch. The hinges groaned in protest, as if the door itself was reluctant to reveal what lay behind it.

The room was dark, save for the slivers of light filtering in from the clubroom. A musty scent filled the air, thick with dust and aged paper. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, packed tightly with old newspapers, bound journals, and stacks of forgotten student publications. Some were neatly arranged, their spines still legible despite the passing years, while others were haphazardly piled, yellowed pages spilling from their bindings like abandoned memories.

A single desk sat in the center of the room, its surface cluttered with old typewriters, scattered notes, and ink-stained papers. A few chairs were pushed against the walls, their wooden frames worn from time. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling, and the faint scent of ink and decay clung to the air.

Aiah swallowed hard. “Well…” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Looks like we have a lot of work to do.”

Stacey huffed, rubbing her arms as if shaking off a chill. “I feel like we just stepped into a haunted archive.”

Aiah didn’t respond. She had the same unsettling feeling creeping up her spine.

They stepped inside, the floorboards creaking beneath their weight. Whatever was hidden in these archives, whatever Jhoanna had uncovered before she vanished, was waiting for them here.

After a few moments, the room was already filled with the soft rustling of paper and the occasional creak of old wooden shelves. Aiah, Stacey, and Colet had fallen into a steady rhythm, sifting through stacks of forgotten articles, their fingers coated in a fine layer of dust. There was an unspoken urgency in the way they worked—quick movements, focused gazes, the weight of their discoveries pressing down on them like an invisible force.

Then—

“OH SHIT!”

Stacey’s sudden scream shattered the silence like a thunderclap.

Aiah’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest as Colet, acting purely on instinct, let out a yelp and hurled the book she was holding straight at Stacey’s face. With a solid thump, it struck her forehead before bouncing to the floor.

“WHAT THE HELL, COLET?!” Stacey clutched her forehead, glaring daggers at her friend.

“WHAT THE HELL, ARE YOU DOING?!” Colet shot back, breathing heavily. “Why did you scream like that?!”

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU THREW A BOOK AT ME?!” Stacey countered, still holding her forehead. “WHO FUCKING DOES THAT?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Colet snapped sarcastically. “I guess my natural reaction to loud, blood-curdling screams is to launch a self-defense book at the source!”

“You could’ve at least thrown a smaller book, fucking psychopath!” Stacey groaned, still rubbing the sore spot on her forehead. “That thing was a hardcover!”

“Yeah, well, consider it payback for nearly giving me a heart attack,” Colet muttered, crossing her arms.

“Okay, first of all,” Stacey huffed, “your heart is still working just fine, considering the amount of yelling you’re doing. Second of all, throwing a book at someone is a CRIME, Colet. You assaulted me!”

“Tell that to my lawyer,” Colet shot back. “Oh wait, we don’t have lawyers. Because we’re broke college students digging into things we shouldn’t.”

“I swear, the next time you throw something at me, I’ll—”

“ENOUGH.” Aiah exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples. “Both of you, shut up before I throw something at both of you.”

Colet was still fuming, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, while Stacey grumbled under her breath, muttering something about some stupid IT nerds.

Aiah inhaled deeply before fixing Stacey with a hard stare. “Now, are you gonna explain why you nearly scared the life out of us?”

Stacey blinked, as if just remembering what had caused the outburst in the first place. Without another word, she bent down, snatched up the article she had been reading, and shoved it toward them.

“I found something,” she said, her voice tinged with both excitement and unease.

Colet grabbed the paper and read the title aloud. “Power and Influence: An Unseen Network in the University.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really, that’s what made you scream?”

Still mad, Stacey scowled and smacked Colet on the head. “Read the article, idiot!”

Grumbling, Colet rubbed the spot Stacey had hit, but as she read further, her frown deepened. Aiah leaned in, her eyes narrowing at the words forming on the aged paper.

The article detailed the existence of a covert group operating within the University of San Antonio—an elite circle that supposedly held power over everything from academic decisions to student disciplinary actions. It spoke of untraceable funding, mysteriously dropped cases, and the inexplicable rise and fall of certain students. Professors turning a blind eye, faculty shifting their loyalties, and promising students inexplicably vanishing from the university records.

The more they read, the heavier the atmosphere became. There were implications of forced disappearances, students being silenced for knowing too much, and a deeply rooted influence that ensured those in power remained untouchable.

Colet’s voice turned hushed. “This is insane. It’s like something out of a conspiracy theories.”

Stacey, despite still rubbing her forehead, nodded. “And the worst part? The writer of this article knew too much.”

Aiah’s fingers traced the bottom edge of the page absentmindedly—until she felt the rough, jagged tear.

She stiffened. “Wait… where’s the rest of it?”

That’s when they noticed it.

The bottom half of the article—the part that should have contained the real details—was missing. No, not missing.

Ripped.

The jagged edges of the page looked violently torn, as if someone had wanted to make sure no one ever read the rest of it.

A heavy silence settled over them, each of them realizing the same thing at once.

Whoever wrote this…

Whoever tried to expose this secret…

Someone had made sure they never got the chance to finish.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Colet muttered, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Stacey added dryly. “Really puts me at ease.”

Aiah clenched her jaw, gripping the fragile paper between her fingers. “If someone went through all the trouble to rip this out, then we’re on the right track.”

Stacey side-eyed her. “Right track? Aiah, someone clearly didn’t want this information getting out. That’s not exactly screaming ‘safe’ to me.”

Colet nodded. “Yeah, for once, I agree with Stacey. We should think this through before we—”

Aiah cut her off, determination flashing in her eyes. “We’re already in this deep. We can’t stop now.”

Colet groaned. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

Stacey sighed, rubbing her temples. “Great. Another sleepless night of investigating secret societies. Love that for us.”

---------

On the other side…..

The air in the hallway felt different the longer they followed the girl. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting elongated shadows along the walls, stretching their figures as they walked in uneasy silence. The corridor was eerily empty, the usual distant chatter of students absent, leaving only the sound of their footsteps echoing off the polished floors. The walls were lined with aged bulletin boards covered in outdated flyers, their edges curling, some pinned-up papers fluttering slightly as they passed. The entire stretch of the hallway felt forgotten, untouched—like a place left behind by time itself.

Maloi groaned under her breath, dragging her feet slightly. “I swear, if this leads to some creepy basement, I’m turning around.”

“Oh yeah, because we totally have a choice now,” Sheena muttered, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “This feels like one of those dumb initiation rites before they sacrifice us to some secret cult.”

Mikha let out a slow breath. “You guys are being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Mikha, we’re following a mysterious girl who refuses to tell us who she is, down a hallway that looks straight out of a horror movie. Forgive me for being concerned about, I don’t know, getting murdered?!” Sheena hissed.

Maloi clapped her hands together. “Oh! Maybe we’re walking straight into a brainwashing session. We go in, and next thing you know, we’re chanting in Latin and wearing matching robes.”

Sheena nodded gravely. “I refuse to wear a robe. The last thing I need is to be in some cursed yearbook photo of a cult that doesn’t exist.”

Gwen sighed, rubbing her temples. “You two need to stop watching conspiracy documentaries before bed.”

Maloi huffed, but before she could fire back, the girl leading them suddenly stopped.

“We’re here.”

Her voice was as sharp and quiet as a knife against glass, cutting through the air and making them jump—again.

“Seriously, you need to stop doing that!” Maloi blurted, pressing a hand over her chest. “We are going to die from heart failure before anything else at this rate.”

The girl said nothing. She simply turned to the door beside her and, without hesitation, pushed it open.

It was only then that the four realized where they were standing. Right outside a classroom.

The door was slightly different from the others in the hallway—older, heavier, with a small foggy window at the top, smudged with fingerprints. The wood was scratched in places, as if someone had tried to force it open once before. The faded plaque above the door was barely legible, the name of the room worn down to near obscurity. The metal handle looked rusted from years of use, its paint chipped away in spots, revealing the cold steel beneath.

Maloi took a cautious step back. “Yeah, no. This is where I draw the line.”

Sheena followed suit. “Finally, something we agree on. Let’s just pretend we never saw this door.”

Mikha rolled her eyes before grabbing Maloi’s wrist. Gwen doing the same to Sheena. Before either of them could protest, they were pulled forward, their heels sliding against the tile floor.

“Come on,” Gwen muttered. “We’ve already come this far.”

As they stepped into the room, the air felt strangely heavy, like stepping into a space forgotten by time. The wooden floor creaked beneath their hesitant footsteps, the sound swallowed by the eerie stillness. Dust hung thick in the air, catching the dim light that filtered in through the streaked and dirtied window panes. The walls, once a pristine shade of white, were now faded and stained with age, the corners lined with cobwebs that trembled ever so slightly with the draft.

Desks and chairs, pushed haphazardly against the walls, bore deep scratches and marks, evidence of long-forgotten students who once occupied them. The blackboard at the front of the room was smeared with remnants of old chalk, faint outlines of past lessons still barely visible, as though the ghosts of lectures past refused to be erased entirely. Everything about the room spoke of abandonment, of something left behind and untouched for years.

Their attention snapped back to the girl, who had already taken a seat in one of the chairs, her posture eerily composed. She regarded them with an unwavering gaze before gesturing toward the empty chairs in front of her. "Sit."

Maloi and Sheena exchanged wide-eyed glances, their fear palpable. Without hesitation, they both latched onto Gwen and Mikha, clinging tightly as though their friends would somehow shield them from whatever eerie presence surrounded them.

"Oh my god, stop clinging!" Gwen grumbled, trying to shake Sheena off.

Mikha groaned as Maloi practically leaned her full weight against her. "You're heavy, Maloi! Get off!"

"No! I refuse! I am NOT sitting in front of her first!" Maloi hissed, tightening her grip on Mikha’s arm.

"Right? Look at her! She looks like she knows all our deepest sins!" Sheena whispered dramatically.

"Sheena, Maloi, I swear, if you don’t let go, I’ll personally leave you both here and lock the door on my way out," Gwen snapped, glaring at them.

"Oh, so now you're okay with abandoning your friends in a haunted classroom? Wow, Gwen. The betrayal," Sheena shot back, still clinging onto her.

Mikha groaned, prying Maloi off. "We’re sitting. Now."

Despite their complaints, Maloi and Sheena refused to let go, eyes darting around the room as if expecting something to lunge at them from the shadows. When they turned back, they realized the girl was still watching them, her dark eyes sharp and unwavering. Her patience was unnerving.

Feeling thoroughly chastised under her silent scrutiny, the two troublemakers quickly straightened and timidly, shuffled toward the chairs. Awkwardly, they sat down, their movements stiff and reluctant. Maloi and Sheena dragged their chairs closer to Gwen and Mikha, so close their knees almost touched.

A silence settled over the room as they found themselves merely staring at each other. The girl remained impassive, her expression unreadable.

None of them spoke. None of them moved. The only sound was the faint whisper of the wind slipping through the cracked window, rustling the dust in lazy spirals.

And so, they waited.

But the silence continued to stretched unbearably between them, thick and suffocating like a dense fog settling over the abandoned classroom. Gwen, shifting uneasily in her chair, clenched her fists on her lap, forcing herself to breathe steadily. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she glanced at her friends, all equally tense. With a hesitant gulp, she finally mustered up the courage to speak.

"Why did you bring us here?" Her voice, though steady, held the slightest tremor.

The girl, still and quiet, studied them with an intensity that sent chills down their spines. Her dark eyes flickered from one face to the next, as if weighing their worth, judging whether or not they were even deserving of an answer. The seconds dragged on, the silence pressing down harder with each passing moment. The dim light from the cracked window cast long shadows across her face, making her appear even more unreadable. Then, at last, she spoke.

"Because they have ears and eyes everywhere. They’ll know everything."

A cold shiver ran down their spines.

Mikha swallowed hard, her voice catching in her throat. "W-What do you mean? Who are ‘they’?"

The girl didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let her words hang in the air, their weight settling heavily over them like an unshakable presence. The four friends exchanged uncertain glances, their unease deepening with each passing second.

Then she asked, "Do you really know Jhoanna?"

The question lingered in the air like an accusation, like a test they weren’t sure they were prepared for.

Mikha, despite her fear, nodded, though her voice betrayed her unease. "Y-Yeah… we do."

Maloi, recovering slightly from the suffocating atmosphere, narrowed her eyes at the girl. "Who are you, anyway?"

At that, the girl’s gaze dropped to the floor. The room felt colder, the weight of her silence stretching unbearably long. The distant sound of wind rattling the windowpane made the old classroom feel even more desolate, as if the walls themselves were straining to listen.

Then, just as they were beginning to wonder if she would answer at all, she lifted her head again, her sharp, haunting gaze locking onto theirs. Their breath hitched in their throats.

"I'm Celeste Navarro. Jhoanna’s co-journalist at Sentinels."

A stunned silence followed. The four of them sat frozen, their minds struggling to process what they had just heard. Their breaths felt too loud in the quiet room, the weight of her words pressing heavily upon them.

Maloi shifted uncomfortably. "Wait… You're saying you worked with Jhoanna? As in, you knew her personally?" Her voice was laced with disbelief, but there was also something else—fear.

Celeste simply nodded, her expression unreadable. The confirmation sent another wave of unease through them.

They exchanged uneasy glances, a thousand questions swimming in their heads, yet none of them dared to speak. Their fear and confusion were mirrored in each other’s eyes, Gwen, pressing her palms against her knees, swallowed the unease settling in her stomach before speaking, her voice barely above whisper.

"Do you… do you know what happened to Jhoanna?"

Celeste’s expression darkened, hesitation flickering in her eyes. She gripped the edges of her chair, her knuckles whitening, as if she were bracing herself against a tide of unwanted memories. For a long moment, she said nothing, her lips parting only to close again as if debating how much to reveal.

Then, finally, in a voice laced with fear, she murmured, "She stumbled upon something she shouldn’t have."

The words sent a shiver down their spines.

Sheena, her voice wavering from the tension gripping her chest, pressed further. "What is it?" Her eyes darted toward Celeste, searching her face for answers, but all she found was dread. "Why does everyone seem so afraid to talk?"

Celeste clenched her jaw, her fingers trembling slightly against her lap. She exhaled sharply, as if the words themselves were dangerous.

"Because it’s someone powerful, influential in ways you can’t even imagine," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. "Someone untouchable."

The sheer weight of those words made the hairs on the back of their necks rise. The room, once just a relic of the past, now felt like a trap. The realization that Jhoanna had unearthed something—someone—that terrified people into silence made their blood run cold. Mikha's fingers instinctively curled against her jeans, her heart pounding harder. Maloi felt a shiver creep up her spine, her mind racing with every worst-case scenario possible. Gwen, trying to keep her composure, forced herself to meet Celeste's eyes.

"Who are they?" Gwen pressed, though her voice was barely above a whisper.

Celeste shook her head. "You don’t get it. They control everything. Every single thing in this university is under their thumb. Faculty, administration, student government. Even the security. If they want something erased, it disappears. If they want someone gone..." She let her words hang, letting them fill the silence with unspoken horrors.

Sheena, who had been nervously gripping Maloi's arm, tensed. "You're saying they—"

"I'm saying Jhoanna dug too deep, and she paid the price," Celeste cut in sharply, her eyes flashing with something between frustration and fear. "She thought she was being careful, but the moment she got too close, they made sure she would remain silent."

The four of them exchanged nervous glances, the weight of Celeste's words settling heavily in their stomachs. Maloi's mouth felt dry. She licked her lips before forcing herself to ask, "So... why tell us all this now? Why bring us here?"

Celeste took a slow breath, her fingers tightening into fists on the desk. "Listen, I went here to warn you. I’ve heard rumors. Your group—The Veil—you’ve been asking questions, snooping around about Jhoanna’s case. That’s dangerous." Her gaze hardened, sharp and serious. "I’m telling you to stop. You don’t know who you’re going against, and if you don’t want to suffer the same fate as Jhoanna—" she hesitated, as if even saying the words was too much, "—then you need to stop. Before it’s too late."

A cold chill ran through them. The words lingered in the air like an unshakable curse. Mikha felt her hands tremble slightly, quickly hiding them under the desk. Maloi clenched her jaw, forcing down the fear threatening to creep in. Gwen's heartbeat pounded in her ears, and Sheena felt a nauseating unease settle in her stomach.

"You keep saying that," Maloi finally muttered, her voice unusually serious. "That we should stop before it's too late. But what does 'too late' even mean? Are we going to just disappear too?"

Celeste didn’t answer immediately. Her expression remained unreadable, but the slight tremor in her breath was enough of an answer. "I’m saying that Jhoanna thought she had time too. And now she’s gone. If you keep pushing, one day, someone’s going to make sure you disappear too."

The silence that followed was suffocating. None of them could find the right words to say, their minds scrambling to make sense of it all.

Gwen's fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. "So that's it? You're just telling us to drop everything? Just walk away?"

Celeste's gaze softened for the first time. "I’m telling you that if you value your lives, you’ll stop now." Her voice, despite the steel behind it, carried a flicker of something else—regret.

Sheena swallowed hard, finally daring to voice the thought clawing at the back of her mind. "And if we don’t?"

Celeste sighed, shaking her head. "Then you’ll find out exactly why Jhoanna Ramirez is nothing but a ghost in this university."

A cold silence stretched between them, thick with dread.

Maloi, who was usually quick with a witty remark, found her throat dry, her usual bravado slipping away. Sheena, gripping the sleeve of Gwen’s shirt, looked ready to bolt. Mikha’s breath was shallow, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk between them.

The truth was clear. Whatever Jhoanna had discovered—whatever had cost her everything—was bigger, darker, and more terrifying than they had imagined. And now, they were standing dangerously close to that same abyss.

Celeste, still seated, glanced down at her phone. The sharp glow of the screen illuminated her face, highlighting the exhaustion in her eyes. A barely audible sigh left her lips before she suddenly stood up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor jolting them slightly.

“I need to go,” she muttered, slipping her phone into her pocket. She turned toward the door, her movements quick and precise, as if staying any longer would put her in danger.

They all looked at her, still frozen in place, absorbing the weight of her words. Maloi’s fingers dug into the sleeves of her jacket, her usual confident smirk nowhere in sight. Gwen’s hands were clenched into fists on her lap, her knuckles turning white. Mikha’s lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Sheena, gripping the edge of her chair, was the only one who still looked Celeste in the eye, though even she seemed shaken.

Just as Celeste reached for the doorknob, she hesitated. With her back still turned to them, she spoke again. “Remember what I said.” Her voice was lower this time, almost as if she feared even the walls might be listening. “Stop before it’s too late.”

Then, without another word, she pulled the door open and stepped out, leaving behind a suffocating void, the door clicking shut behind her.

For a few seconds, no one moved. It was as if an invisible force had pinned them to their seats, the air was thick with unspoken fears, the shadows in the corners suddenly feeling darker. It was as if Celeste had taken all the oxygen with her, leaving behind a suffocating sense of dread.

Gwen sat with her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor, her fingers threading through her hair as if trying to physically hold her thoughts together. Mikha had her arms crossed tightly, her foot bouncing anxiously against the dusty floor. Maloi sat stiff as a statue, gripping the edge of her chair like it was the only thing grounding her. Sheena, who had initially had her head down, suddenly lifted it, her eyes darting around the room in search of something—anything—to distract her from the suffocating weight of Celeste’s words.

Her breath hitched, heart skipping as her gaze locked onto something just at the edge of her vision. Something that hadn’t been there before. Slowly, cautiously, she turned her head toward the chair Celeste had occupied just moments ago. Her stomach twisted.

That’s when she saw it.

An envelope.

It sat there, pale and unmarked, in stark contrast to the dusty wooden seat. The air in the room felt heavier, colder. A lump formed in Sheena’s throat, and she quickly grabbed Maloi’s arm, squeezing it hard enough to make Maloi yelp.

“What the hell, Sheena?” Maloi hissed, rubbing her now sore arm.

“Look,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath.

“What?” Maloi turned, her brows furrowing—until she followed Sheena’s trembling finger.

She stiffened instantly. “Oh, hell no.”

Gwen and Mikha, noticing their reactions, glanced over as well. A tense silence settled over them as they all stared at the envelope like it might move on its own.

Maloi leaned away, shaking her head. “That wasn’t there before. Nope. Nope. We are not touching that.”

“Yeah, what if it’s cursed?” Sheena added, instinctively clutching Gwen’s sleeve. “Like one of those things where if you open it, you get haunted forever?”

Gwen groaned, rolling her eyes. “It’s just a damn envelope, for God’s sake!.”

“I don’t know, Gwen,” Mikha muttered, rubbing her arms as a chill ran down her spine. “It’s just weird that Celeste didn’t mention it. She just left it there.”

“Maybe she wanted us to find it?” Gwen suggested, though even she sounded unsure.

“Or maybe it was a test,” Maloi countered. “Maybe if we open it, we’re officially screwed.”

Sheena nodded furiously. “Right! What if it’s like…a list of names of people who dug too deep? And—plot twist—they’re all missing!”

Mikha shivered. “Could you not?”

“Or,” Maloi continued dramatically, “it’s a death note.”

Sheena gasped. “A what?!”

“You know,” Maloi said, eyes widening for effect. “Like, if we read what’s inside, our names will just mysteriously get added, and—poof!—we disappear.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Gwen stood up abruptly, causing the other three to flinch. “I’m done with you two. I’m opening it.”

“No, no, no!” Sheena and Maloi whined in unison, gripping Mikha as if she could somehow protect them.

Ignoring them, Gwen strode forward, snatched the envelope off the chair, and examined it. It was old—yellowed at the edges, the corners slightly crumpled as if it had been handled too many times before. But there was no writing, no markings, nothing to indicate what might be inside.

Mikha, despite her nerves, stepped beside her, peering over her shoulder. “Anything on it?”

Gwen shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just…plain.”

Sheena, still hiding behind Mikha, whimpered. “Well? Are you gonna open it?”

Gwen sighed, tucking her fingers under the edge of the envelope’s flap. “I’m about to—”

A sudden ping from Maloi’s phone shattered the silence.

“AH—” Maloi nearly dropping to the floor in terror. The others all jumped, their nerves still raw.

“For fuck’s sake, Maloi!” Sheena shouted, her hand clutching her chest. “One of these days, I swear I’m going to have a heart attack because of you!”

Maloi fumbled with her phone, her hands shaking slightly. “Don’t yell at me! I didn’t do anything!”

Mikha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just check it before I have a heart attack.”

Maloi fumbled to unlock her phone, still rattled, and saw Aiah’s name pop up on the screen.

Aiah: Where the hell are you guys? What’s taking you so long?

She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s Aiah. She’s asking why we’re taking so long.”

The four of them exhaled simultaneously, the eerie tension momentarily breaking.

Gwen sighed dramatically. “Well, looks like we have no choice but to bring this envelope with us.”

“Or we could just leave it here,” Sheena suggested hopefully.

Mikha shot her a look. “You really think we could just forget about this?”

Sheena hesitated. “...No.”

Gwen huffed, tucking the envelope securely under her arm. “Then let’s go before Aiah sends a search party for us.”

Still exchanging uneasy glances, the four of them gathered their nerves and headed toward the door, the weight of the envelope pressing heavy against them. Whatever was inside, they had a feeling it would change everything.

----------

The atmosphere inside Sentinel’s clubroom was thick with concentration as Aiah, Stacey, and Colet go over the old articles they have gathered. The soft rustling of pages and occasional murmurs filled the space, each of them lost in their search for anything useful.

Then, a sudden knock at the door shattered the silence.

Aiah glanced up, stretching her arms before rising to her feet. "That must be Maloi and the others," she muttered, rolling her shoulders as she strode towards the door. As she reached for the handle, she was already speaking, her voice carrying a mix of impatience and teasing. "What the hell took you guys so long? We’ve been—"

Her words caught in her throat the moment she saw Maloi’s face.

Aiah stiffened, eyes locking onto Maloi’s expression—an unsettling mix of exhaustion, unease, fear  and something else, something unreadable. The usual sharpness in Maloi’s gaze was gone, her face unnaturally pale, her lips pressed into a tight, grim line. Behind her, Gwen, Sheena, and Mikha stood just as eerily drained, their expressions mirroring the same quiet distress. Their shoulders were tense, their postures slouched as if like something unseen clung to them, weighing them down.

Before Aiah could ask what happened, Maloi silently pushed past her, brushing her shoulder slightly in the process. No playful remark, no snarky greeting—just a quiet but firm step into the clubroom. The others followed suit, moving like shadows, slow and heavy, as if they had just returned from a battlefield they weren’t prepared for.

Colet and Stacey, who had stopped flipping through the articles, watched in stunned silence as their four friends all dropped into the empty chairs at the table, not a single word escaping their lips. No sarcastic comments, not even exaggerated sigh, nothing. Just silence—thick, suffocating, and unnatural.

Aiah swallowed, suddenly aware of how eerily still the room had become. Even the air felt heavier, the usual comfortable hum of quiet work now replaced with a cold, unsettling tension. She hesitated, then slowly reached for the door and shut it. The soft click echoed unnaturally loud in the silence.

Turning back to the table, she exchanged uneasy glances with Colet and Stacey.

Colet faked a small cough, breaking the silence, leaning back in her chair with an exaggerated stretch before tilting her head towards the four. "Alright, I’m just gonna ask—what the hell happened to you guys?" She scanned their faces, raising an eyebrow. "You all look like your souls just packed up and left your bodies."

But instead of an answer, the four of them only sighed heavily in unison. No quick-witted remarks. No complaints. Just a tired, weighted exhale as if they had been carrying something too heavy to put into words.

Gwen finally broke the silence, rubbing her temples before speaking. "We’ll tell you everything, but first…" She glanced at Aiah, Stacey, and Colet, her voice laced with fatigue. "You tell us what you found. Because whatever it is, it might help us make sense of everything. And we’ve got a lot to say."

A tense beat passed as Aiah, Colet, and Stacey exchanged uneasy glances. They had assumed that whatever had happened to the others was bad, but now it seemed like it might have been worse than they had thought.

Aiah hesitated before finally speaking, choosing her words carefully. "Alright… We talked to Geo Martinez, the Chief Editor of the Sentinel." She took a deep breath, the weight of their discovery settling in her chest again. "He confirmed it. Jhoanna Ramirez was real. She was a campus journalist, and not just any journalist—she was one of the best. Too smart for her own good, according to Geo. She started digging into scandals, small things at first, but then she found something she was never meant to."

"Geo said he tried to warn her. But she wouldn’t stop.” Stacey interjected.

"And then she disappeared," Aiah continued, voice quieter now. "No trace, no reports, nothing. It’s like she never even existed."

Sheena swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the table. "But why? How is that even possible?"

Aiah exhaled sharply, recalling Geo’s voice, the fear laced in it as he told them the truth. "Because the people who made her disappear made sure that she stayed forgotten."

"Forgotten?" Mikha repeated, voice barely above a whisper. "Like erased?"

Sheena clenched her jaw, shifting in her seat. "So, she found something and they—whoever 'they' are—just decided to erase her? That’s insane. How powerful do you have to be to wipe someone’s existence like that?"

“I don’t know” Aiah sighed. “But they made sure that, no one will talk about her. No one will acknowledge she existed.”

Silence gripped the room like a vice. The weight of the words pressed down on them, suffocating, oppressive.

 Colet, usually the first to crack a joke or roll her eyes at dramatics, merely shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Stacey ran a hand through her hair, looking at the others as if hoping for an explanation that made more sense than the one, they had just heard.

After a heavy pause, Colet exhaled and spoke. "So, after that, we searched through old records, hoping to find something—anything—that Jhoanna might have written before she disappeared. And fortunately, we did. We found some of her articles. But the more we read, the more we realized… it only confirmed our theories."

Mikha stiffened at the ominous statement and asked in a quiet voice, "Did you find out who? Who’s behind all of this?"

A visible shiver ran down Stacey’s spine before she answered, her voice slightly trembling.

"No. Because someone made sure we wouldn’t."

She reached down and carefully picked up the damaged article they had found earlier, holding it up for everyone to see. The paper was old, yellowed at the edges, but what made their blood run cold was how the last portion had been torn off, right where the crucial details should have been.

The sight of the ripped article sent a chill down all their spines. That wasn’t just censorship. That was a message.

Another suffocating silence settled over them, heavier than before.

It was Maloi who finally broke it, exhaling sharply before leaning forward, resting her arms on the table as if trying to gather the strength to speak.

"Alright, our turn," she muttered, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "We tried talking to one of my seniors, someone who might’ve been around when Jhoanna was still here. We thought maybe she would slip, you know? Give us something useful."

Stacey frowned. "And?"

Maloi let out a humorless chuckle. "And she didn’t want to talk. I mean, not in a ‘I don’t know anything’ way. More like… ‘I know something but if I open my mouth, I’m next.’ It was eerie. She had this look in her eyes, like we were asking her to sign her own death certificate."

Mikha nodded solemnly. "We were sure she knew something—she actually walked away the moment we mentioned Jhoanna’s name. Wouldn’t even look at us after that."

Colet’s brows furrowed. "Okay, that’s unsettling, but that still doesn’t explain why you four came in here looking like you just saw a ghost."

At that, Maloi visibly stiffened, and Sheena let out a nervous laugh, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "Well… about that. We kind of did."

Gwen rubbed her temples before taking over. "We were talking, trying to make sense of why she was acting so scared, when suddenly, someone spoke up behind us."

"Scared the life out of us," Sheena muttered, rubbing her arms as if to chase away the lingering chill. "I swear I lost a few years off my lifespan."

"We turned around, and there she was," Maloi continued, her voice lower now, as if even speaking about the encounter made her uneasy. "A girl. Glasses, serious face, looking at us like she already knew what we were after. She asked us if we knew Jhoanna. Just like that. No preamble, no hesitation."

Aiah stiffened. "Who is she?"

Maloi’s lips pressed into a thin line before she answered, "Celeste Navarro."

Silence fell over the group once more. The name meant nothing to Aiah, Colet, or Stacey—but the way the four of them reacted, the way their expressions tightened, told them it was a name that carried weight.

"And she is?" Stacey prompted.

Mikha swallowed hard before answering. "She said she’s Jhoanna’s co-journalist. She worked with her in Sentinel."

Colet let out a low whistle. "Shit."

"Yeah. That was our reaction too," Gwen murmured. "She warned us that we needed to stop. That we were digging into something we had no business uncovering. And then she said something else—something that still makes my skin crawl."

Aiah’s hands curled into fists on her lap. "What did she say?"

Maloi’s gaze darkened. "That they have ears and eyes everywhere. That whoever we’re looking into, they know everything. And if we don’t stop, we’ll end up like Jhoanna."

A collective shiver ran through the group. The room suddenly felt colder, heavier, as if unseen eyes were indeed watching them at that very moment.

Then, Gwen exhaled slowly and leaned forward, placing a plain, unmarked envelope in the center of the table. "That’s not all," she said, her voice low.

Aiah, Colet, and Stacey immediately straightened, their eyes flicking to the envelope with apprehension.

"What’s this?" Colet asked, narrowing her eyes as if the paper itself could lunge at them.

"Where did this come from?" Stacey added, glancing between the four of them.

Aiah, not waiting for an answer, reached out and grabbed it, turning it over in her hands. The paper felt slightly rough, aged in a way that suggested it had been sitting somewhere for a long time. No name, no markings. Just an ordinary envelope hiding something that felt anything but ordinary.

Mikha shifted uncomfortably. "We don’t know," she admitted, rubbing her arms as if warding off a chill. "After Celeste left, it was just... there. Right where she had been sitting."

"What do you mean it was just there?" Colet asked skeptically, folding her arms. "Are you saying she left it on purpose or—"

"No," Maloi interrupted. "I mean, maybe? We didn’t see her put it there. One second the chair was empty, and the next, Sheena was freaking out because it was just sitting there."

"Yeah, and for the record, I was completely justified in freaking out!" Sheena interjected. "We were already on edge, and suddenly, boom, mysterious envelope appearing out of nowhere? No thanks!"

Stacey groaned, rubbing her temples. "So let me get this straight. Celeste warns you guys to stop digging, basically tells you you’re all walking targets, and then just conveniently leaves behind a mysterious envelope for you to find?"

"Pretty much," Gwen confirmed grimly.

Aiah tapped her fingers against the envelope, staring at it as if waiting for it to reveal its secrets on its own. A part of her wanted to rip it open right there, to find out if this was another warning—or a clue. But another part of her hesitated. Every step they had taken so far had only led them deeper into the unknown, and this? This felt like another step they might not be able to take back.

She exhaled sharply. "Well… we’re not going to figure out anything just staring at it." Her voice was firm, but there was a slight tremor beneath it. "Should we open it?"

The question hung in the air, thick with tension, as they all exchanged uneasy glances.

Aiah, not wasting anymore time, took a deep breath, steadying her hands as she slid her finger under the flap of the envelope, tearing it open with careful precision. The others leaned in closer, their breaths held in anticipation. As she pulled out the contents, they all stared at what was revealed—a neatly folded letter and a separate, smaller piece of paper.

Aiah placed both on the table, but it was the smaller paper that caught their attention first. In the very center, written in plain, unembellished print, was a set of numbers:

                   41.40338

                    2.17403

A heavy silence followed as everyone examined it, exchanging glances filled with confusion and unease.

"What the hell is this?" Gwen muttered, tilting her head as if looking at the numbers from a different angle would somehow make them clearer.

"Maybe it’s a bank account number," Mikha offered. "You know, some offshore thing where rich criminals stash their money."

"Or a Wi-Fi password to some shady underground network," Sheena added, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Maloi scoffed. "Oh yeah, because someone really went through all the effort of leaving us a mystery envelope just so we could get free internet. Genius."

Sheena gasped. "Wait! What if it’s a radio frequency? Like, we have to tune in at exactly the right time and we’ll hear some creepy voice giving us the answers."

Mikha shuddered. "Or it could be a vault code. Like, somewhere in this school, there’s a hidden safe full of classified information."

Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose. "You guys do realize this could just be someone’s locker combination, right?"

Mikha snorted. "Oh, totally. We’re over here thinking we’re cracking some secret conspiracy, and really, we just found the janitor’s spare locker key."

Sheena shuddered. "Or worse… a hit list."

Maloi scoffed. "Oh, yeah, Sheena, because that makes perfect sense. Someone just left us an assassin’s hit list in the form of decimal degrees."

"I don’t know!" Sheena exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "You don’t either! What if it’s some kind of secret cipher?"

Maloi leaned back, crossing her arms. "Or, it could be a reservation number for some super-exclusive restaurant. Maybe whoever’s behind all this just wants us to have a nice meal before we mysteriously disappear."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure. ‘Congratulations, you’ve won an all-expenses-paid trip to your doom!’ Sounds legit."

"No, no, no," Sheena said, shaking her head dramatically. "It’s obviously a phone number. We should call it and see if some distorted voice answers with ‘You shouldn’t have come this far.’"

Mikha grimaced. "Please don’t suggest things that will actually give me nightmares."

Stacey sighed, rubbing her temples. "Can we focus, please? If these numbers mean something, we need to figure out what."

Aiah nodded, running her fingers over the paper as if searching for some hidden meaning. "We should check it online later. But let’s not ignore the letter either. If these numbers mean something, maybe the letter will tell us what."

For a moment, no one spoke, their gazes shifting between the paper and the still-unopened letter resting ominously beside it. The air in the room grew heavier, thick with the weight of the unknown. Whatever this was, whatever Celeste had left them—whether it was a warning, a clue, or something far worse—they were already in too deep to ignore it now.

Taking another steadying breath, Aiah reached for the folded letter. "Here we go."

She unfolded the letter with cautious hands, her pulse quickening as the others leaned in, watching with bated breath. The paper felt slightly worn, as if Celeste had hesitated many times before finally committing her message to ink. As Aiah’s eyes scanned the words, Gwen, who had been peering over her shoulder, suddenly pointed at the bottom of the page.

“It’s from Celeste,” Gwen murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into deeper silence as Aiah cleared her throat and began to read aloud:

I couldn’t say anything earlier. They’re watching. They’re listening. If I had spoken a word in that moment, they would have known. And if they knew… I'm probably gone by the time you're reading this.

A shiver ran through them as Aiah paused, glancing around the table. Maloi shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her face tight with apprehension. Stacey rubbed at her arms as if trying to shake off the cold that settled in the pit of her stomach.

Jhoanna wasn’t just investigating another scandal.
She was digging into something bigger, something horrific.

“She was what?” Sheena blurted out, only to be immediately shushed.

Aiah continued reading, her voice tense.

She had found proof of a hidden society within the university—an elite group, a network of people that controls everything from the highest administrative offices to the professors, the staff, and even the students. Nothing happens here without their knowledge. Every rule, every decision, every punishment—it all leads back to them. No one defies them without consequences. And Jhoanna was about to expose them.

A lump formed in Mikha’s throat. She gripped the edge of the table tightly, her nails pressing into the wood.

She was going to publish it. Not just in the campus papers, she was preparing to take this outside the University walls. She had gathered enough evidence to destroy them, to finally bring light to what has been hidden in the shadows for years. She was ready to publish the truth for the entire country to see. The night she vanished, was the same night she was going to release it.

The room seemed to shrink around them as dread settled in.

“She disappeared that same night?” Colet whispered, horrified.

Aiah swallowed hard and kept reading.

They claim she disappeared in the library. The police reports say she went in and never came out. But I don’t believe them. I can’t. The authorities in this city—just like this university—are under their control. No one questions them. No one stands against them. No one gets in their way and walks away unscathed.

Maloi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “That’s why there were no records of her.”

Aiah pressed her lips together before continuing.

If you truly care about finding out what happened to Jhoanna

If you want to live, do not trust anyone inside this university.
Not the staff. Not the professors. Not the authorities. No one.

Stacey’s grip tightened on her sleeves, her face drained of color.

They will silence you if they think you know too much.

The weight of Celeste’s words settled over them like a suffocating fog.

And if you still want answers, the numbers will tell you more. But be careful.

If you go too far, you won’t come back.

Aiah slowly lowered the letter onto the table, her fingers trembling slightly. The group sat in stunned silence, their minds struggling to process everything.

“She knew this whole time,” Gwen finally said, voice hollow.

“She tried to warn us,” Mikha added.

“She’s terrified,” Colet whispered. “And she has every reason to be.”

Another silence stretched between them, heavier than before.

The tension rising in the room, swelling, until it snapped.

“We need to stop.” Stacey’s voice was firm, her hands clenched into fists on the table. “This isn’t some urban legend or a stupid university mystery. This is real. This is dangerous. Celeste practically spelled it out for us—if we keep digging, we’re next.”

“Stacey’s right,” Sheena added hastily, her fingers gripping the edge of her sleeves like they were the only thing keeping her together. “Did you not hear what she said? These people control everything—the university, the staff, the police. If they made Jhoanna disappear without a trace, what makes you think they can’t do the same to us? We should just forget this ever happened.”

“Forget?” Colet scoffed, disbelief and anger flickering across her face. “How the hell do you expect us to forget something like this? We’re already knee-deep in this mess. What if Celeste risked her life to warn us? What if she’s already marked because she tried to help us?”

“So what?” Maloi snapped, frustration boiling over. “You wanna play hero? Walk right into the library and demand answers? Knock on doors and ask people who could make us disappear with a snap of their fingers?” She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “We don’t even know who we’re dealing with!”

“Exactly.” Aiah’s voice cut through the argument, her eyes blazing with something beyond fear—determination. “That’s why we have to keep going.”

Mikha shifted in her seat, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to shield her body from the weight of their conversation. “I—” She hesitated, looking to Gwen, who sat motionless, her hands clasped tightly together. “I don’t want to stop either, but… what if we’re making a mistake? What if we push too far and—”

“And we disappear too?” Gwen finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words echoed like a ghost in the room, lingering, seeping into their skin like ice.

Aiah exhaled sharply, her patience wearing thin. “Don’t you get it? If it happened to Jhoanna, how do we know it hasn’t happened to others? How many more names have already been erased, buried under our noses because no one dared to uncover them? Can you really look away, pretend you don’t know, and go back to your normal life knowing something like this is happening?” Her voice cracked, her chest rising and falling heavily as she let the question hang in the air.

No one answered. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, filled with the weight of their fear, their hesitation, and the undeniable truth pressing against them.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was their breathing, fast and uneven, their pulses pounding like war drums in their ears.

Then, in a small, unsteady voice, Mikha finally spoke.

“…What do we do now?”

Aiah took a deep breath, steadying herself as she looked around the room. The weight of their fear was suffocating, pressing down on each of them like a vice, but she refused to let it break them. Not now. Not when they were this close to something bigger than themselves.

“I know you’re scared,” Aiah began, her voice softer now, but no less resolute. “I am too. I won’t pretend that I’m not. But we can’t stop—not now.”

She stood up, glancing at each of them, willing them to hear her, to believe her. “Think about why we even started this in the first place. The Veil was never about staying in the shadows, about turning a blind eye when things got tough. We seek the truth, no matter where it leads. That’s who we are. That’s what we do.”

Her words hung in the air, sinking into their minds, into their hearts. Gwen looked down, her fingers twitching slightly, while Mikha pressed her lips together, eyes darting between the letter and the numbers on the table. Maloi and Sheena still wore uneasy expressions, but they were listening. That was all Aiah needed.

“I won’t lie to you and say this won’t be dangerous. It will be. But we have each other. We always have. And as long as we stick together, as long as we’re careful, we’ll make sure nothing happens to any of us.” Her eyes locked onto each of them, her words a quiet promise. “No one gets left behind.”

A hush fell over the room, the suffocating fear loosening just slightly, replaced by something steadier—determination.

Sheena exhaled shakily. “You’re really pulling the whole ‘we’re in this together’ speech, huh?”

Aiah smirked, crossing her arms. “If it works, then yeah.”

Maloi groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope.”

Silence stretched between them again, but it felt different now. Less like drowning, more like taking a deep breath before diving in.

Mikha glanced up at the group, still hesitant but no longer paralyzed by fear. “…Okay,” she murmured, nodding. “We keep going.”

Gwen sighed but managed a weak smile. “Yeah. Together.”

Stacey groaned dramatically. “I swear, if we die because of this—”

“We won’t,” Aiah cut in, firm and certain. “Because we won’t let it happen.”

And just like that, the choice was made.

---------

The atmosphere had noticeably lightened as they all gathered around the table, staring at the numbers left behind by Celeste. It was still unnerving, but at least for now, the dread that had settled earlier was replaced with intrigue.

"Alright, let's crack this code," Maloi declared, tapping her fingers against the table. "Maybe it’s a secret password? Like some underground club thing?"

Sheena snorted. "Or maybe it’s an encrypted message, and if we figure out the pattern, it’ll reveal a name." She waggled her eyebrows. "Like some spy movie stuff."

Gwen shook her head. "That doesn’t make sense. Numbers don’t turn into words like that."

"What if," Stacey chimed in, leaning forward, "it’s a bank account number? Maybe Jhoanna left some kind of emergency fund before she disappeared."

"Or!" Maloi clapped her hands together. "Coordinates to buried treasure!"

"Oh please," Sheena scoffed, rolling her eyes. "This isn’t a pirate movie."

"What if it's a secret formula for some underground potion-making business?" Maloi added dramatically. "Or the number of days we have left to live?"

Sheena gasped. "What if it's a hit list?!"

"Or a code to unlock some hidden vault?" Stacey suggested, eyes wide with pretend excitement. "Maybe Jhoanna was actually a spy!"

"Or an ancient curse?" Mikha added with mock seriousness. "What if we say the numbers out loud three times and something happens?"

"Okay, now you’re just scaring yourselves," Gwen groaned, rubbing her temples. "Can we be rational for two seconds?"

"Fine, fine," Maloi waved a hand. "But if we all die mysteriously in the next few days, I’m going to say 'I told you so' from the afterlife."

The group was now in a chaotic back-and-forth, voices overlapping as they tried to one-up each other's ridiculous theories.

And then—

BAM!

Colet suddenly slammed her laptop shut and dropped it onto the table, making all of them jump in their seats.

"It’s a house," she declared, eyes gleaming with realization.

"DAMN IT!" Sheena clutched her chest dramatically. "I swear, I’m going to get heart problems at this rate!"

"No one’s allowed to drink coffee anymore," Gwen muttered, pressing a hand over her racing heart.

"You guys are so jumpy," Colet huffed, unfazed by the chaos.

"Because we’ve been startled, like, ten times today!" Maloi groaned. "At this point, I’ll have permanent stress wrinkles."

Aiah, ignoring their complaints, leaned in and asked, "What do you mean, a house?"

Colet took a deep breath, pushing her laptop towards them. "At first, I thought it was a phone number, so I tried tracing it—nothing. Then I thought it was a date, maybe something related to Jhoanna, but again, no matches. The more I stared at it, the more those random periods in the number confused me… until I realized."

She tapped the screen. "It’s a GPS coordinates."

A hush fell over the group as they absorbed her words.

"So… where does it lead?" Mikha asked, hesitance creeping into her voice.

Colet clicked a key and turned the screen so they could all see the map. "A house. In a subdivision, about two hours away."

They all stared at the image on the screen, a seemingly ordinary house tucked between others, yet something about it sent a chill down their spines.

Maloi squinted at the screen, her brows furrowing. "Wait… why does that look familiar?"

Sheena turned to her, skeptical. "Of course you’d know a random house two hours away."

Maloi snapped her fingers. "No, seriously! That’s in a subdivision just two villages away from my parents house! I’ve passed by it before when I was visiting a friend of mine. It always looked kind of… weird. Like no one’s lived there for ages."

"Great, so now we’re going to an abandoned haunted house," Stacey muttered.

"Nah, not haunted," Maloi said. "Just… off. Like, even during the day, it feels wrong. I always got a weird vibe passing by."

"Okay, stop." Sheena waved her hands. "Can we all agree that every single thing about this case is getting creepier by the second?"

"No kidding," Mikha mumbled.

"Well," Aiah said, crossing her arms, "it’s the only lead we have."

A heavy silence settled again.

"So," Maloi said slowly, "who’s up for a road trip?"

Sheena groaned. "Oh my god. This is really how horror movies start."

"Nah, horror movies start with people splitting up," Gwen corrected. "We’ll be fine."

"Says the person who was literally shaking earlier," Stacey pointed out.

"I was processing!" Gwen shot back, crossing her arms. "It’s called emotional depth."

Aiah sighed, rubbing her temples. "Can we focus? Colet, is there anything else we should know?"

Colet hesitated, her fingers hovering over the trackpad. "Not much, just that… the house looks abandoned. No records of anyone living there for years."

That sent another wave of unease through them.

"Great," Mikha muttered. "So we’re going to a creepy abandoned house with no idea what we’ll find. Perfect. Just perfect."

Aiah looked around the room, meeting each of their gazes. "We don’t have to do this. But if we go, we go together. No turning back halfway."

There was a long pause.

Then, one by one, they nodded.

"Saturday," Aiah finally said. "We’ll go on Saturday."

"And until then?" Stacey asked.

"We prepare," Aiah said firmly. "For whatever we’re about to walk into."

---------

Aiah walked briskly down the dimly lit sidewalk, her thoughts an endless loop of everything they had uncovered. The night air wrapped around her like a cold warning, but it did nothing to quiet the chaos in her mind. She replayed Colet’s words, the coordinates, Celeste’s warning—it sat heavily in her chest, her words replaying over and over like a broken record. Jhoanna was working on exposing them. Jhoanna disappeared the night she was supposed to publish her article. The university was under their control. No one could be trusted.

Aiah’s stomach twisted. The further they dug, the more terrifying the truth became. And yet, they still knew so little. The realization made her feel helpless, like they were blindly feeling their way through a maze with no way of knowing if they were getting closer to the exit—or just further into a trap.

What if Jhoanna wasn’t the first? What if there had been others before her—people who tried to uncover the same secret, only to be erased? What if they were next?

The thought sent a wave of nausea through her, but beneath the fear, something stronger flickered. Anger. Frustration. Jhoanna had tried to expose something bigger than all of them, something powerful enough to erase her completely. But why? What exactly had she found that made her such a threat? If they stopped now, Jhoanna’s disappearance would remain just another mystery swept under the rug. And if they kept going, would the same thing happen to them?

Her steps slowed. The shadows around her stretched long and eerie under the streetlights. She exhaled shakily, trying to ground herself, but the questions kept pounding in her skull. How did Jhoanna disappear without a trace? What had she found? What had she seen before she was taken?

And then the thought came, soft at first, like a whisper at the back of her mind.

What if she could ask Jhoanna herself?

Aiah froze mid-step.

The idea shouldn’t have made sense, but in the twisted depths of her desperation, it did. She had seen Jhoanna. Not in old photos, not in secondhand descriptions—but standing there, watching. Her presence was unmistakable.

She had seen her. She had spoken to her.

Jhoanna had been right there in the library, staring at her with empty, unknowing eyes. She hadn’t remembered who she was. She hadn’t remembered anything at all. A presence, a whisper of what once was, trapped in a place she could not leave. She had stood there between the shelves, lost in the liminal space between the living and the forgotten.

Aiah’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening. It was ridiculous, irrational—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Jhoanna was waiting. That the answers she needed were there, buried in the silence of the campus library. The police had said Jhoanna entered but never left. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe she never left in a way they could understand.

She thought back to the last time she had seen her. The dim glow of the library, the quiet press of the air, the unmistakable figure standing between the rows of bookshelves, watching her. Jhoanna’s eyes—filled with something unreadable, something that lingered long after she had disappeared.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned sharply on her heel and started running. Her dorm, her exhaustion—none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting there.

The campus loomed ahead, dark and quiet. The library stood tall against the night sky, its grand windows reflecting the dim glow of streetlights. Aiah barely registered the burning in her lungs as she reached the doors, her hands trembling slightly as she grabbed the handle.

Unbeknownst to her, hidden in the shadows beyond the streetlights, someone was watching. A figure stood motionless at a distance, barely distinguishable from the darkness around them, their gaze fixed on her every move. Their presence was silent, invisible—just another shadow in the night.

And then, just as silently as they had been watching, they turned and faded into the night.

---------

The library was steeped in silence, the kind that pressed in from all sides, thick and absolute. The grand hall stretched before Aiah, bathed in the dim glow of overhead lamps. Towering shelves loomed over her, their spines worn and dust-ridden, whispering the weight of forgotten knowledge. The scent of aged paper and wood polish clung to the air, heavy and unmoving. In the distance, the faint hum of an old fluorescent light buzzed, the only sign of life in the vast, empty space.

Aiah stepped forward, her sneakers barely making a sound against the smooth wodden floor. A chill slithered up her spine, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the knowledge of what she was about to do. She knew this place too well—every aisle, every study nook, every dark corner where students whispered conspiracies and crammed for exams. But tonight, the library felt different, like a living thing holding its breath, waiting.

She moved past the rows of bookshelves, heading straight for the spot where she had last seen her.

“Jhoanna?” she whispered, her voice barely breaking the hush.

She walked further, her eyes scanning the dim corridors of books. The deeper she ventured, the more suffocating the silence became. The air felt colder here, heavier.

“Jhoanna,” she called again, her voice barely above a murmur. It felt strange, speaking into the emptiness, hoping for something—someone—to answer.

Nothing.

Her fingers curled into fists, frustration gnawing at her nerves. Was she imagining it all? Was she losing her mind?

She turned another corner, running her hand along the spines of old books, her whisper urgent now. “Jhoanna… please.”

And then—

A breath against her ear.

“Looking for me?”

Aiah’s body jerked, a startled gasp ripping from her throat. She whipped around so fast she nearly stumbled.

And there she was.

Jhoanna’s ghost leaned lazily against the bookshelf, arms crossed, her expression a mixture of amusement and intrigue. The dim light cast a soft glow on her face, making the translucent edges of her form shimmer. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, untouched by the still air, and her lips curled into a smirk.

Her eyes held a mischievous glint, but beneath the teasing exterior, there was something else—something unreadable.

Aiah’s heart pounded, the weight of the moment pressing into her lungs. She had come looking for answers, but now, standing before the ghost of a girl who had been erased from existence, she realized she didn’t even know what to ask first.

She stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat as Jhoanna leaned casually against the bookshelf, arms crossed, watching her with an amused smirk. The dim glow of the library lights barely reached where Jhoanna stood, casting her in an ethereal half-shadow, making her look even more unreal—except Aiah knew, with absolute certainty, that she was real. Or at least, as real as a ghost could be.

Jhoanna tilted her head, her smirk widening. "You know," she mused, her voice smooth and teasing, "last time you were here, you refused to believe I was real. Kept questioning your sanity, kept convincing yourself I was some trick of the light or a stress-induced hallucination." She stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "And now look at you—wandering through the bookshelves, whispering my name like a lost puppy."

Aiah's face immediately heated up, and she clenched her fists at her sides. "That is not what I was doing," she protested, though the words lacked their usual conviction. The fact that Jhoanna had caught her doing exactly that only made her flustered state worse.

Jhoanna chuckled, the sound low and undeniably amused. "Oh? So, you just happened to be roaming the library at night, calling out for me, huh?” She took a step forward, her ghostly presence somehow exuding warmth despite the chill that prickled at Aiah’s skin. “Sounds like someone missed me.”

“What? No! I—I just—” Aiah sputtered, but Jhoanna’s teasing expression only grew more entertained. The warmth in her cheeks spread, her heartbeat loud in her ears. "I was just hoping you could—"

Jhoanna hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger to her chin. “I mean, it’s okay to admit it. I get it. I’m charming, unforgettable. If I were you, I’d miss me too.”

Aiah swallowed hard, trying to steel herself. "I—" she hesitated, then scowled at the way Jhoanna was obviously enjoying this. "I was looking for answers. Not you."

"Oh, Aiah," Jhoanna interrupted, stepping even closer now, close enough that if she were alive, Aiah would feel the warmth of her breath against her skin. "You don’t have to be shy about it. It’s cute, really."

Aiah groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I hate you."

“Aw, and yet you came all this way for me. That’s kind of romantic, don’t you think?” Jhoanna said, her voice dripping with amusement. She leaned in slightly, whispering, “Aren’t you even a little happy to see me?”

Aiah peeked between her fingers to glare at her, but Jhoanna only winked before leaning back against the shelf again, as if completely at ease. "Alright, alright. I’ll stop torturing you. For now."

Aiah dropped her hands, exhaling sharply. "You’re insufferable."

"And you’re adorable when you’re flustered."

Aiah turned on her heel, pressing her temples as she tried to regain her composure. Jhoanna’s laughter followed her, wrapping around her like a ghostly echo, light yet lingering.

She inhaled deeply, trying to remind herself why she was here. Right. Answers. She had come for answers. Not to be relentlessly teased by a very smug, very mischievous ghost.

She turned back around, meeting Jhoanna’s gaze with renewed determination. "Alright. Enough messing around. I need to ask you something."

Jhoanna raised an eyebrow, her smirk dimming just slightly. "Oh? Serious now, are we?" She sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. Ask away."

Aiah squared her shoulders, pushing away the lingering warmth of her earlier embarrassment. "Don’t you really remember anything about your life? how you died? Anything at all?" she asked, watching the ghost shift against the bookshelf, arms crossed in a lazy, confident stance.

Jhoanna tilted her head, her lips curving into a slow, amused smile. “Nope,” she said, popping the last syllable with an air of nonchalance. “But it’s fun watching you get all serious about it. Why? Did you find out something interesting about me? Or are you hoping I’ll suddenly have some grand revelation?" Her voice dripped with mockery, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Aiah exhaled through her nose, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. “I found out your name.”

Something flickered in Jhoanna’s expression, the teasing glint in her eyes dimming for the briefest second before she tilted her head. "Oh? Do tell."

Aiah hesitated before saying, "Jhoanna Ramirez."

Silence. For the first time since Aiah had met her, Jhoanna didn’t have a witty comeback. She stood still, unnervingly still, as if the name itself had pressed a pause button on her very existence. But then, just as quickly, she grinned, a sharp, almost mocking smile. She folded her arms, tilting her head as if weighing the information.

"Well, that’s good to know," she said, voice light, too light.

Aiah blinked. "That’s it?"

Jhoanna shrugged.

Aiah’s stomach twisted. How could she be so—so nonchalant? "You were a campus journalist," she continued, voice edged with frustration. "You disappeared here, in this library. No one found you. No one even remembers you."

"What else do you want me to say? ‘Oh no, tragic! I was a student, now I’m dead! spooky!’ he said in a sing-song voice, wiggling her fingers mockingly before her smirk sharpened. “But guess what? I’m a ghost, Aiah. It doesn’t matter."

Aiah felt something hot and frustrated rise in her chest. “It doesn’t matter?” she echoed, voice tight with disbelief. “You disappeared without a trace. No one even found your body. People don’t even remember you existed, Jhoanna! Doesn’t that bother you? Don’t you want to know why you’re still here? Why you’re haunting this place?"

Jhoanna didn’t answer right away. For a moment, she just stood there, unnervingly still, her expression unreadable. It was as if Aiah’s question had reached something buried deep within her, something even she wasn’t sure how to confront. The air between them thickened, dense with an unspoken tension that sent a shiver down Aiah’s spine.

Then, without warning, Jhoanna moved.

Aiah’s breath hitched as she watched the ghost step toward her, slow and deliberate. Her feet felt rooted to the ground, heart pounding against her ribs, and before she could think, her body instinctively moved backward. Step by step, she retreated, her back hitting the cold, unyielding surface of a bookshelf.

Jhoanna didn’t stop.

She kept closing the distance between them, her presence ghostly yet suffocatingly real. Aiah could see the faint shimmer of her form, but what sent her pulse into a wild frenzy was Jhoanna’s eyes. Locked onto her own, dark and endless, they bore into her like they were searching for something beneath her skin.

The more she stares at it, the more she realized, it’s mesmerizing.

Up close, Aiah could see every delicate sharpness of Jhoanna’s features, the sharp cheekbones softened by the curve of her lips, the gentle slope of her nose, the way her long lashes cast shadows against the hollows of her cheeks. Her eyes, a deep, endless dark, held something unreadable yet consuming. They flickered with something almost teasing, almost… dangerous.

She’s ethereal.

The thought came unbidden, slipping through Aiah’s mind before she could stop it, before she could shove it aside as something ridiculous. But it lingered, refusing to disappear.

Aiah’s heart slammed against her ribs. She told herself it was fear.

Jhoanna tilted her head slightly, her lips curling—not into a smirk, but something quieter, something unreadable. Something dangerous. Her breath—if ghosts even breathed—was close enough that Aiah could almost feel it against her skin. There was something intoxicating about it, a pull that made her dizzy, like she was being drawn into something she wasn’t prepared for.

“Jhoanna—” she started, but her voice betrayed her, coming out barely above a whisper.

Jhoanna leaned in even closer, her lips mere inches away, her presence pressing into Aiah’s senses like a cold flame.

“I don’t care.”

The words were soft, but they landed like a knife against Aiah’s chest. Jhoanna’s voice, usually laced with teasing mischief, now held something heavier, something final.

Aiah barely had time to react before Jhoanna tilted her head slightly, her lips just a breath away from Aiah’s ear, her voice almost too gentle for the cruelty of her words.

“I’m already dead.”

Then, just as suddenly as she had approached, she was gone.

The weight of her presence disappeared like smoke in the air, leaving behind only the ghost of her words lingering in Aiah’s mind. She gasped, her hands gripping the edges of the bookshelf behind her as she tried to steady herself. Her legs felt weak beneath her, her pulse still racing like a drum in her ears. The ghost of Jhoanna’s presence still lingered, like an imprint pressed against her skin.

She barely had time to catch her breath when—

“Excuse me?”

Aiah nearly jumped out of her skin, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. She spun around to see a student standing awkwardly a few feet away, clutching a book to their chest. Their brows were furrowed, their gaze darting between Aiah and the empty space where Jhoanna had been just seconds ago.

Heat flooded her face. She probably looked insane.

“Uh—sorry,” she muttered, brushing past the student before they could ask any questions.

As she hurried toward the exit, her thoughts spiraled.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest, but the worst part was—she knew it wasn’t just because of fear.

It wasn’t fear that made her breath catch when Jhoanna got too close.

It wasn’t fear that made her notice the way the ghost’s lips curled when she teased her.

It wasn’t fear that made her want to hear her voice again, even after she vanished.

Aiah shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to get distracted. But no matter how much she tried to dismiss it, a strange feeling curled in her chest—a quiet, persistent whisper she didn’t yet understand.

One thought refused to leave her mind, looping over and over, as stubborn as Jhoanna herself.

She's beautiful.