Chapter Four — The Second Day

  Nyra almost convinced herself it would be a normal day.

  Not good. Just normal.

  The kind of day where the halls were loud, the teachers predictable, and her head stayed firmly attached to the present instead of drifting somewhere it didn’t belong.

  She stuck close to her friends between classes. Kevin complained about a quiz. Lina argued about lunch plans. Seris walked a step behind them, half-listening, half-watching the flow of students like he always did.

  It helped.

  Normal conversations had weight. They anchored her.

  By the time they reached their next class, the tightness in her chest had eased enough that she could breathe without thinking about it.

  She took her seat near the middle, Kevin dropping into the desk beside her.

  “You look better than yesterday,” he said quietly.

  “Low bar,” Nyra replied.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He smiled anyway, then hesitated. “Did you sleep?”

  She paused, fingers tightening briefly around her pen. “I dreamed.”

  Kevin didn’t joke this time. “Bad?”

  “No,” she said after a moment. “Just… different.”

  He glanced at her. “Different how?”

  Nyra shook her head. “There was a face. I don’t remember it clearly. Just that it felt important.”

  Kevin studied her for a second, then nodded. “If it comes back, tell me.”

  “I will,” she said—though she wasn’t sure she would.

  The room filled slowly. Chairs scraped. Papers shuffled. Someone laughed too loud near the back.

  The door opened.

  Nyra didn’t look at first.

  She felt it instead—the subtle shift in the air, like pressure before a storm. Not heavy. Just… wrong.

  Someone moved past the front row.

  The teacher barely glanced up. “Find a seat.”

  No announcement. No explanation. Just another student on the second day of school, late enough not to matter.

  Nyra looked up then.

  And froze.

  The girl wasn’t doing anything unusual. She carried herself calmly, eyes scanning the room with measured focus. She chose an empty desk near the window and sat, setting her bag down with careful precision.

  Normal.

  Too normal.

  Nyra’s pulse thudded in her ears.

  A headache bloomed—not sharp, not sudden, but deep. Pressure spread behind her eyes, inescapable. Her fingers curled against the edge of her desk.

  Don’t panic.

  The girl shifted, adjusting in her seat.

  Their eyes met.

  The pain detonated.

  Nyra gasped as the classroom tilted, heat flashing behind her eyes—stone, ash, a voice she almost understood—

  “Nyra?”

  Kevin’s voice sounded far away.

  She tried to stand.

  The floor vanished.

  Hands caught her shoulders—steady, immediate—stopping her from hitting the ground. Someone knelt in front of her, close enough that she caught the scent of clean fabric and something unfamiliar beneath it.

  “Hey—hey,” a voice said. Low. Urgent. “I’ve got you.”

  Her vision flickered.

  The girl.

  Up close, her face struck all at once—the same sharp familiarity, the same impossible pull.

  That’s it.

  That’s the face from the dream.

  The realization hit just as darkness surged in.

  The last thing she felt was being lowered carefully to the floor, voices overlapping around her—

  and the girl’s hand still holding on,

  like she was afraid to let go.