The gates of Ivory Crest University towered like the iron jaws of a fortress. For most students, it was the beginning of a dream. For Eli Kingston, it was a punishment dressed in privilege.The black Lexus car came to a stop just at the campus entrance. Its windows were tinted enough to block out the world, not that Eli needed shielding. He didn’t care who saw him. The silence in the car lasted for forty minutes. Not awkward. Just… deliberate.His father stared straight ahead from the passenger seat, hands folded in his lap like a politician waiting for a photo shoot.“You don’t talk much anymore,” Eli said flatly, not bothering to look at him, his father exhaled, lips pressed into a line. “There’s nothing left to say. You’re here. Make it count.”“Touching.” The door clicked open. The chauffeur Marcus, a man who had known Eli since he was six gave him a small nod and opened the trunk.Eli stepped out into the crisp September air. Overhead, clouds clung to the sky like ash. The campus

Eli didn’t sleep much that night.He lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady hum of the radiator and Zayn’s occasional snores. His mind wouldn’t settle. Not with those words echoing in his head:You’re being watched.The fall doesn’t happen all at once.And then the girl’s voice, too sharp to forget:"You’re definitely being hunted."He hadn’t even gotten her name.But her face was burned into his memory, the directness of her eyes, the silver crescent moon around her neck, the calm way she’d looked at him like she already knew how the story ended.He didn’t like being watched. He didn’t like not knowing.At 5:12 a.m., Eli rolled out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and went for a walk. The campus was eerily still at that hour, all long shadows and whispering wind. He didn’t see any figures in grey. No more notes.But the silence wasn’t peaceful. It was expectant, like the university itself was holding its breath.By the time the first sunbeam touched the chapel roof

There was no rest after the call.Eli lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as his father's final words repeated over and over in his head. “If you want to make it through the year… forget what you heard", as if it were that easy.The warning wasn’t just cold it was calculated. A threat disguised as advice. Eli knew that tone. He had grown up with it. His father didn’t bluff.Whatever happened in 1996, it was real. And it was dangerous.And now Eli was part of it.By morning, he had a plan.The university archives were housed in the Old Founder’s Wing — a stone labyrinth beneath Crest Hall that most students avoided. It was where they stored old admission records, disciplinary logs, and historical ledgers, dusty files. Forgotten truths,exactly where Eli needed to be.The wing was technically off-limits without faculty clearance, but Eli had learned long ago that rules meant nothing if you looked like you belonged. He wore a pressed blazer, carried a black folder, and walked like he

The matchbook sat on the desk, the flame long extinguished, but its message still burning in Eli’s mind.The Chapel Below. Midnight. Come Alone.The words weren’t a request. They were a summons.He knew it was a trap. Knew they were waiting.And yet, when midnight came, he was already walking the path back to Crest Hall.The campus was silent.Not the kind of silence that comes with sleep — but the kind that feels like the air is holding its breath. Windows were dark. Doors locked. Even the ever-present hum of the bell tower was gone.Eli passed the old quad, hands in his coat pockets, Lena’s flash drive buried deep inside.He walked the narrow stone path to the chapel entrance, beneath the stained-glass saints with eyes like knives. The doors groaned open.Inside, the pews were empty.The altar glowed faintly in moonlight that filtered through shattered panes overhead.And at the far end, the pulpit had been pushed aside, revealing a descending staircase Eli had never seen before.No

The photograph trembled in Eli’s hand.Marcus Holloway stood beside Daniel Kingston—young, clean-cut, both in ceremonial robes.Smiling.Friends. Allies. Initiates.Before betrayal.Before blood.Before the Watchers.Lena said nothing, her eyes scanning the room. But her breath caught as she saw the symbol carved into the stone floor: the same thorned circle with a serpent that appeared in the chapel below.“You said your father tried to summon something,” she murmured. “What if he didn’t just try?”Eli looked at her. “What if he succeeded?”They left the mausoleum just before dawn.Campus was silent, caught between night’s last breath and morning’s first yawn. But Eli no longer saw his surroundings the same way. Every brick whispered. Every statue watched. Every shadow hid.Back in his room, he spread the photos across his desk. Dozens of faces. Rituals. Bodies. A web of time.Then he noticed something else.In one photo—dated 2005—there was a nameplate in the background.Dr. Loretta