For a long moment, Adam couldn’t breathe.The dark pressed in on him from every direction — thick, oppressive, alive. He could hear his own heartbeat, doubled and distorted, like something else inside him was trying to sync with it.Then a faint sound drifted through the void.A whistle.Soft. Familiar. Almost human.His stomach twisted.Jake used to whistle that exact tune — the one he made up during long nights when power went out back home. That memory came unbidden, slicing through the fear. But this sound wasn’t warm or nostalgic. It was hollow, echoing through unseen corridors, warped as though played on broken lungs.“Jake?” Adam whispered.The darkness shifted. From the corner of the church, light began to bleed through the cracks — faint lines at first, then widening, splitting the marble floor like veins of lightning.And there he was.Jake.Or at least, what looked like him.He stood in the aisle, hands in his pockets, smiling that same easy smile he always had. But somethi

The world held its breath.For one impossibly long moment, Lilith couldn’t tell if she was still alive. The church around them glimmered faintly — pews stretching into shadows that rippled like water, the crucifix above the altar twitching in place as if vibrating to some distant, unheard note.And Adam stood at the center of it all.Still. Silent. Glowing faintly under the fractured light.Kaleb’s hand brushed hers — trembling, cold, human. “Lilith…” His voice was a whisper swallowed by the cavernous space. “He’s… he’s not—”“I know.” Her throat burned with the words. She couldn’t look away. “It’s not just him anymore.”Adam’s head tilted slightly, as if hearing her. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw his real self flicker through — the boy who’d once smirked in class, who carried too much darkness in his heart but still protected those he cared about. But then his lips moved, and two voices slipped out of one mouth.“Light. Sound. Movement. You shouldn’t be here.”The sound wasn’t

The morning sunlight filtered weakly through the cracked windows of the school, dust motes drifting lazily in its pale glow. On the surface, it looked ordinary. Teachers bustled through hallways, students shuffled into classrooms, and the smell of cafeteria food lingered faintly in the air. Yet, for anyone paying attention, the subtle wrongness of it was undeniable.Adam walked through the corridors with a slow, deliberate pace, his footsteps silent against the linoleum floor. Every reflection in the windows and lockers seemed to hesitate before showing him — a fraction of a second too late, a glimmer too bright. Shadows shifted unnaturally in his wake, as if the building itself were alive and leaning closer to him.Inside, the fragments of Malrick’s power pulsed faintly in him, coiling around the human remnants that still clung to his mind. The Hollow Choir’s echoes lingered in the spaces between thoughts, a soft, hypnotic hum that vibrated through his bones. He could feel it beneath

The hallways were quiet now, but the stillness was deceptive. Every flicker of fluorescent light, every whisper of air through a cracked window, carried with it the faint pulse of the Choir’s residual power. Lilith walked carefully, heels clicking softly against the tile, her senses straining against the subtle distortions that twisted the school around her.Kaleb followed, his eyes scanning every shadow, every reflection in the windows and locker doors. His rational mind tried to make sense of it — drafts, heating systems, creaking floors — but nothing explained the feeling pressing at the back of his skull, the sense that the school itself was leaning in, watching, reacting to someone else.“He’s here,” Lilith whispered, barely audible. “Adam… he’s still tethered to the Choir, even after everything.”Kaleb’s stomach twisted. “I thought we left the fracture behind. I thought…” His voice faltered.Lilith shook her head. “No. He came back. But he isn’t fully him. Not yet. And the Choir

The morning came too quickly. The world outside seemed the same — wind stirring through autumn trees, sun fractured by high glass windows — yet something beneath the surface was wrong. A hum ran through the town, like the faint vibration of a buried machine coming to life.Inside the school, that hum was strongest near Adam.He sat in chemistry class, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular. The teacher’s voice buzzed like a distant radio. Every word felt hollow, every breath measured. Around him, faint distortions rippled the air — the edges of beakers bending light incorrectly, pens rolling uphill, shadows stretching toward his desk as though drawn by gravity.He could feel the power now. Not like before — not raw or chaotic — but sharpened, controlled, as if it wanted to be used.Malrick’s whisper slithered through his thoughts, low and velvety.You’ve seen what restraint costs you, Adam. They’ll never stop fearing you. Let them see what you really are.Adam’s jaw tensed. He blinke