It had been five days since Elias and I uncovered the lead, and everything had moved at lightning speed. Now, I stood in front of a wrought iron gate tucked into the foggy Vermont woods, heart thudding beneath a tailored grey blazer. The sign above read: Halden Academy for the Arts — elegant, polished, and cold.
"This place gives me the creeps," I muttered as the security gate buzzed open.
Elias, dressed in a corduroy jacket and wire-frame glasses, didn't look at me. "Blend in. We're new staff, remember? You're Scarlett Vale, actress turned theater coach. I'm Dr. Eli Rowan, psychology curriculum consultant." He smirked. "Ridiculous. But convincing."
"Your alias sounds like a Bond villain."
His smile faltered. "You know what's funny? Grayson probably thinks he's the hero of his own movie."
We walked in step through the main courtyard, passing a few scattered students and staff. Everyone looked… normal. Happy, even. But the place had a sterile undercurrent, like it was hiding behind carefully curated smiles and pristine hedges.
We checked in at the administrative building, where an assistant named Tessa handed us crisp schedules and dorm access cards. "Ms. Vale, you'll be overseeing afternoon rehearsals in Studio 3B. Dr. Rowan, your office is in the wellness wing."
"Any particular students we should keep an eye on?" Elias asked smoothly.
Tessa smiled. "All of them. Artists are fragile. But if you mean the really interesting ones…" She leaned in, lowering her voice. "You'll meet Ana. Quiet girl. Beautiful voice. Very… haunted."
Scarlett. Vale. Don't react.
"She in any activities?" I asked casually.
"Drama, naturally," Tessa said, tapping her tablet. "She's the lead in the winter production. Rehearsals start tomorrow."
As we walked away, Elias whispered, "That confirms it. She's our girl."
That evening, after staff orientation, I slipped away from the teacher dorms and wandered the campus paths, pretending to memorize the layout. My eyes kept scanning for her. For Ana Starling. Or… Aster.
Then I saw her.
She was walking alone near the edge of the lake. Pale skin. Long, dark hair pulled into a messy bun. Her posture was wary but not defeated. She paused to stare at the water as if it held answers.
My breath caught.
"She's real," I whispered, snapping a photo and sending it to Elias. "Confirmed. I saw her."
He replied instantly: "Be careful. Don't engage yet." " I found something in Celeste Halden's records. Meet me in the archives building after 11."
Later that night, in the dimly lit archive room tucked beneath the main hall, I met Elias. He was hunched over a dusty filing cabinet.
He pulled out a manila folder and handed it to me.
"Celeste Halden is dying," he said bluntly. "Pancreatic cancer. She's protecting Aster, but she's running out of time."
I scanned the medical files. My stomach twisted.
"And this?" I asked, pulling out a photograph — Celeste, Grayson… and Lillian. Young. Happy. Before everything fell apart.
"She was Grayson's lab assistant," Elias said grimly. "She helped him run illegal neural tech experiments. There's a record of something called Project Neverwake — human trials focused on memory erasure and behavioral compliance."
I looked up sharply. "You're saying—?"
"She didn't flee because she was scared. She fled because she knew too much. She knew what he did. What he was becoming."
I exhaled slowly. "We need to talk to Ana. And fast."
Elias nodded. "Before Grayson realizes we're here."