The room was thick with tension after the encounter with "The First." No one spoke as they climbed back through the maze-like tunnels beneath the school, their steps echoing ominously. Each creak of the ancient stone made Raphael bare his fangs instinctively. Hope walked beside London, stealing glances every few seconds, her thoughts racing just as fast as her pulse.
London hadn't said much since his rebirth. He looked shaken, not physically, but emotionally—like a man who'd seen his own grave and climbed out of it with a new burden.
Stephen was the only one trying to lighten the mood. "Sooo, can we all agree never to follow Hope into any more creepy tunnels? I love the drama, I do—but spiders, haunted gates, and naked flaming friends were not on my list today."
Hope rolled her eyes, though a small smile curved her lips. "No promises."
"Hey," London said, voice low, brushing his arm against Hope's as they walked. "Can I talk to you? Alone?"
Hope blinked. "Sure."
Raphael paused, looking over his shoulder. "Don't wander too far."
Daemon, as usual, just grunted and kept walking ahead with Stephen dramatically whining behind him.
Hope and London stepped into a side alcove where shards of moonlight spilled through a grate in the ceiling. It was quiet—like the world held its breath.
"I felt it, Hope," London said, his voice barely a whisper. "When I died… I didn't feel fear. I felt... fire. Peace. Like I belonged in that flame. What does that mean?"
Hope stepped closer, searching his eyes. "I don't know what it means yet. But I know it doesn't make you a monster, London."
"I'm not scared of being a monster," he said, voice raw. "I'm scared I'll have to die a hundred more times to save people. And that one of those times… I won't come back. Not really."
Hope's hand found his. "Then we'll make sure you never fight alone."
There was a long pause, thick with something else now—tension of a different kind. London's eyes dropped to her lips. She didn't move away. Her breath hitched, and so did his. Slowly, he leaned in.
Their lips were inches apart.
Closer.
Closer—
"GUYS!" Stephen's voice boomed from the hallway, breaking the moment. "Are you making out or what? Because we're about to be locked down here forever and I'd hate to become tunnel stew."
Hope groaned, stepping back. "He has the worst timing."
London sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah... it's a gift, apparently."
They rejoined the group, but the air between them remained charged—an invisible thread of electricity that neither one dared tug on just yet.
By the time they finally reached the hidden stairwell leading back into the school's west wing, it was well past midnight. The silence was unnerving. The once-bustling halls were deserted, and an unusual fog hung low to the ground inside the building.
Raphael sniffed the air. "This isn't normal."
Stephen looked around, his jokes now forgotten. "This place feels… haunted."
Daemon led the way. "We need to check Richard's office."
When they arrived, the office door was ajar, swaying slightly as if someone had just left. The sisters—Jessa and Celeste—were inside, papers scattered across the floor, both of them looking frantic.
Jessa's eyes lit up as she saw Raphael. "You're okay! What happened?!"
"It's complicated," Raphael said, drawing her into a quick hug. "Where's Richard?"
Celeste looked down. "He's gone. Vanished. We were following the clues he left behind, and then… nothing. The last note said something about 'The First Watcher waking.' Then it just ends."
Hope's heart sank. "He knew this was coming."
Celeste looked up at Daemon. "We need help. You and Stephen—your family knows the old ways, right? The ancient bloodlines?"
Daemon nodded. "Too well. I'll send word to our mother."
Stephen grinned. "Oh joy. She loves when we bring home dramatic prophecies and missing school owners."
"You mean like that time you tried to summon an ancestor and summoned a ghost dog instead?" Daemon added dryly.
"Sir Barksalot was loyal," Stephen said proudly. "He peed on evil."
Despite the dire situation, the tension cracked, and even Hope let out a small laugh.
But the moment passed quickly. They all knew what was coming.
Hope turned to Jessa. "What do we do next?"
Jessa glanced at the runes spread across the desk. "We find out who The First really is. And why he wants to destroy the school."
London added, "And we stop him. Together."
---
Later that night, Hope lay awake in her dorm room, staring at the ceiling. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows. She kept replaying the moment in the tunnel. The almost-kiss. The fire. The way London had looked at her.
She touched her lips, heart pounding.
A soft knock came at her door.
She opened it to find Jessa.
"I couldn't sleep," Jessa said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I keep dreaming about Dad."
Hope stepped aside. "Come in."
They sat on her bed, both girls silent for a while.
"He's alive," Hope said finally. "I can feel it."
Jessa nodded. "Me too. But whoever took him… it wasn't Trent. It was bigger."
Hope looked at her friend. "We'll get him back."
"We have to," Jessa whispered. "Before the First makes his next move."
---
Far beneath the school, in the chamber where the gate once stood, The First watched an illusion—a swirling vision of Hope, London, Raphael, and the others.
"The pieces move," he said softly.
Behind him, Trent knelt, trembling. "You said they wouldn't find it…"
"I said they wouldn't understand it," The First corrected, voice calm yet dripping with menace. "But it's fine. Let them play their little games."
He raised his hand, a dark sigil glowing in the air.
"Let's see how they handle a real test."
From the shadows, monstrous figures began to crawl out of the cracks in the walls—hybrid creatures of magic and bone.