Most of the students were asleep, huddled in clusters. Duke stood near the entrance, posture rigid and face unreadable. Baby leaned against the boarded-up window like she was waiting for something, like a soldier who knew the enemy would come but didn’t know when. She hadn’t said a word in over an hour.

The sweet warmth of my birthday party seemed like a distant memory, though not long ago. The words in my dream echoed again in my mind. 

Choose—someone... or the gate.

I didn’t want to choose. Didn’t even understand what I was choosing between. But I could feel it getting closer—the moment, the crack in time.

Micah stood suddenly. She didn’t say anything. Just drifted toward the hallway as if sleepwalking. I opened my mouth to call her back, but my voice caught. A sharp, primal instinct told me not to draw attention.

An electric ripple moved through the gym.

Like the tension and moment before lightning strikes.

I jumped up to follow her. Just as Micah was barely out of sight, she didn't go far as she came running back. Her face was pale, and she was short of breath. " Hey, is something wrong?" I asked her.

Duke snapped to alert. Baby turned slowly, her eyes hard.

"I felt a pull in that direction of curiosity. I went to check it out, and that hallway to the outside is cold! Not like the way we are now. An unnatural cold, like if I went any farther I would die! The area there felt weird, as if time stopped in a void. And the worst of all, the wind sounded as though it called my name?

"It knows you," I questioned, but froze before I could finish my sentence. "It's here!" I felt a complete shift in the spiritual realm, a disturbance as if the demon was here!

The main doors slammed and rattled.

Once...Twice...

Like something huge was testing its strength.

Duke moved to the side panel and cracked it open a sliver. His eyes narrowed.

"What is it?" Becky whispered.

His voice was low. "The snow—it's not moving. It's just hanging there in the air. Like froze in time."

Baby glanced out and visibly stiffened. "The world outside is...off. Wrong, it just doesn't feel right."

The lights went out. No flicker. No warning. Just—dark.

Screams broke out. Panic rose like smoke. Kids shouted for friends. A few turned on flashlights—but they sputtered, failed, or blinked erratically like the air itself refused to carry light.

“Everyone, calm down!” I yelled. “Center of the gym! Now! Stay close—don’t spread out!”

Evan’s voice joined mine from somewhere to my right. “If you’ve got a flashlight that works, keep it low. Don’t draw attention; it could be a hungry animal in the storm. He tried to stall everyone's thoughts, but our team knew.”

They moved one by one. Micah returned and stuck close. Duke herded a few of the younger kids. Baby paced the outer edge like a silent shadow. We instinctively made a ring. We had our backs to the students in a protective formation.

The sound came scratching. No longer from the doors but from above!

Everyone looked up.

The lights cast trembling halos across the rafters. A groaning sound echoed through the steel beams. Something moved—something heavy, dragging across the roof. Snow shouldn’t sound like that.

And then the whispers came.

Not voices. Not fully. More like intentions, twisted through air and breath. Like wind, but sharper. They laced around us, not outside, but in the walls, beneath the floor.

“Kaysi...”

My name, soft and echoing, slithered through my skull. I stepped forward.

“No,” I said, more to myself than anyone. “You don’t belong here.”

The whispers grew louder. We all heard different things—our names, our fears, people we knew, that entered our minds, giving us fragments of memories twisted out of shape. It wasn’t random. It acted like it knew our thoughts or was trying to manipulate us.

Some of the students cried out, calling back to the whispers. Others prayed quietly. Some even closed their eyes and shut their ears in fear. Thankfully, no one moved from the circle. 

"Shh..." I whispered, trying to silence the kids.

"Quiet! Duke’s jaw clenched. His breath fogged in front of him, but his body gave off a faint heat. Like the cold couldn’t touch him fully.

Evan’s shoulder brushed mine. He didn’t speak, but I saw his lips moving. Not panic. Purpose. Baby stood still, hands in her coat pockets. Focused. Her eyes shimmered faintly for a moment, like starlight reflecting off obsidian.

Micah’s hands shook as she held her cross necklace, glowing ever so slightly. The shadows retreated but a small inch.

Then something hit the roof again—louder this time, like claws dragging metal. It scuttled across, then suddenly slammed against the back doors so hard the hinges groaned. Like it had circled around us, testing for a weak point in order to get in. But the doors didn’t open. Something wanted in, but it couldn’t break through.

The temperature dipped lower. Our breaths came out in clouds, even indoors. Some of the kids shivered violently. I saw James gripping his backpack straps like they were a lifeline.

“We stay together,” I said. “It's feeding us fear because it wants to separate us. Don’t let it.”

Another bang. A howl, almost—a long, low wail that didn’t sound like wind or animal. Yet like something hungry.

It didn’t break in. Slowly, the weight pressing down on us eased. The lights steadied, glowing a little stronger. The whispers faded like a waking dream at sunrise.

We didn’t celebrate. We just stood there. Waiting. Listening.

Baby finally spoke. “It touched the veil tonight.” Her voice was calm, grounded in the unshakeable stillness she always carried. Her eyes remained steady, unfazed. “Whatever it was... it knows we’re here now.”

Duke nodded. "It'll be back." His voice was low but sure, a guardian instinct buried beneath years of discipline and silence. If anyone could tell when danger would return, it was Duke.

I looked at them—Micah, Evan, James, and Becky—the people I would do anything to protect.

But in the back of my mind, the dream repeated:

You will have to choose.

Duke edged toward the doors again, peering through the side panel to check if the coast was clear.

He swore under his breath. “There are people out there.”