Adam’s eyes immediately focused on Dylan, huddled on his knees in the middle of the shed, clutching his head in pain. A tsunami of guilt crashed down on him and threatened to pull him under. He lost sight of his best friend because of some petty competitive compulsion he indulged, even though Dylan was the root cause of it. Adam let Jesse go and headed straight to Dylan’s side when a thin but firm hand stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t touch him.” Ian was looking intently at Dylan’s crouched form, pale face emotionless, eyes hidden behind his large glasses. In any other situation, Adam would have simply used his significantly larger frame to shrug him off and move along. Still, something about the cold confidence he exuded in that moment made his skin crawl. He instinctively felt that Ian was right, even if his mind and heart were screaming at him to move.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Nikolai try to rush to Dylan’s side as well, but he was stopped by the clutches of his sister, probably saying something similar to Ian in Russian. Jesse, now bereft of enemies, also turned round and, seeing the group hesitate, stayed at a distance.

The five of them stood there, watching Dylan soundlessly shake, the air around him taking on an oily, dense feeling, smelling of ozone. It was impossible, but Adam swore he could see the shadows from the abandoned equipment condense around Dylan’s feet in a roiling pool. He stared as the dark tendrils reached into his lap, along his waist and suddenly shot up rapidly, straight into his head. Adam lurched forward, only for Ian’s immovable hand to hold him back with surprising strength.

Dylan sagged like a rag doll, arms dropping from his head to the floor, silence engulfing the room. He then began to twitch. It was subtle at first, a wiggle of a finger, that escalated into jerky convulsions, as if someone had attached a bunch of strings to his joints and tugged at them haphazardly.

“C’mon, mate. Enough with the theatrics.” Jesse huffed in the dead silence. “We stopped fighting, just like you wanted; you can stop now.”

Adam couldn’t help but look at her with offended astonishment. Did she not sense the vibration permeating this tiny room? Did no one else notice the bright light of midday sun retreating in fear and plunging them into a dark abyss? Ian clearly noticed. So did the Russian girl, by the way she was clutching her brother to her and the grave expression on her face.

He looked back to Dylan, just as his head shot up to the ceiling, a ragged breath escaping his lungs and making everyone else jump. His unique eyes, amber and blue, were gone. They were rolled back into his head, only the whites showing ominously in the darkness. He grinned. Adam felt bone-deep terror settle into his body at the realisation that this was no longer his Dylan.

He opened his mouth and a reverberating voice, akin to tectonic plates grinding against each other in the deep ocean, emerged and enveloped them.

“When the witch binds the pact with a heavy price,
The siren’s song coils into a shadowed vice.
The warrior breaks at the final stand,
The priest’s faith crumbles, dust through a hand.
The seer’s eyes blaze as the world burns,
The gatekeeper opens the door that HE yearns.”

At those final words, whatever was speaking through Dylan grinned in religious ecstasy so common on the faces of the saints in various classical paintings. The tension in the air retreated as rapidly as it appeared, and they were left with Dylan, dazed and confused, eyes darting from face to face.

"Erm… why are you all staring at me?” He asked. “Why am I on the floor in the first place?”

He was met with stunned silence. Adam didn’t notice when Ian released him from the strange hold he had over his chest, but even when he wanted to rush over and help Dylan to his feet, all of his instincts kept him pinned to the ground. He couldn’t get that eerie grin out of his mind and reconcile it with Dylan’s familiar face.

“Well, fuck.” came an unexpected expletive from the other side of their group, as Nikolai’s sister dropped her head into her hands. She ran them through her hair, messing up the previously meticulous braid and met eyes with her brother’s questioning gaze.

“It’s a prophecy.” She elaborated in English, for all to hear.

“Are you sure?” Nikolai asked her.

She nodded, seemingly resigned. “The Tower.”

And that apparently was all the explanation he needed. Luckily, Jesse was fast to voice the rest of the room’s opinion.

“Care to share with the class whatever epiphany you just achieved? Cause what the FUCK just happened?!”

The girl flipped her braid back and focused on Dylan, still discombobulated in the centre of the room.

“At first I thought it was some case of spiritual possession. The twitching, the eyerolling. Classic signs.”

She levelled the group with an exasperated look, ignoring Jesse’s “Classic, she says. Are you hearing this?”

“But now I’m not so sure. If it was possession, then the spirit or whatnot released you too quickly. It's only purpose seemed to be the delivery of the prophecy, which is plausible, but unlikely.”

“Hey, now. Hold on a minute.” Dylan finally scrambled up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but possession !? I don’t remember doing anything to…”

“Here.” Ian fumbled with his phone and lifted it to a height visible for all present. On it was a clear recording of the entire fiasco, starting around the time Dylan’s head snapped up. Adam wondered when Ian had the time and mental capacity to record it. But… it was Ian after all, so was it really that surprising that he would be unfazed when faced with a supernatural catastrophe?

After watching the video, Dylan’s face paled. He looked at Adam, a flash of something that looked like guilt flitting across his eyes. He regained his composure almost immediately and smiled. Adam flinched slightly, but this smile was soft and genuine.

“Gotcha! That was all a performance for the play! I couldn’t wrap my head around the whole ‘Odysseus goes to Hades to talk to Tiresias’ scene. Considering it gave you the heebie-jeebies, I guess it's as good as it’s gonna get. Shall we go then?”

Adam half-believed him; if not for his shaking hands, he was desperately trying to keep steady behind his back. This dismissal and outright lying felt oddly familiar, like Dylan had been doing this so much that it was second nature to him.

“Bitch, please!” Jesse crossed her arms over her chest, glaring. “Don’t try to gaslight us! You have no idea what just happened, and you are scared shitless, like the rest of us. This shit might work on Adam, but not me.”

She ruminated on that a bit and spat out. “Fuck it. I’m out.” She headed for the exit to the shed. “This is getting way too weird for me.”

“You won’t be able to leave,” the blond girl said, tired resignation evident in her voice. “None of us will. Not until we figure this out at least.”

Jesse harrumphed something undeniably rude under her breath and tried the handle.

After a second of silence, she tried it again, but the metal door would not budge. Adam heard Nikolai’s sister take in a sharp breath, an expression of momentary dread flashing on her face, but disappearing just as quickly. Jesse turned and cleared her throat “The door is locked.”

She looked over the group, searching for a reasonable explanation, and, after finding none, said, her voice slightly rising in panic.

“But… it doesn’t have a lock.”

“It’s not the physical thing preventing us from leaving. It won’t let us leave. Not yet.” The previously know-it-all voice of the bossy blonde before them had a quiver of fear in it.