CHAPTER 66: ... SOMETHING FROM THE FOREST.

The dorm had gone still again, but sleep didn’t come.

Elara lay curled on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her blanket clutched tight in her fists. Every creak of the wood, every shift of the night wind made her jolt. Mallory’s voice still rang in her head: Do not, for any reason, test this school’s patience.

Across the room, Corrine lay on her side with her back to Elara, but Elara knew she wasn’t asleep either.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Slowly, exhaustion started to drag Elara down, her eyelids heavy. She drifted slowly towards sleep.

But then—

She froze.

A sound. Faint and subtle, coming from the window.

"...Elara..."

Her heart stopped.

She sat up quickly, the mattress squeaking beneath her. Corrine shifted, half-turning. "What now?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Elara pressed a trembling finger to her lips. "Shhh. Listen."

At first, there was only silence. Then it came again, low, like the voice of someone pressed right against the glass.

"...Corrine... Elara..."

Corrine shot up, her eyes wide. "No..."

They stared at the window. The curtains fluttered slightly, moonlight spilling across the floor.

"...come closer..."

The whisper was so soft it could have been the wind—if not for the way it called their names.

Corrine scrambled off her bed, panic flashing in her eyes. "Don’t you dare go near that window."

Elara’s throat tightened. Her legs trembled under the weight of her body, but something in the whisper pulled at her, beckoning. It sounded familiar.

"Corrine," Elara whispered, her chest tight, "what if it’s Bella? It sounds like her."

Corrine’s hand shot out, gripping her arm like iron. "Are you crazy or something this night, Elara?" she hissed. Bella is deep inside the forest. A lot of strange things have happened this night already and you still think that’s Bella? Bella isn’t here! Get that into your very thick skull."

Elara shook her head, but the whisper, God, the whisper, it sounded so much like her. The same tone, the same voice, it sounded so familiar.

"...open..."

The whisper pressed against the glass now, close enough they could hear breath fogging the window.

The girls clutched each other, their hearts thundering, none of the moved.

And then—

A hard knock on the window.

Elara’s scream snagged in her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth. Corrine grabbed her arm, her eyes burning. "Don’t move."

The knock came firmer again. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Then—CRASH.

Something slammed into the window, hard enough to rattle the glass in its frame. The girls staggered back, their hearts lurching up into their throats. A shape beat against the pane, its wings flaring wide, feathers scattering in a spray.

An Owl.

It hung there for a sickening moment, its beak scraping against the glass like nails on a chalkboard. One round eye rolled toward them.

Elara’s knees almost gave way in relief and terror at once. "The owl" she whispered, almost crying.

The bird screeched once, a piercing sound echoing in the night, before it launched off the window with a violent flap of wings and vanished into the night.

Silence fell.

Elara sank against the wall, trembling. Corrine was pale, her fists still clenched at her sides. Neither spoke for a long time, both waiting for the next knock, the next whisper.

But none came.

Elara pressed her palms against her face, trying to slow her breathing. Her body wouldn’t stop trembling, every nerve still buzzing like she was seconds from breaking apart.

"Let’s just—just go back to bed," she whispered finally.

"No, let’s go look for Bella," Corrine spat sarcastically.

"Corrine... don’t be like that."

Corrine finally exhaled. "Fine. Bed." She moved toward her mattress, dragging her blanket over her shoulders.

Elara stood, trying to follow, but then she froze.

Her bare foot stuck to the floor with a slick sound.

She looked down.

The wood was wet.

There wasn’t a spilled cup, she looked up, it wasn’t a drip from a leaky ceiling. The boards shone in the room’s weak light, reflecting her own pale face back at her.

"...Did you spill something?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

Corrine looked over her shoulder sharply. "Does this look like spilled water?"

Elara bent down, her shaking hand hovering just above the surface. The streaks weren’t random puddles. They stretched in a line, dragging, as if something heavy had been pulled across the floor.

Her stomach twisted. "It—it came inside."

Corrine didn’t argue. Her face had gone rigid, her eyes fixed on the trail. The wetness caught the moonlight from their window across the boards and toward the door.

"Elara," she said tightly, "don’t follow me."

"Like hell I won’t," Elara shot back. She clutched Corrine’s arm anyway, and together they crept toward the door.

The air outside the dorm room was too cold. Their breaths came in small clouds as they stepped into the hallway.

The trail continued. The wet streaks dragged along the tiles now, sticking to their feet as they followed. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the soft squeak of their soles against the wet tiles.

Halfway down the corridor, Elara faltered. She didn’t want to see where it ended. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to run back to bed, to bury her head beneath her blanket and pretend.

But Corrine kept moving, stiff-backed, fists balled. She was very determined to see this to the end. Whatever it was.

They reached the stairwell.

Both girls stopped dead.

The trail ended here. But the floor bore more than water.

Deep scratches tore through the tiles. Three parallel claw marks, so sharp the tiles were chipped off at places.

Elara’s hand flew to her mouth, choking back a scream.

Beside the scratches, faint impressions sank into the floor. And there were not shoe prints.

Elara’s chest seized. "Oh my God..."

Corrine’s face had drained of all color. She whispered the words they both feared to say:

"...something from the forest... is inside the school."

Elara’s knees wobbled. She gripped the railing like the ground might give out beneath her.

Corrine crouched closer, studying them with a sharp, frightened precision. "This is fresh," she whispered. "It wasn’t here when we left for the forest earlier."

Elara’s breath hitched. "Then, we have to tell someone. A teacher. Mallory. Anyone. Corrine, something from the forest—"

"No!" Corrine’s voice cut too loud in the silence. She clamped her mouth shut immediately, her wide eyes flicking down the darkened stairwell. After a long moment, she hissed, "You think they don’t know?"

Elara blinked. "What?"

Corrine straightened slowly, her fists clenched. "The staff. Principal Maren. Mallory. You think Mallory coming here tonight was just coincidental? I’m sure they must be aware of all the strange things happening. Besides, Mallory was the last to walk this corridor after she left our room, remember?"

Elara shook her head, her chest tight. "But—then why—"

"I don’t think we’re supposed to see it this." Corrine’s jaw was rigid, "Bella’s exile, the forest, the shadows... it’s all tied together. And if they knew we were snooping, if they knew we saw this—" She gestured to the floor. "We may be next."

Elara’s throat closed. Her heart thundered against her ribs, but still— "So we just stay quiet? Pretend this isn’t here? Pretend something from the forest didn’t just walk into our dorm?"

Corrine turned to her, eyes sharp even through her fear. "Yes. That’s exactly what we do. We shut up, we stay alive, and we don’t end up in the trees with Bella. Let someone else find it and report. Maybe the hostel mistress or anyone else."

"Listen, Elara, if you want to survive this place, you have to keep shut about these strange things for your own good."

Then she grabbed Elara’s wrist, iron-tight. "Come we’re going back to the room. Now."

Then they heard footsteps..

Elara and Corrine froze, their ears straining..

Shoes.

Corrine’s grip on Elara’s wrist tightened until it hurt. Her whisper barely escaped her lips. "Someone’s coming."

Elara’s eyes widened. "The... the thing—?"

"No." Corrine shook her head, listening harder. The steps grew clearer now, purposeful. Human.

And then—a lantern glow swelled at the bend of the staircase, yellow and soft, sweeping shadows across the claw marks on the tiles.

The hostel mistress.

Elara’s stomach dropped. If she found them here, staring at these claw marks, questions would follow. Questions they couldn’t afford to answer.

Corrine shoved Elara backward, pushing her toward the corridor. Her whisper was sharp, panicked. "Move. Now."

Elara stumbled, but her feet obeyed. Together they slipped down the hall, their soles slapping against the floor.

Behind them, the lantern light spread wider.

"Girls?" The mistress’s voice cut through the silence, firm "Who’s out of bed at this hour?"

Elara and Corrine flattened themselves against the nearest wall, breathless, the light spilling just inches from their faces.

Elara clutched Corrine’s hand so tightly her nails bit into her skin.

The mistress climbed higher, her lantern swaying. For a moment, Elara swore the glow brushed over the claw marks, it paused, lingering. But the woman didn’t gasp or call for help.

"As if curfew wasn’t enough..." she muttered, her tone weary, like what she saw was perfectly normal.

Elara’s stomach turned cold. She does see them. She knows.

The mistress’s steps carried her higher, up toward the next floor. Her lantern glow faded. The sound of her shoes dulled into silence.

Elara didn’t move until Corrine yanked her arm.

"Go," Corrine hissed. "Before she comes back down."

They ran, not daring to look back, their breaths loud in their throats. Only when their dorm door shut behind them did Elara realize how violently she was shaking.

Corrine slumped against the door, her chest heaving. "That was too close."

Elara pressed her face into her hands, whispering through her trembling fingers: "She saw. Corrine, she saw the marks. And she wasn’t even surprised."