The whispers returned on a Wednesday.
Elle had barely stepped through the school gates when she felt it—
A prickle.
Like static brushing the back of her neck.

Not loud.
Not even words.
Just… presence.

Locker 237 pulsed with silence.

She tried to ignore it, to vanish into the hallway’s morning buzz. But the closer she walked, the more the world seemed to muffle.

Conversations warped.
Footsteps dulled.
Colors dimmed.

And then—

The locker creaked.
Not fully open.
Just a sliver.
A whisper of a gap.

Enough for Elle to see it again.

The spiral.
Faint. Shimmering behind the vents like frost on glass.

A breath of air slipped out—cold and thin, curling like smoke.

Luke appeared beside her.
“You okay?” he asked, tossing her an apple like always.

Elle flinched.
“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like you saw a ghost.”

She forced a shrug. “Didn’t sleep much.”

The truth was—she hadn’t slept at all.
Every time her eyes closed, frost bloomed across her mirror, curling into the spiral.
And always—
Always—
The reflection that wasn’t hers.

“Just tired,” she added. “Can we go?”

Luke didn’t press.
But as they walked, Elle noticed him glancing back at the locker. His brow furrowed, like he could feel it too—but didn’t know how to name it.

In first period, the morning announcements were interrupted twice by static.

The second time, Elle’s pen began to leak.
Black ink spread across her page.
In a spiral.

By lunch, three mirrors in the school had been reported broken.
One—shattered from the inside out.
Glass flung into the hallway like something had exploded from the other side.

And yet—
No one seemed to care.

Except for one teacher.

Ms. Thorne.
She wasn’t like the others.
Young—maybe thirty—with sharp eyes and a voice that didn’t match her petite frame. She taught ancient literature and liked to write strange quotes on the board.

Today’s quote read:

“The mirror does not lie,
but neither does it always tell the truth.”

Elle sat up straighter when she saw it.

After class, she lingered—waiting until the last student left.
“Ms. Thorne?” she asked.

The teacher looked up from her desk. “Yes, Elowen?”

Elle froze.
“You… how did you—”

“Your name. It’s in the roster.”

But the smile she gave didn’t reach her eyes.

Elle hesitated.
“Do you believe… in things we can’t explain?”

Ms. Thorne studied her for a long moment.

Then, softly—so softly it felt like the room itself leaned in—she said:
“There are old things, Elowen.
Some buried.
Some bound.
And some… waiting.”

Elle’s mouth went dry.
“I think something’s watching me,” she whispered.

Ms. Thorne closed her book.
“Then don’t give it a reason to wake.”

Elle left the classroom with her heart pounding.

The hallway felt colder now.
Like something had overheard their conversation—
And didn’t like being spoken of.

She hugged her notebook to her chest and kept walking.
Too aware of the way the lights flickered above her head.

In the girls’ bathroom, the mirror had been covered with yellow masking tape.
An X across its surface. Like a ward.

Someone had scrawled DO NOT REMOVE in thick, black marker across the bottom.

But the cold still seeped through.

Elle stepped closer. She didn’t know why.
She pressed her fingers to the corner of the mirror.

The tape crinkled beneath her touch.

Behind her—

Click.

The faucet turned on.

She spun.

Nothing.

Just water pouring steadily from the tap—
Steam curling up even though it wasn’t hot.

Her heart thudded.

She shut it off.

And then—
The stall door creaked open on its own.

That was enough.

She ran out of the bathroom without washing her hands.

Didn’t stop until she slammed into the stairwell. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she gripped the cold metal railing, trying to steady her heart.

Down the hallway—
Someone was mopping.

She turned.

Mr. Bowers.

The janitor moved slowly, deliberately. Steam rose from the mop like it was cleansing the tile of something unseen.
Something that had tried to bleed through.

He paused.

Lifted his head.

Their eyes met.

His gaze wasn’t unkind.
But it wasn’t warm, either.

It was… solemn.

Like he knew.
Like he had seen this before.

He raised one gloved finger to his lips.

Shhh.

Elle shivered.

And turned away—
but the weight of that silent warning followed her all the way home.