𐌙/𐌍 Ᏽ𐌵𐌀𐌋𐌄 & 𐌕𐋅𐌄 Ᏽ𐌐𐌄𐌀𐌕 𐌌𐌙𐌕𐋅𐌔 ¹

Chapter 2

2 | Illegal Racing

Oh, it's you again.

You're back.

Fantastic...

Look, didn't I already tell you to get out?

Oh, yes, my apologies, I see you're quite determined.

Well, you know what? Fine, I'll call. Whether you consider yourself brave or simply reckless, it doesn't matter to me. You're headed towards a dangerous path, and if that's what you want, so be it. I won't waste anymore effort trying to convince you.

Just remember, don't complain to me if you encounter Three Head on your way down after getting mauled.

Anyways, back to our scheduled program—for the normal individuals—Huh? Who said what? I didn't hear anything.

How strange. Now you're hearing things, too. Something I started to suspect had begun doing myself, after the incident with the snake and the hammer.

Zaak hadn't talked to me in precisely a week, and his magic hammer thingy hadn't acted up since then either, just rested on my neck as a plain star pendant, glowing in the dark as if it were bioluminescent—what, at the time, I had guessed was the truth.

Since we didn't share a room, I couldn't hound Zaak for answers, because—hard as I tried—I couldn't seem to find him anywhere. And I mean anywhere.

Classes we shared were suddenly unimportant, seeing as he skipped them all. Lunch period seemed a waste of time, he never went to any of them. After school hours, needless to mention, not a single one. It was as if he didn't even care for any projects, grades, or anything.

He became a ghost, no one saw him, no one heard him, and no one as much as heard of him.

It was useless asking about him, no one knew a thing. But I kept pressing. Maybe someone would slip, and I'd catch them right in their lie, about Zaak, or Ms. Denis. I knew people were hiding something, but no one as much as leaked a peep.

Residents started thinking of me as crazy, staff debated putting me in a psych ward, while our director stood on the sidelines and watched my development, holding the verdict until I reached the point of snapping.

And, I admit, it felt like, at any moment, I was, in fact, about to snap.

People were thinking of me as crazy. And if there's one thing I hate, that's being looked down upon.

I started to think I might have been imagining things, just like how it seemed my therapist was suggesting. That was until I heard Zaak's voice behind me on my way to my dorm room one fateful morning.

If there ever was a time I ever turned back so quickly, that time was blown away by how fast I changed directions and started rushing forward. I peered behind a door and caught part of his conversation inside the broom closet.

"Sir, I don't know how to tell you this—"

A voice from another end spoke, it sounded far and muffled, so I assumed he was talking on the phone, "—Is he possibly a Big Three?"

"Yes, he certainly smells the part. His scent is the strongest I've ever felt," Zaak replied.

"Then your job is to bring him back to Camp, safe and sound, before the monsters get to him," the voice asserted.

"Uh, about that... " Zaak hummed.

"Yes?"

"He already faced off the Cerastes."