The War of the Stories

Later that Day...

There will be no POV in this chapter.

The bell rang, and the students streamed out of classrooms, excited to go home and enjoy a nice weekend. The halls filled with the shouts of kids saying goodbye to friends, making plans for the weekend, or arguing.

As the students got close to the front windows, a silence fell, causing the students in the back to push forward or stand on tiptoes to see what was the matter. It didn't take long for the shock to lift and for the screaming to start as horrified students realized that it was blood, sparkling a deep crimson in the afternoon light, and that the usual shapes scattered across the pavement were, in fact, mangled bodies.

The crowd began to push into the cafeteria to try the other doors, but no, they same bloody scene presented itself to them. Not long after nearly every student had crammed into the cafeteria, the lights suddenly switched off, plunging the room into crimson tinted darkness. The screams, impossibly enough, got louder as the doors slammed and locked.

Then the rain began. It started as a few drops, unusually sticky with the oddest scent of something metallic and familiar. Blood. Dripping from the ceiling, which began to buckle under the weight of whatever the source was.

It didn't take long for the roof to splinter, and a river of blood and plaster shards barraged the students. It kept on coming, until somehow, it began to rise in the sizable room, the walls and doors somehow holding. It rose until students were desperately paddling up near the roof, shoving other people out of the way to get precious air.

Then, one kid was pulled under. One second, he was there, and the next, he was gone in the blink of an eye. It happened again. Panic increased as friends vanished beneath the crimson waves, and never resurfaced.

Finally, whatever magic spell that seemed to have been keeping the walls intact was dropped, and the walls fell apart under the intense pressure of the tons of blood. It gushed out into the pavement, giving it another fresh coat of crimson paint.

A lucky few students were carried out with it, and got up, coughing up blood, or they just laid there, exhausted.

A dark haired boy stood there, in the shadow of a nearby tree, watching emotionlessly.

*Nionnien's POV*

I sat in front of the television at Camp Halfblood, watching Harry Potter. Good thing they had a special that weekend, all of the events recently have driven me insane, and I needed the chance to unwind. The show was cut off.

"We interrupt your viewing for an important message!"

I groaned. "Come on, really?"

It cut to a familiar image. My school. Another cut, this time to a news anchor. "Not two hours ago, the very same school that suffered from two attacks had been struck, yet again, for what will be the third and final time. The school is being closed, possibly permanently. The few survivors of this massacre are all going through therapy. Where will terrorist boy strike next?"

I gasped and put my hand over my mouth.Oh my god. My school. More dead. I shakily get to my feet, and leave the room to grab everyone. I lead them into the room, and rewind the story.

When it's over, Angelyn throws up right there on the spot, Elijah leans against the wall for support and a shadow crosses Paris's face.

If we don't end this war soon, then everyone will be dead soon.