L I R A

I sat on the bench outside the nurse’s office, but I don’t remember sitting. People pass in frantic clusters, crying, whispering, shoving each other toward exits, yet none of them look at me for more than half a second. My hands won’t stop shaking. My breathing’s a mess.

DUE / 2.

It keeps flashing in my head like an afterimage burned into my eyes. Changing right when the kid vanished. Changing because I was there. I feel it in my bones — this curse isn’t random. It’s tracking me.

Someone sobs down the hall. A teacher barks orders that no one listens to. Lockers slam. Shoes squeak. But all I can think about is the frost crawling toward my ankle like it had my name on file.

And under all that terror… Callen’s breath on my cheek. His hand on my waist. The almost. It keeps replaying even though I don’t want it to. Even though Ezra saw.

“Lira.”

Ezra steps into the hall like he sprinted the last stretch. A couple freshmen flatten themselves against the wall to let him through. His eyes do this quick check of my face, counting damage I’m pretending not to have.

“I was looking for you,” he says, voice soft and too steady for someone who definitely saw what happened.

“I’m fine,” I lied. A girl I barely know stares at me for a beat before turning away fast, like she witnessed something she shouldn’t. Ezra touches my arm, gentle, warm. It used to ground me. Now it just feels like pressure I’m supposed to respond to. Before I can decide how to feel, he pulls me into a hug.

I wait for the comfort,  that safe, warm quiet that always calmed me. But it’s not there. His chest feels solid, unyielding. Protective, not soothing. Like he’s trying to hold the world together and I’m the part slipping. I close my eyes, but I don’t feel calmer. Just… covered.

Ezra tightens his arms when I shift, like if I move too far he’ll lose me. It should feel sweet. It doesn’t. His heartbeat doesn’t blend with mine the way it used to. It feels like a shield — him bracing, not opening. I keep waiting for something warm to break through, but it’s just tension wrapped in familiarity.

“Hey,” he murmurs, hand sliding up my back. “You’re okay.” I want that to be true. I want him to feel like home. But his hug feels like armor, something built to protect, not comfort. I step back. His arms don’t drop right away. When they finally do, his hands hover like he’s not sure letting go was the right move.

“The frost changed,” I whisper. “The numbers..”

“I know.” Too fast.

My heartbeat stumbles. “What do you mean, you know?” A group farther down the hall goes silent all at once, heads tilted toward us like they’re catching fragments.

Ezra’s jaw tightens. “It’s… not the first time. The vanishings line up with the shifts. Older students talked. I read some things.” Read what? When? Why didn’t he tell me?

“Ezra,” I press, “how do you know all that?”

He looks away. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” It feels like the floor gives out beneath me. This whole time he knew more than he told me. A metallic click snaps down the hallway, sharp enough to cut the air. Someone gasps. Ezra’s hand jumps to my elbow.

“Stay close.”

I don’t get a chance to answer. The temperature drops so fast my lungs seize. Fog rolls in from the far end of the hallway — not drifting, not spreading — advancing. Choosing a path.

“Not again,” someone whispers behind us. Footsteps pound away, kids fleeing without looking back.

A classroom door slams open on its own. A strip skitters across the floor, dragged by nothing. Seniors near the stairs shout for everyone to move. Students scramble back as the fog funnels toward the center of the hall, leaving a widening ring of empty space around me. No one wants to stand close. Not even accidentally. The strip lifts an inch, jerks, and drops.

A name blinks. Flickers. Then disappears entirely. Gone. The fog retracts like a hand unclenching. My legs nearly give out. Then I see it.  Frost carving itself into the wall, slow and deliberate:

DUE / 1

The bottom drops out of my stomach. The frost twitches toward me first, but when Ezra shifts closer, something changes. It hesitates. Hovering an inch from my shoe like it hit a barrier. Ezra pulls me into his side, and the frost skids away in a jittery arc, almost like it’s repelled. Or like it doesn’t want him.

My breath goes thin. The cold around us isn’t just cold, it feels purposeful. Like the frost doesn’t approve of this configuration.

“What is happening?” I whisper. Ezra shakes his head, but I don’t buy it. He knows something. He always knows something. I stay close because I don’t know where else to stand. But the truth hits hard: The frost recognizes Ezra. And it doesn’t like him. Movement at the end of the hall snaps me out of it.

Callen. Pushing through clusters of shocked students who part automatically for him, like he’s carrying something dangerous. His eyes sweep the space, then lock onto me. Everything in his face sharpens. Ezra stiffens beside me.

Callen reaches us, gaze flicking to the frost residue, then to Ezra’s arm around me. His expression barely shifts, but something under it does — a tightening, a calculation.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, low. “This hallway’s the worst during a strike.”

My breath catches. “How do you know that?” He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
It’s obvious in the way he stands — alert, braced, tracking things the rest of us can’t see. He knew exactly where the toll would hit. Where I would be. Ezra’s hand tightens around me again, like he’s planting a flag. Or afraid I’ll run toward something he doesn’t want me near.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs but his eyes are on Callen. My stomach twists. I pull away. Fast. Ezra’s fingers hold on a second too long, like they didn’t get the memo that my body already left the moment. When he finally lets go, something flickers in his eyes,  hurt, confusion, something darker underneath.

“Thanks,” I say. That’s all I can manage. The word falls flat between us. He hears everything I’m not saying. Callen shifts like he’s about to speak,  like he has a sentence loaded that’ll crack me open.

“Lira,” he says, quiet but heavy. “What happened back there..”

“No.” It comes out too sharp. “Don’t.” His mouth closes. His jaw flexes once.
He nods, slow, like he anticipated this and still hoped for something else. And the look in his eyes.  It’s not anger. It’s not guilt. It’s fear. Not of me. For me. The hallway empties unnaturally fast, students scattering, doors slamming, as if something whispered. The air tightens around us. Cold slips under every door.

Then—A scrape. Frost spiders across the tiles beside my shoe, moving with deliberate intent. Ezra steps forward, but I lift a hand. I don’t know why. I just know the message is for me. The frost carves a word:

LISTEN

It pulses once, then shatters into powder. Ezra whispers my name. Callen takes a half step toward me like the frost might leap again. But I’m frozen in place. Because that word was a command. A warning. A target.

LISTEN.  To what? The metallic click snaps behind my ear, too close. I flinch. Ezra swears. Callen’s posture goes rigid, protective in a way that makes my throat close. Another click. Then another. The air thickens around me. My vision narrows. Something presses under my ribs, cold and intimate, like a thought that isn’t mine:

Lira. My breath stumbles out of me. I choke on nothing. The pressure curls tighter.

Due.

I spin. Nothing there. Just cold and dissolving frost. Ezra steps toward me, terrified. Callen steps closer, ready for a fight he can’t see. But neither of them can touch what’s happening inside me. The curse isn’t just following me anymore. It knows my name.