Chapter 93: Back to School

For the first time in weeks, the estate felt… almost normal. No glowing cracks in the ground, no monsters crawling out of shadows, no blood rituals in underground chambers. Just us, crowded around the war table with coffee cups, files, and Ethan’s laptop humming like it was holding the secrets of the universe.

Almost normal.

Ethan clicked open a folder, pushing his glasses up his nose. “So, uh, remember that transmission we intercepted before the mirror trial? The one from Ravenna about ‘the others surviving’? Well… I cross-referenced the encrypted fragments with some outside networks. Turns out, we’ve got activity. And not just anywhere. At—” He paused dramatically.

Elena groaned. “If you don’t spit it out in the next five seconds, I’m throwing your laptop out the window.”

“Fine, fine.” Ethan spun the screen toward us. On it, a college campus stretched across a valley, red-bricked buildings tucked between green lawns and buzzing students. “Northridge University. Small liberal arts school. Middle of nowhere. Except… three weeks ago, six students suddenly dropped out. No explanation. No contact with family. Just vanished.”

Rhea leaned closer, frowning. “That’s not unusual. College students disappear all the time.”

“Right,” Ethan agreed, “except these six were all in the same study group. And cross-checking their DNA—guess what? Every single one of them has traces of hybrid markers.”

The room went quiet.

I blinked. “You’re saying Ravenna’s people are recruiting… in a college?”

“Not just recruiting.” Echo’s voice was steady. “Hiding. Testing. Preparing.”

Callum rubbed his chin. “So what—you’re suggesting we waltz into some college town and play detective?”

Ethan smirked. “Not suggesting. Assigning. Because guess who just got themselves new student IDs?”

He slid a small stack of fake IDs across the table.

One for each of us.

Elena picked hers up, reading it aloud. “‘Elena Grant. Age twenty-one. Major: Psychology.’” She blinked, then grinned. “Well, at least you got the psych part right. I am fascinating.”

Ethan snorted. “You’re a case study waiting to happen.”

Elena flipped him off without looking away from her ID.

I picked mine up slowly. “Roxanne Devlin. Sociology major.”

“Fits,” Aidan murmured at my side. “You do like studying people.”

I nudged him with my elbow. “Careful. I might study you next.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up, but his eyes stayed serious.

Echo’s ID read “Exchange Student. Linguistics.” Fitting, somehow. Ethan had made himself a Computer Science major—naturally. Rhea got tagged as a freshman in History. Mara, of course, was listed as faculty—Visiting Professor of Anthropology.

Elena grinned wickedly. “So, we’re all back in school? Please tell me this involves frat parties and midterms, because I have knives that would love to grade a few papers.”

Aidan sighed. “We’re not here to party. We’re here to investigate.”

“But undercover means blending in,” Elena argued. “And blending in means keg stands.”

“No keg stands,” I said firmly.

“Maybe one keg stand,” Ethan muttered, typing rapidly.

I groaned.

Already, this mission was going to be a nightmare.

\---

Two days later, we were on campus.

It was surreal—walking across the quad like I belonged there, backpack slung over my shoulder, textbooks tucked under my arm. Students streamed past us in groups—laughing, arguing, scrolling on their phones. For the first time in forever, I wasn’t staring at soldiers or hybrids or cultists. Just kids in hoodies with earbuds in, complaining about professors and dining hall food.

But beneath it all, I felt it. The hum. The whisper. The faint pulse of something wrong.

“This feels weird,” Rhea whispered beside me, eyes darting everywhere. “Too normal. Like fake normal.”

“Welcome to college,” Elena said dryly. She was wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket, blending in a little too well with the crowd. “Everyone here is pretending to be normal.”

Ethan was already buried in his phone, probably hacking the Wi-Fi to set up surveillance. Echo walked silently at the back of our group, her eyes scanning the crowd with that hawk-like precision of hers. Mara had already gone to meet the faculty dean, playing her role as “Visiting Professor” with unnerving ease.

Aidan leaned in toward me. “You okay?”

I nodded slowly, though my stomach churned. “I just… haven’t been around this many normal people in a long time.”

“Then think of it as practice,” he said softly. “Blending in. Acting human.”

“I am human,” I muttered.

His gaze lingered on me. “Sometimes you forget.”

Before I could respond, Elena waved us over. “Look alive, team. I think I found our first lead.”

She nodded toward a bulletin board plastered with posters. Tucked between flyers for poetry readings and volunteer clubs was one that stood out:

The Circle.

Private meetings. Invitation only.

Elena grinned. “Tell me that doesn’t sound cult-y.”

Ethan snapped a photo immediately. “Already hacking the RSVP list.”

I stared at the poster, my chest tight.

The Circle.

Of course.

Because this wasn’t just going to be undercover.

This was going to be a hunt.

And the prey already knew we were here.