I stepped into the school, and before I could even take five steps in, the loud voice of the security guard shouted, "Halt!"
"Relax, Jason, it's just me—late, as usual, ya know," I said, yawning through my words.
"And what is the reason for your latest tardy appearance, hmm?" he inquired, his big brown eyes scanning my face for lies.
Jason was a pretty young guy, about twenty-six if I had to guess, although the cheesy red double-breasted guard uniform made him look more like a bellhop at a fancy hotel than a guard for rich and spoiled high school kids.
"Hello? Earth to Willow. C'mon, let's hear those excuses," he probed, waving his hand in front of my face.
"Uh, umm, I just overslept. I had a long night," I blurted out.
"Heh, thought I lost ya there. I mean, I know my boyish good looks can be disarming, but not full-on brain-canceling," he bragged, giving me a playful wink.
"Oh, shut up. It was just a brain fart or whatever," I giggled, looking down at the ground and nervously shuffling my feet.
"Well, you look like death," he smirked as he rummaged through his work bag and pulled out a blue energy drink. "Here, take this *Shocker*. It should wake you up a bit," he said, handing the bottle to me. I noticed a small tattoo of a double-barred cross on the front of his wrist.
"Gee, thanks. Just what a girl needed in the morning—compliments and an energy drink," I joked, sarcasm oozing from my tone.
"Hey, now *that's* blue raspberry flavor, the best kind. I'd be more grateful if I were you," he said, giving me his best "I'm hurt" face.
I took a sip as I began to walk away, but before I could get too far, a question popped into my head. "Hey, Jason, what's that tattoo on your wrist? I've never seen a cross like that," I asked, walking backward as I heard him out.
"Oh, this?" he said, looking at his wrist and pointing. "It's just a club I'm in," he answered teasingly, leaving out the important information. "Oh, and by the way, I'll let you off the hook this time, 'cuz ya look like you've been through hell already."
"Thanks, you're the best, Jason," I yelled as I ran down the hall to my, uh, fourth-period class.
"No running!" he yelled after me.
"Okay!" I yelled back, still bolting down the halls.
After a Guinness-worthy run, I approached the big, heavy wooden door. I pushed it open, only to be welcomed by a dozen very bored students staring at the door as if my tardiness was the most exciting part of their day.
"Well, thank you for showing up to class today, Ms. Ruiz. To what do we owe the pleasure, hmm?" Mr. Yoshizawa chastised in his overpriced bronze Harris Tweed jacket and his spotless yellow tie covered in ancient symbols. *He's clearly a paragon of style,* I thought as I began walking toward the back of the class.
"I know, Mr. Yoshizawa, I'm sorry, and believe me, Jason already threw the book at me," I lied, then hurriedly got to my seat, plopping right down with an audible "poof."
"Hey, Grace, what'd I miss?" I asked, the lack of enthusiasm evident on my face.
"Aw, c'mon, Willy, it's not so bad," she smirked, brushing aside her flowing golden hair. "And to answer your question, nothing much, just an overview on monsters and other spooky stuff that goes bump in the night," she replied.
"Oh, joy," I groaned as I leaned back in my chair.
"Alright, class, continuing on from where we left off last Friday," Mr. Yoshizawa started as he began writing on the digital whiteboard in big, bold letters: *Mythological Heroes.*
"Now, in accordance with the topic, can anyone tell me who our Academy's namesake is?" he asked, surveying the room and looking for any volunteers. As per usual, Grace's hand was the only one to shoot into the air.
"Would anyone else like to answer?" he prodded, scanning the faces of his students, each employing their own unique method of making themselves appear less visible. "Alright, then I'll just start picking students out… hmm, Ms. Ruiz, let's start with you."
"That's just great," I muttered aloud.
"Great indeed. Consider it a gift for your late arrival. Now, if you will, Ms. Ruiz, what can you tell me about our Academy's namesake?" he asked, clearly anticipating the proverbial steam about to spew from my ears.
"Umm, uh, the really buff guy," I stammered, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.
"Herakles, Ms. Ruiz. *Herakles,*" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and making little effort to hide his disappointment. After taking a deep breath, he began his spiel. "Our school's namesake is Alcaeus."
"But you just said it was Herakles," interrupted another student.
"Indeed, I did. Good ear you have, Mr. Ward," he lauded, jotting names on the whiteboard. Whitney sat there looking quite pleased with himself over his small but commendable academic triumph.
"Alcaeus is actually the birth name of Greece's most iconic hero. He was named Alcaeus at birth to honor his lineage. However, in an attempt to appease Hera, Zeus's notoriously jealous wife, his name was changed to Herakles. The name *Herakles* means 'Glory of Hera,' symbolizing a desperate but ultimately futile effort to placate her wrath," Mr. Yoshizawa explained, his tone laden with subtle irony.
"Like most husbands, trying to keep the peace," I joked, trying in vain to inject some levity into this bore-fest.
"Very clever, Ms. Ruiz. Now, class, let's get out our textbooks and open them to page—," he started, only to be interrupted by the ringing phone. "Excuse me, one second, class," he muttered as he began speaking in hushed tones. "Indeed, sir. That's correct, Principal Howlett. She is far behind. I understand, sir. I'll be down there in a moment," he said under his breath before going silent for a few seconds. Gingerly, he hung up the phone, turned back to us, and took a long, deep breath.
"Alright, class, consider this your lucky day. I have to be going, so the rest of this hour will be a study period," he explained.
"Ooh, you're in trouble," mocked Claudia from her seat.
"No, Ms. Alexandria, you are. Now, get your feet off your desk," he chastised, leaving the room in a huff.
"And there goes my last defensive barrier against my arch-nemesis," I thought.
"Oh wow, looks like the queen of lizards—Godzilla—is back," Claudia mocked.
"Do you ever have anything else to do besides bother me?" I shot back, sipping on my Shocker while giving Grace the best *'not this again'* face I could muster.
"You mean besides making another hit single?" she scoffed, slicking back her venom-green bangs out of her heavily made-up face. But, I gotta admit, I liked her style. She had this retro punk vibe going on—oversized black leather jacket with a spiked collar and sleeves, and lapels covered in tour badges.
"The ones that I wrote?" I snapped back.
"Pfft, whatever. You write one good song for me, and you think you're all that."
"Two," I corrected.
"Oh my God, whatever—"
"Oh, and I did all the concept work on your 'hit' album *Agent 335.* And who was it that filled in as lead guitarist at the recording studio when your guy drank himself into a coma?" I interrupted, folding my arms.
"At least I'm still out there performing. You haven't had the guts to grace a stage since you—" she stopped herself just short of crossing a line she knew she was teetering on.
"Go ahead, say it," I fumed, hardly able to resist the urge to strangle her.
"I'm gone. Let's go, Whitney," she called, then stormed off in a huff, Whitney following close behind. He gave me an apologetic look as he moved to her other side of the classroom.
"Was he there the whole time?" I asked Grace.
"Yeah, he was. You've got a definite case of tunnel vision when it comes to Claudia," she laughed.
"You got me there," I said, walking toward the window overlooking the oval-shaped parking lot filled with overly expensive cars and, for some reason, the Ghostbusters mobile.
"It's probably a replica Principal Howlett had commissioned. I hear he has the Spidey car as well," Grace pointed out, following my gaze.
"Guess everyone has their hobbies," I shrugged, turning away from the window, only to be greeted by Javier waving like a madman at me.
"Hey, Chica, I thought ya'd never notice me over here," he giggled.
"Believe me, I was trying not to. Looks like I failed," I quipped, pushing my hair to one side.
"Ouch, that hurt, Chica," he said, grabbing at his chest and feigning pain.
"Alright, alright, I'll bite. Whaddya want?"
"I was wondering if you would model for this character I have in mind," he said, pulling a large artbook out of his Black JEMMA duffle bag.
"No," I said flat out, shooting the idea down.
"Aw, c'mon! You haven't even heard me out yet."
"Okay, bien, lo que sea. So, what's her M.O. and stuff?" I said, slightly annoyed now.
"Alright, alright, I'll cut to the chase. She's this one *jaina* that I named *Rokk Girl.* EH! EH! Que piensas?" he giggled, making passionate hand movements.
"¿Que onda? Con ese nombre, wey? It's stupid. How'd you even come up with that name?" I asked, resisting the urge to facepalm.
"WHAAAAAA! ¿Es neta? NO MAMES! I thought about this name for like a solid 10 hours!" he said, looking down at his artbook, bewildered.
"How are you a successful comic writer?! Weyy," I teased, truly astonished at his success.
"Hey! Hey! What can I say? The people love my style," he boasted.
"Umm, feeling a little left out here, guys," Grace interjected.
"Oh, sorry, Grace, I was just telling Javier here that his new character's name *Rokk Girl* is stupid and that I won't be accepting the gig," I said, giving Javier some much-needed side-eye.
"I gotta agree with Willow here, Javi. *Rokk Girl* is a stupid name," she smirked.
"See," I added, turning to fist bump Grace.
"Aww, c'mon, it's not that bad! Ayo, Swan! You think it's cool, right?"
"Ah, yeah, sure, man. Super cool," answered a very tired-looking boy in a white track jacket and blue cargo shorts that had definitely seen better days.
"See, Chica, he thinks it's *super cool,*" Javier boasted.
"Well, I think you're runnin' out of lifelines," I quipped.
"Geez, remind me not to go on the next game show you host," he bantered.
"So, Javi, who's that?" I asked, pointing my thumb toward Swan. "Haven't seen him around here before," I continued.
"Oh, yeah, you haven't seen him before, huh? Willow, that's Swan, our new star track player starting this year," Javier answered, a lot louder than necessary.
"He started a week before spring break," he added.
"Good ol' 'Tunnel Vision Willy' strikes again," Grace jested, wrinkling her nose in laughter.
"Yo, Swan, come hang out for a sec, homes. Meet the squad," Javier called.
"Ah, sure, okay," Swan shifted nervously, clearly being pulled out of his comfort zone.
"Ah, c'mon, don't be shy, amigo. Move those feet. These two spicy chicas won't bite... I think," Javier giggled.
"Hey! I'd be more worried about you biting, *rechoncho,*" I ribbed, slapping his shoulder hard enough to sting.
"Well, guess I'm the new character in the party," Swan joked nervously.
"Was that a video game reference, Swan?" I coaxed, hoping to make him feel a bit more welcome because he was definitely giving off that 'fish outta water' vibe.
"Yeah, sorry about that," he laughed nervously.
"Nah, it's cool, dude! I've played my fair share of video games, too, in between jam sessions!" I elaborated.
"What's your poison?" he asked, a hint of excitement twinkling in his eyes.
"I play mostly Holo-Vids; they are—" I started, as the screeching of the school bell interrupted. *Ding ding ding!*
"Well, I guess we'll have to rain check this. But, if ya got nothing going down on Saturday, come to my place, and we'll hang. Grace'll be there," I invited.
"Yeah, sure, uh, it's a date. I mean, uh, like a friend date," he said, embarrassment all over his face.
"Whoa there, cowboy, not so fast. Let's save the dates for later, right, Grace?" I joked, nudging Grace's shoulder. "Right, Grace," I repeated a bit louder, feeling the awkwardness filling the room. "Geez, Grace, you're killing my comedic timing," I thought.
"Uh, yeah, so Saturday, right?" he mumbled as he inched toward the door.
"Chyeah, Saturday indeed, yup," I said, hoping to end the awkwardness. "Geez, Grace, amazing save back there," I whinged, pulling lightly on her arm as she stood by the window, unmoving.
"Whatever, let's go, Grace, off to the next bore-fest," I grumbled loud enough to startle her. She tensed up, then turned to me, eyes wide.
"Willow, we have to go. There's someth—"
"I know, I know. We'll be late, I get it," I interrupted, pushing her into the crowded halls.
"Willow, this is important. We have to leave now," she implored, looking oddly serious for a reason I couldn't begin to guess.
"Relax, I'll just pop over to my locker to unload some of these paperweights," I said, pointing at my textbook-filled backpack before flinging it across my back as I began pushing my way through the crowd, making my way down the hall. Grace's calls grew fainter with each passing step.
I got about halfway down the hall before a blood-curdling scream ripped through the hallway, followed by the sound of gunshots ringing out. The crowd surged forward, falling all over themselves in panic, shoving each other outta the way.
I pushed myself flat against the lockers in an attempt to avoid being trampled by my oh-so 'considerate peers,' then waited for a break in the crowd as my heart pounded against my chest. *THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!* Seconds later, I found it. Wasting no time, I darted across the hall, weaving through panicked students at top speeds that would make even the most critical cheetah proud. I slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding smashing against the wall, and took a moment to catch my breath and wipe the nervous sweat off my palms before peeking around the corner to search for an exit. But what I saw filled me only with dread.
It was pure carnage; blood bathed the halls, and bodies lay slumped against their lockers.
"Shit, shit, shit!" I cursed under my breath as I inched away from the gruesome sight. "Now what?" I bemoaned. "Whatever, I just gotta find Grace and dip outta here," I thought. I tensed up when a hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. I spun around as soon as I could, raising my fist, ready to strike.
"Geez, Wonder Woman, relax, relax, it's just me, Willy," Grace explained.
"Could have fooled me, Mistress Iron-Grip," I complained, rubbing my aching shoulder.
"What the hell is going on?" I said, barely able to contain my growing anxiety.
"Trust me, not what you think," she whispered, pulling us to the ground and pressing her hand to my lips, shushing any further inquiries on my part.
She scanned the area as she dragged me along the halls, occasionally stopping and ducking behind corners. She moved with an efficiency that was unfamiliar to me. So where was the clumsy airhead Grace I'd known all these years, and who was this chick that replaced her?
"Willow, pay attention," she warned, her voice sterner than I'd ever heard from her.
"Sorry… right, my bad... just a bit lost in thought," I whispered.
"Not the time—... Whitney, oh no!" she faltered.
"Whitney, huh?" I said, following her line of sight to the right side of the hall. And what I saw left a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Whitney was sprawled against the cold tiles, a pool of dark, glistening blood spreading beneath him. His right arm was gone—a jagged, gory stump trembling with every shallow breath. I pushed past Grace, who stood frozen, her wide eyes locked on the carnage as if she were paralyzed by it.
"C'mon, Grace, snap outta lala land and help me!" I barked, taking charge for once.
Grace jolted to attention and immediately knelt beside me, helping prop Whitney up against the lockers.
"Stay with me, Whitney. You've got this… no going off to the big stage in the sky, okay?" I begged, gripping his trembling hand. His blood was sticky and warm against my palm, but I didn't care; I wasn't letting go.
His hazel eyes dimmed further, staring somewhere past me into oblivion. Finally, his hand twitched in mine, and he managed a shaky breath.
"Willow..." he rasped, his voice faint and broken. "There's no way I'm walking out of this. But I can still make this count—through you."
"Don't you dare give up, Whitney. I'll get you out of here—both of us, together!" I urged, my voice cracking with desperation.
He coughed, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth, and gave me a weak smile.
"Alright, Willow, but… promise me one thing. Fill in for me—for one last gig," he whispered, each word a struggle.
I forced a small laugh, trying to mask the ache in my chest. "Not like it'd be the first time I've filled in for you," I said, squeezing his hand tighter.
"Ouch, Willow. Way to kick a man when he's down," he wheezed, reaching into his breast pocket.
"Take this…" he pressed a small metal object into my palm, his gaze growing watery with tears. "Give it to Claudia. She's by the gym. Please, Willow, you have to help her."
"Hey now, none of that, okay? We'll find her. I promise," I reassured him, my voice trembling. Upon hearing my words, his pain-stricken face relaxed, the faintest trace of peace settling over him.
"You're the best," he managed to whisper before slumping forward into my arms, his grip loosening on mine.
I took a shaky breath, holding him tight for a moment as guilt clawed at me. Then Grace's hand touched my shoulder, gently urging me to let him go.
"You did good, Willow," she said softly. "You gave him peace in his last moments. But… do you intend to follow through?" Her stormy blue gaze locked on mine, searching for any hint of hesitation.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them, I met her gaze with equal determination. "I don't break promises," I replied firmly.
Grace sighed, relief evident on her face, but her focus quickly shifted as she clasped her hands over her heart and muttered something under her breath. Moments later, she shoved me into an empty classroom and under a nearby desk.
"Listen to me, Willow," she began, her voice strained. "You need to stay calm, and whatever happens, know that I never meant to hide anything from you." She leaned in close, wrapping her arms around me like it was the last time we'd see each other.
"Whoa there, Grace. I have no idea what you're talking about, but we're not going to die here, okay? We're gonna get outta this alive!" I insisted, trying to reassure her, though my words felt hollow even to me.
We curled into tight balls under the desk as the seconds dragged on, each one feeling heavier than the last. My mind raced in panic, a hamster on a wheel going nowhere. Grace, meanwhile, moved her hands in swift, deliberate motions, muttering words in a language I couldn't even begin to recognize.
When she finished, she took a deep breath and turned to me. Her eyes burned with determination—and something else. A hint of sorrow, maybe.
"Willow," she said firmly, pressing a glowing necklace into my palm. "Take this and run when I tell you to. Don't stop. Don't look back. Just run and hide!"
"What are you plan—oh no, you don't! You're not running out there to play hero and get shot up by some psycho kid," I protested, mouthing the words furiously. She was out of her mind if she thought I'd let her pull some superhero stunt.
"No, Willow. Guns are the least of our worries," she replied cryptically, her tone more solemn than I'd ever heard. She held her hands to her neck, forming a heart shape with her fingers.
"Take wha—?" My eyes went wide as the space between her fingers began to glow with a bright blue light, eclipsing every other source of light in the room. The air around her shimmered, and seconds later, a necklace with a large azure jewel appeared around her neck. Grace unclasped it and shoved it into my trembling hands.
"Huh. I've been getting a lot of neck gear today, and it's not even my birthday," I joked weakly, hoping to cut the tension.
"No time for jokes," she said sternly. "Take this, and when I say run—you run. No questions. No hesitations. You stay alive, no matter what happens to me."
Sliding out from under the desk, she crossed her arms over her chest in an X shape and called out, "*Foteino trelo!*" Her ivory bracelets flared with light, rippling the space around her like heat waves. That light consumed her clothes, replacing them with Here's the rewritten and enhanced version of your scene, with improved dialogue, vivid descriptions, and a more immersive atmosphere:
"What's the difference?" I shot back, rolling out from under the desk and plopping on top of it. "So, what's the plan now? Kinda lost here, Grace," I asked, trying to mask my unease with sarcasm.
"Well, we can't stay here now, can we?" she replied, her tone thoughtful as she rubbed her temples.
"At a loss, huh?" I observed, raising an eyebrow.
"How'd ya know?" she asked, her voice tinged with annoyance.
"Because you're rubbing your temples. You always do that when you're stuck," I pointed out, stifling a laugh.
"I do?" Grace blinked, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Ugh, only you could find time to laugh in a situation like this," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to planning our great esca—"
*Crack!*
"D'you hear that?" I asked, my eyes darting around the room.
"Wow, of course not, Willow. I have giant ears on my head for absolutely no—"
*Boom!*
I barely had time to duck before the classroom door came flying off its hinges, crashing through the window with a deafening explosion. My heart leapt into my throat as the dust settled, revealing a hulking, muscle-bound werewolf standing in the doorway.
The beast locked eyes with me, its bloody maw dripping saliva. I could feel its hot breath from across the room. It tilted its head in a curious motion that might've been cute—if it weren't a werewolf. Its glowing eyes flicked between Grace and me, as if deciding who to devour first. Apparently, it chose me.
The wolf howled and charged, claws outstretched and fangs bared. I jumped back just in time, narrowly avoiding its swipe.
"Well, this makes things so much easier," Grace said, her tone almost giddy.
"I'm glad you're happy, Legolas. Now, would you *please* shoot this thing or something!" I shouted, panic creeping into my voice.
"Hmph, I am many things, but an archer I am not," she declared proudly.
Grace pressed her palms together in a prayer-like motion, the air around her rippling. She turned her left palm outward, and a golden handle materialized in her grip. Within seconds, she held a mighty lance, gleaming and towering at least a foot taller than her.
The werewolf turned toward the newly armed Grace, its posture shifting into a defensive stance. It howled, momentarily forgetting my existence.
Grace cocked her head slyly. "Crying for help, are you? Sadly, you won't live to see it arrive," she declared, rushing forward at blinding speed.
The werewolf lunged, but Grace leapt onto its arm, driving her armored knee into its maw with an audible *CRACK!* The beast stumbled back, howling in pain through its shattered fangs.
"You must be the runt of the litter," Grace taunted, landing gracefully in front of me.
"Wow, you've got to teach me that one, Grace," I marveled, my fear momentarily replaced by awe.
"All in due time," she replied with a smirk, turning her attention back to the snarling beast. She took a wide stance, aiming her lance at its chest like a pool cue ready to strike.
The werewolf bared its remaining fangs in desperation, turning to retreat. But before it could take a step, Grace launched herself forward like a railgun shot, impaling the beast with her lance. The force sent it crashing through the classroom wall, pinning it to the lockers across the hall.
"Geez, I almost feel bad for the poor thing," I muttered, walking toward her.
Grace held up a hand, gesturing for me to stay back. I gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed "okay," retreating to what was left of the classroom wall. Peeking around the corner, I immediately regretted it.
Two more werewolves barreled down the hall, their claws scraping against the floor as they charged straight for Grace.
"Ah, here they come—like wolves to the slaughter," she mocked, tearing her lance from the first werewolf's corpse with a sickening *RIP!* The body hit the floor with a heavy *thud.*
The beasts charged at breakneck speed, colliding with each other like pinballs in their frenzy. Grace kicked the corpse of their fallen comrade into one of their faces, sending it sprawling to the ground. The other lunged forward, but Grace dispatched it with a swift stab to the gullet.
The downed werewolf recovered, leaping onto the ceiling in an attempt to drop down on Grace. Without missing a beat, she thrust her lance upward, piercing its throat with a wet *glurnk!* She swung the body off her lance, slamming it into the wall with a resounding *bam!*
"Well, well, well. I'm glad to see the centuries have not dulled your skills… Seraphina," growled a deep, menacing voice from just out of sight.
Grace whipped around, her expression briefly flashing with fear. I followed her gaze and immediately understood why.
The owner of the voice was massive, towering over the other werewolves like a giant among men. His fur was jet black, his eyes glowing with a sinister light. In his hands, he held a gigantic double-sided battle-ax, the kind you'd see in a gaudy fantasy movie.
My heart skipped several beats when Lykaôn dashed toward Grace, his massive ax raised high. He swung it down with deadly force, the blade slicing through the air like a guillotine. Grace reacted in an instant, materializing a large shield on her free arm. *Clang!* The impact was deafening, shaking the surrounding lockers and sending vibrations through the floor. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I thought my heart might give out.
"You're as tactful as I remember, Lykaôn," Grace jeered, her voice steady despite the blood dripping from her shoulder.
They launched into a vicious flurry of attacks, their weapons clashing in a deadly dance. Lykaôn's ax moved with brutal strength, while Grace countered with precise strikes and quick footwork. The hallway echoed with the cacophony of steel against steel.
Lykaôn suddenly reared back, his glowing eyes narrowing. He swung his ax in a wide arc, but Grace parried the strike with her shield just in time. She thrust her lance forward, the golden tip aimed at his chest, forcing him to leap back to avoid being impaled. They both stood panting, their movements slowing. Grace's breaths were ragged, and blood streamed freely from the wound on her shoulder, staining her armor crimson.
"Ahh, Seraphina, you know table manners were never my strong suit," Lykaôn snarled, his voice dripping with mockery as he caught his breath.
Grace's grip on her lance tightened as she steadied herself for another charge. For the briefest moment, I felt her mind brush against mine like a fleeting whisper in the wind. One word echoed in my thoughts: *"Survive."*
I wasn't sure if it was a two-way connection, but I tried my best to project my thoughts back to her. *"Back at ya, Grace! We still have those concerts to crash, ya hear me!?"* I shouted in my mind, hoping against hope that I'd somehow developed telepathic abilities in the last five seconds. I couldn't see her face, but I swore I felt something—a flicker of acknowledgment.
I hunched by the entrance, waiting for my cue to bolt. My mind raced through countless problems, but the most pressing was simple: *Where the hell is Claudia?* Scratch that—the most immediate issue was getting away from the big bad wolfman currently battling Grace.
"I swear upon the honor of King Eldric and this shield that you will die by my hand, Lykaôn!!!" Grace declared, her voice ringing with unwavering conviction.
"An elf swearing on the honor of the dark king—truly an upside-down world we live in, isn't it?" Lykaôn scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain.
"I need no judgment from a filthy mongrel like you. Now, prepare to die!!!" Grace roared. Her lance erupted with a golden light, the radiant glow bathing the bloodstained hallway.
"Threatening me with blessings will never instill fear in my heart," Lykaôn mocked, his ax glowing with a sinister red hue to match her display. Their weapons clashed once more, the corridor blazing with a clash of light and shadow.
"Time to move," I muttered under my breath. I spared one last glance at Grace, shoving all my fear and guilt deep into the recesses of my mind. Without another thought, I bolted down the hallway, my only focus on reaching the gym where Whitney had said Claudia would be.
"God, I hope that idiot didn't get herself killed. Knowing her, she's probably mouthing off to the werewolves," I muttered as my sneakers pounded against the tiled floor.
Then a sudden, chilling thought struck me. *How many wolves came here?* Grace had already killed three and was now going toe-to-toe with their leader. But was that all of them? Or was I about to stumble into the rest of the pack?
The realization sent a wave of panic through me, threatening to crush what little courage I had left. I slumped against a nearby locker, taking a shaky breath as I scanned my surroundings.
Claw marks marred the walls, and the floor was littered with bodies. The stench of blood and death clung to the air, making my stomach churn. I clenched my hand over my mouth, swallowing the urge to scream or vomit—or both. *Get it together, Willow. You can panic later. Now is the time to think,* I told myself firmly.
Moving cautiously, I examined the walls and floor for clues. Deep gashes ran through the plaster, but they were sparse and sporadic. My eyes fell to the floor, where bloody footprints trailed across the blue tiles, heading in the opposite direction of the gym. There were at least two sets of prints.
"So, one went after Whitney, and another headed toward the gym," I speculated aloud, my voice barely above a whisper. "The other two wolves Grace put down must've come from the school's entrance… with their boss." My stomach tightened as I did the math. *That's at least five wolves. Does that mean there's only one left?*
The hope was fleeting, dying in my throat. *Oh, God. There's another werewolf.* The thought hit me like a ton of bricks.
I swiveled my head side to side in a cold sweat, darting into a corner for cover. *Like that'll help against a super predator,* I thought bitterly. Resigning myself to my helplessness, I steadied my breathing and kept moving, skirting the walls and checking every corner like my life depended on it—because it did.
Halfway to the gym, I spotted Claudia and Javier huddled near the entrance. Claudia was, unsurprisingly, yelling at the top of her lungs, hurling every obscenity in her lexicon. Gems like "Do you know who I am?!" and "My father is a very powerful man!" echoed through the hallway.
I froze in place about thirty feet away, ducking behind a toppled table adorned with "A.A. Spring Ball" decorations. The event had been over a month ago, but for once, I was grateful for the lazy cleaning crew.
"Now, how the hell am I going to drag those two idiots outta this without us all becoming dog food?" I muttered, rummaging through my backpack for anything useful.
Before I could come up with a plan, a loud battle cry tore through the hallway. Peeking over the edge of the table, my eyes widened in disbelief.
Mr. Yoshizawa was charging the werewolf with a steel baseball bat, his face a mix of fury and desperation.
"Get away from my students, you monster!" Mr. Yoshizawa roared, swinging the bat with all his might at the werewolf's face. *Bam!* The impact echoed through the hallway, but the beast didn't even flinch. It shrugged off the hit as if Mr. Yoshizawa were nothing more than a pesky fly.
"Humans never learn…" the werewolf growled, yanking the bat from Mr. Yoshizawa's grip with ease. "…Not to test their fate. It's always up to warriors like myself to grind cold reality into you flesh bags." With a sickening *snap,* he broke the bat into two jagged pieces and tossed them aside. *Clang!*
Even from where I stood, I could see the terror etched into Mr. Yoshizawa's face. Still, he shouted at Claudia and Javier to run—a brilliant idea, if only they weren't frozen like statues, mumbling incoherently. Not that I could blame them.
The beast let out a guttural laugh, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Aww, it looks like your little protégés are frozen stiff. But, hmm, I know just the thing to loosen them up," he sneered, licking his lips in anticipation.
Mr. Yoshizawa whipped around like a viper, delivering a high kick straight out of an old kung-fu movie. But the wolf was faster. He caught Mr. Yoshizawa's leg mid-air, his claws sinking deep into the flesh.
Mr. Yoshizawa screamed, his face contorted in agony. "Don't stop fighting back now…" the werewolf mocked, lifting him high into the air and shaking him like a rag doll. "…I'd hate for this to be a boring show for the kiddies."
Javier moved to cover Claudia's eyes, but the wolf snarled in warning. "Don't ruin the show, boy, or you'll be the next actor in it," he growled.
Javier quickly dropped his hand, mouthing something under his breath to Claudia. Her screams faltered for a moment as she nodded in understanding. She buried her face in his chest briefly, like he was her lifeline, but pulled away just as quickly when the wolf growled again.
I shook myself out of my stupor and rummaged through my bag for anything—anything at all. Hell, I'd settle for stale doggie treats or a pipe wrench. Preferably the pipe wrench. But no dice. All I had was an oversized math book, rusty scissors, and a bag of glitter. *How am I supposed to MacGyver my way out of this and save three people?*
*Crack!* The sound of Mr. Yoshizawa's bones breaking rang through the hallway, mixing with his screams in a horrible symphony of agony.
The werewolf pinned him to the ground with one massive foot, grinding it into his back. "Mierda, I'm outta time," I cursed under my breath, darting forward with bonehead mode fully activated.
The monster noticed me immediately and laughed. "Another appetizer greets the table! Ahh, I love this place! The service is top-notch," he said, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Too bad your hygiene isn't," I shot back, narrowly ducking his first swing. I spun around and charged at him full speed. He reached out to grab me, but I slid under his grip like a baseball player stealing home. With a desperate lunge, I stabbed the rusty scissors into the leg pinning Mr. Yoshizawa to the ground.
The wolf howled in pain, yanking me off the floor by my backpack. "You would-be heroes cease to be entertaining. Now you're just annoyances," he barked, his voice filled with venom.
"Well, you're no 'Guns N' Roses' concert yourself, buddy," I snapped, trying to sound intimidating despite dangling helplessly in mid-air.
He snarled and hurled me across the hallway like a bowling ball. I crashed into Claudia and Javier, knocking them over like pins.
"Oww, chica! Could've rammed into us a little softer," Javier complained, rubbing his shoulder.
"Chyeah, Javi. Next time a werewolf decides to bowl with my face, I'll be sure to tell him to 'slow his roll,'" I grumbled, rubbing the back of my throbbing head.
"Could you two freaks get off me!?" Claudia shouted, her face red with teenage rage.
I rolled off them, pulling Javier to his feet while leaving Claudia to her own devices. Before I could forget, I turned to her and tossed a holo-note in her direction. She caught it, her face twisting in shock as she stared at the object in her hands.
"Wh-Wh-Wha…!? How'd you get this?" she stammered, stumbling over her words.
"Just take it and shut up, Claudia!" I snapped, unable to meet her eyes. How could I? She didn't deserve Whitney. She didn't deserve this final gift. And yet, I couldn't help but hate her for what she'd done to him.
"Where's Whitney, Willow?" Claudia pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation.
"Listen, Claudia, let's focus on getting out of here alive. We can play twenty questions when we aren't on the menu," I said, my mind racing for a way to keep her calm. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Javi's. He gave me a knowing look, his silent support grounding me in this hellish moment.
"WHERE IS HE, WILLOW?!" Claudia screamed, her hysteria escalating.
I glanced at Javier, meeting his eyes. Like me, he was barely holding it together, but he understood what I was asking without a word. He turned to Claudia and pulled her into a tight hug as she broke down, sobbing into his chest.
"Aww, you kids are forgetting your poor old teacher over here," the wolf sneered, his guttural laugh echoing through the hallway. "I can't simply have you starting your own show when mine is still on the air."
Mr. Yoshizawa looked utterly wrecked—his bloodshot eyes and battered face a testament to the beast's cruelty. And here I was, standing helpless, unable to do a damn thing.
The werewolf flipped him over, planting his massive feet into his back. "Yo, chica, if we don't do something quick, bro's head is gonna be the next thing bowled at us," Javier whispered urgently, pulling me from my frantic thoughts.
"Callate, I know," I muttered, my voice strained.
"Oh, and before I forget," the wolf growled, his claws tightening around Mr. Yoshizawa's neck, "you should at least know the name of your killer. Carry it on your lips to your creator… My name is Arangoth!"
The beast howled, yanking Mr. Yoshizawa's head upward. The sickening sound of bones separating filled the air.
"Sorry about this, Grace," I muttered under my breath. I lunged forward, shouting admittedly uncreative insults at the furball, which, fortunately—or unfortunately—grabbed his attention.
"You ruined the climax, you maggot!" Arangoth roared, his fiery eyes locking onto me with murderous intent.
"You and your pack are after this, right?" I said, pulling the azure-jeweled necklace from under my collar. His eyes widened, and I knew that was my cue to bolt.
I sprinted toward the gym, zooming past Javier and Claudia and throwing them a sly wink filled with false confidence. I knew the monster's attention was squarely on me now. At least those two idiots had a chance to escape—more than I could say for myself.
I could hear his claws clacking against the tile floor, gaining on me fast. My eyes darted around, searching for anything useful. Then I spotted a ball rack up ahead, and a devious smile stretched across my face.
"Apologize to your doctor for me, okay, Fido?" I mocked.
The beast let out a confused grunt as I took a sharp turn, zigging toward the rack. His footing faltered, and he tripped over himself.
"Huh, looks like he can't gain much traction on these smooth tile floors," I thought, yanking the rack hard and spilling the balls across the hallway.
"What?!" Arangoth shouted angrily as he tumbled over himself like a stick had been jammed between his spokes. *CRASH!*
The beast hit the floor hard, undoubtedly knocking loose the few screws he had left.
"Sorry about your ankles, big boy," I laughed, shoving the exit open and continuing down the halls. My breaths grew labored, my legs burning with every step. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep this pace.
Bursting through the doors of the home economics classroom, I immediately shoved a desk in front of the door and began searching for anything useful.
"It's too bad Mrs. Honeyworth kept all the sharp bits locked up," I muttered, sifting through drawers filled with wooden spoons. Splinters weren't going to cut it against a werewolf. I threw my hands up in exasperation, but I didn't have time to dwell on it.
The door exploded inward, and Arangoth wheeled on me, snarling with fury. "You will pay for making a fool outta me, you wretched girl!"
He lunged like a missile, smashing through the obstacles I'd painstakingly shoved in front of the door. There was no time left. He was on me in seconds, all business this time.
His claws lashed out, slashing my left leg. I screamed in pain, collapsing to the floor. Blood poured from the wound, and I barely managed to scramble back in time, narrowly avoiding losing my leg entirely.
"Ah, you're finally still, you little imp. This is much better," Arangoth snarled, grabbing me by the necklace and pulling me up to his eye level. His hot breath reeked of blood and decay.
"What's wrong, brat? No more witty retorts, hmm?" he growled, his fangs bared in a sadistic grin.
My hands fumbled desperately behind me, searching for anything—anything at all. Then, at the tips of my fingers, I felt something.
"Well, girl, what's wrong? Don't be silent now. It's no fun torturing mute prey," Arangoth taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.
"Tch! You and that masked demon should really work on your grip," I sneered, forcing a smirk despite the panic clawing at my chest.
A flicker of confusion crossed his face as he briefly lowered his eyes in thought. That was all the opening I needed. With a burst of adrenaline, I plunged the wooden spoon I'd grabbed from the floor straight into his eye.
Arangoth roared in pain, his free hand flying to his face to cover the weeping wound. His other hand, however, launched me with all the force he could muster. Before I could process my sudden flight, I slammed into the wall just beneath a large window.
"Damn you, you impudent little girl! I'll kill you and every other child left in this wretched place!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the room.
Groggily, I looked up just in time to see my favorite crimson-clad security guard kick through the door. *BANG!*
"Whoa, now. If you're going to insult the student body, at least use words they can understand. They aren't very bright," Jason quipped, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
"Gee, thanks," I muttered through pain-filled groans.
"Thank me later, Willow," Jason shot back, lowering his stance. He charged straight at Arangoth, driving his shoulder into the beast's gut. The impact knocked the wolf back a few inches, but it wasn't enough to stop him. With a single swipe, Arangoth sent Jason flying backward.
"You little insect, I'm going to—" The wolf's threat was cut short by two bullets to the chest.
"Tch, guess the legends are true; I do need silver bullets to put you down," Jason muttered, cocking his gun and leveling it at the wolf's face. "I bet they still hurt like hell, though, huh?"
"The pain I feel shall be returned to you a thousandfold when I rip the flesh from your wretched bones, you little human ingrate," Arangoth spat, blood leaking from his maw.
The wolf stood tall, opening his jaws wide. A powerful gust of wind began to pull everything toward him like a vortex. Desks slid across the floor, and pictures were ripped from the walls.
"Tch," Jason hissed, riding the wind straight toward Arangoth. He planted his feet on the wolf's chest and unloaded his magazine directly down its throat.
Arangoth slammed his jaws shut, clawing at his throat as if he were choking. "Listen, Willow, just run! I'll hold him here as long as I can!" Jason commanded, his voice sharp and unwavering.
"You're going to die, don't be stupid!" I yelled from the floor, my voice cracking with desperation.
"It's my job! Now get the hell outta here!" he shouted back. *Click! Click! Click!* "Damn it, I'm out," Jason growled, frustration etched across his face.
I was losing blood fast, and my strength was fading. Protesting any further was pointless. Thankfully, some of Jason's earlier shots had shattered the window behind me, leaving just enough room for an escape.
Dragging myself over the broken glass, I pulled myself up and over the window frame, spilling out onto the roof. The cold winter air hit me like a slap, stinging my wounds and turning the blood on my skin to ice.
I was two stories up, staring down at barbed wire fences and a steep hill leading into the depths of the nature reserve. My eyes landed on a large gray downspout attached to the building. "Looks like this is the only thing close to a way down from here," I muttered, rummaging through my backpack for my scissors.
Cutting off one of the straps, I wrapped the tail end around my left wrist and tugged on it to ensure it was secure. The last thing I needed was an impromptu swan dive.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I steeled myself. "Alright, let's get this over with," I whispered, dread pooling in my stomach.
I slid the other end of the strap behind the spout, testing it tentatively. It held firm, much to my relief. "Alright, easy does it. No sudden movements, Willow," I told myself, carefully maneuvering over the ledge. Hugging the wall tightly, I began scaling down the side of the building.
Every muscle in my body burned, and my bones felt like they were held together by paper clips. The icy wind bit at my skin, turning my already horrible day into a nightmare.
I had barely made it a few feet down when I felt the rumbling start. My heart sank. "Oh, come on, what the hell is it now?!" I screamed in frustration.
*BOOM!*
A deafening explosion ripped through the air, shaking the building violently and throwing everything into chaos. I lost my footing and plummeted toward the ground, my stomach lurching as gravity took hold. The seconds stretched endlessly, every heartbeat pounding in my ears as I desperately tried to halt my descent.
I clenched my eyes shut, bracing for impact—but instead, a sharp pain shot through my arm as it was abruptly yanked upward. Gasping, I opened my eyes and groaned. The strap tied to my arm had snagged itself on a jagged metal protrusion jutting out from behind the downspout. Relief mingled with agony as the realization hit me: my arm was shot, completely useless now, but somehow I'd avoided splattering onto the pavement below.
Debris rained down around me, shards of brick and concrete pelting my back and shoulders, ripping into any exposed skin. Each hit sent jolts of pain through my body, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. *If I could just make it to the end of this day in one piece—and preferably alive—I'd be a happy girl,* I thought bitterly. Wishful thinking felt like a cruel joke at this point.
I dangled precariously, about ten feet from the ground, the metal strap the only thing keeping me from freefall. My left arm was screaming in pain, and my right leg throbbed, each movement reminding me that climbing down wasn't an option. Then, without warning: *SNAP!*
The strap began to tear, its seams fraying under the strain. Panic surged through me as I scrambled to find anything—*anything*—to prevent my impending fall. My eyes darted around wildly until I spotted a dumpster just feet to my left, its torn-off lid providing a shred of hope. But time was running out, fast.
I summoned what little strength I had left, pulling myself slightly upward and positioning my injured left leg against the wall. With a deep breath, I pushed off as hard as I could.
Now airborne, I tucked my limbs in tight, bracing for impact. *Crunch!* Pain shot through my body as I landed hard. "Ugh! That hurt," I groaned, wincing as I tried to sit up. "Not only am I beaten and bloodied, now I smell like week-old goose and caviar."
I lay there for a few minutes, catching my breath and surveying my disgustingly grim surroundings. Piles of trash bags surrounded me, their stench making my stomach churn. Against the dumpster wall, a large plywood board lay flat, along with a long red rope and a black hammer.
"Thank God for Woodshop Class," I muttered, a flicker of hope breaking through the haze of pain. I grabbed the hammer and rope, stuffing them into my backpack.
The board would definitely come in handy for getting over the barbed wire fence. I was already cut up enough as it was. Sliding my fingers under the edge of the board, I grimaced as they scraped against the grimy dumpster floor. "Eww, gross," I whined, lifting it with a grunt. "Argh!"
I stood the board upright and began pushing it out of the dumpster. It hit the ground with a loud *thud.* Climbing out after it, I dragged the board toward the fence. It was just long enough to top the barbed wire.
Channeling my inner track star, I bolted toward the board, vaulted myself off it, and landed hard on the other side. My knees buckled slightly, but I scrambled to my feet, brushing off the dirt and grime.
I looked back at the classroom I had just escaped from. Flames roared through the giant hole in the window, their crimson glow illuminating the charred remains of the building. My heart sank.
"Jason!!! Nooo!!!" I screamed, my voice cracking as tears flooded my eyes. I collapsed to the ground, my fists pounding the dirt. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" I shouted, my voice hoarse as I called for Jason between sobs and obscenities.
I couldn't believe it. First Whitney, then Grace, and now Jason… I couldn't do this anymore. Despair clawed at my resolve, eating away at what little willpower I had left. Fear and panic seeped into every corner of my mind, leaving me feeling hollow and broken.
My heart felt like Arangoth had ripped it out and tossed it into the flames that consumed Jason. I couldn't even feel my wounds anymore. The physical pain seemed trivial, meaningless compared to the storm raging inside me.
*CAW!!! CAW!!!*
The sound pierced through the haze, sharp and familiar. My breath hitched. It was the sound from my dream.
I turned on my heels, my tear-streaked face lifting toward the forest behind me. The trees loomed like dark sentinels, their shadows stretching toward me. Without thinking, I stumbled forward, drawn toward the sound like a moth to a flame.