The walls of Ravenswood High never looked so gray.
Ava walked slowly through the crowded hallway, her eyes flicking to the floor as students buzzed around her. Conversations and laughter swirled like distant echoes, but it all felt detached—like she was underwater, moving too slowly for the world around her.
She clutched her books tighter to her chest. Every few steps, she glanced over her shoulder.
Jaxon wasn't there.
At least… not yet.
"Elijah will be waiting after class," she muttered to herself. The sound of her own voice grounded her. "It's just a normal day. You've done this before."
But that was a lie.
Nothing about her life was normal anymore.
She turned a corner, and the hallway stretched out ahead of her, the noise dulling into silence. A strange breeze brushed against her cheek, though there were no open windows.
Her fingers twitched.
The air shifted.
Then she felt it.
The cold.
That specific, ghostly cold she now recognized instinctively.
Ava stopped walking. The students around her seemed to fade into the background—no one looked her way. The hallway was empty now, impossibly empty.
A soft warmth bloomed at the edge of her vision.
And when she turned, her breath caught in her throat.
"Mom…"
Standing at the end of the hallway, just beneath the flickering light, was her mother.
Marisol Morales looked the way Ava remembered from childhood—warm smile, tired eyes, hair pulled back into a simple braid. She wore the navy-blue blazer she used to wear when working late nights, the same one Ava used to cuddle into when her mom got home.
Ava stepped forward, heart in her throat. "Are you… really here?"
Her mother smiled gently. "For now."
Tears stung Ava's eyes as she rushed toward her. But when she tried to hug her, her arms passed through empty air.
"I know," her mom said softly. "I wish I could hold you too, mi amor."
Ava took a shaky breath, blinking away the tears. "I… I thought you moved on. That I wasn't supposed to see you again."
"I never really left," her mother said, looking at her with deep sorrow. "I've been watching. Waiting. I knew you'd need me."
Ava shook her head, the words tumbling out of her in a desperate rush. "Everything's falling apart. Jaxon's ghost is haunting me. He messes with my head, shows me things that feel real—things I don't want to see. I don't know if what I did was right anymore. And now, it's like… the ghosts, they're drawn to me."
Her mother's expression grew serious. "They are. Because you're becoming what I once was—what I trained to be. A bridge between the living and the dead. But stronger."
Ava's chest tightened. "I didn't ask for this."
"I know," her mother said. "But this gift—it doesn't come from asking. It comes from surviving."
Ava let the silence hang there for a second before whispering, "Was Jaxon really that dangerous?"
Her mother didn't answer right away. She stepped closer, her ghostly form flickering in the light. "There are things I was never able to tell you, Ava. Things that would've made you question everything. But what matters now is that you trusted your instincts. You protected yourself. That isn't something to feel ashamed of."
"But he won't leave me alone," Ava said. "He wants me to feel like the monster."
Her mother reached out, fingers stopping just before Ava's cheek, where they hovered as if trying to brush away her tears. "That's how manipulators work, even in death. They make you question your truth so they can control your future."
Ava swallowed hard. "Then how do I stop him?"
Her mother's gaze turned fierce. "You fight. Not with fear. Not with guilt. But with your truth. Your strength. The more you believe in yourself, the harder it becomes for him to twist you."
"But I'm scared," Ava admitted. "Sometimes I think… what if I am what he says? What if I lost control that night?"
Her mother's face softened again. "Then let me remind you of something."
The air around them shifted again. Ava felt the warmth of the hallway melt into something quieter, more intimate. The world faded into soft blue hues, like moonlight reflecting off still water.
A new vision took form.
Ava was standing in their old apartment living room, a memory frozen in time. Her younger self was asleep on the couch, a blanket falling off her shoulder.
Marisol stood over her, brushing her hair back gently. "You always carried more than you should have," her mother whispered. "Even then. But you never gave up."
The vision faded, and they were back in the hallway. Ava's eyes stung again.
"Jaxon wants to bury that girl," her mom continued. "The one who always kept fighting. Don't let him."
Ava nodded slowly. "Okay."
Marisol smiled. "I'm proud of you, Ava. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."
The hallway's noise started to return. Students flickered back into view like they were fading in from another world.
"I have to go," her mother said gently. "But I'll come back when I can."
"Please," Ava whispered. "Don't leave me alone in this."
"You're not alone," her mother promised. "You have Elijah. You have yourself. And you're stronger than you think."
Then, just like that—her mother vanished.
Ava stood frozen for a moment, wiping her eyes and trying to steady her breath. She turned, and the normal world rushed back in—the noise, the footsteps, the bright lights.
But something inside her had changed.
She didn't feel quite so lost anymore.
The bell rang, sharp and jarring, snapping Ava out of her thoughts.
She blinked and looked around, half expecting the hallway to still be empty, drenched in that ghostly stillness—but now everything looked completely normal. Students pushed past each other, laughing, muttering, grumbling about assignments. A group of girls whispered behind their hands, eyeing Ava, probably gossiping.
But Ava didn't care.
Her heart was still racing, but it beat with something new: clarity.
She reached her classroom just as the second bell rang and slid into her seat at the back. Elijah glanced up from his desk near the window. His eyes found hers immediately, concern flashing across his face. He mouthed, You okay?
She nodded and gave him a small thumbs-up, even though her fingers were still trembling.
The teacher launched into some lecture about symbolism in Macbeth, but Ava barely heard a word. Her thoughts were with her mother. The things she said. The warmth she left behind. That memory she showed.
A bridge between the living and the dead.
Was that what Ava was becoming? Had her mother gone through this too?
A soft chill moved across the back of her neck.
She stiffened.
No. This wasn't the same chill she'd felt with her mother.
This was different. Colder. Sharper. A breath against her skin that made her eyes sting.
She looked toward the window.
There was no one there.
But she could feel something.
Jaxon?
Her stomach twisted, and her heart began pounding again. But this time, it wasn't fear—it was readiness. She didn't feel like running anymore.
She closed her eyes and focused, the way her mother had taught her to when she was younger—before either of them had known what it meant.
And slowly, the noise of the classroom faded.
A faint whisper tickled her ear.
"You can't run from what you are."
Ava's eyes snapped open.
It wasn't Jaxon.
The voice was different—softer. Female. Young.
She turned her head slowly, scanning the classroom.
That's when she saw her.
A girl—barely older than Ava—standing in the far corner near the classroom bookshelf. She wore a vintage-looking dress, bloodstained and torn. Her hands clutched her sides as if trying to hold herself together.
And her eyes—wide, hollow, full of panic—were locked directly on Ava.
No one else noticed her. No one turned or screamed or reacted.
Only Ava.
Their eyes met, and the ghost took a shaky step forward.
Ava felt the blood drain from her face.
The girl opened her mouth to speak, but before a single word escaped—
She vanished.
Ava gasped out loud, causing a few students to glance her way. Elijah sat up straighter, alarmed.
"You okay?" he whispered.
Ava nodded too quickly, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just… sleepy."
But her heart was hammering.
That girl… she wasn't like Jaxon. She was scared. She needed help.
And Ava had a feeling—no, a certainty—that the girl's appearance wasn't random.
Her mother's words echoed in her head.
"They're drawn to you now."
Ava turned toward the window again.
Jaxon was quiet. Too quiet.
Whatever was coming next… wasn't just about him anymore.
The rest of the school day blurred by.
Ava couldn't focus. Not on the lectures, not on the assignments, not even on the worried glances Elijah kept sneaking her way. All she could see was the girl's pale face, the way she clutched herself like she was holding in pain—or fear.
By the time the final bell rang, Ava was already halfway to the school courtyard. She needed air. Needed space. Her thoughts swirled with her mother's visit, the new ghost, and the looming silence from Jaxon's end.
"Ava!" Elijah jogged to catch up with her as she crossed the lawn. "Hey—slow down."
She stopped just by the edge of the bleachers and waited, staring down at her hands. "Sorry. I needed to breathe."
"You've been off all day," Elijah said gently. "Worse than yesterday. Did you see something?"
She nodded slowly, then sat down on the bottom bleacher. He joined her, giving her a moment before speaking.
"It was a girl this time," Ava said. "In class. She was hurt… I think she was trying to talk to me."
Elijah looked at her, frowning. "Another ghost?"
"Yes. But she didn't feel like Jaxon." Ava shook her head. "She felt… scared. Like she was trapped."
Elijah leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "Did she say anything?"
"Only one thing. 'You can't run from what you are.' Then she disappeared." Ava hesitated, then added, "It wasn't a threat. It felt like a warning."
Elijah was quiet for a while before saying, "Do you think she needs your help?"
"I think more are coming," Ava said. "And this… this is just the start."
Elijah's jaw tightened. "Then I'll stay by your side. We'll figure out what this means together."
She gave him a tired smile. "Thanks, Elijah. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You're not alone," he said firmly. "Not anymore."
For a while, they just sat there, letting the wind pass over them.
Then—just as the last students cleared out of the courtyard—Ava felt it again.
That chill.
She stood slowly and looked toward the old maintenance building by the edge of campus. It was gated, locked, and overgrown with ivy. But today… it felt like something was pulling her toward it.
She started walking without thinking.
"Ava?" Elijah called, standing to follow. "Where are you—"
"There's something there," she whispered.
They reached the fence. Ava's fingers curled around the cold metal, eyes locked on a shadow behind the broken window.
For just a second, she saw the girl again—standing inside the abandoned building, her hand pressed to the glass.
Blood smeared the inside of the window. Her mouth moved.
"Find me."
Then she vanished again.
Ava stumbled back, her breath hitching in her throat.
Elijah caught her. "What did you see?"
"She's not just a ghost," Ava murmured. "She's a message."
And deep inside, she knew: if she wanted answers—if she wanted to truly understand her gift—she had to find out who the girl was, and why her spirit was stuck in this world.
This wasn't just about Jaxon anymore.
This was about all the lost souls who needed her help.
And the dangerous ones who didn't want her to succeed.