The white light faded — slowly, painfully.
And when their eyes opened, they were back in the music room.
All six of them. Together again.
But something was wrong. The air didn't smell of dust or old wood anymore. It smelled new — fresh paint, polished floors, sunlight slipping through spotless windows. The cracked piano now shone, its surface reflecting the light like glass. The walls, once covered in cobwebs, were smooth and bright.
"It looks… new," Jet whispered.
Tony nodded, scanning the room. "Like we went back in time."
Outside the window, it was daytime. They could hear laughter, the chatter of students, the sound of life returning to the school.
Roger stepped closer to the door. "Do you hear that? It's the others."
They opened it slowly. The hallway outside buzzed with noise — dozens of students walking past, laughing, carrying books. Everything looked normal again.
Too normal.
Samy tried waving at a girl walking by. "Hey! Can you see us?"
No response. The girl passed right through her.
Samy gasped, stepping back. "They didn't even—"
"They can't see us," Tin said quietly. "We're like ghosts here."
Then, faintly, they heard it — the soft notes of a piano.
From down the corridor.
They followed the sound, every step echoing strangely. At the end of the hall, through the glass window of a classroom, they saw him.
Their music teacher.
Mr. Laren.
The same man who'd gone missing a year ago.
He looked younger, smiling as he played, surrounded by students. His hands glided across the keys like they were part of the instrument. The melody was beautiful — but haunting, like it carried a secret.
"That's impossible," Jet whispered. "He's dead."
Roger's eyes widened. "Or maybe this is the day he vanished."
Mr. Laren stood, closing the piano lid gently, and motioned for the group of students to follow. He led them out of the room, down the hall — and then, just like that, everything went dark.
The hallway vanished.
The students were gone.
And the six were back in the same music room — only now, it was the old version again.
The lights were dim, the walls cracked, the piano broken in half.
"What the hell just happened?" Tony said.
Samy ran to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked — same as before. She hit it, kicked it, nothing moved.
Then Tony froze, eyes lifting toward the ceiling.
"Oh my god…"
Everyone looked up.
A boy was hanging from the rafters — a student, limp, swaying slightly, his face pale and still. His shoes brushed against the air just above the floor.
Jet screamed and stumbled back.
Then a voice filled the room — deep, echoing from nowhere.
"The school you study in… isn't as safe as you think."
The boy's body dissolved into dust. The voice vanished.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Then — the floor cracked.
The piano split apart, the walls trembled, and the air exploded with light.
This time, they didn't scream.
They knew what was coming.
They fell again — but not into fire.
Into water.
They crashed into a cold, roaring river. The current dragged them under, spinning, twisting. Their screams were swallowed by the rush of waves.
"Swim!" Tony shouted, breaking the surface. "Don't fight it — just swim!"
The current carried them forward. The air was freezing, the water black. Up ahead, they saw a white mist — and then the sound of thunder.
A waterfall.
"Hold on!" Jet shouted — but it was too late.
They plunged over the edge.
When they opened their eyes again, they were lying on a stone floor, soaked and shivering.
The place was silent.
And massive.
"The… library?" Samy whispered.
Yes. The school library. But older, darker. The air was thick with dust, and the shelves stretched endlessly upward, stacked with rotting books. Shadows danced across the walls, moving even when nothing else did.
Kim looked around warily. "This doesn't feel like the same place."
Then that voice returned — colder this time, whispering through the shelves.
"This place holds what was forgotten… and what should have stayed that way."
The air went still.
They turned toward the first row of shelves. There, carved into the wood, were the words:
"Every book will take you to a new world."
The six stared at it. No one spoke.
Then — movement.
A shadow passed between two shelves.
"Did you see that?" Kim asked, stepping forward.
Before anyone could answer, a sharp cry rang out. Roger gasped, clutching her side — a knife buried deep in her ribs. Blood bloomed across her shirt.
"ROGER!" Samy screamed, catching her before she fell.
Behind her stood a boy — pale, gray-eyed, wearing an old school uniform soaked in black stains. The knife gleamed in his hand.
He wasn't alive. But he wasn't entirely dead either.
"You shouldn't have come back," he said, his voice calm but cracked. "This school remembers."
Kim's anger exploded. "What are you?"
The boy tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "A piece of the story that never ended."
Then he lunged.
Kim dodged, swinging a broken metal rod from the floor, striking through him — but the ghost barely flinched. Tin and Tony rushed to help, their punches landing like strikes through smoke. The air rippled with every movement, the library's lights flickering.
Samy pressed hard on Roger's wound, hands shaking, whispering, "Stay with me, stay with me…"
Jet ripped open Samy's bag, finding a first-aid kit. "Here—here, take this!"
Blood soaked through the bandages instantly. Roger's face went pale. Her eyes fluttered but didn't close.
The ghost shrieked, voice echoing like metal grinding. Books flew off the shelves, spinning through the air. The torches flickered, and then—
Silence.
The boy was gone.
The air went still again, the only sound Roger's uneven breathing.
Kim dropped the metal rod, panting, his hands shaking. "That thing… it was real. It wasn't just a vision."
Tony looked around the endless rows of books. "If that quote was right," he said quietly, "then maybe each book leads to somewhere worse."
Samy met his eyes. "Then we can't stay here."
They all looked at the nearest shelf, where hundreds of books waited — silent, untouched, whispering faintly in the dark.
And for the first time, none of them wanted to know what came next.