Starr left Mrs. Grace's apartment that evening with a heavy heart and a mind full of dread. She'd barely processed the professor's death before heading to the hospital. Liam was still unconscious. His pale face looked drained of life, as if something was feeding off him, slowly.
As she stepped into her apartment, her phone rang. It was her mother.
"Starr," her mother's voice trembled, urgent and breathless, "you need to stop this. Please… forget everything and come back to the temple. The priest—he saw it. He said it's close. It's *looming around you.*"
Starr gripped the phone tighter, her eyes scanning the room instinctively.
"Mom, I can't. I've already gone too far," she whispered. "Mrs. Grace is dead. And Liam might be next. I have to find out what's happening—too many people are dying, and no one's asking why."
Her mother's voice cracked, soaked in panic. "Starr, please stop. I can't lose you too. You remember your sister—how obsessed she became before she vanished? This is the same thing. You're following the same path. I—"
Silence.
Then her mother's voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "This thing… it doesn't kill like we think it does. It *takes.* Slowly. Until you forget who you are. Until your soul fades."
Goosebumps prickled Starr's skin.
"I saw it in the priest's eyes today," her mother said through a sob. "He was afraid. *Really* afraid. He said it's already marked you, Starr. Just like it marked your sister."
For a moment, Starr couldn't breathe. The air in her apartment shifted—thick, heavy. Like something was listening.
Watching.
"Come back," her mother begged. "Before it's too late."
"Mom, I'll be fine," Starr whispered, her voice steady but her hands trembling. "I think I just got a lead. I'll protect myself… and the ones around me. I'm doing this for Leah and Tristan."
A pause.
"Starr, please…"
"Mom, trust me."
The line went dead. Silence.
Starr exhaled shakily, trying to bury the fear crawling beneath her skin. She turned to the floor, now scattered with ancient, tattered journals—pages yellowed and brittle, the ink faded in places, smeared with something dark… something that didn't look like dust.
Each book had its own aura, cold and wrong. Scribbled symbols lined the margins. Names crossed out. Symbols circled in crimson.
She had been collecting them ever since she first heard of "Zeal."
The name pulsed in her head like a warning.
As she reached for one journal, something icy rushed down her spine. Her breath hitched.
A sensation—wet and warm—slithered down her neck.
She bolted to the mirror.
At first, she saw nothing but her wide, frightened eyes. Then it came into view.
Blood.
Thick, red streaks slowly trailing from beneath her hairline, sliding down her neck like invisible fingers were drawing lines.
Panicked, she grabbed a cloth from the nearby table, dabbing furiously. But as she cleaned, her hand froze.
Just below her ear, near the base of her neck—etched faintly beneath the blood—was a symbol.
*The Mark.*
She'd seen it before—in the journals. On Mrs. Grace's corpse. At the excavation site. On that ancient slab they weren't supposed to touch.
Her heartbeat thundered.
The mark wasn't just a symbol.
It was a *summon*.
A *claim*.
And now… it was on her.
She panicked, her mother's voice echoing in her mind—*"The priest said it's coming... it's already looming around you."*
Her eyes flicked back to the mirror.
The mark on her neck... it was glowing.
But then, something far more terrifying caught her attention—her reflection.
It was wrong.
Her hand, trembling in real life, hovered over the mark. But in the mirror—her reflection was *caressing* it. Slowly. Deliberately.
Starr's breath caught in her throat. She wiped her face, blinked hard, and looked again.
Same thing.
Only now… her reflection smiled.
But *she* hadn't.
The smile was cold, too wide, stretching inhumanly across her face in the mirror. Then… the reflection *twitched*, like static skipping across a screen, and tilted its head unnaturally.
Starr stumbled back in horror, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.
She snatched her journals and phone, sprinted to the door—only to find it locked.
*She hadn't locked it.*
Fumbling through her bag with shaking hands, she found the key, threw open the door, and ran out into the hallway. She slammed the door shut behind her, twisting the key until it clicked, sealing whatever *that thing* was inside.
Only then did she gasp for air.
Her fingers scrambled on her phone as she called Vivian. The line rang once.
Then picked up.
"Vivian, are you at home?" Starr asked, breathless.
Vivian answered in a shaky whisper, "Starr, I was just about to call you… have you noticed anything strange since we came back from that site?"
Starr's blood turned cold. "That's why I'm calling. Are you at home?"
"Yes."
"I'm coming over," she said, and ended the call without waiting.
***
Inside Vivian's apartment, they locked the door behind them, drawing every curtain and switching off all lights except one dim lamp in the corner. Shadows danced across the walls like they were alive.
Without speaking, Vivian turned and slowly pulled her hoodie down to reveal the side of her neck.
There it was.
The same mark.
Starr's breath caught. With trembling fingers, she pulled her collar aside and showed hers too.
The instant both marks were exposed, they pulsed—*once*. Then again—*harder*.
A searing heat shot through their skin. The glow from the marks turned crimson.
Then came the pain.
Both girls dropped to the floor, writhing, clutching their necks as if trying to tear the burning symbols off.
Starr screamed. Vivian's nails scratched at the floorboards.
And then… the apartment went dead silent.
Except for a low, guttural whisper that echoed from nowhere and *everywhere* at once:
*"You saw... and now you know."*
A sudden gust blew out the lamp.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
Darkness.
Not the kind you get when lights go out.
This was *thick*, suffocating—alive.
Vivian choked on her sobs, her body still curled on the floor. Starr's heart hammered in her ears as she fumbled in the dark, reaching for her friend.
"Vivian?" she whispered hoarsely.
A low creak echoed above them.
Not from the ceiling.
From the *air* itself.
Suddenly, the TV—unplugged—flickered on, the screen static, buzzing violently. Then it cleared… just for a second.
A warped reflection of the room appeared on-screen.
Except… *they weren't alone*.
Behind them stood a tall, crooked figure, its limbs too long, its head bowed, as if watching them.
Starr turned sharply—nothing behind them.
She looked back at the TV.
Now, the figure was *closer*.
The lights flickered once—then blasted on at full brightness, blinding them. When their vision adjusted, the TV was off, the room empty.
But something had changed.
Both their marks had stopped glowing… yet a dark line now snaked outward from the symbols, like veins crawling under their skin.
Starr stood slowly, shaking. "It didn't kill us…"
Vivian whispered, pale and trembling, "No. It marked us again. Like we're being *kept*."
A loud knock thundered at the front door.
Three times.
No one moved.
Then a voice called from outside.
Starr's own voice.
*"Let me in."