Mischa didn't sleep.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, watching shadows shift where they shouldn't.
Every time she blinked, she expected something to be there.
Every time she opened her eyes—
Nothing.
You're imagining it.
She turned onto her side.
You have to be.
But the feeling stayed.
It pressed against her thoughts, quiet and persistent.
Like something waiting.
Morning came too quickly.
Or maybe it never really left.
Mischa pushed herself out of bed, moving slower than usual. Her reflection looked worse than she felt.
Pale.
Tired.
Eyes sharper somehow.
Like they were trying to see something that wasn't there.
She held her own gaze for a second longer than necessary.
"…You're fine," she muttered.
The mirror didn't argue.
The knock came just as she reached for the door.
Three sharp taps.
Not loud.
Not hesitant.
Precise.
Mischa froze.
No one visited.
Not like this.
Another knock.
Same rhythm.
Her hand hovered over the handle.
Don't open it.
The thought came fast.
Clear.
Instinctive.
She ignored it.
The door opened.
Two figures stood outside.
One woman.
One man.
Both unfamiliar.
Both… wrong.
Not obviously.
Not in a way she could explain.
But the moment she looked at them, something in her chest tightened.
Like she'd stepped too close to something dangerous.
"Mischa Jackson," the woman said.
Not a question.
A statement.
Her voice was calm. Measured.
Too controlled.
"Yes," Mischa said slowly.
The man's gaze flicked over her.
Assessing.
Weighing.
Like she was something to be measured.
"You'll need to come with us," he said.
No explanation.
No hesitation.
Mischa frowned. "For what?"
A pause.
Just long enough to feel intentional.
"The academy," the woman replied.
Mischa blinked. "What academy?"
Neither of them answered immediately.
Instead, the woman reached into her coat—
And for a split second—
The shadows behind her moved.
Mischa stiffened.
No. That wasn't real.
The woman pulled out a small object.
Metal.
Engraved.
It glinted faintly in the light.
"You've already been registered," she said. "It's time."
Time.
For what?
Mischa didn't take the object.
Didn't move.
"This isn't funny," she said. "If this is some kind of—"
"It's not."
The man stepped forward.
Not aggressively.
But enough.
Enough to make it clear this wasn't optional.
Mischa's pulse picked up.
Fast.
Sharp.
Her instincts screamed at her to shut the door.
To walk away.
To pretend none of this was happening.
Instead—
She stepped aside.
"…Fine," she said quietly.
The word felt heavier than it should have.
The drive was silent.
Too silent.
Mischa sat in the back seat, watching the world pass by.
Familiar streets.
Familiar buildings.
Everything looked the same.
But it felt—
Off.
Like she was already somewhere else.
The woman sat in the front, unmoving.
The man drove.
Neither of them spoke.
Mischa shifted slightly.
"You're just going to stay quiet the whole time?"
No response.
She exhaled slowly.
"Okay… great."
Her gaze drifted to the window.
For a moment—
Just a moment—
She thought she saw something in the reflection.
A figure.
Not inside the car.
Behind it.
Watching.
She turned quickly.
Nothing.
Just empty road.
Mischa leaned back in her seat.
Stop it.
But the unease didn't leave.
The academy appeared without warning.
One moment, there was nothing.
The next—
It was there.
Massive.
Stone walls rising too high.
Windows dark and unreadable.
It didn't look abandoned.
But it didn't look welcoming either.
Mischa stepped out of the car slowly.
The air felt different here.
Heavier.
Charged.
Like the space itself was aware.
Watching.
The gates stood open.
Not wide.
Just enough.
Like they were expecting her.
Inside—
Everything felt… too controlled.
Students moved through the halls in quiet clusters.
No chaos.
No noise.
No normality.
Mischa's footsteps echoed softly against the floor.
Every sound felt louder than it should.
Eyes followed her.
Not openly.
Not directly.
But she felt them.
Constant.
Unrelenting.
"New," someone whispered.
"Another one?"
"She doesn't look like much…"
Mischa kept walking.
Didn't react.
Didn't slow down.
But her jaw tightened slightly.
"Mischa."
She stopped.
The voice wasn't unfamiliar.
But it wasn't familiar either.
It sat somewhere in between.
She turned.
And saw her.
Same height.
Same build.
Same face.
Almost.
Jessa.
The difference wasn't in appearance.
It was in presence.
Where Mischa felt uncertain—
Jessa didn't.
Where Mischa hesitated—
Jessa didn't need to.
Her posture was straight.
Her gaze steady.
Confident.
Like she belonged here.
Like this place belonged to her.
"You're late," Jessa said.
Mischa stared at her.
"You're joking."
Jessa raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Mischa let out a quiet breath.
"No… you just look like me."
A pause.
Jessa's expression didn't change.
But something shifted behind her eyes.
Recognition.
Or something close to it.
"We don't have time for this," Jessa said. "Come on."
She turned without waiting.
Mischa didn't move immediately.
Her gaze lingered.
Studied.
Compared.
This is real.
The thought didn't feel real.
But it stayed.
The shadows moved again.
Subtle.
Barely noticeable.
Behind Jessa.
Along the wall.
Mischa's eyes snapped to them.
For a split second—
They stretched.
Toward her.
Then—
Still.
Gone.
Normal.
Mischa's breath caught.
Her pulse quickened.
She didn't speak.
Didn't react.
But she knew.
It followed me.
Far above—
Where light failed to reach—
Something watched.
Closer now.
Not hidden as deeply.
Not as distant.
Waiting.
Not for the right moment.
For the inevitable one.