Where our corrupted dreams sprout

Ceryn got up and approached Myrille, checking her condition. "She's fine, just suffering from mental shock," he thought. He wasn't surprised—people had just died. Wiping the blood off her face, he helped her sit and then turned to Asher.

Asher's face was just as roguish and unperturbed as ever, but Ceryn could see the subtle signs of unease in his posture. He was shaken too. Turning away, Ceryn began counting the heads of those who had made it to the rooftop—thirty in total. But as his eyes moved to one corner of the roof, his frown deepened. Appraising the scene in front of him, he realized it would soon be one less if something wasn't done quickly.

"Stay with us, stay with us, Dee! Don't you dare die on us!"

A group of five students surrounded a girl lying in a puddle of blood. She had suffered a deep stab wound to her abdomen and didn't even have the strength to reply. Her labored breaths came in shallow gasps, and her skin had turned deathly pale.

Ceryn stood up, assessing the situation calmly. Then, without hesitation, he moved into action.

"Asher, help me out. Myrille, you too," Ceryn called as he made his way toward the injured girl. "She's losing too much blood," he reasoned. "We have to stop the bleeding, or she won't make it."

Reaching the girl, Ceryn shoved aside everyone who was frozen in shock, just watching helplessly. "Get out of the way… leave if you won't be of any assistance," he said coldly, pushing his way through the group. He knelt in front of her and examined her condition more closely.

"We're losing her," he thought grimly as Asher reached him and placed his hands on the wound to try and stop the bleeding. Without wasting a moment, Ceryn ripped his shirt off, stuffing it into the wound to soak up the blood and apply pressure. Then he unbuckled his belt, layered more cloth over the wound, and strapped the belt tightly across her abdomen.

But it wasn't enough. Her pulse was dropping rapidly, her breaths growing shallower, and her eyes were becoming glassy. She was dying.

"Myrille, what are you doing? She's dying! Get a stool—elevate her legs!"

Ceryn's voice cut through the fog clouding Myrille's mind. For a moment, she froze, staring at the blood pooling beneath the girl. Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled. The girl's pale face was a mirror of the nightmare that had been unfolding all day. It wasn't a dream. It was real—terrifyingly real. The weight of that truth crushed her.

'Move!' Asher's shout jolted her back to the present. She inhaled sharply, forcing the panic down, and steeled herself.

She grabbed a stool and shoved it under Dee's legs, elevating them as she prepared for CPR. With trembling hands, she leaned over and began. Her breaths were shaky at first, but she focused, forcing air into the girl's lungs with determination. Even as the blood soaked her knees, she didn't stop.

After a few moments, light returned to the girl's eyes. She managed to muster a weak smile at her friends while the trio worked tirelessly to stabilize her condition.

Sadly, stars burn brightest in their final moments.

She had lost too much blood. Her eyes dimmed gradually, the fire within them extinguishing, and she drew her final breath. Her body lay still, peaceful and beautiful, even in death.

Ceryn stared at her lifeless body for several seconds before turning to see Myrille still desperately trying to coax one more breath from the girl. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch.

"She's gone, Myrille. She didn't make it," he said quietly.

Myrille's eyes clouded with tears as she looked at the girl's body. Her trembling hands dropped to her sides.

'She… she's dead.' The realization hit her like a truck, ripping her stomach from the inside. 'It's my fault. If I had moved faster, maybe… maybe I could have…' She sat back in defeat, tears spilling and mixing with the blood on the floor.

Asher sighed and slumped onto the floor, his head falling into his hands, a defeated expression on his face. A lot of students also broke down.

The already somber mood on the rooftop darkened further. The silence became suffocating, pressing against everyone's consciousness. Emotions ran wild, and it didn't take long for the first spark of anger to ignite.

"This is all your fault!"

A male student stormed toward Ceryn, his loud steps echoing against the rooftop. Grabbing Ceryn by his collar, he pulled him up. "What did you do? It was your voice on the PA system! You know what's happening—start talking!" he demanded.

Ceryn's face remained blank, his cold, unflinching stare meeting the boy's anger.

"I'll give you ten seconds," Ceryn replied, his tone emotionless, causing Myrille to pale and Asher to immediately stand. 'Shit, I need to stop them before this lunatic does something stupid,' he thought, placing a hand on Ceryn's shoulder to signal it wasn't worth it. However, Ceryn ignored him completely.

"If you haven't let go of me by then, I'll break that arm of yours."

The boy's eyes widened at Ceryn's claim, but his anger flared hotter, threatening to boil over. It didn't help that Asher, notorious for his violent tendencies, kept giving him warning signals to let it go. Before he could decide, a calm voice cut through the tension.

"Let's stop here. Let go of him, Samuel."

Both parties turned to the source of the voice. A lean girl with ash-brown hair and a strict expression stepped forward, her voice sharp and authoritative.

Samuel growled in frustration, his face contorted with rage.

"But Miss Claire, he knows what's happening! He was the one who spoke through the microphone!" he said.

"My sister… she didn't believe you. She stayed back because she thought it was just another drill. And now she's—" His voice cracked, the weight of the word 'dead' choking him.

However, the reply he got from Ceryn was final.

"You have four seconds left," he interrupted coldly, his indifferent tone now layered with annoyance.

Claire didn't flinch. "Yes, and he warned us all. He gave us enough time to save thirty people. Well, twenty-nine now," she corrected, glancing at the lifeless body of the girl in pity.

"In my opinion, his worth currently surpasses yours—or anyone else here. So I would advise you to unhand him before I do it for you."

Samuel gritted his teeth, his anger simmering. But as he glanced around, he realized no one was stepping up to support him. If Ceryn truly knew what was happening, the others would rather side with him than with someone as helpless as themselves.

Reluctantly, Samuel released Ceryn's collar, muttering under his breath as he retreated to a corner.

Claire nodded in satisfaction and was about to speak again when something cut her off.

"Sigh. I was hoping to see a fight—too bad."

A shadow cast over the students, one too large to be human, too alien to be machine, and a voice too merciless to be a savior.

The air on the rooftop grew still. Unnaturally still—it felt heavy, like the weight of a storm about to break.

A faint hum vibrated through the air, just low enough to make their teeth ache, and shivers ran down their spines. They all turned in the direction of the voice. Then it appeared in their vision.

Wings shone a resplendent gold, casting sharp, unnatural reflections across the blood-streaked rooftop. A thorned halo floated above its head, spinning lazily, as if mocking the idea of divinity.

Its face lacked human features, replaced by a spiraling texture that seemed to shift and twist in impossible ways.

Long hands stretched past its knees, skeletal but strong, and a single eye dominated its face—a featureless void that seemed to see everything.

It hovered above them, staring down with an amusement that made their fear feel pathetic. Watching these primitive beings tremble in reverence, it tilted its head.

'How fragile they are,' it thought. 'How… fun.'

"Well then," it said, its voice resonating like a death sentence, "it all begins."