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Taylor Hebert tried to push the raven out of her thoughts, but the more she resisted, the more it consumed her mind. Its eyes were far too intelligent for a mere bird, haunting her with a disturbing intensity. It wasn't just during the day—her dreams had turned into a relentless barrage of unsettling images. She often saw the raven perched on a branch, its dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling knowledge. The scene would shift, and she would find herself standing in the shadow of an old man dressed in golden armor.
He was tall and imposing, with long silver hair cascading down to his shoulders. His single eye, a piercing blue that seemed to hold the weight of ages, gazed at her with a mix of sorrow and determination. His face was stern, lined with the marks of time and battles long past. In his hand, he carried a spear radiating power and authority, its shaft carved with runes pulsing with ancient energy. The golden armor he wore was intricately designed, adorned with symbols and engravings that felt familiar to Taylor, even though she couldn't decipher their meaning. It was as if the armor itself were alive, humming with a power as old as the world.
In her dreams, the man looked at her with a gaze that was both kind and sorrowful, as if he knew something she did not—something that pained him to his core. Before she could ask who he was, the world around them would begin to crumble. A golden city, vast and sprawling, larger than anything Taylor had ever seen, would be reduced to ashes. This magnificent city, with its towers reaching toward the heavens and streets paved with gold, was a vision of beauty now falling into chaos. As the man stood silently, watching the destruction, the city would collapse. Towers as tall as mountains fell, streets split open, and the sky itself seemed to tear apart. The air was filled with the acrid smell of smoke and the sounds of screams, though Taylor could see no one. The destruction was so vivid, so absolute, that she would wake up drenched in sweat, her heart pounding in her chest.
These dreams tormented her night after night, yet despite their terror, Taylor couldn't shake the feeling that they held meaning—that they were a warning or perhaps a message, though she had no idea what it could be.
The relentless dreams and the raven's presence were so overwhelming that Taylor almost didn't notice the unexpected reprieve at school. For the past two weeks, since she first spotted the raven, her tormentors—Emma, Sophia, and Madison—had been strangely absent from her life. They were still lurking in the background, watching her like prey, but the usual barrage of insults, shoves, and cruel pranks had stopped.
At first, Taylor dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, they had grown tired of tormenting her. Perhaps the approaching Christmas holidays had distracted them, or they had turned over a new leaf. It was a nice thought, a hopeful thought, but deep down, she knew better. This wasn't the end; the sudden quiet was more likely the calm before the storm. They were biding their time, planning something new and worse, because they must have noticed that she was beginning to grow numb to their usual tactics and petty words.
Their words and actions still stung—every hyena-like laugh from Madison, each cruel remark from Emma, each punch or shove from Sophia left bruises on her skin and soul. But none compared to the agony she felt when Emma first betrayed her. The worst act they committed, the one that shattered her, was when they took her mother's flute and dumped it in the bay. The flute had been one of the last remnants of her mother—a beautiful instrument passed down through generations. Taylor remembered sitting with her mother for hours, watching her practice, her fingers dancing over the keys. When Taylor was old enough, her mother began to teach her, and those lessons became some of her most cherished memories. After her mother's death, the flute had been her lifeline, something she carried with her everywhere, sometimes even sleeping with it. As silly as it sounded, it connected her to the mother she had lost, and when Emma destroyed it, Taylor felt as though a part of her soul had been ripped away.
For months after summer camp, when her torment began, Taylor had hoped that Emma—her sister in all but blood—would see the pain she was causing and stop. She clung to the belief that one day they could put the past two years behind them, that they could return to how things used to be. But now, Taylor knew that was a lie. Emma had changed, and whatever bond they once shared had been twisted beyond recognition.
As the last day of school before the Christmas holidays approached, Taylor felt both relieved and anxious. She was ecstatic at the prospect of escaping Winslow High, even if only for a few weeks. The holidays offered a brief reprieve from the constant torment—a chance to breathe. But the raven, the old man, and the golden city continued to plague her thoughts, casting a shadow over what should have been a time of peace.
The morning of the first day back from winter break dawned cold and grey. The overcast sky, thick with clouds, blotted out the sun, casting the world in a dull, oppressive light. Taylor trudged to school, a sense of dread gnawing at her insides. She knew that whatever her tormentors had been planning during their two weeks of silence would be the worst thing they had ever done to her. Her dreams had grown more vivid over the break, and the raven's presence had become increasingly intrusive as if warning her that something terrible was about to happen. Certain things had changed; the raven made more frequent appearances, always when she was alone. At one point, she began to wonder if the trio had succeeded in driving her to the brink of madness.
In her dreams, the old man had stopped looking at her with sad, sorrowful eyes; instead, it almost seemed like he was trying to communicate with her before her visions shifted back to the destruction of the golden city. It was frustrating that she couldn't make sense of her dreams.
As Taylor walked through the doors of Winslow High, she felt as if she were moving through a fog. The hallways were noisy and crowded, filled with students laughing and chatting about their holidays, but all of it seemed distant, muffled, as if she were hearing it from underwater. Keeping her head down to avoid eye contact, she made her way to her locker, bracing herself for whatever awaited her.
Taylor could smell her locker before she reached it—a foul odour, as if something had crawled in there over the holidays and died. She couldn't help but wonder how no teachers had investigated or why this floor wasn't closed off. But she honestly expected nothing less from the Winslow staff. Blissful ignorance seemed to be the school's official policy when it came to such matters. Taylor knew this all too well; she had tried multiple times to get help from teachers when the bullying first began, even going as far as to approach Blackwell, the school principal, but nothing ever seemed to change. It often felt like Blackwell blamed her for being a victim, disturbed by her complaints. Though she never outright said it, Taylor could read it in her face and demeanour. Blackwell didn't care and preferred to deal with anything except Taylor and her alleged bullying.
Taylor could almost understand why Blackwell sided with the trio. All of them were very popular, Sophia was the school's track star, an up-and-coming athlete with potential Olympic dreams. Emma was beautiful, an aspiring model with a lawyer for a father, and Madison had perfected the innocent, confused girl routine. Compared to Taylor—awkward, too tall for her age, and certainly too tall for a girl— it was no shock Blackwell never took her side. That didn't stop Taylor from trying to end the torment, but without any evidence, she was stuck. Blackwell, of course, ignored the fact that much of the bullying occurred in class and in full view of the teaching staff. Not that any of them had ever lifted a finger to help or even acknowledged what was happening to her.
When she finally reached her locker, Taylor's heart stopped. The lock was slightly ajar, the metal door not fully closed, and a strange, pungent smell wafted out. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck as she hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle. She didn't want to open it; she didn't want to see what was inside, but she knew she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door open.
The stench hit her first—a rancid, putrid smell that made her gag. Taylor stared in horror at the contents of her locker. It was filled with used tampons, the blood-stained cotton spilling onto the floor. But that wasn't the worst of it. Mixed in with the tampons were rotting food scraps—banana peels, moldy sandwiches, and something that looked like a dead rat, its decaying body crawling with maggots.
Taylor's stomach heaved, and she doubled over, vomiting onto the floor in front of her locker. Her eyes watered, her throat burned, and she could barely breathe through the stench. Before she could recover, she felt a hand roughly grab her by the hair, yanking her head back.
"Look at the freak, throwing up all over herself," Sophia Hess sneered, her voice dripping with contempt as the rest of her hangers-on laughed. Taylor barely registered what was happening before Sophia's hand shoved her hard, slamming her into the open locker. The metal edges bit into her skin as she was forced inside, her body contorted awkwardly in the cramped space. The door slammed shut, and she was plunged into darkness, the sounds of laughter echoing outside.
Taylor sat there, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the humiliation washing over her like a cold wave. She was trapped, confined to her locker like some twisted version of a prison cell. The sound of Sophia's laughter still echoed in her ears, mixing with the mocking jeers of her classmates. She felt a wave of despair wash over her, and the familiar numbness began to creep in.
Time lost all meaning as Taylor lay trapped in the locker, the sounds of the school day ebbing and flowing around her. She could hear the chatter of students, the distant clanging of the bell between periods, and the muffled voices of teachers. But no one came to help her. How could they not smell the stench? How could they not hear my feeble cries? The thought gnawed at her. Surely someone must have noticed; surely someone had to care. But as the hours dragged on, the awful truth settled over her like a heavy blanket: no one was coming.
Her mind raced in the dark, caught in a relentless cycle of despair. Will they really leave me here all day? What about my dad? He must be worried sick. Panic tightened its grip around her heart. How long have I been in here? How long until they finally let me out?
When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, dread washed over her like a cold wave. Still, no one came. Taylor's panic deepened as the school began to empty, the noise of students gradually fading into silence. Are they really going to leave me here? The thought was terrifying. Her heart raced in her chest, pounding like a drum, and her breath came in ragged gasps as the reality of her situation sank in. This is it. This is how it ends.
She closed her eyes, wishing desperately for someone to notice, for someone to care enough to open the door. But all she felt was the oppressive darkness, wrapping around her like a shroud, and the knowledge that she was utterly alone.
As Taylor lay crumpled inside the locker, the walls closing in on her, the oppressive darkness felt like it was swallowing her whole. Her body ached from the cramped position, her muscles trembling with fatigue and fear. The stench of decay and vomit was suffocating, making it impossible to breathe without gagging. Every breath she took felt like it was dragging her deeper into the abyss, further away from reality.
In the pitch black, her mind began to unravel. The fear and despair that had been gnawing at her for hours finally broke through, shattering the fragile barrier between sanity and madness. Her thoughts spiralled out of control, her senses overwhelmed by the filth and darkness surrounding her.
Suddenly, her vision flickered, and Taylor saw something—no, felt something—just beyond the edges of her perception. It was as though the darkness itself was coming to life, shifting and warping into shapes and patterns that defied comprehension. At first, it was just a trick of the mind, an abstract sensation that made her skin crawl. But then, the shapes became clearer, more defined, and she realized with a jolt of terror that she was not alone.
The locker seemed to stretch and expand, the walls dissolving into a void that stretched infinitely in all directions. And within that void, she saw them. They were vast, incomprehensible structures like hypercubes made flesh, but far more complex and elaborate than anything her mind could fully grasp. Their forms twisted and folded through dimensions, shapes within shapes, angles that shouldn't exist, all shifting in a rhythm that made her head spin.
They didn't move in any way she could understand; instead, their presence seemed to flicker, not in and out of existence, but through layers of reality that her mind struggled to process. They were there and not there, existing in a state that defied all logic. She could sense their vastness, their age, and something even more terrifying—their intent. It was as if they were observing her, analyzing her, their focus entirely on her fragile, terrified mind.
Taylor's heart pounded in her chest, the sound of her blood rushing in her ears. Her vision swam, the locker fading in and out as the entities loomed closer, their forms wrapping around her, through her, as though they were unraveling the very fabric of her being. The sensation was unbearable, like her mind was being stretched to its breaking point, each thought fracturing into a thousand jagged pieces as the entities delved deeper into her psyche.
She could feel their presence pressing down on her, a weight that was both physical and mental, threatening to crush her under the sheer enormity of their existence. Her skin tingled as if a thousand needles were pricking her at once, and she could feel something within her—a spark, a pressure, a power—building, struggling to break free. The world around her twisted and distorted, reality itself seemed to buckle under the strain, and she knew she was teetering on the edge of something vast and terrible.
The entities were reaching out to her, their tendrils of thought wrapping around her mind, pulling her deeper into their unfathomable depths. She could feel their intentions, cold and calculating, as if they were waiting for her to break, to give in to the chaos, to let go of herself completely. Taylor didn't understand what was happening but she just knew it wasn't anything good.
"No, no, no! This can't be happening!"
The pressure in her mind grew unbearable, the world around her fracturing into a kaleidoscope of impossible shapes and colours. She could feel her grip on reality slipping, her thoughts unravelling as the entities drew closer, their presence filling her with dread so deep it felt like her soul was being ripped apart.
And then, just as she was about to fall over the edge, to let the entities consume her entirely, a blinding light exploded into her vision. It was so bright, so pure, that it seared through the darkness and the chaos, burning away the twisted shapes and the oppressive weight of the entities. The light was warm and comforting, filling her with a peace that was almost painful in its intensity.
In the midst of that light, she heard it—a sharp, piercing cry that cut through the remnants of her fear. The raven. Its voice echoed through the void, strong and clear, pulling her back from the brink. The pressure in her mind began to ease, the overwhelming presence of the entities receding as the light grew brighter, more encompassing.
The raven's call came again, and with it, the last vestiges of the entities' presence dissolved, leaving Taylor alone in the warmth of the light. The sense of peace it brought was so profound that she felt her body relax, her mind slowly piecing itself back together as the terror ebbed away.
As she slipped into unconsciousness, the raven's call echoed one last time, a beacon in the darkness, guiding her towards a place of rest. The light faded to a soft glow, and Taylor felt herself drifting, finally free from the entities, from the locker, from the nightmare that had almost consumed her.
For the first time in a long time, Taylor felt a profound sense of peace and comfort.