It had been a full month since Marvin vanished. Life in the cursed village had settled into a grim routine.
The students did little more than train, eat, and sleep, each day weighed down by mounting fear.
Rumors began to spread among the younger students, whispers of Marvin's fate and the malevolent presence that haunted the village. Some were desperate to leave, their nerves frayed to the point of breaking.
But there was no escape—only the endless wail of the "mother's cry," haunting them every third night until dawn.
The cry was relentless, a piercing, mournful wail that seeped into their bones and refused to leave their minds.
No matter how hard they searched, they could never find the source of the sound. The constant torment was taking its toll. Students bore dark circles under their eyes, praying every night that they wouldn't vanish like Marvin. Even Mr. June, once a confident and capable teacher, had become a hollow figure, his eyes dull and his movements sluggish.
The other teachers weren't faring much better, though they tried to maintain an air of authority.
Oddly enough, the village itself had grown quieter. Since Marvin's disappearance, no other children or adults had been harmed.
The "mother's cry" no longer seemed to grieve as before—it had settled into an eerie, mocking consistency. This paradox gnawed at Theodore's mind as he lay in bed that night, staring at the cracked ceiling of the dorm room he shared with Cai.
Cai sat at the desk nearby, scribbling notes in frustration. He finally turned to Theodore. "I've been stalking Mr. Smith all week," Cai whispered, his voice barely audible. "Nothing suspicious. He just does his rounds, inspecting the villagers' houses or hiding in his office."
Theodore didn't respond, his crimson eyes fixed on the ceiling.
His frustration simmered beneath the surface, clawing at him. I'm wasting time, he thought bitterly. Every lead was a dead end, every idea met with failure. He gripped the bedsheets tightly, his knuckles white as he silently berated himself.
He couldn't even use his shadow magic—Principal Roman's watchful eyes wouldn't allow it. He had promised himself to grow stronger independently, but he was beginning to feel that same suffocating helplessness he had known in his past life.
"I'm still too weak," he muttered under his breath. "Still pathetic… still miserable." His nails dug into his palms, blood pooling from the pressure.
Cai, noticing Theodore's state, approached cautiously. He placed a hand on Theodore's shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, "you should take a break. Think about surviving for now."
Theodore turned his head slightly, his lips twitching into a humorless smile.
Then, unexpectedly, he started laughing—a sharp, bitter laugh that sent a chill down Cai's spine. "I get it now," Theodore said, lying back on the bed with a resigned expression.
"This is psychological. Roman sent me here on purpose. He wants to show me what the world's really like—how dangerous it can be. Outside these walls, it must be even worse than this village."
Cai stared at him, confused by the sudden shift in tone.
Theodore wiped his eyes and sat up, his expression hardening.
"But that spirit—the mother's cry—she's not grieving anymore. She's toying with us. Mocking us." His crimson eyes flared with anger. "And I swear, I'll tear her to pieces."
Theodore stood abruptly, grabbing his wooden sword. "I'm going outside," he announced.
"What? Are you insane?" Cai grabbed his arm, his voice sharp with panic. "You shouldn't do anything stupid! It's already late!"
Before Cai could argue further, the ghostly cry began again, louder and more piercing than ever before.
It was as if the air itself trembled with the sound. Theodore's crimson eyes gleamed with fury as he pushed Cai aside and ran for the door.
Cai tried to hold him back, but Theodore was stronger. He threw the door open and bolted down the stairs, his wooden sword gripped tightly in his hand.
Outside, chaos had erupted. Mr. June was sprinting across the courtyard, his face twisted with rage and desperation. Theodore couldn't help but find it almost comical—his anger barely masking the fear he was trying so hard to suppress.
A few other students had followed Mr. June, including Miss Lidia and Miss Dalia, both looking terrified but determined.
"Mr. June, wait!" Miss Lidia called, but the man didn't slow down.
Miss Lidia, in her haste, bumped straight into him when he suddenly stopped, rubbing her nose and shouting, "Watch where you're going!" But Mr. June didn't respond.
His entire body trembled as he raised a shaking hand to point ahead.
Everyone followed his gaze.
And then they saw her.
The spirit.