The next few days passed in a haze of muted voices and hushed whispers. Something was undeniably off about the academy. Students had begun to act strangely, their movements stiff and mechanical, as though they were following a script, but one that was unraveling bit by bit.
I couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching me at all times. It was unsettling, a pressure on the back of my mind that never let up.
Ilya had stopped speaking to me altogether. It wasn't that she was avoiding me—quite the opposite. She was watching from the shadows, observing me, as if waiting for the right moment to make her move.