School came whether Phei was ready for it or not.
The world didn't stop spinning just because he'd torn a hole through reality, woken up with void-black eyes, hair the color of frozen starlight, and enough new trauma to make a therapist retire early.
Classes still started at eight.
Attendance still mattered. And apparently, challenges issued before near-death experiences were still very much on the schedule—like the universe had a sadistic calendar app reminding everyone: "Don't forget to humiliate yourself publicly today, xx."
Sierra and Maddie looked like absolute shit.
Not cute-tired—not that soft, "I stayed up late watching dramas" exhausted that girls could somehow make endearing with messy buns and oversized hoodies.
No.
This was hollow-eyed, grey-skinned, shuffling-like-zombies territory. Full night without sleep. Watching a boy they cared about breathe frost, bleed darkness, and maybe die in slow motion while they could do exactly fuck-all about it.
