The college looked normal again.
That disturbed Arav more than the shadow ever had.
Classes resumed. Bells rang. Professors lectured like nothing had tried to crawl out of a classroom. The old block was open, its doors unlocked, its walls freshly cleaned—as if the morning had been quietly erased.
Students adapted quickly.
They always did.
Arav sat alone on the steps near the library, watching people pass. His backpack lay untouched at his feet. He hadn't gone to class. He hadn't told anyone why.
Tiku paced in front of him, agitation radiating off every step.
"I don't like this," he said. "When the college pretends nothing happened, it means something did happen."
Arav didn't respond.
His chest felt wrong.
Not painful. Not burning.
Just… misaligned.
As if something inside him hadn't settled back into place after the fight.
He pressed his palm lightly against his sternum.
The sensation didn't fade.
Residual Gate Strain Detected
Primary Source : Mooladhara
Status : Incomplete Recovery
That shouldn't have been possible.
The entity had been minor. The grounding pulse had worked. He had done everything right.
So why did it feel like he was still standing on cracked ground?
Ira approached from the path leading from the journalism room, notebook tucked under her arm. She slowed when she saw him, reading his posture before he said anything.
"You skipped class," she said.
"Attendance won't kill me," Arav replied.
Tiku glanced at her. "Bold words. I've seen attendance ruin lives."
She ignored him and sat beside Arav, leaving a careful distance between them.
"You haven't been okay since this morning," she said. "And don't tell me you are. I'm not asking politely."
Arav stared ahead.
For a moment, he considered lying.
It would have been easier.
"I shouldn't feel like this," he said finally. "After something that small."
Ira frowned. "Small?"
"The entity," he said. "It wasn't strong."
"That thing tried to eat us."
"That's not strength," Arav replied quietly. "That's hunger."
Tiku blinked. "Wow. That was… unsettlingly calm."
Arav exhaled slowly.
"My control slipped," he continued. "Just enough that it noticed."
Ira's voice softened. "Noticed what?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Because saying it out loud made it real.
"Me," he said.
The word hung between them.
Tiku stopped pacing.
"What do you mean, noticed you?" he asked.
Arav flexed his fingers again. The faint tremor was still there.
"There are things out there that don't react to fear," he said. "They react to instability. When something breaks the wrong way, it stands out."
Ira absorbed that silently.
"And you think you stood out."
"Yes."
A breeze passed through the courtyard. Leaves rustled. Somewhere, someone laughed.
Normal life.
Ira glanced around before lowering her voice. "And the girl in the hallway?"
Arav's jaw tightened.
"She didn't attack," he said. "She didn't interfere."
"She watched," Ira said.
"Yes."
Tiku hugged himself. "I hate watchers."
Ira hesitated, then spoke carefully. "The word on my camera… Remember."
Arav looked at her.
"It hasn't left my head," she continued. "I don't know why. It's like someone tapped a glass wall inside my mind."
Something cold stirred behind his eyes.
Cognitive Echo Detected
External Influence : Persistent
Recommendation : Grounding Required
He stood abruptly.
"I need air."
"You're already outside," Tiku pointed out.
"Alone," Arav said.
Ira rose as well. "Arav—"
"Not now," he said, more sharply than he intended.
She stopped.
He took a step back, then another, putting distance between them.
That helped.
Immediately.
The pressure eased.
Not gone—but quieter.
Ira noticed.
Her expression shifted, hurt flickering across it before she masked it.
"Oh," she said softly. "That's how it is."
Arav froze.
He hadn't meant—
But the truth was already there, exposed.
Distance stabilized him.
People didn't.
Tiku looked between them, suddenly unsure. "Okay. This feels like the part where someone says something reassuring."
Neither of them did.
Arav turned and walked toward the edge of the courtyard, where the noise thinned and the shadows grew longer.
As he leaned against the railing, the tremor in his hands finally stopped.
He closed his eyes.
And felt it again.
That faint sense of attention.
Not close.
Not far.
Present.
As if something was testing the shape of him from the inside.
Somewhere behind the glass of the administration building, a reflection shifted.
A girl stood where no one else was looking.
Watching a fracture deepen.