Noah
Lies were supposed to make things easier.
Cleaner.
Safer.
But the longer you carried them, the heavier they became. They stacked on your chest, pressed against your ribs, made breathing feel like a chore instead of a reflex.
By morning, Blackwood felt like a town holding a secret it didn't want to keep.
Fog clung to the streets long after sunrise, crawling along sidewalks and wrapping around trees like pale fingers. I stood at the window longer than necessary, watching it coil and drift, waiting for something to move that shouldn't.
Elias didn't speak while he drank his coffee. That alone told me how bad things were.
"It spoke to you," he said finally.
I didn't turn. "You felt it."
"Yes," he said. "But it spoke to you."
That was new.
"That means it knows who I am," I said.
Elias's jaw tightened. "It knows what you are."
Silence followed, thick and suffocating.
"Then why hasn't it acted?" I asked. "Why the games?"
"Because it's not hunting you," Elias said quietly. "Not yet."
I turned to face him. "Then what?"
"It's watching," he replied. "Learning how much damage it can do without exposing itself."
My thoughts went instantly to Iris.
Elias saw it in my expression.
"No," he said sharply. "You will not , "
"I already am," I interrupted. "Whether you like it or not."
He stared at me for a long moment. "That girl is not your responsibility."
"She is because I made her one."
That was the cost of lying.
Collateral damage.
School felt different after that.
Not louder. Not quieter.
Sharper.
Every sound cut deeper. Every shadow felt intentional. I tracked movement obsessively, my awareness flaring with each creak of a locker door, each echoing footstep.
I found Iris at her locker, laughing with a friend.
The sound startled me.
It didn't belong in a town on the edge of something dangerous.
When she saw me, the laughter faded.
"You look awful," she said bluntly.
"Good morning to you too."
"I mean it," she said, studying me. "You didn't sleep."
"I did."
She raised an eyebrow. "Liar."
I almost smiled.
"Walk with me," I said.
She hesitated. "To where?"
"Class."
"That's not usually a request."
"It is today."
She shrugged and fell into step beside me. "You're very bossy when you're stressed."
"I'm always stressed."
"That explains a lot."
We walked in silence for a few seconds before she spoke again.
"What happened yesterday?" she asked quietly.
I didn't slow. "Nothing."
She stopped walking.
I stopped too.
"Noah," she said, not accusing, just steady. "Something was there."
"You panicked," I said. "Low light. Stress."
"I wasn't alone," she countered. "And neither were you."
I met her gaze.
"You trust your instincts too much," I said.
She frowned. "You say that like it's a flaw."
"It is when they're wrong."
She studied my face, searching for cracks.
"I think you're scared," she said.
"I'm not."
"Then why are you watching me like I might disappear?"
Because you might, I thought.
I said nothing.
Iris
I hated not knowing.
Not in a dramatic, obsessive way , but in the quiet, nagging sense that something important was being kept just out of reach. Like a word on the tip of your tongue that refused to surface.
Noah Vale was the center of that frustration.
He was guarded today. More than usual. His attention snapped toward sounds that didn't even register to me. He positioned himself closer than necessary, like proximity was a shield.
"What are you so worried about?" I asked during lunch.
He didn't answer.
"You know," I continued, "most people don't hover unless they expect something bad to happen."
His fingers tightened slightly around his pen.
"Bad things happen all the time," he said.
"That's not an answer."
He finally looked at me. "You want answers I can't give."
"That's convenient."
"It's the truth."
I laughed humorlessly. "You say that like it's ironic."
A loud bang echoed from the far end of the cafeteria , someone slamming a chair down too hard. I jumped.
Noah didn't.
But his gaze flicked there instantly.
And then , to the windows.
That was new.
"Why are you looking outside?" I asked.
"Habit."
"You keep saying that."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Iris… promise me something."
I blinked. "What?"
"If something feels wrong , really wrong , go somewhere crowded. Somewhere bright."
A chill crept up my spine.
"You're doing it again," I said.
"Doing what?"
"Making it sound like I'm in danger."
He didn't deny it.
That scared me more than any joke ever could.
The day unraveled after that.
An announcement about a missing dog.
Another about staying with friends after dark.
A substitute teacher who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else.
By the time school ended, the sky had darkened again.
I stepped outside and felt it immediately , the sense of being watched.
I didn't see Noah at first.
Then a hand closed gently around my wrist.
I spun, heart leaping into my throat.
"Hey," he said softly. "It's me."
"Don't do that," I snapped, yanking my hand free. "I almost punched you."
"You would've missed," he said.
That earned him a glare.
We walked together without speaking, the fog thickening as we moved farther from campus. My street came into view too slowly.
"That thing yesterday," I said suddenly. "Whatever it was."
"Yes?"
"I don't think it was about me."
He stopped.
I turned to face him. "I think it was about you."
The silence stretched.
"That's ridiculous," he said finally.
"Is it?" I pressed. "Because bad things didn't start happening until you showed up."
He stared at me, something dark and conflicted passing behind his eyes.
"You're seeing patterns that aren't there," he said.
"Or you're refusing to see the ones that are."
For a moment, I thought he might say something else.
Something real.
Instead, he stepped back.
"Go inside," he said quietly.
I didn't argue this time.
Noah
That night, I stood at the edge of the woods.
Fog rolled thick and slow between the trees, carrying the faint echo of something breathing that shouldn't.
"You're impatient," the voice whispered from the dark.
I didn't move.
"She's fragile," it continued. "You should let her go."
A mistake.
I stepped forward.
"She's not part of this," I said.
Laughter , low and wet , slid through the trees.
"Everything becomes part of it eventually."
The presence withdrew, satisfied.
I stood there long after it was gone, the truth settling heavy in my chest.
Every lie I told kept Iris safe for one more moment.
But the cost was rising.
And eventually ,
I would have to pay it.
🩸 END OF CHAPTER FIVE 🩸