Sevyn slipped into Ms. Calloway's art classroom and sank into a seat at the back. Ms. Calloway was already at her desk, eyes glued to her laptop as she prepared to take roll. Students trickled in, their voices were a dim hum of murmured chatter, Sevyn flipped to a half-finished sketch and carefully started to capture the details of the dream clinging to the edges of his memory. He thought of the delicate dandelions swaying in an unreal breeze, framing the outline of a woman's face he tried so hard to remember but to no avail. He paused, circling her features absently. His mind began to wander back to the strange circular symbol he had drawn the night before. The image gnawing at the back of his mind like a itch.
His pencil strokes quickened, his movements more forceful. Until suddenly the lead snapped, the sound startling him. And before he could grab a new pencil, a familiar voice interrupted him.
"Cool drawing," Santa said, leaning over Sevyn's shoulder, "Is that your girlfriend?"
Sevyn's cheeks burned. He slammed the notebook shut with an awkward laugh. "No, just a sketch."
Santa smirked and dropped into the desk right of him. "I see. So, we've got the same homeroom, huh?"
"Yeah," Sevyn muttered, keeping his gaze on the desk.
"I never caught your name." Santa began rummaging in his bag for a notebook.
"It's Sevyn," he said, hesitating.
"Sevyn, like the number seven?"
Sevyn nodded.
"Cool name." Santa said it casually, but his grin lingered.
"Thanks."
The door opened with a creak, and a security guard entered the classroom. He didn't say a word; he just looked around. When his eyes landed on Sevyn, he looked like he was going to say something, but then he just stood there, not moving a muscle but watching. "What's with that guard?" Sevyn whispered to Santa
Santa replied with a sigh. "Oh, they're just looking for someone--a few someone's, actually."
"Huh, why?" Sevyn asked, brows furrowing.
Santa's smile turned mischievous, his voice lowering. "I must've caught their attention this morning... You for sure did, too, though," he added with a chuckle.
"What are you talking about?" Sevyn pressed, his head starting to ache.
Santa chewed on the eraser of his pencil, his gaze drifting off as he spoke. "On the bus, they probably didn't notice you at all—'cause I was right near you," Santa said, pausing for a beat. "But once we split up and you went off with your brother? I'm sure every single one of them saw it coming from you too."
"Saw what?" Sevyn hissed, the vague answers gnawing at him.
Santa glanced at him with a small, knowing smirk. "You'll figure it out soon enough," he said cryptically, reaching into his backpack for something.
This guy's weird. What is he talking about? Sevyn thought, his frustration growing. His head throbbed, and as he clenched his temples, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A girl with long brown hair was slowly untangling it as she took the hood off her head. For a brief moment, the girl from his dreams flashed in his mind, and then she was gone.
What the hell is happening to me? Sevyn thought, his pulse quickening. He grabbed his temples, as if trying to push the images away. I feel like I'm about to pass out... His fingers fumbled at his necktie, loosening it to relieve the pressure. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as nausea crept up his throat.
"Here, take thi—oh, woah-- shit you look awful." Santa pulled out a tattered sigil, preparing to hand it over, but paused when he saw the sickly look on Sevyn's face.
Sevyn recoiled, the sharp, acrid smell hitting him first. "What the fuck is that?"
"It's to help," Santa insisted, moving it closer. "Y'know, for when you start..." He made a vague, circular motion with his hand. "Breaking out."
"I don't want that dirty-ass sock," Sevyn snapped, scooting his desk away from Santa.
"Dude just trust me," Santa pressed, pushing it closer.
"Get that away from me!" Sevyn's voice rose slightly, drawing glances from a few nearby students.
Santa sighed, slipping the sigil back into his bag. "Alright fine."
Sevyn shot him a wary look, his pounding headache making it hard to focus. Santa was weird—like another version of Raze, but somehow even more unpredictable.
"I really didn't think it would happen this soon…" Santa muttered to himself, flipping through a notebook filled with messy sketches—twisted spirals and rushed, sloppy handwriting beneath them.
"Especially since it's flickering in and out like that—that isn't normal at all…" Santa stopped on a page featuring the outline of a person, multiple cracks running through their body.
"I'm no expert, but…" Santa tapped the page dramatically. "I believe you have a case of Fractura Anima."
"Fractura—wha..?" Sevyn groaned weakly, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Santa nodded. "It's an uncommon disorder among regular people—not uncommon enough though, sadly—but I've never seen or even heard of it manifesting in an emanation like yourself."
"An... Emanation?" Sevyn asked, forcing himself to concentrate. His head was pounding, and he could barely keep his eyelids from drooping. "Yep," Santa said, almost as if he were dismissing the whole thing as a bad joke.
A grin spread across his face as he flipped to the next page of his notebook, almost as if he found something amusing.
"You are... very interesting, Sevyn," he said, carefully ripping the page from the notebook. His tone carried a strange weight, making the air around Sevyn feel heavier.
"What is that?" Sevyn asked, his head spinning. The paper Santa held seemed to pulse in his vision, drawing his focus like a magnet.
Santa leaned in slightly, his grin turning into something more knowing. "I know a lot of people who'd love to know more about you." He held the page out with a calm, steady hand. "Here, you can have your drawing back."
Sevyn's breath caught in his throat as he took the paper. His hands trembled as his eyes landed on the image. His heart dropped—there it was, his ouroboros. The rushed logo he had sketched the night before, the one that had inexplicably turned into that stupid, meaningless circle, was now back in front of him, intact and unchanged.
"Wha—how did—" The words barely escaped his mouth before Santa cut him off.
"We should be friends." Santa's smile widened, warm yet unsettling, as if he already knew the answer. He placed the paper neatly on Sevyn's desk.
Sevyn sat frozen, staring at the drawing as if it might vanish at any moment. His fingers tightened around the edges, crinkling the paper slightly. It felt real, but his mind screamed otherwise.
"...Veylan?" Ms. Calloway's voice cut through the haze. "Sevyn Veylan?" She glanced around the room, scanning for him. Her eyes finally landed on his desk at the back.
He didn't answer. He couldn't. His mind churned, trying to piece together how Santa had the drawing—or why he even had it at all.
"Veylan?" Ms. Calloway called, her tone soft but questioning, her gaze scanning the room. She frowned, unsure if Sevyn was even present.
Finally, her eyes landed on him, slumped over his desk in the back row. He held a piece of paper in trembling hands, his complexion pale, and his expression frozen in some unnameable dread.
"Sevyn," she repeated, more firmly this time, but he didn't move. His eyes were locked on the paper, as if it held some terrible secret.
The room grew still, a few students shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Murmurs rippled through the class as heads began to turn, curious and confused.
Ms. Calloway sighed, the beginnings of irritation seeping into her voice. A boy sitting directly in front of Sevyn smirked, rolling up a crumpled scrap of paper in his hand. With a quick flick of his wrist, he launched it backward.
The paper ball bounced off Sevyn's head, jerking him out of his trance.
"Huh..?" Sevyn breathed, blinking as if he just woke up from a nap.
"Hey, Veylan, the hells wrong with you?" Carter Williams mocked as he turned around in his seat to face Sevyn. Next to him, Jackson King could hardly contain himself and was obviously about to burst out laughing.
"What?" Sevyn breathed, blinking as if he were awakening from a nightmare. He was disoriented, and it showed on his face.
"Sevyn," Ms. Calloway said, now more concerned than she had been before. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need to see the nurse?"
She was already reaching toward her desk to grab the bright orange hall pass. "I'd hope he goes to get a damn checkup," Carter sneered, "he's been sitting over there with a thousand-yard stare mumbling to himself for, like, five minutes." Sevyn's brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Muttering? I wasn't—" But his voice trailed off as he glanced over to the right, toward the desk next to him, and saw that it was empty.
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Sevyn shoved open the classroom door, the bright orange hall pass crumpled in his hand. He staggered into the hallway, his body swaying unsteadily as he leaned against the walls for support. His head pounded relentlessly, each step making the floor feel like it was shifting beneath him.
What's happening to me...? Sevyn thought, his vision blurring.
Students passing by cast sidelong glances, their whispers and stares drilling into his already fragile state. Ignoring them, Sevyn limped around a corner. His breath hitching as the lights above seemed to flicker in and out. The white walls of the school seemed to close in on him, the walls shifting as if they were breathing.
His limp became a hurried run. Panic rose, his breathing shallow.
Was the nurse's office always this far away? Sevyn thought, the walls stretching on forever like a loop. The familiar surroundings changed. Replaced by an endless corridor lined with the ouroboros logo of Orpheum. Following him on every surface, as if they were watching him.
"No... no, no, no!" Sevyn muttered. He shook his head violently, rubbing his eyes but the logos remained, each one growing sharper and more oppressive.
Desperate, Sevyn spotted a bathroom sign just ahead, and without thinking, he ran toward it, stumbling through the door and into the dimly lit space. The cold air hit his face as he staggered into a stall. Pushing the lock shut behind him.
Collapsing onto the closed toilet seat, Sevyn clutched his head, his heart hammering against his ribs. The warped tiles and ceiling seemed to breathe, the walls undulating with unnatural rhythm before gradually coming to a stop.
Minutes—or what felt like hours—passed. He sat still, his eyes shut tight, willing the world to steady itself.
Then, without warning, a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. Sevyn's stomach churned violently, and he slid to his knees, clutching the cold porcelain rim of the toilet. He retched, his body convulsing as he emptied his stomach into the bowl.
For a brief moment, the room was silent except for his ragged breathing. He wiped his mouth as the toilet automatically flushed, staring into nothingness.
Sevyn eventually managed to steady his breaths, though his legs still felt shaky as he stood. He opened the stall door, gripping its edge for support before making his way to the bathroom sink. He turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run for a moment before splashing his face vigorously. Droplets ran down his neck and arms, forming a small pool on the tiled floor beneath him.
it's over now... thank god, Sevyn thought, exhaling, the aching in his head beginning to go away.
He glanced up at the mirror, his soaked reflection staring back at him. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and his shirt was drenched with a mixture of sweat and water. Rubbing his face with his sleeve, he muttered under his breath, "I look like I just got caught in the middle of a storm."
As his gaze lingered on his reflection, he noticed a small crack running across the mirror, distorting the image of his face. He frowned, leaning closer. "Huh... where'd that come from?" he murmured.
He moved to the right, trying to see himself without the crack obscuring his face, but it followed him. Confused, he moved to the left, but the crack stubbornly stayed in the same place, covering his face no matter how he shifted.
"What the...?"Sevyn said, breaking the silence that was becoming uncomfortable. Unease settled into his chest.He leaned closer, almost instinctively reaching out toward the crack, his fingers almost touching the cold glass.
When suddenly—his reflection moved, no, it lunged at him, its hand trying to reach right for him. Fingers scrabbling against the surface of the mirror as it fought against the unsticking of itself from its own cage. "Shit!" Sevyn shouted as he stumbled back instinctively.
Before he could fully process what he was seeing, the tiled floor beneath him cracked and buckled. Another version of himself began to rise from the ground, its body composed of solid stone. Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto him with unflinching focus.
Sevyn barely had time to react before the stone figure raised an enormous axe, swinging it down at him with brutal force. He threw himself to the side, the axe missing by inches and cleaving into the stall behind him with a deafening crash.
From the wrecked stall came another variant of himself, yawned, and stretched there as if he had just been awoken from his nap.
"Oh, it's starting," said the new apparition as he stepped over the wreckage that had been the stall door. He watched in the mirror as Sevyn dragged himself out, tugging his way into the real world.
"Hey, careful-it's wet," the apparition called out, still watching the mirror version as it tried to hop off the counter. It slipped on the puddle Sevyn had made earlier, smashing its head against the sink before collapsing into a heap of shattered glass and liquid on the floor.
"Well, that's embarrassing," the apparition muttered, turning his attention back to the stone version of Sevyn, who was still pursuing the original Sevyn.
It swung its axe, and at the last possible second near the urinals, Sevyn dove beneath it, one of which started spraying water as it materialized into another copy, fluid, shining, living water.
The water figure crashed into the golem, spraying both Sevyn and the stone copy. The golem's surface cracked and eroded as the water coursed through it, crumbling into dust. Its massive axe fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
Sevyn panted hard, his eyes running around the room that now didn't look anything like the bathroom of his school. The walls had cracks in them, being overgrown with rich green vines, while the atmosphere was thick with moisture and a hint of decay.
Before he could get his bearings, another version of himself sprang at him from out of the shadows, this one feral with wild hair and glowing eyes. It let out a loud roar that sounded like that of a wild animals as it pounced onto Sevyn. It raised its claws to strike him, before being suddenly punched away into rubble by the tired apparition, shaking his head as if being inconvenienced.
And Before the feral Sevyn could attack, it was sent flying by a powerful blow from the yawning apparition. The tired version sighed heavily, shaking his head as if annoyed.
"This shouldn't be happening," he muttered, looking down at Sevyn, who was still on the floor, trembling and overwhelmed.
The room began to shift again, the walls twisting and contorting. The tired apparition groaned, throwing up his hands. "You've got to be kidding me! Can you cut that shit out?!" he shouted at Sevyn, exasperated.
"W-what the hell is going on?!" Sevyn yelled back, his voice cracking.
The room transformed into a battlefield, littered with ruins and soaked in desolation. Standing amidst the chaos was another version of Sevyn, this one drenched in blood and holding a glowing red sword. He looked at the group with mild curiosity.
The tired apparition squinted at him. "Are you... straight?" he asked, making a thumbs-up gesture. The blood-soaked version nodded silently in response.
The apparition turned back to Sevyn, crouching down to his level. "Look, Sevyn, you need to calm the hell down. The more stressed you get, the worse this is going to get." He gestured vaguely to the surrounding chaos. "It's like being on drugs or—oh, wait." He paused, glancing at the bloodied version of himself, who rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we've never done drugs, have we?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Sevyn shouted, his voice rising in panic. "What is this? What's happening to me?!"
The apparition sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "As of right now? A war. Millions of versions of you fighting for control of your body." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "It's hell, really. But hey, that Santa guy was right—this," he said, waving his hand to indicate the desolate battlefield around them, "Is your Fractura Anima. Welcome to you."