Unforgettable Promise

The school halls were eerily silent, the usual hum of voices and footsteps absent, leaving only the faint hum of flickering lights overhead. Shadows stretched long and distorted across the tiled floor, shifting with every hesitant step Talon took. The air carried a strange weight, thick with the scent of aged paper, floor polish, and something else—something acrid, metallic, like old rust.

He moved with careful, deliberate strides, each footfall barely making a sound. His pulse beat against his ribs, steady but insistent.

When he reached the janitor's room, he slowed, glancing down the hallway to make sure no one was watching.

The door was old, its paint peeling in jagged curls, revealing the raw wood beneath. Scratches marred its surface—not the casual scuffs of daily wear, but deep, uneven grooves. As if something—or someone—had once tried to claw their way inside—or out.

Talon lifted his hand and knocked twice. A pause. Then one more knock.