Chapter 9

As the lunch bell echoed through the corridors of Cresthill High, students poured into the hallways, their chatter filling the air. Amidst the bustling crowd, Athasia moved with purpose, her long platinum hair trailing behind her like a silken banner. Her glowing green eyes were fixed ahead, ignoring the curious glances and whispered speculations that followed her swift departure from the classroom.

"Where's she rushing off to?" one student murmured, watching as Athasia navigated the throng with ease.

"Probably meeting some guy in secret," another sneered, a hint of jealousy coloring her tone.

Athasia paid them no mind. Her focus was singular: the elusive sixth floor that had haunted her dreams for weeks. The whispers, the phantom touches, the insistent call—it all pointed to something waiting for her in the shadows above.

She reached the seldom-used staircase at the end of the north wing, its steps worn and covered in a thin layer of dust. A faded sign read, "Restricted Area: Authorized Personnel Only." Undeterred, Athasia began her ascent, each step echoing softly in the desolate stairwell.

The air grew cooler as she climbed, the sounds of the bustling school fading into a distant hum. Reaching the landing, she found herself facing a heavy wooden door, its paint peeling with age. She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, before pushing it open.

The sixth floor was a relic of the past, long abandoned and forgotten. Dust motes danced in the slivers of light that pierced through cracked and grimy windows. Rows of desks stood in silent formation, their surfaces covered in years of neglect. Faded chalkboards bore the faint remnants of lessons from a bygone era.

As Athasia stepped inside, a shiver ran down her spine. The atmosphere was thick with an unspoken tension, as if the very walls held their breath in anticipation. She felt it again—the inexplicable pull, a magnetic force drawing her deeper into the room.

Her gaze swept across the classroom, landing on a particular desk near the center. It seemed unremarkable, identical to the others, yet something about it called to her. Compelled by an unseen force, she approached and reached out, her fingers brushing against the aged wood.

The moment her skin made contact, the room plunged into darkness. Athasia gasped, her hand retracting instinctively as the floor beneath her trembled. A low rumble resonated through the space, and before she could react, the ground gave way.

She let out a startled cry as she was pulled into the abyss, the sensation of falling consuming her. The darkness was absolute, swallowing her whole as she descended into the unknown. Her mind raced, fear and curiosity warring within her as she braced for whatever awaited in the depths below.

The descent seemed endless, time stretching and distorting in the inky blackness. Just as unease threatened to overtake her, Athasia's feet touched solid ground. She staggered slightly, her senses reeling as she tried to orient herself.

A faint, eerie glow began to illuminate her surroundings, revealing a subterranean chamber unlike anything she had ever seen. The walls were lined with ancient symbols that pulsed with a soft, otherworldly light. In the center of the room stood a pedestal, atop which rested an ornate mirror framed in tarnished silver.

Athasia's reflection stared back at her, but there was something off—her mirrored self wore an expression of knowing, a subtle smirk that sent chills through her. The whispers returned, louder now, echoing off the chamber walls.

"Welcome, Athasia," the disembodied voices intoned in unison. "We've been waiting for you."

Her heart pounded as she took a cautious step forward, drawn inexorably toward the mirror and the secrets it promised to reveal.