Zach - Chapter 15

The sky split in two.

Not like thunder. Like something older. Deeper. A sound that came from the bones of the world.

Lightning carved its way through the clouds, jagged and gold, illuminating a mountain that pierced the sky. I stood at its summit, alone, but not afraid. The wind whipped through my clothes, but I barely felt it. There was something else in the air. Something… electric.

Below, the world was gone, just an endless sea of churning clouds. And above? Stars, constellations I didn't recognise, circling slowly like they were watching me.

"Zachary."

I turned. A figure stepped from the fog behind me, tall and cloaked in light. A woman? A giant? I couldn't tell. Her face shifted in the storm, never quite settling, but her voice rang like thunder in my ears.

"You have forgotten what you were."

"I don't understand," I said, though my voice sounded… different, like it belonged to someone older. Someone dangerous.

"If you don't remember, the sky will fall. The earth will crack. And the Titans will rise."

The clouds surged, lightning spearing the ground far below, as if echoing her words.

"You were the storm. You are the storm," she whispered.

Then her hand reached out, two fingers pressing against my chest, right over my heart.

A flash of blinding gold- 

I jolted awake.

My body lurched upright in bed, drenched in sweat, my breath ragged like I'd run a marathon. I clutched at my chest, half-expecting to feel that same spark beneath my skin.

But all I felt was my pounding heartbeat.

And the rumble of thunder outside.

I turned to my window. Rain streaked the glass in heavy sheets. Lightning flashed again, this time for real. This time right here.

A real storm.

I threw off the covers and got up, walking over to the window, pulling it open just enough to stick my head out. The wind hit me instantly, cold, sharp, and somehow familiar. The scent of rain filled my nose. Electricity danced through the air, making the hairs on my arms rise.

I stared up into the night sky, breath catching as another bolt of lightning split the clouds.

For a second, I swear it looked like it came down toward me.

I stepped back, heart hammering.

What the hell was that dream?

Why did I feel like the storm knew me?

~~~

I stared at the carpet, completely checked out of reality. The sounds of the classroom faded into a low hum, like I was underwater. I couldn't focus, not on Mr. Quinn's voice, not on the lesson, not even on the ticking clock on the wall.

Then- 

A hand shook my shoulder.

"Dude," Paxton's voice cut through the fog. "Mr. Quinn just called your name."

I blinked and looked up at him. His brows were pinched, his voice tinged with concern. My throat felt dry, like I hadn't spoken in hours.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm here," I muttered, sitting up straighter with a soft cough.

I turned toward the front of the room and froze.

There was Mr. Quinn, right where he'd always been, standing at the whiteboard, pointing to something about some new topic for the year. On the surface, everything looked normal. Same boring striped shirt, same worn-out tie. But when I glanced down-

I stopped breathing.

Where his shoes should've been were hooves.

Not some weird footwear. Not a costume. Real, black, heavy hooves that clicked gently against the tiled floor when he shifted his stance.

I jerked upright in my seat.

"Paxton," I whispered under my breath, not taking my eyes off the front of the room. "You see that, right? Look at his feet, tell me you see it."

Paxton glanced toward Mr. Quinn, then back at me, clearly confused. His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a second I hoped, hoped, he'd say, "Holy shit, yeah."

But instead, he just gave me that soft, cautious look people give when they think someone's about to lose it.

"Alright… let's take you outside for a second," he said gently, already standing and motioning for me to follow.

I didn't argue.

I was up, out of my chair, and through the classroom door in seconds. The hallway felt colder than it should've. I rubbed my arms, the hairs standing straight up like I was being charged with electricity.

The strange prickling sensation from earlier was stronger now, like the air around me was alive, humming with something I couldn't explain.

I paced back and forth in front of the lockers, fists clenching and unclenching, Paxton trailing behind.

My thoughts spun out of control.

Was this like the dream? Is something messing with my head?

Why did Quinn have fucking hooves?

Was I hallucinating? Going insane?

What the fuck is going on-

"Zachary," Paxton's voice snapped back into focus as he stepped in front of me, gripping my shoulders firmly. "Dude, you gotta chill. Breathe, man. Look at me."

I looked up at him, still panting slightly. He had grown taller since last year. His face was a little more angular, hair messier. But the concern was real. He wasn't messing around.

"What happened?" he asked, voice low and steady. "Why are you freaking out?"

"You're gonna think I'm insane," I muttered.

"I already kinda do, so just go for it."

I glanced down the hallway, like someone might be listening, then looked him in the eye.

"Mr. Quinn has hooves. Like... actual, animal hooves. Where his feet should be. I saw them."

Paxton stared at me.

For a moment, I thought he was going to say something serious, something grounding.

Then...

He burst out laughing.

Not a chuckle. A full-body, doubled-over wheeze.

"Fucking hell," I groaned, running a hand down my face. "This is not a laughing matter, Paxton!"

He wiped his eyes, still grinning. "Dude. What the hell did Dion give you today? You sneak something during lunch?"

"I'm not high!" I snapped.

He smirked. "You sure about that? Because last time Dion laced his brownies, you thought the vending machine was trying to offer you life advice."

"This is different!" I hissed, lowering my voice. "This felt... real. It's not just Quinn. I've been seeing shit since that storm last week, dreams, flashes. My skin keeps buzzing like I'm carrying a fucking thundercloud around with me."

That made him pause. His smile faded slightly, replaced by something closer to thoughtfulness.

"Alright," he said slowly. "Let's say you're not high. Let's say you really saw what you saw."

I looked at him, hopeful.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Then maybe your fantasy obsession's just rotted your brain."

"Dickhead."

He laughed again. "Come on, let's go walk it off. Maybe grab water. And no, you're not allowed to punch Mr. Quinn in the face to check if he's half uh whatever."

I didn't laugh. Not fully.

Because, as stupid as it sounded…

I wasn't sure Mr. Quinn wasn't.

~~~

From across the quad, I sat with my back against a tree, my eyes locked on Mr. Quinn like he was some creature I'd spotted on a wildlife documentary.

He stood near the science block, clipboard in hand, overseeing the new crop of Year 7s as they laughed and tripped over their oversized backpacks. He waved at one of them, gave a signature, awkward smile.

But I wasn't watching his face.

I was staring at his legs, his feet.

Or what should've been feet.

Even from here, through the distance and the shimmer of heat rising from the concrete, I could see them. The smooth curve of his pants suddenly split where his shoes should've been, replaced instead by solid, animalistic hooves. Like he had stepped out of a myth and straight into a pair of jeans.

I took a long gulp from the tiny, overpriced bottle of cold-pressed juice I'd grabbed from the tuckshop, the citrus sting doing nothing to settle the storm in my stomach.

My grip tightened on the bottle. Maybe I really was going nuts.

"Hey there, Zach."

The voice cut into my thoughts, making me jolt like I'd been slapped. I turned quickly, already defensive, half-expecting a teacher or maybe Paxton trying to joke again.

But it was Lena.

She stood beside me, hands in the pockets of her uniform jacket, her eyes following mine across the quad toward Mr. Quinn.

"You're not gonna punch me or yell at me again, are you?" I asked, only half-joking, watching her cautiously.

She snorted. "No, dumbass. I realised I overreacted. What I was pissed about was… kinda stupid. It was just a camp thing. Whatever."

Her tone was dismissive, but she didn't look at me. Her gaze stayed fixed on Mr Quinn. The wind picked up a strand of her dark hair and whipped it into her face. She didn't bother fixing it. She looked tired. No makeup, no fire behind her eyes like usual, just worn-down silence.

I hesitated, glancing back toward Mr Quinn. "Then why are you over here?"

"Could ask you the same thing," she muttered. "But I'm guessing it has something to do with why you're staring at Mr Quinn like he just told you Santa wasn't real."

I swallowed thickly. "He's… not human."

Lena went still. Slowly, like she didn't want to spook either of us, she turned to look at me. Her voice dropped into a whisper, sharp and breathless.

"You can fucking see it too? The hooves?"

My head snapped toward her, my eyes wide. "Wait, you see them?"

She nodded once, stiffly. "I thought I was hallucinating. I thought maybe I was sleep-deprived or I hit my head or something. But they're there, right? Like, actually there."

"Thank fuck," I exhaled. "I thought I was losing my mind."

We both stared back at Mr. Quinn, who was now kneeling to help a Year 7 tie their shoe, like he hadn't been walking around with literal hooves for the past year and a half.

He looked like the same awkward, slightly sweaty, often-distracted history teacher we'd always known. Nothing magical or threatening about him at a glance. But now?

Now everything felt off.

"You think… he's like a centaur or some shit?" I asked, half-joking, half-terrified.

Lena raised an eyebrow. "Centaurs have horses' bodies, Zach. Not just hooves."

"Okay, Minotaur, then."

"Minotaurs are, like, bull-headed monsters."

"Well, he is shit at explaining anything past 1945," I mumbled.

Despite the tension, Lena cracked a tiny smile. Then it faded just as quickly.

"So… what the fuck is going on?" I whispered.

The air between us went heavy again. Mr. Quinn stood up and continued patrolling the quad like nothing was wrong, clipboard in hand, hooves clicking faintly on the pavement like only we could hear them.

"I don't know," Lena murmured. "But I think we need to find out. Because if we're seeing this… then there's probably more."

"More teachers?"

"More things."

We stood there in silence for a few moments, watching Mr. Quinn help a kid find their lunchbox.

Lena and I stood there, both silent now, watching as Mr. Quinn strolled casually across the quad, hooves hidden to everyone but us. A group of Year 10s walked past him, completely unfazed. No sideways glances. No double takes. Just like he was totally normal.

"He's gotta know," I said, still whispering. "Like… he has to know we saw."

Lena shook her head. "Then why hasn't he said anything? Why hasn't anyone said anything?"

"Maybe because we're not supposed to see it," I muttered, chewing my thumbnail. "Like, maybe this is some weird freaky thing. Like a glitch in the Matrix."

"Or we're in a fever dream."

"Both of us?" I looked at her.

She sighed. "No… Something's off. I've felt it for a while now. Since that night at the beach. I thought I was just losing my mind, but now-"

Her words were cut off by the distant sound of something heavy falling, a loud thud echoing across the school grounds from the direction of the old sports shed near the oval.

Lena and I both snapped our heads toward the sound.

"That's not creepy at all," I muttered.

"You wanna check it out?" she asked, voice low.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're seriously asking that like it's not the start of a horror movie."

She shrugged. "You want answers or not?"

I sighed, glancing one more time at Mr. Quinn, who was now sitting on a bench, marking something on a clipboard, completely unaware of the sound that just echoed through the school grounds.

Or maybe pretending to be.

"Let's go," I said.

We walked across the quad, keeping our heads down, trying not to look suspicious. Lena kept her jacket tucked around her, hands shoved in the pockets. I could hear the chain of her belt clinking faintly with each step.

The sky had started to cloud over again. Typical early summer storm weather, heavy and thick, like the air was holding its breath.

We moved past the canteen, past the lockers, and toward the old sports shed. No one really went there anymore. It was mostly used for dumping broken equipment and things the school didn't want to throw away, but also didn't want to fix.

Lena tugged on the rusted door handle, and it gave with a loud screech.

Inside was dark. The only light came from a cracked window, casting a beam of dusty sunlight across the floor.

And then we saw it.

Footprints.

Large, non-human prints, pressed deep into the dirt-covered concrete. They looked… like hooves.

But not like Mr. Quinn's.

"These are bigger," Lena muttered. "Like, way bigger."

Something skittered in the corner of the shed, making us both jump. My heart slammed against my ribs.

I shone the torch from my phone across the room, and it landed on a mural.

On the far wall, half-covered in dust and grime, was a faded painting. Crude, but detailed. Ancient symbols. Swirls. A storm cloud with bolts of lightning. A scythe. A crown.

"What the hell…" I breathed, walking closer.

Lena stepped up beside me, squinting. "Wait. Is that..."

"I've seen this. In my dreams." My voice came out smaller than I intended.

Lena looked at me, eyes wide. "Me too."

The air seemed to hum.

"Zachary Callas and Helena Kosta."

We both froze.

Mr. Quinn stood in the doorway of the shed, the sun behind him, casting his face in shadow. The faintest clack of hoof against concrete echoed beneath his words.

"You shouldn't be here."

I felt my throat close up, but Lena (of course) was the first to speak.

"Oh yeah?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. "If we're asking questions, what in the fuck are you?"

Her words hung in the air like smoke, curling between the rafters, thick and daring.

Mr. Quinn didn't flinch. Didn't blink.

But his eyes, now fully visible in the shadows, seemed to glow faintly, a golden sheen that wasn't human.

"Because," he said softly, "you're beginning to remember."