(Content/trigger warnings for this chapter:depression-like thing, self-hatred, bullying)

-Ranya-

The only thing keeping me from passing out on the side of the snow-lined road was my deep-rooted longing to get to someplace warm. It wasn't so cold that Isabelle and I had gotten frostbite beneath our layers, but it was enough that the snow didn't melt. I couldn't feel my legs or fingers, and wind slashed like sandpaper at my raw face. My body was still heavy from the weight, too. All in all, I was miserable.

"I'm cold," Isabelle whispered behind me.

"Well so am I," I had just enough energy to snap.

Isabelle huffed.

One passing rusted car, earlier than the main procession that usually passed through on the way to school, splashed cold slush onto my pajama pants.

The frosty air had worn at my nerves and sapped my strength, and I nearly decided to take a nap against the snow. But I kept pushing myself one step further. And another. And another. I would make it to the high school.

Eventually, the school building leaned above Isabelle and me. A brick nearly fell on my head. But when we crossed through the doors, the wave of rich heat hit me, thawing my body from the outside in, and I sighed. Isabelle also relaxed. I directed her into one of the nearby women's bathrooms while people silently stared. I had to weave around them because they wouldn't move. Once I was in a stall, though, I slipped into warm, dry clothes and bit into a Poptart, all from my duffel bag. I confirmed a text from my dad that I had made it to the school safely (he said he would avoid messaging me the rest of the day to avoid suspicion) and checked my email. Dakota had apparently said that she would rather meet after school than miss class, and that she would pick us up at the back entrance after eighth hour.

I blearily replied, and once Isabelle had finished changing and eating and I explained what Dakota had said, we wove around the halls to my locker to stash my duffel bag away and then go to my first period, where, like the rest of the school, people spoke in whispers about the paralysis attacks, most prominently who they had lost and how. Many girls' cheeks were red and splotchy with tears. With my exhaustion, I only then noticed that half my class was missing—whether because that many people had been paralyzed, or whether they'd decided to stay home after the attacks, I didn't know. But I looked at the scene before me—the tears, the whispers, the trembling voices—and the powerful feeling rose in my chest again. Protect the weak.

Do you want to avenge your friends? I'll help you.

Third hour, I printed my posters and sign-up sheets while other people printed their keyboarding exercises.

By lunch, I was pretty sure I had accidentally acquired an hour of sleep throughout my classes, but I still felt like crap. Dull pain thudded in my head, and I got that sick, achy feeling behind my eyes I always got when I'd had little sleep. I freshened myself up in the bathroom, running my fingers through my hair so I'd look presentable. No one else in the bathroom said anything about it. A of couple girls cried in the reeking, rusty stalls.

I groggily went through the near-silent lunch line. Once I finished getting my food, I walked into the gym and its jaggedly cracked walls and falling-apart tables. Whispers bounced around the echoey area. Isabelle curled up silently on the bleachers with crackers, and a few people stared, but not many. I joined her, quickly ate, and then began to set up for my recruitment speech. The anticipation of what was about to happen helped clear the fog in my brain, and I lay the posters (normal sheets of paper I had taped together) against the bleachers, then set out the sign-up sheets in a stack on the creaking bottom row with pencils next to them. This was it.

I faced the rest of the room and tried to push away the weight. "Excuse me!" I brought my hands together in a loud clap. People's gazes darted in my direction, but the whispers wouldn't silence. Some people scowled. They glanced at my sister and posters. "Excuse me!" I clapped louder. A few quieted, but not many. I stomped hard on the ground. The boom shook the floor, and everyone silenced.

"So, this is different than my usual thing," I said, trying to keep my anger out of my voice. "Instead of telling you about someone who did wrong, today I've come to ask you for help."

People's voices began and rose as they narrowed their eyes. Some people's shoulders drooped and they stayed silent, but the yells were enough for the whole school. I gripped the Speaker's smooth pendant in my pocket for reassurance. "I know what caused the paralysis yesterday!" I tried to shout over the crowd, but my voice was lost in the uproar.

"Leave us alone!"

"What could you possibly need help with?"

"Get a teacher to help you!"

I stomped my foot again, but nobody quieted. "I know what caused the paralysis here and at the grade school! As well as what's causing these storms the scientists can't figure out!

"Tell me you live in Windshallow, or at least go to school here, and don't believe in curses. We have unexplainable mist almost every morning. The Moon and water's purple. The school is falling apart!"

"Who cares!" a pimpled boy in the back fired.

So they can hear me. "What about the paralysis?" I responded. "Do you care about that?"

"The paralysis isn't a Windshallow curse!" said one spiky-haired girl at a short, jagged table. She crossed her arms. "It's been happening in other places as well!"

"Not without the storms!"

"It's just the beginning," a girl in front of me with curls tucked nicely into a bun said. I hardly heard her voice over the racket. "It's going to start happening everywhere else, too."

"And why do you think it happened? Which one of you went back into the school yesterday? I know who's behind the paralysis, because I met him. I fought his creatures. And I'm still here to say it."

Snickers replaced the yelling rumbling across the room. I had thought this would happen, but I had to tell them sometime, and I had proof I was right now.

"I'm serious!" I said. "Did I seem drugged to you yesterday? Did I wobble around?"

"Didn't see much of you that morning," a boy with a cowboy hat said. "Didn't see much of anyone. How would we know?" There were mumbles and nods of agreement, and then they grew louder again, drowning me out when I tried to speak.

"Do I seem sane now, at least?" I shouted.

"I saw what she saw!" I didn't recognize the voice as Isabelle's at first. I hadn't been expecting her to speak. But the yelling quieted to a loud whisper when she stood beside me and opened her mouth again. Her eyes were blank—glazed over. Is she… soothed? Is this what that looks like? Oh no…

I grabbed her shoulders. "Isabelle. Stop."

She narrowed her glazed-over eyes. "Why? I'm trying to help you!"
"The Watcher took your fear away."

Isabelle stared at me for a second. At least, from what I could tell. Her eyes were so blank I wasn't sure she was focusing on me at all. Then she nodded.

I pulled my hands away and turned back to face the crowd.

She began to shout, "My name is Isabelle Kirkwood! I was one of the survivors of the paralysis attack on the grade school."

I spun back toward her and tried to clamp my hand over her mouth, but she was quick and dodged me.

"I saw the beings that did this to people!" she continued. "You can't see them unless you believe they're there."

She jumped to the side as I reached for her again, and she bolted up the bleachers. "They locked the doors; that's why so few of us survived! We couldn't get out and run. The only reason I'm standing here today is that I was rescued by one of the good beings."

I caught up, but she slipped under my arms when I tried to grasp her. I'd never truly appreciated how fast she was.

"I was actually chosen to join their group. The evil beings are in Windshallow because they're after me." She raised her palm to the crowd, and the silver glinted almost like a blade in the light. She leaped back down the bleachers. My reaction time was slow in my exhaustion—she'd gotten more sleep during my classes than I.

"The more love I get, the more this symbol appears, and the closer I get to becoming one of the group," she continued. "But I'm terrified of fighting what they fight, so my sister's gonna take my place. She needs help to do that."

The crowd had grown silent during our chase, but now they whispered again.

"What is wrong with Ranya and her family?"

"Clearly someone drew that symbol."

"…But what if it's true?"

Isabelle jolted to a halt. I barely stopped myself in time to keep from barreling into her.

She turned back to me with clear, shining eyes. The soothing was gone.

I tried to keep myself from loving her for trying to help me as I turned back to the crowd. I pushed down the feeling and struggled for a minute, but it kept popping back up. I had to get this over with quickly. "You want to know why we're so tired today?" I said. "A white mist attacked us on Riverfield Street. It made the powerlines and some of the trees vanish. There was a blackout. Tell me none of you noticed these things if you drove past them this morning."

"I live near Riverfield Street," said a small voice. "We did have a blackout. It started around—"

"—10:20," I finished.

But the crowd rose to a roar.

"It could've been caused by anything!"

"It's Windshallow. What did you expect?"

"So you admit Windshallow is cursed!" I said.

Mumbles of agreement flitted in low whispers around the room. The crowd quieted.

I took a step forward. "An enemy who can cause curses lies in Windshallow. I know because she tried to lure me back into the school yesterday. She mimicked my sister's voice and powers, and she possessed a boy at Isabelle's school." I was sure this woman could cause curses if she wanted, if she had powers like that.

The crowd simmered to a whisper.

"I did hear something."

"Wasn't it Dakota who was acting weird?"

"Could someone really possess someone?"

Slowly, people's gazes began shifting to me.

I had never had their attention like this before. My skin tingled, and a strong rushing feeling almost toppled the still-present weight in my chest. I could do this.

I told them about Pitch, the Watcher, the Fear Angels, the Terror Storms, and the Guardians. I gripped the Speaker's pendant firmly in my pocket. My voice rose and fell, and their attention never wavered. Even the lunch monitor by one of the exits watched me. I can do this.

"So I need your help," I finished. "I need to kill our enemies, and I can't do it alone. If they're not defeated, they will terrorize the world. Pitch in particular commanded the paralysis of your friends, your partners, and your siblings, and he won't stop at just that.

"I have sign-ups over here. If you're willing to join me in this fight, then put your information down, and I'll find a time and place we can get together. Please."

People stared. The cavernous gym suddenly felt empty and quiet. I waited for someone to make the first move. Rise from their seat. Didn't I convince them? They seemed pretty convinced. Nothing happened.

It felt like I had stood there for an entire minute before I heard something—laughter. Ice hit my chest. The giggling grew and grew as the chill spread through my body.

"Who believes in Santa Claus anymore? That's for kids!"

"At least her rant was entertaining. But ridiculous."

"She even got her sister to join her?"

"She's in deep."

It was like the walls folded in around me as the bell rang. No. No no no. Lead weighed my entire body. It was so heavy I nearly didn't have the energy to stand. I cursed myself several times over.

"Even if I did believe that stuff, I wouldn't follow her."

"Yeah, she's the last person I would trust about this."

"How much longer until she dies of a drug overdose?"

Voices danced around me, and as self-hatred clawed at my chest, I sank into myself.

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