YOU, ME, AND BRODY 

The day was far from normal for Thomas. His usual tics and habits flared up, his tongue clicked more rapidly, his scratching more frequent, and most of all, the pressure in his skull pulsed like a ticking clock. But one thing had changed: the eerie eyes in the shadows were gone. That ever-present gaze, the sense of being watched, vanished. In its absence, he felt strangely alone, as if he'd lost something important. Yet, deep down, it reassured him that maybe, just maybe, the path he'd chosen was the right one.

He was excused from the final day of summer school. Castel had walked him back to the orphanage in near silence. Thomas had a million questions, but somehow, he knew none would be answered, at least not yet. Whatever answers there were, they'd be waiting at the school.

The orphanage had already been informed of his acceptance before he even stepped off school grounds. When the double doors opened, he was met with a wave of excited screams that left him stunned.

Thomas had spent his whole life in that building. He never knew his parents. As a baby, he'd been left on the doorstep with nothing but a small blanket long since passed on to another child, not out of neglect but by his own choice. If his parents didn't want him, he didn't want to hold on to anything of theirs.

Despite the distance the workers now kept, they were the only family he'd ever known. He didn't cause trouble. The real reason for his tardiness and missed school days was simple: he stayed behind to care for the sick kids. If he'd been the troublemaker everyone assumed, he would've met James much earlier.

It was true Thomas struggled with his mental health. Ms. Riley had prescribed him antidepressants, anxiety meds, and even a small blue pill to suppress his nightmares. None of them worked. The weight of his life pressed down relentlessly. He often felt like he was teetering on the edge, the thought of ending it all lurking in the back of his mind. He had no real hope for the future.

And yet, standing in the foyer, surrounded by banners and cheers from the only people who'd ever known him, he felt something shift. There was pressure in his chest, heavy with guilt and sorrow. He was leaving them all behind for a new life at a mysterious academy.

The orphanage had splurged on cake and snacks. Kids squealed and dashed around, high on sugar. Thomas felt bad for the staff who'd have to wrangle them into bed later. Castel was off answering questions about the school, but his answers were vague and evasive—Thomas barely listened. Something about it all felt deliberately hidden. The image of bloated, lifeless Dante flashed in his memory. He still believed what he saw was real.

Holding a slice of double fudge chocolate cake, he stared at it for a long moment. Was this all a dream? Had he finally snapped? Was this the break from reality he'd feared? Shaking the thought away, he shoved the moist cake into his mouth. Fresh cake only ever meant one thing: someone had been adopted. And this was the closest Thomas would get to that.

Castel and James had only shared the basics: the academy was private, four years long, room and board included, and it was near the ocean. Loony bin, Thomas had thought. Maybe it still was. But what did he have left to lose? All he wanted was to feel normal.

"Can you believe he was chosen for the academy?"

"Pretty strange, if you ask me."

The voices came from two classmates, the same ones whispering about Dante the day before. They were always together, like siblings glued at the hip.

"I bet it's a cult," the girl giggled.

"Just like the other kids during the summer," the boy added with a snort. "He's being shipped off to be sacrificed."

Their laughter trailed behind him as he sighed, set his cake down, and slipped away upstairs. The party had spread throughout the orphanage now. One kid was already passed out from the sugar crash.

In his room, he placed an old leather suitcase on the bed and started packing. He had little,, just a few flannel shirts, a couple of undershirts, and two pairs of jeans. Since his school uniforms weren't needed, there wasn't much left to bring.

He glanced around the room at old scraps, worn toys, and torn posters he'd scavenged over the years. None of it meant much anymore.

"Thomas…" a small voice called out.

His ears perked. He turned to see little Samuel standing in the doorway, eyes red and face pale.

"Oh, hey, Sam. What's up?" he asked gently.

Samuel broke into tears.

Thomas knelt, arms open wide. Samuel launched into his embrace, sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm going to miss you," Thomas said softly. Samuel clung to him tighter, his words lost in gasping sobs.

Thomas let him cry. He rubbed Samuel's back gently until the boy started to calm down.

"Hey," Thomas said, wiping a tear from the boy's cheek, "I don't know what this school is like, but I promise to write to you. At least once a month, okay?"

Samuel nodded through stuttering breaths.

"I'll remind him too, Sport," Castel said from the doorway, leaning casually with a gentle smile and a reassuring wink.

Samuel couldn't respond; his heart was aching. He didn't know how to process it.

"Listen, buddy," Thomas said, cupping Samuel's cheek. "With me gone, I need you to be the protector of the orphanage, alright? If kids get sick, help the housekeepers. Help the adults watch the other kids. And most importantly, make friends. Work hard, and do your best to get adopted. Deal?"

Samuel pressed his face into Thomas's chest again, tears soaking the flannel jacket.

"I will, Thomas. I promise," he cried.

Thomas smiled, rubbing his back one last time. Afterward, he finished packing, leaving one of his flannels behind for Samuel, and headed out with Castel.

The orphanage had been his home. And while the academy still felt like a one-way trip to a loony bin, he hoped he'd still be able to write Samuel from behind padded walls.

"Why are we going back to the academy, Castel?" Thomas asked quietly.

Castel didn't answer right away. Lost in thought? His eyes flicked to Thomas, and a small smile appeared.

"Oh, we're going through the forest to get there."

He said it like it was perfectly normal, but for Thomas, the words landed like a punch. He remembered the rumor he'd overheard about a secret underground tunnel beneath the forest that led to a cult's sacrificial chamber.

That memory haunted him.

Great. I'm gonna be sacrificed, Thomas thought. He wasn't sure what was worse, that thought or the fact that he was still willingly following Castel toward the trees.

"Well, make it painless, please," Thomas muttered.

Castel blinked in confusion, opening his mouth to respond, but Thomas cut him off.

"Seriously though, why the forest behind the school?" he asked again.

It was a fair question. From everything the students knew, that forest was fenced off with a tall brick wall. No one was supposed to go in or out.

After reaching the academy, they veered onto a narrow path that wound around the building, on the same path Thomas had once been caught wandering down by Castel.

"Well, let me ask you something, Thomas," Castel began, his tone casual. "Do you believe there's more to this world than meets the eye?"

The question struck Thomas as absurd. To him, the world had always seemed plain, logical, and predictable. He often wondered about life's meaning, whether a higher power existed, or if humanity was just clinging to a rock spinning through space by accident.

"I think it's all black and white. What you see is what you get. Is this some kind of religious school or something?" Thomas asked, arching an eyebrow.

Castel smirked at that. "No, nothing like that. But if you really think the world is that simple, you're in for one hell of a surprise."

The remark unsettled Thomas. It left something twisting deep inside him—something uncertain and cold. Where exactly was Castel taking him? And what did he mean by a hell of a surprise?

They continued down a gravel path that led into the forest. The trees thickened, their canopies intertwining until they formed a dense ceiling, shading the path and cooling the air. The deeper they walked, the more the woods felt unfamiliar. No other students ventured this far; signs posted along the path warned of immediate expulsion beyond this point.

Security cameras blinked from hidden nooks in the branches, intensifying the sense of secrecy. Thomas's anxiety sharpened. Maybe that cult rumor had some merit after all. His stomach churned, his pulse quickened, and a tight discomfort settled in his gut.

Eventually, they reached a structure tucked within the trees, a small stone temple, modest in size, no larger than a garage. Four thick pillars stood at its corners, partially enveloped by the surrounding stone walls. A flat roof bore an iron emblem of two crossed axes and a round shield, reminiscent of something out of the Renaissance.

"What is this?" Thomas asked, eyeing the iron door warily.

"This," Castel said smoothly, approaching the entrance, "is the way to the school."

A strange scent drifted from the door: salt and a sea breeze, like an ocean shore. But they were landlocked.

Castel opened the heavy door and gestured for Thomas to step inside. From where he stood, Thomas could see a torch-lit staircase spiraling downward like something from a catacomb.

Cult. I'm dead. This is my death, Thomas thought. He stepped forward cautiously, each footfall heavier than the last. By the time he reached the threshold, his legs felt like cement blocks. He froze. The image of a horror movie flashed in his mind, and suddenly, dying in a cult didn't seem as exciting as it had from the safety of a screen.

Before he could turn back, Castel gave him a firm push. Thomas stumbled forward, catching himself a few steps down.

Crossing the temple's threshold sent a shiver down his spine. A strange sensation washed over him as if some unseen weight had been lifted. His hair felt brittle, and the air tasted different. Castel followed, closing the door behind them with a solid metallic click. The sound echoed ominously.

The feeling reminded Thomas of the calming tea Castel had given him in the principal's office. Relaxed and oddly clear-headed, he accepted the sensation.

Castel had already begun his descent into the torch-lit tunnel. Thomas followed deeper into the catacomb-like stairwell. He wanted to ask questions but feared the answers would confirm his worst suspicions. In his mind, he was already dead.

By the time he reached the bottom, his thighs were burning, his breath ragged, his shirt clinging to his back. Torture before death. Lovely, he thought, keeping his expression blank.

They stepped into a large circular chamber. Thomas stood on one of five staircases, each emerging from different points around the room. Directly ahead stood a massive wooden door adorned with painted runes.

The chamber was ancient rough stone walls carved sporadically with runic symbols, layered and worn as though added over centuries.

Thomas stared at the runes framing the door. ᚹᛖᛚᚲᚮᛗ ᛏᛁᛚ ᚦᛁᚾ ᚾᛃ ᚺᛖᛁᛗ. He squinted, translating slowly: "Welcome to your new home."

"The thought of living in this dungeon..." Thomas muttered, "Yeah. I'm definitely screwed."

"Wow, Castel, can your student read Elder Futhark?" a new voice said.

Startled, Thomas turned. A sharp-looking man with spiky white hair stood to the left. Beside him, a girl around Thomas's age with tan skin, curly brown hair, and serious eyes studied him through her glasses. She wore shorts and a look of caution.

Their eyes met. Thomas looked away quickly.

"Sure can," Castel replied proudly. "We've been teaching it at Blackwood."

"Blackwood Academy?" the girl asked, surprised. "You came all the way here? That's, like, two hundred miles."

"Two hundred what? No, we just walked behind the school through the forest," Thomas replied.

She gave him a look like he'd grown a third eye. Castel exchanged a quiet glance with his white-haired companion.

"Woah! Is that Futhark?" a voice boomed from the right.

A lanky, sleep-deprived man with glasses appeared, trailed by a tall, athletic boy around Thomas's age.

"I can't read it, but that's sick," the boy said. "Oh man, how do we get to the school from here? Bet it's gonna be wild!"

Thomas sighed. The guy still thought this was a school tour. We're about to be fed to some Viking god, he thought grimly.

Tension filled the room; the mentors were watching, and the kids were uneasy.

"Alright, everyone, step up to the door," Castel said, clapping once. The sound echoed off the stone walls. Thomas flinched. He glanced at the other two teens: the jock looked far too excited while the girl shared his unease.

Still, Thomas stepped forward first. The other two followed.

"Last goodbyes," he said. "I'm Thomas."

"Mari," the girl responded flatly, not amused.

"Brody's the name," the jock grinned, slapping Thomas on the back hard enough to jolt him forward.

Silence fell again.

"Open," Castel commanded.

The door creaked slowly on its hinges, revealing a sunlit campus beyond a vast schoolyard bustling with students. A warm and salty ocean breeze swept over them.

Dumbfounded, they stepped through.

Ahead were sprawling dormitories and, far off, a towering main school building.

Thomas turned to Castel in disbelief. The doorway was gone. Behind them lay only an endless ocean and the stone platform they now stood on.

No way back.

And for the first time in what felt like years... Thomas smiled.