He’d been wandering the dungeons for a while now. Hoodie on, hands in his pockets, phone screen lighting his way whenever the torches got too dim.

He turned a corner on the third floor, heading nowhere in particular.

That’s when he heard it.

A noise. Faint, but wrong. Coming from one of the abandoned classrooms.

Theodore stopped. Listened.

It sounded like crying. Or someone in pain.

He stood there for a second, jaw tight. Then he moved toward the door, slow and quiet.

The old wood creaked as he pushed it open.

The room was mostly dark, lit only by the moon through a dusty window.

And there, on the floor, was you.

Y/n. Bleeding.