Echoes in the Hall's

The iron gates of Hollowmoor College rise from the fog like a warning no one heeds. By day, the school is a monument to prestige ancient stone walls, towering spires, and stained-glass windows that catch the light like cathedral eyes. Parents speak of it in reverent tones. Alumni boast of its discipline, its excellence, its traditions older than the town itself. But no brochure mentions the silence that settles after dusk. No guidebook explains why the bells sometimes ring when no one has pulled the rope. And no one ever tells new students about the spirit. On the first morning of the term, the gates creak open as students in dark uniforms step onto the grounds, their shoes crunching against gravel that has soaked up centuries of secrets. Among them is a girl who does not yet know why her hands are shaking as she grips her bag, or why the air feels colder with every step forward. She looks straight ahead, because something inside her knows better than to look back. Behind her, other students stand in neat rows faces pale, eyes wary. Some are human. Some are not. And some will not survive the year. High above the main hall, suspended between the branches of dead trees and a broken moon, a figure watches. The spirit wears black tattered, shapeless, as though darkness itself learned how to walk. Its eyes burn like embers, glowing with a hunger that has waited far too long. It is bound to Hollowmoor, anchored to the stones by an ancient ritual soaked in betrayal and blood. Once, it was human. Once, it loved. Now, it feeds on fear, secrets, and the slow unraveling of souls. Every generation, the spirit chooses. At Hollowmoor College, nothing happens by accident. As classes begin, strange things surface beneath the rhythm of daily life. Locked doors appear where hallways once were. Students wake with scratches they cannot explain. Mirrors reflect shadows that lag a second too long. The faculty dismiss concerns with tight smiles and careful words, enforcing rules that feel less like discipline and more like containment. Curfew is strict. The library’s restricted wing is forbidden. And certain names are never spoken aloud. Yet whispers spread faster than warnings. There are rumors of students who vanished mid-semester—records erased, dorm beds stripped clean as if they never existed. Of secret societies that meet beneath the school, guarding truths no one else is allowed to know. Of bloodlines tied to the college itself, students born with powers that awaken only within these walls. As nights grow longer, the girl at the gates begins to dream. She dreams of fire and ice colliding beneath the earth. Of corridors drenched in crimson light. Of a voice calling her name from behind locked doors she has never seen. Each morning she wakes with the taste of ash in her mouth and the certainty that Hollowmoor knows her. That it has been waiting. Friendships form under pressure fragile alliances stitched together by shared fear and unspoken truths. Some students can shift shapes beneath the moon. Others feel magic hum beneath their skin. A few carry curses passed down like heirlooms. Together, they begin to realize the truth: Hollowmoor College is not just a school. It is a living threshold. Every lesson learned here comes with a price. Power demands sacrifice. Knowledge bleeds. And survival is never guaranteed. As the spirit in black grows stronger, it begins to move beyond watching. Hallways twist. Time fractures. The past seeps into the present, revealing the origin of the curse a night when students were offered safety in exchange for one life, and chose silence instead. Now the debt has come due. The girl at the center of it all discovers she is more than a

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