From the Exam Straight Into a Death Plot

20 minutes ago, I was staring blankly at the final question when the back door flew open with a heavy crash.

My best friend, Isaac Powell, burst in, grabbed me by the collar, and hauled me out of my seat.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shoved him back.

The proctor slammed his hands on the desk and stood up. "Which class are you from? Do you have no respect for exam rules?"

Isaac ignored him entirely. I raised my fist, ready to plant one on his jaw, when he suddenly uttered, "Vora Kal Athun."

My hand froze mid-swing. 12 years ago, in a dilapidated chapel nestled deep in Mount Aethel, we had stumbled upon those exact words carved into the stone. They were crooked and looked almost like Vesperian Script, but not quite.

Back then, we had sworn a brotherhood oath right there, pledging that if either of us ever spoke those three words, the other had to trust him without question.

Before I could even process it, Isaac was dragging me down the hallway.

A black SUV was parked outside the school. He shoved me into the passenger seat, threw himself behind the wheel, and floored it.

"Isaac, what the hell are you doing?" I yelled. "I spent an extra year repeating high school just for this test! What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until it was over?"

"Is a test more important than your life?"

Isaac paused, then added, "The students in that room… are probably all dead by now."

I went rigid. "What did you say?"

Isaac didn't answer. His hands were trembling on the steering wheel.

Right then, the phone in my pocket began to vibrate furiously.

I pulled it out and saw that the class group chat was blowing up.

"@Trevon, the proctor is looking for you."

"@Trevon, did you forget about the party after the test?"

"@Trevon, where the hell did you go? Come back!"

As I scrolled down, my thumb froze midair. The latest message read, "@Trevon, stop messing around. Come back."

The profile picture was Isaac.

I slowly turned toward the driver's seat. Isaac was staring straight at the road, fully focused on driving.

"Isaac," I said, my throat dry. "Where's your phone?"

"I tossed it," he said. "Right after we got out."

"Why?"

"That thing tracks you through screens."

I stared down at the display. The message was still right there. It was sent ten seconds ago.

I scrolled up to the very first tag, which was sent five minutes ago.

But five minutes ago, Isaac was actively dragging me out of the building.

As I stared at the device, another message popped up in the chat. "@Trevon, answer us."

It was sent by Isaac again.

The text was scrolling at a dizzying speed now.

My fingers trembled as I typed back. "Isaac, what's our phrase?"

The chat instantly went dead silent. Then, a voice note from Isaac appeared. "Heh. Found you."

"Trevon! Trevon Pace! Wake up!"

A sharp slap across my cheek snapped me back to reality.

My eyes flew open. I hadn't even realized I'd passed out. Daylight was still pouring through the car window.

"Did you look at your phone?" Isaac glared at me, his eyes wide and wild.

I glanced down. The phone was still clutched in my palm.

The screen was lit, but the group chat was completely blank.

"I—"

"It's a hallucination," Isaac cut me off. "That thing works through screens. If you fall for it, you're not coming back."

My head was spinning. "What thing? Coming back from where?"

Isaac didn't answer. He reached into the center console, pulled out another phone, and threw it into my lap.

"Look at the news."

I tapped the screen, and a breaking news alert flashed across the top.