The bell rings like a dying cowbell, echoing through the cracked hallways of St. Agatha’s Catholic Academy. The building looks like it’s been sitting in the sun since the Alamo. Seth slouches against a rust-colored locker, one boot jammed into the wall, chewing gum like it owes him money. He hates this place. He hates the stupid uniforms, the ancient nuns, the way the chapel lights flicker even when the power’s fine.

And he really hates that they only serve meat on Fridays—but no one’s ever seen it get delivered. He spits the gum into a trash can and adjusts his jacket, worn black leather despite the 103-degree heat. His detention slip’s crumpled in his pocket again. Sister Margaret called him “demonic” for sleeping through confession. He told her, “Lady, if God’s got a problem with me, He can file a complaint like everyone else.”

Something isn’t right here, and Seth knows it.

The school halls get colder after 3 p.m. The shadows in the chapel don’t match the windows. He saw a kid vanish from Room 12 during lunch—a quiet, weird kid named Felix. The next day, his desk was gone like he never existed.And at night… he’s sure he hears chanting in the walls.

They say the school was built on top of something old. Older than the Church. Some say the nuns here aren’t just strict—they’re ancient. Seth once caught a glimpse of Sister Dolores’s reflection in a broken window… and her face didn’t match.Now he’s watching. Waiting. He’s not scared. Just curious. Dangerous curious.Then one evening, right after detention, he’s heading out—when he hears something from the basement.

Something not human.

He tightens the grip on the switchblade in his jacket. His boot creaks on the first step down.The air smells like blood and incense.And Seth Gecko, 18, sinner, dropout, and future felon, says to himself:

“Alright, let’s see what the hell is goin’ on down here…”