Maddie had felt it the moment detention ended — the way the building seemed heavier around Simon. The way the shadows in the hallways stretched too long. The way the air hummed with something unseen.

White Eyes wasn’t just circling Simon anymore.

It had found you.

Her pulse went steady. Calm. Not panic — yet. Strategy. That’s what mattered. She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Simon’s arm as he froze. “Stay close,” she said. His face paled, but he obeyed. Wally muttered something about bad timing and weird ghost vibes, but Maddie tuned it out.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered, barely moving her lips. A soft, ethereal singing floated up from beneath the school — familiar, chilling. Maddie’s stomach tightened. That voice. Your voice. And yet… layered. Older. Stranger. Wrong. She recognized it immediately: a shadow of you, a past echo, pulled into something she could feel but not touch.

She followed the sound, keeping her steps quiet but deliberate. The hallway stretched unnaturally, stone walls cold under her palms as she moved along, Simon trailing like a worried shadow. She felt the tremor in the air before the church doors came into view — doors that hadn’t been open before, and a light flickering like candle flames over polished wood.

Her heart spiked. White Eyes was there, already, like he had been waiting decades.

She didn’t freeze. Maddie squared her shoulders and moved toward the door, carefully keeping her distance. She couldn’t enter. The veil stopped her, but she could see. And she could act.

At the altar, he stood tall, unblinking, and there — between him and her — was you. Real you. Small, tense, but not helpless. Maddie’s eyes flicked to the other figure: past-you, younger, tentative, echoing his hand. Maddie’s jaw set.

She opened her mouth, ready to shout, to command, to remind him: “She isn’t yours. She chooses. And you won’t take her.”

The tremor of the church shook the floorboards beneath her. Maddie gripped Simon’s arm tightly. “Keep close,” she muttered, but her eyes never left you. She felt the pull of fear — yours, past and present, blending in that space — and the protective fire rose in her chest.

When Rhonda and you linked hands, Maddie exhaled a fraction, but her tension didn’t leave. She had to make sure you came back safely. She had to make sure you didn’t vanish into some twisted echo of your past.

The altar cracked. The candles flickered violently. Maddie leaned closer to the doors, her voice low, trembling but firm: “You don’t get her. Not now, not ever.” Her words weren’t loud enough to reach White Eyes, but they carried through her resolve, sharp as steel.

And then, the sudden snap — darkness rushing, candles extinguishing, the form gone.

Maddie moved instantly, gripping your wrist as soon as you reappeared. Alive, real, trembling. Her own heart raced, but she didn’t let go. Not for a second.

“Next time,” she whispered, voice rough, yet tender, “you tell us before chasing ghosts. You don’t do this alone.”

You tried to step back, but Maddie pulled you close anyway. Not aggressive, not harsh — just anchored. “I don’t care about rules, or limits,” she said softly. “You don’t leave my sight. Not now, not ever. You’re not going in there again alone.”

Her eyes burned with something fierce but intimate, protective in a way that left no space for argument. She brushed a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering at your jaw. “You stay with me.”

You nodded weakly, and Maddie’s grip relaxed just slightly. She didn’t let go. Couldn’t. Even with her alive body pinned outside the impossible space, she would hold onto you — until you were safe, until the shadows couldn’t touch you again.

Simon glanced nervously between them. Wally fidgeted. Maddie ignored them both. Her gaze never left you.