Born to end the story

---

The elevator doors opened with a cold hiss.

Elara Voss didn't move.

She stood just outside the faculty wing, eyes fixed on the polished floor that reflected her boots in warped slivers. Her fingers were tucked inside her coat pockets — not out of nervousness, but to keep them steady.

Footsteps echoed behind her. A pair. Sharp heels. Slower flats.

Two admin assistants passed her without a word, the taller one glancing over her shoulder — not curious, just cautious. Everyone was cautious now.

> The second red envelope had arrived.

---

Mailroom, 7:01 AM.

Unmarked. Red paper. Gold wax. Slightly heavier than last time.

The girl who received it paused, scoffed, muttered, "Not this again," and walked it to the Dean's office with shaking hands anyway.

She didn't see Elara standing by the back exit, blending into the glass reflections like a ghost no one wanted to admit seeing.

---

Dean Kerrigan didn't open the envelope immediately.

She locked the door first.

Pulled the curtains halfway.

Then, with fingers that had signed too many apologies and too few confessions, she broke the seal and slid out the flash drive.

The air in her office was still.

Too still.

Like it knew something irreversible was about to begin.

She plugged in the drive. Double-clicked the single audio file.

> *"You think anyone's going to believe you over me?"*

> *"You'll be just another dropout with a chip on her shoulder."*

> *"Smile, sweetheart. It's already over."*

Adrian Calloway's voice.

No doubt. No editing. No way to spin it as anything but real.

Kerrigan closed her eyes. A long breath. A pause. Then: she locked the USB in her bottom drawer and stood.

The click of her heels across the floor was faster now. Focused.

At 10:14 AM, Adrian Calloway's door slammed shut — hard enough that the secretary next door jumped.

He didn't come back after lunch.

By 2:00 PM, an official memo was sent.

> *"Dr. Adrian Calloway has taken administrative leave effective immediately. Further details are confidential."*

That was all they said.

But it was enough.

---

The halls were not quiet.

They buzzed, like insects under glass.

At least four students claimed they had seen Calloway escorted out.

A junior from media studies swore he saw red paper in the Dean's trash.

A boy whispered, "I heard it's the ghost girl again."

Someone scoffed. "That's not real."

Another corrected, "It is if you're guilty."

> They called her the Red Ghost now.

> No face. No name. Just a color and a threat.

Elara passed through them like wind.

---

By late afternoon, she sat in the corner booth of the library café, unzipping her coat slowly. Rowan slid into the seat across from her, setting down a black coffee and a muffin he knew she wouldn't eat.

He tilted his head. "So... no Calloway today?"

She took the coffee. "Guess not."

"Heard anything?"

"Everyone's heard something."

He leaned in a little. "And what do *you* think?"

She looked out the glass wall beside them. The quad outside was coated in winter light, cold and flat. A student slipped on the steps and cursed. Another girl laughed too loudly.

Elara's voice was soft but steady.

"I think sometimes… you don't have to scream to cause an avalanche. You just need to move the right stone."

---

When she returned to her dorm that night, the hallway was dim. The motion light blinked. A girl down the hall was yelling at someone on the phone — something about her roommate stealing her moisturizer.

> Normalcy.

> The kind Elara didn't trust anymore.

She unlocked her door. Stepped in. Closed it behind her quietly.

And froze.

There was a piece of paper on her desk. No envelope. No seal. Just folded once, clean and purposeful.

The window was still locked. The room untouched. Nothing broken. Nothing forced.

But someone had been here.

> Someone who knew how to come and go without a trace.

She unfolded the paper.

Her pulse didn't race. Her expression didn't change.

But her breath stopped — just for half a second.

> *"You're clever, Elara. But you're not the only one who came back."*

---

That night, she sat on the rooftop alone.

The wind tugged at her hair. The city below blinked like it was breathing.

> Someone else had regressed.

> Someone else remembered the past.

> And that someone… was watching her now.

She didn't panic.

She planned.

---

Inside her drawer, she opened the file labeled:

**REWIND\_01: ERASE THEM CLEAN**

She scrolled to the third name.

**Jonathan Reiss.**

Beside it, she typed a new note:

> *ALERT: ACTIVE.*

> *Target is no longer dormant.*

> *Target may be rewriting his own story.*

> *Red protocol will no longer be enough.*

She saved the file. Locked it. Powered down the device.

Then whispered to herself like a promise:

> **"I'm not afraid of ghosts. I just become the darker one."**

---

### Chapter 5 Ends.

Elara has officially entered the second phase of her war.

Someone else is in the past with her. Someone she once trusted — and feared.

And this time, she's not the only player rewriting history.

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