The sky beyond the barred dormitory windows was a bleak shade of pale gray, like ash suspended in the air. Morning had technically arrived, but no sunlight touched the marble halls of Sankt Viktoria Akademie für Mädchen. The lamps in the corridor had gone out hours ago, and now the building was bathed in half-shadow, thick with dust and silence.
The girls hadn't slept.
Not really.
They'd sat huddled in the room, their barricades reinforced with chairs, desks, even a dismantled bedframe. Every little sound from outside—the dragging of a foot, a faint groan, the quiet scraping of nails against the wall—tightened their nerves like piano wires.
Katharina sat by the door, a broken-off curtain rod in hand, its end sharpened against the tile. She wasn't sure if it would hold up in a fight, but it was better than nothing. Across from her, Henriette had reinforced a broom handle with duct tape and broken glass tied around the end.
"We can't stay in here," she muttered, loud enough for the others to hear but quiet enough not to draw attention.
Seraphina, still shaken, pulled the blanket around her shoulders tighter. "But where would we even go?"
"There's a utility stairwell at the north wing," Monika said softly. "Remember? The one the staff used for deliveries. It might lead out through the basement."
"I know it," Jocelyn nodded. "I passed it once. It's usually locked, but maybe it's open now."
Katharina glanced at Elvira—who had sat near the window all night, unmoving. She'd said almost nothing since arriving. Her eyes had stayed fixed on the misty landscape outside, like she could see something the others couldn't.
"Elvira," Katharina said quietly. "Are you with us?"
Elvira turned slowly, her pale blue eyes like frost. She nodded—once—but said nothing.
There was something about her that unsettled the others. It wasn't just the aristocratic distance in her voice, or the way her movements were so precise. It was the stillness. The way she seemed to process everything silently. Like she was watching pieces on a chessboard that hadn't been placed yet.
Still, she followed when Katharina stood.
"We move fast. Quiet. And we don't fight unless we have to," Katharina said. "If we're lucky, we'll make it to the stairwell and figure things out from there."
Henriette smirked faintly. "If we're lucky."
They began tearing down the barricade with slow, controlled movements, careful not to let the chair legs screech against the floor. The door creaked as it opened—agonizingly loud in the suffocating silence.
The hallway outside was lined with lockers and trophy cases, once filled with relics of academic pride. Now most were shattered, glass crunching under their feet as they stepped out.
The air smelled of blood and old perfume.
Jocelyn stifled a gasp.
Just around the corner, two infected girls wandered—barefoot, hunched. One dragged a broken ankle, the skin blackened and twisted. Their uniforms were still intact but stained with dark patches and flecks of tissue. One of them had her jaw half dislocated, swinging as she sniffed the air in wet, heavy breaths.
They hadn't seen the group—yet.
The girls froze in place.
But then—one of the infected twitched. Its head snapped toward them with an unnatural crack. It shrieked.
"Shit," Henriette growled.
They didn't have a choice now.
The first infected girl lunged.
Henriette reacted first, driving the glass-wrapped broom handle straight into her skull with a furious shout. The crunch of bone was nauseating. Blood sprayed against the lockers. The second one staggered forward, but Monika swung a metal pole with both hands, hitting her neck hard enough to slam her into the wall.
Katharina moved fast. She shoved the girl down, straddled her chest, and drove the curtain rod into her skull with trembling, desperate force.
It was brutal. Messy.
Silent again.
Monika began crying.
Seraphina turned to the wall, retching.
Jocelyn stood frozen in place.
Elvira didn't flinch. She simply stepped over the bodies with quiet, measured care, her eyes emotionless. But even then, Katharina noticed the slight tremble in her hands. She wasn't as calm as she looked.
"Is everyone alright?" Katharina asked, panting.
Henriette wiped blood from her cheek. "I'm fine."
Seraphina nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "I—yes."
They pressed on.
The hallway was long, lined with old paintings of headmistresses and baroque portraits of saints. The further they went, the darker it became. Without electricity, only the faint, cold light from the windows illuminated their path.
They passed a classroom with shattered desks. Blood smeared the chalkboard in vague shapes, like someone had tried to write something in their final moments. Katharina didn't stop to read it.
As they reached the north wing, they began to hear them—more infected.
Dozens of them.
Groans echoed from the upper floors. Something heavy thumped against the ceiling. From somewhere in the distance, glass shattered.
"We need to move faster," Jocelyn whispered.
The door to the utility stairwell was just ahead, but it was closed.
Katharina reached for the handle.
Locked.
Henriette cursed under her breath.
"Stand back," Elvira said, speaking for the first time since leaving the dorm.
The girls stepped away as Elvira knelt down. She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a small silver pin. Her fingers moved with precision—elegant and efficient.
Click.
The lock gave.
"You know how to pick locks?" Jocelyn whispered, eyes wide.
Elvira stood and nodded, but said nothing more.
They slipped inside and closed the door behind them, breathing shallowly in the narrow stairwell. It was cold and damp, the concrete steps spiraling downward into the shadows.
No infected down here.
For now.
"We keep moving," Katharina whispered. "We don't stop."
And so they descended—step by step into the unknown. A group of broken, blood-smeared girls, each carrying fear in different ways. The school above them—Sankt Viktoria—was no longer a sanctuary. It was a graveyard.
The world outside… might be even worse.