The Shadow Beneath the Ivy

The wind howled through the bare branches of Oakwood University's east campus as Ava and Ryder approached the chapel, its silhouette stark against the moonless sky. The night was colder than the last, the air biting at Ava's fingertips as she adjusted the straps of her backpack. Inside were the essentials Ryder had suggested: a flashlight, a small crowbar borrowed from Sarah's art supplies, The Ivy Codex, and her sketchbook. Ryder carried a similar load, his leather jacket zipped tight, a flashlight tucked into his pocket. They'd met at The Grind at eight, just as planned, and now, with the campus quiet except for the rustling leaves, they stood before the east gate—the rusted archway from Ava's drawing and the map they'd found last night.

Ava's stomach churned with a mix of dread and determination. The gate loomed ahead, its iron bars pitted with rust, the ivy symbol from the map etched faintly into the stone above. She glanced at Ryder, his jaw set as he studied the lock. "You sure about this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the wind snatching at her words.

"Too late to back out now," he said, pulling the crowbar from his bag. "Map says the basement entrance is around the side. If Lily was here, we'll find something. Ready?"

Ava nodded, shoving her hands into her pockets to hide their trembling. She wasn't sure what she expected—Lily, alive and waiting? A clue to her whereabouts? Or something worse? The sketch of the fleeing figure haunted her, its red smear vivid in her memory. She followed Ryder as he wedged the crowbar into the gate's lock, his muscles tensing under his jacket. With a sharp grunt, he twisted it, and the lock gave way with a metallic snap, the gate creaking open just enough for them to slip through.

The chapel grounds were overgrown, weeds tangling around their boots as they moved toward the building. The structure itself was a relic—crumbling stone walls, stained glass shattered in places, the steeple leaning slightly as if tired of standing. Ava's flashlight beam danced across the facade, catching on the ivy that climbed the walls, thick and wild. Ryder led the way to the right side, where the map had marked a basement door. They found it half-hidden behind a gnarled bush, its wooden surface warped and splintered, a rusted padlock hanging loose.

"Looks like someone's been here," Ryder said, crouching to inspect it. He tapped the padlock with the crowbar, and it fell apart, clattering to the ground. "Not locked. Just for show."

Ava's pulse quickened. "Lily?" she murmured, peering at the door. It was ajar, a sliver of darkness visible beyond. She clicked off her flashlight, letting her eyes adjust, and pushed the bush aside. The air smelled damp and earthy, tinged with something metallic she couldn't place.

Ryder stood, his hand on the door. "Stay close," he said, his tone firm but not harsh. He pulled it open, the hinges groaning in protest, and stepped inside, Ava right behind him. The basement stairs descended into shadow, narrow and uneven, the walls slick with moisture. Ava switched her flashlight back on, the beam cutting through the gloom as they climbed down. The air grew colder, heavier, pressing against her chest with every step.

At the bottom, the space opened into a low-ceilinged room, its stone floor littered with debris: broken bottles, cigarette butts, scraps of paper. Old wooden crates lined the walls, some splintered, others sealed shut. Ava swept her light across the room, her breath catching as it landed on something small and shiny near the far corner. She moved toward it, her boots crunching on glass, and knelt to pick it up. Her fingers closed around a phone—Lily's phone, its glittery pink case unmistakable, the screen cracked but intact.

"Ryder," she called, her voice tight with excitement and fear. "It's hers. Lily's."

He was at her side in an instant, taking the phone from her trembling hands. He pressed the power button, and to Ava's surprise, the screen flickered to life, the battery icon blinking red at 3%. "Still works," he muttered, swiping to unlock it. No passcode—just Lily's style, always too trusting. The home screen loaded, cluttered with apps, but Ryder tapped the messages icon first.

A single unsent text glowed on the screen, timestamped yesterday at 11:58 p.m.: Help me. IVY. Ava's stomach dropped, the word searing into her mind. She'd seen it before—on the map, in the book—but here, in Lily's desperate plea, it felt alive, menacing. "She was here," Ava said, her voice shaking. "Right before midnight. She tried to send this."

Ryder scrolled up, but the rest of the thread was empty, no replies, no earlier messages. "IVY," he repeated, his brow furrowing. "Same as the symbol. The Order of the Ivy—it's real, and she ran into it."

Ava stood, clutching her flashlight like a lifeline. "She's alive," she said, more to herself than to him. "She has to be. If she was here, texting…" Her words faltered as her light caught something else—a dark smear on the floor near where the phone had been. She stepped closer, her beam steadying on it, and her breath hitched. Blood, dried and rust-colored, streaked across the stone in a faint arc, as if something—or someone—had been dragged.

Ryder saw it too, his jaw tightening. "Not good," he said, crouching to examine it. "Could be hers. Could be someone else's. Either way, she didn't leave on her own."

Ava's knees weakened, the room tilting around her. She'd wanted proof, a sign Lily was out there, but this—this was too much. The blood matched her sketch, the red smear she'd drawn without knowing why. "We have to find her," she said, her voice rising. "Now, Ryder. She could be hurt, or…"

"Hold on," he said, standing and gripping her shoulder. His touch was firm, grounding her. "We will. But we can't rush this. Whoever did this, they're still around. We need to be smart."

Before she could argue, a sound cut through the silence—a sharp rustle, like fabric brushing stone, from the stairs they'd come down. Ava's flashlight swung toward it, catching nothing but shadows, but the noise came again, closer now. Ryder grabbed her arm, pulling her behind a stack of crates, his body tense beside hers. "Someone's here," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. "Stay quiet."

Ava nodded, her heart slamming against her ribs. She clicked off her flashlight, plunging them into darkness, and pressed herself against the crate, Ryder's shoulder solid against hers. Footsteps echoed down the stairs, slow and deliberate, accompanied by the faint clink of metal—a belt buckle, maybe, or keys. A beam of light swept the room, brighter than theirs, and a low voice muttered, "Thought I saw something move."

The light danced across the crates, inches from their hiding spot, and Ava held her breath, her hand instinctively finding Ryder's. His fingers closed around hers, steady and warm, a silent promise they'd get through this. The footsteps stopped, the beam lingering on the blood smear, and the voice growled, "Damn kids. Always leaving a mess."

Ava's mind raced. That voice—it wasn't the security guard from last night, but it carried the same rough edge, the same disdain. Was this maintenance again, or something worse? The man stepped closer, his boots scuffing the floor, and Ava caught a glimpse of him through a gap in the crates: tall, broad, his face shadowed under a cap, a flashlight in one hand and something glinting in the other—a knife? She couldn't tell, but the sight sent a chill down her spine.

Ryder shifted slightly, his grip tightening on her hand, and she knew he'd seen it too. "When I move, run for the stairs," he whispered, so low she barely heard it. "Don't look back."

She wanted to protest, to say she wouldn't leave him, but the man was too close, his light sweeping toward them again. Before she could decide, Ryder lunged, shoving a crate forward with a crash that echoed through the basement. The man cursed, stumbling back, and Ryder was on him, tackling him to the ground in a blur of motion. "Go!" he shouted, his voice sharp over the scuffle.

Ava bolted, her legs trembling as she raced for the stairs, Lily's phone still clutched in her hand. She didn't look back—she couldn't—but the sounds followed her: grunts, a thud, the clatter of metal hitting stone. She reached the door, shoving it open, and stumbled into the night, the cold air slapping her face. She turned, her chest heaving, and saw Ryder burst out behind her, his jacket torn, a cut on his cheek glistening with blood.

"Run!" he barked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the gate. They didn't stop until they were past the quad, hidden in the shadow of the library, their breaths ragged in the stillness. Ava leaned against the wall, her knees weak, and looked at Ryder. "You okay?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Yeah," he said, wiping the blood with his sleeve. "He got away—too dark to see his face. But he wasn't campus security. Not with that knife."

Ava nodded, her mind reeling. She held up Lily's phone, its screen dark now, the battery dead. "She was here," she said, her voice trembling. "And someone took her."

Ryder met her gaze, his expression hard. "We've got proof now. Next step's finding out who—and where they took her."

Ava clutched the phone tighter, the blood smear flashing in her mind. They were closer, but the danger was real, and it was growing.