The Shadow Beneath the Ivy

The shadows of Oakwood University stretched long and jagged as Ava and Ryder slipped away from the library, the weight of Lily's cracked phone heavy in Ava's pocket. The night air was sharp, slicing through her sweater as they moved across the quad, their footsteps muffled by the damp grass. The chapel's basement had left them with more questions than answers—Lily's desperate text, the blood smear, the mysterious man with a knife—and Ava's mind raced to piece it together. Ryder walked beside her, his jacket torn at the sleeve, the cut on his cheek a dark line against his skin. He hadn't said much since their escape, but his silence felt deliberate, like he was calculating their next move.

"We need to charge this," Ava said, pulling the phone from her pocket as they neared the science building. Its glittery case glinted faintly under a lamp's glow, the dead screen a mute witness to whatever had happened. "There might be more on it—photos, calls, something to tell us where she is."

Ryder nodded, his eyes scanning the empty quad. "My dorm's closer. Got a charger there. We can look it over, figure out what 'IVY' means." He glanced at her, his voice softening. "You okay? That was rough back there."

Ava managed a small smile, though her hands still trembled from the adrenaline. "Yeah. Thanks for… you know, getting us out. I didn't expect that."

"Couldn't let you take on a guy with a knife," he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

They turned toward the engineering dorms, a squat brick building on the west side of campus, its windows glowing with the soft light of late-night study sessions. Ava's boots crunched on gravel as they cut through a narrow path lined with overgrown shrubs, the wind rustling the leaves in a low, eerie hum. She clutched her bag tighter, the map and The Ivy Codex inside a constant reminder of the stakes. Lily had been in that basement, texting for help, and someone—something—had stopped her. The thought gnawed at Ava, a mix of fear and guilt she couldn't shake.

They were halfway down the path when Ryder stopped abruptly, his hand shooting out to grab her arm. "Wait," he whispered, his body tensing. "You hear that?"

Ava froze, straining to listen over the wind. At first, there was nothing—just the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of a dorm's heating system. Then she caught it: a faint snap, like a twig breaking underfoot, coming from the shrubs to their left. Her heart lurched, her breath catching as she followed Ryder's gaze. The shadows shifted, too deliberate to be the wind, and a figure emerged, tall and broad, cloaked in a dark hoodie. A scarf covered the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes visible—cold, unblinking, locked on them.

"Run," Ryder said, his voice sharp, but before Ava could move, the figure lunged, a glint of steel flashing in his hand. A knife—longer than the one from the chapel, its blade catching the faint light as it slashed toward Ryder. He dodged, shoving Ava behind him with one arm, his body a shield between her and the attacker. She stumbled back, her bag slipping to the ground, her flashlight spilling out and rolling into the grass.

"Get back!" Ryder shouted, his hands up as he faced the man. The attacker swung again, the knife slicing through the air, and Ryder ducked, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting hard. A grunt escaped the scarf, low and guttural, as the two grappled, their boots scuffing the gravel in a chaotic dance. Ava's pulse roared in her ears, her hands fumbling for her phone—not Lily's, hers—as she backed against a tree, her breath shallow. She needed help, security, anyone, but her fingers shook too much to dial.

Ryder landed a solid punch to the man's chest, knocking him back a step, but the attacker recovered fast, swinging the knife in a wide arc. The blade grazed Ryder's arm, tearing through his jacket, and he hissed, blood welling up in a dark line. Ava gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, but Ryder didn't falter. He charged, tackling the man to the ground with a force that sent the knife skittering across the path. They rolled, fists flying, the attacker's scarf slipping just enough to reveal a stubbled jaw before he yanked it back up.

Ava snapped out of her shock, dropping to her knees to grab the flashlight. She swung it toward the fight, the beam catching the attacker's eyes—wild, furious—as he shoved Ryder off and scrambled to his feet. Ryder lunged after him, but the man was already moving, snatching the knife and bolting into the shrubs. Leaves rustled violently, then silence fell, broken only by Ryder's ragged breathing as he stood, clutching his arm.

Ava rushed to his side, her flashlight trembling in her grip. "You're hurt," she said, her voice high with panic. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his sleeve, and she dropped the light to dig through her bag for something—anything—to stop it. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"It's fine," Ryder said, though his wince betrayed him. He pulled his hand away, revealing a shallow cut, already clotting. "Just a scratch. He wasn't trying to kill me—he wanted something else."

"What?" Ava asked, her eyes darting to the path where the attacker had vanished. Her bag lay open, its contents spilling onto the grass: the book, the map, her sketchbook. Then she saw it—Lily's phone, still in her pocket, untouched. She pulled it out, her stomach twisting. "This? He saw us with it at the chapel."

Ryder nodded, his jaw tight. "Maybe. Or the book, the map. Whatever it was, he didn't want us digging deeper." He bent to grab her bag, wincing again as he straightened. "We need to move. He could come back with friends."

Ava gathered her things, her hands shaking as she stuffed them into her bag. The flashlight beam danced across the gravel, catching a glint of metal near the shrubs. She stepped closer, her breath hitching as she picked it up—a ring, silver and heavy, engraved with a curling ivy leaf. "Ryder," she said, holding it up. "Look at this."

He took it, turning it over in his palm. "Same as the map," he said, his voice grim. "IVY. He's one of them—whoever took Lily."

Ava's chest tightened, the ring a cold weight in her mind. It was proof, solid and real, that the Order of the Ivy wasn't just a story in a dusty book. They were here, watching, attacking. "What do we do?" she asked, meeting his gaze. "He knows we're onto this. He'll come after us again."

Ryder slipped the ring into his pocket, his expression hardening. "We charge the phone, check it tonight. If there's anything on it—names, places—we use it. Then we hit them back. My dad taught me how to track people like this. We're not running."

Ava swallowed, his resolve steadying her. She didn't know how to fight, how to track, but Ryder did, and that was enough. "Okay," she said, her voice firmer. "Your dorm, then. Let's go."

They moved quickly, sticking to the lit paths this time, the engineering dorm looming ahead like a fortress. Ava's mind replayed the attack—the knife, Ryder's blood, the masked man's eyes. He'd been fast, trained, not some random thug. And he'd known they were coming from the chapel. Had he followed them? Watched them? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed it aside. Fear wouldn't help Lily.

Ryder unlocked his dorm room, a small space cluttered with textbooks and tools, a single bed shoved against the wall. He grabbed a charger from his desk and plugged in Lily's phone, its screen flickering as it powered up. "Give it a minute," he said, sinking onto the bed and peeling off his jacket. The cut on his arm was shallow, but ugly, and Ava found a towel in his bathroom, pressing it against the wound.

"You don't have to do that," he said, but he didn't pull away, his eyes softening as she worked.

"You got hurt for me," she said, her voice quiet. "Least I can do." She held the towel there, her fingers brushing his skin, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the air charged with something new. She looked up, meeting his gaze, and saw a flicker of something—gratitude, maybe, or more—before he glanced away.

The phone chimed, breaking the silence, its screen glowing with a low-battery warning. Ava grabbed it, her heart racing as she swiped through the apps. Photos loaded first: blurry shots of the chapel basement, a rusted lock, then a clearer one—a man in a hoodie, his face turned away, standing near the crates. "Ryder," she said, holding it up. "This could be him."

He leaned in, his shoulder brushing hers as he studied the image. "Timestamp's yesterday, 11:55. Right before her text. She caught him here."

Ava scrolled to the messages, the unsent Help me. IVY still at the top. Below it, an earlier draft, unsent: Matt, I'm at the chapel. Something's wrong. Her breath caught. "Matt—her boyfriend. She was trying to tell him."

Ryder's eyes narrowed. "Then we find Matt. Tomorrow. He might know what she was into."

Ava nodded, the phone trembling in her hands. They had a lead—a face, a name, a ring. But the masked man was out there, and he wouldn't stop. She glanced at Ryder, his blood on her fingers, and knew they were in deeper than ever.