Prologue
Prologue – The Black Schools
“Hell is other people.”
— Jean-Paul Sartre
If I had known that being born from a failed ritual would put Lilith on my trail, I would have asked for a refund.
But then again, when you’re born from a chalk circle and a few IKEA candles, you don’t really get to choose your destiny.
They say Lilith was the first woman.
Personally, I’d say she’s the last person you’d want to run into at three in the morning… in your mirror.
She doesn’t talk. She whispers. And when she whispers, it’s rarely to tell you everything will be okay.
I don’t know why she’s looking for me.
Maybe because I wasn’t supposed to survive. Maybe because she wants to finish the job.
Or maybe she’s just bored. Demons probably have very limited hobbies.
The ritual was originally meant for Belial.
Except something went wrong. Not a small, harmless “oops.” No. The kind of cosmic mistake that shifts the shadows and makes people forget they ever had children.
Since then, I exist. A bug in the infernal system. An error even Hell would like to uninstall.
And while I’m hiding, others are playing with fire.
The schools.
The infamous Black Schools. Hidden places disguised behind ordinary facades—high schools, boarding schools, campuses—where teenagers summon entities like they’re chasing followers.
Each school has its demon, its pact, its debt. And those who leave them… never truly leave.
Me, I watch it all from afar. Just a spectator.
But we all know what happens to spectators in horror movies: sooner or later, someone calls their name.
A breath behind me.
I turn around. Nothing.
Again.
I laugh, nervously.
If it’s Lilith, she must love dramatic entrances.
Great. I didn’t even have time to properly learn how to run.
