The Death Link
1278 Words
Mira didn’t stop running until she reached her street. Her breath came in harsh bursts, her chest tight as if invisible fingers were squeezing the air out of her lungs. Sweat clung to her forehead. Her palms were trembling.
Borrowers die.
The boy’s words kept replaying, each repetition hitting harder than the last. A threat. A warning. A countdown.
She unlocked her front door with shaking hands.
Her mum wasn’t home yet. Good. Mira didn’t want questions right now, didn’t want anyone looking at her too closely, noticing the panic stitched into her expression. She trudged into her room, dropped her bag by the door, and sat on the edge of her bed.
Her bed.
It looked normal. Perfectly still. No signs that it had nearly hit the ceiling the night before.
Mira ran her hands through her hair, trying to calm herself, but her thoughts were moving too fast, tangled in fear, disbelief, and something she didn’t want to name: guilt.
A girl had died last night.
And Mira had gained telekinesis.
She didn’t want to believe they were connected, but the silver glow under her skin, faint but there, made denial impossible.
She picked up her phone and typed into the search bar:
“Borrower deaths Lagos blue light silver veins”
Her fingers hovered above the screen before she cleared the words and tossed the phone aside.
She didn’t want to see more headlines. She didn’t want confirmation that what the Breathers said was true, that midnight was killing people, and she was tied to it.
A knock sounded on her door.
She froze.
“Mira?” her mum called.
Relief washed through her so suddenly that her knees weakened.
She opened the door. “Hey.”
Her mother frowned. “You’re home early. And… you look pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“Mira.”
Her mum’s eyes softened with that tired, familiar mix of concern and suspicion, the look parents give when they know something is wrong but don’t want to push too hard.
“I just need sleep,” Mira said quickly.
Her mother hesitated, then pulled her into a short hug. “Okay. Rest. I’ll make dinner later.”
Mira nodded and slipped back into her room.
She locked the door behind her.
Not because she was hiding from her mum.
But because she didn’t trust her own body anymore.
Hours passed in a restless blur. Mira tried to nap but couldn’t. She tried to read, but the words swam. She tried to distract herself with music, but every song reminded her of the ticking clock.
As the sun began to set, a dull ache started forming at the base of her skull, slow at first, then sharper, pulsing like a drum.
She checked the time: 7:11 p.m.
Too early for midnight. But the ache felt like a pre-warning, the way thunder grumbles before the storm.
By 9:00, her fingers were tingling. By 10:30, the silver shimmer appeared again along the inside of her wrist, brief, like a flicker under the skin.
She grabbed her pillow and pressed it against her face to muffle a frustrated groan.
This wasn’t normal. Her body wasn’t normal.
What was she supposed to do, tie herself to the bed so she wouldn’t throw furniture at the ceiling again?
Her phone buzzed.
Zara.
Mira stared at the screen before answering.
“Hey,” she said, trying to sound normal.
“You sure you’re okay?” Zara asked immediately. “You’ve been acting off all day.”
“I just haven’t been sleeping,” Mira said. True enough.
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No!” The reply flew out too quickly. She closed her eyes. “Sorry. I just… I have a lot of homework.”
Zara paused. “Okay. But call me if you need me. Promise?”
“I promise.”
They hung up.
Mira sighed and placed her phone face down on the bed. She didn’t want Zara here. She didn’t want anyone near her when midnight hit. If she really was a time bomb waiting to detonate, better to do it alone.
Her room felt tighter as the night deepened. Shadows stretched across the walls like they were waiting.
11:37 p.m.
The ticking of the wall clock grew louder.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“It’s just a few minutes,” she whispered. “You’ll survive this. You survived yesterday.”
But surviving wasn’t enough. If what that boy said was true, midnight wasn’t just dangerous—it was fatal.
Her chest tightened.
She checked the window again, half-expecting to see those three strange students standing outside like ghosts. But the street was empty.
Silence hung in the room.
Too much silence.
11:58.
Her heart thudded painfully.
11:59.
Sweat dampened her palms.
The room suddenly felt cold. The air thickened. The lamp flickered once… twice…
Then everything stilled.
12:00 a.m.
The hum returned.
Not soft this time.
Not gentle.
It roared through her like a shockwave.
Mira gasped and grabbed the edge of her bed. The floor vibrated beneath her feet. Her vision blurred around the edges as a burst of icy energy detonated in her chest—sharper, deeper, fiercer than the night before.
Her fingers curled instinctively, and
Her curtains caught fire. Blue fire.
Silent, unnatural flames l*****g up the fabric without heat or smoke.
Mira screamed. She stumbled backward, her hip slamming into her dresser. The fire twisted upward like a living thing, swirling and coiling until it formed a glowing, serpent-like shape in the air.
“What—what is happening?!”
Her pulse was racing. Her throat felt like it was closing. She grabbed her pillow and beat at the flames, expecting it to burn
The flames slid around it like water.
They didn’t burn anything.
They didn’t consume anything.
They were obeying her.
No.
She swung her arm wildly, and the fire flared in response, swirling violently before collapsing inward, shrinking into a tight spiral before disappearing altogether in a soft pop of blue sparks.
Mira fell to her knees, gasping for breath.
Her hands were glowing faintly.
The silver under her skin burned with cold light.
She choked on a sob.
Another power.
Another death.
Her phone buzzed from where she dropped it on the carpet.
She crawled toward it with shaking hands.
The notification preview read:
BREAKING: MAN FOUND DEAD IN ILUPEJU BODY MARKED WITH SILVER VEINS
Her breath hitched.
Her stomach twisted.
She read the next line.
Neighbors report seeing a streak of blue fire through his window shortly before midnight.
She dropped the phone.
“No… no, no, no…”
Her whole body trembled. Tears blurred her vision.
Someone had died again.
Someone she had never met.
And she held their power in her hands—blue flames that did not burn.
A sound echoed outside.
A soft whistle.
Mira’s head snapped toward the window.
Three figures stood across the street, half-hidden by shadows.
The boy.
The two girls.
Watching.
Waiting.
And then
The boy stepped forward, meeting her gaze through the glass.
His voice floated across the quiet night, low and steady:
“Now you see why we came for you.”
Mira’s breath caught.
He raised his hand.
“Midnight won’t stop,” he said. “Not until it takes you too.”
Mira felt her knees give way.
The flames had vanished, but her hands still tingled with their echo.
Her voice came out as a whisper, raw and terrified.
“What do I do?”
The boy didn’t smile.
He didn’t blink.
He simply answered:
“You run.
Or you join us.”
- Writer
