The last rays of the setting sun filtered through the trees lining the campus path, scattering golden flecks across Ethan Cole's shoulders as he pedaled along.

He was humming—off-key, but cheerfully so—his whole body loose with satisfaction. After two grueling days of weekend shifts, he'd pocketed $340. Which, in his world, meant one glorious thing: he wouldn't be going hungry this week.

"Whew—survived another one."

He hopped off his bike and stretched like he was trying to touch the clouds. Being a junior in college didn't come with luxuries like "weekends off." Two straight days hauling boxes in a dusty warehouse had left him sore and grimy, but the cash in his pocket made it all smell like roses.

He climbed the stairs to the third floor of the dorm in one go, stopping at Room 302. The door was ajar. The moment he pushed it open, he was greeted by the familiar thump-thump-thump of fingers on a screen—and Liam's voice, already halfway to a scream.

"Ethan, finally! Get online, man! Henry's dragging me down so bad I can't carry this game anymore!"

"Dragging you down?" Henry shot back from the lower bunk across the room, looking personally offended. He tossed his phone aside and glared. "You're out here flexing with a 1-8-0 score? Are you playing a game or delivering food?"

"That's because of you!" Liam's hair stuck out in every direction like he'd been in a wind tunnel. He clutched his phone like it owed him money. "Every time I tell you to gank with me, you're too busy farming two damn minions. I dive in, get countered, and die for nothing!"

Henry sat up, not backing down an inch. "My wave was under tower! You couldn't wait two seconds? I hadn't even last-hit those two creeps and you were already charging in—of course they didn't die, and of course you got clapped!"

"And then you died too! Don't act like you're any better!"

Ethan rubbed his forehead and laughed. "Alright, alright, both of you shut up. One's feeding, one's charging in blind—you're a match made in matchmaking hell."

Silence.

Liam and Henry exchanged a look. It was hard to tell if they were offended or just processing the insult.

"…Anyway," Ethan said, steering the conversation elsewhere, "Chris isn't back yet?"

"Nope. Dude's on a date," Henry said with a shrug. "Probably won't be back tonight."

"Tsk, tsk." Ethan shook his head. "Look at him, then look at you two. Holed up in the dorm playing games all day. We're juniors, for god's sake. Still single? Shameful."

"Girlfriends aren't as fun as games," Liam said, dead serious. "Why waste time when I could be grinding ranked?"

"Exactly," Henry chimed in. "And you're single too, so don't come at us."

Ethan shrugged. "My part-time pay barely covers ramen and rent. If I start dating, I'll be living off instant noodles till I die."

"Please," Liam scoffed. "With your face, you could bag a sugar mama and quit warehouse duty for good."

Ethan grinned. "Yeah, but I'm not about that sugar mama diet."

"…"

The three of them sat there in silence, the air conditioner humming like it was applauding their collective loneliness.

Ethan pulled out his phone and dialed Chris's number. It went straight to voicemail.

"This guy… goes on a date and doesn't even charge his phone?" He frowned, then waved it off. Not his problem.

That night, he played a few rounds with the guys, coaching them through a couple of wins. After a hot shower, he collapsed into bed, every muscle aching. Two days of warehouse work had left him feeling like he'd been hit by a truck.

He didn't dwell on it. Within minutes, he was out cold.

Outside, the last of the sunset faded, and the campus slipped into a hush that felt just a little too deep.

By midnight, the dorm was as quiet as a library after hours. Even the old fan in the hallway seemed to be snoring. Everyone was asleep—everyone except the moon, still keeping watch outside.

Bzzzz—bzzzz—

A phone vibrated suddenly, slicing through the fragile silence like a scalpel.

Ethan jolted upright, nearly launching himself off the bed. He fumbled for his phone, slapped it to his ear the second he saw the caller ID, and barked into the receiver, breathless and sharp with worry. "Chris? Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you all day—your phone's been dead!"

There was a pause on the other end. A long one. Like Chris had to swallow something bitter before he could speak. When he finally did, his voice was low and hoarse.

"Ethan… can you come have a drink with me?"

Ethan blinked. "That's your big idea? It's the middle of the damn night—we've got class tomorrow." He tried to sound annoyed, but the concern bled through anyway. "Where are you?"

"The roof."

"Shit!" The word shot out of him like a reflex, adrenaline snapping him fully awake. He was already halfway out of bed, yanking open his wardrobe and throwing on clothes as he shouted, "Don't do anything stupid! I'm coming right now!"

He and Chris had been best friends since they were kids—closer than brothers, really. The kind of bond that didn't need words to panic. Just hearing "roof" was enough to send Ethan flying.

He bolted up four flights of stairs like a spring-loaded missile, from the third floor to the seventh in record time.

Technically, the rooftop was off-limits. The school had it labeled as a "hazard zone," and the iron door was supposed to stay locked. But school rules were no match for student ingenuity and a few well-crafted master keys.

Chris had clearly found a way. The rooftop door creaked open with a rusty groan.

Ethan stepped out into the night air and spotted him immediately—slumped on the ground, surrounded by a sad little fortress of empty beer bottles. His face was darker than the sky above.

Ethan exhaled hard, relief and irritation crashing together. He marched over, half scolding, half worried. "What the hell are you doing up here, man? I thought you were gonna jump or something!"

Chris looked up. The anger in Ethan's face softened him. His voice came out quiet, almost ashamed. "Sorry, Ethan. Didn't mean to scare you."

Ethan sighed and dropped down beside him, grabbing a can from the circle of booze. He cracked it open, took a swig, and gave Chris a look that was equal parts brother and therapist. "Alright. Spill it. What happened?"

Chris downed a whole can in one go, like he was trying to drown something inside. His face twisted like it had been carved with a knife. It took him a while to get the words out.

"She and I… broke up. Three years. And in the end, reality still won."

Ethan froze for a beat, then nodded slowly. He wasn't surprised. He'd seen it coming—Chris always gave too much in relationships, left himself hollow. No wonder he got hurt.

He clapped a hand on Chris's shoulder, his comfort clumsy but sincere. "Come on, man. Don't do this to yourself. She's not the only girl out there. You're not ugly, you've got time—someone better's waiting."

Chris's voice cracked. "But I really loved her."

Ethan's face tightened. "Yeah, well, love doesn't pay rent."

"It does," Chris murmured, eyes fixed on the skyline. "When I looked at her, I wasn't hungry anymore."

Ethan blinked, caught off guard. Then he shot back, "Yeah? Well, she still cheated on you."

Chris turned, startled. "How do you know that?"

"Because I know you," Ethan said, deadpan. "If she hadn't cheated, you'd still be with her. No way you'd walk away otherwise."

Chris rolled his eyes. "You came up here just to rub salt in it?"

"Hell no." Ethan raised a fist like he was ready to throw hands. "I came to find out which bastard had the balls to steal your girl. I'm keeping score, bro."

Chris's eyes lit up with something sharp. "It was Preston. That rich prick. Thinks money can buy anything. And Lola—she actually went with him."

"Of course it was Preston." Ethan nodded solemnly, like a judge passing sentence. "Don't worry, bro—I'll make him regret ever messing with you."

"Don't, Ethan. Seriously. He's not worth catching a felony over."

Ethan paused, then grinned. "Fair. Then I'll just steal his girl too. Eye for an eye."

Chris's eyes widened. "You're not gonna go after Lola, are you?!"

"Please." Ethan scoffed. "That girl's not even top five on his backup list. She's a placeholder at best."

Chris dropped his gaze, voice soaked in beer and heartbreak. "I just don't get it. Why would she betray me for someone like him?"

Ethan didn't hesitate. "Simple. He's rich."

"…"

Chris gave a crooked smile, half-laughing, half-miserable. "Are you here to comfort me or piss me off? You're not just rubbing salt in the wound—you're pouring the whole damn shaker."

Ethan shrugged. "I'm just being honest. You gotta learn to let shit go, man. Come on, we're drinking tonight. Tomorrow? Clean slate." He clapped Chris on the shoulder again, like he was stamping a seal on a new chapter.

"But we've got class in the morning…" Chris mumbled, the weight of reality creeping back in.

"Screw it. You're my bro—that's what matters." Ethan waved it off, solemn as a general rallying his last soldier.

"You're the best, man." Chris's voice was barely above a whisper, like he was swallowing the thank-you before it could escape.

"Shut up, dude. Close the door before the RA walks by." Ethan grinned, but the warmth in his eyes gave him away.

"Yeah, yeah." Chris pulled the iron door shut with a soft clang, and the two of them sat side by side under the moonlight.

The campus was quiet, the kind of silence that only came in the deep hours of the night. Somewhere, faint voices drifted from a dorm window—someone else pulling an all-nighter, probably gaming or cramming.

All-nighters followed by 8 a.m. lectures were practically a rite of passage in college.

Tonight, the moon was dim, but the stars were blazing—so bright they lit up the rooftop like a silver floodlight.

On the roof of Bates West, two college guys lay sprawled on the concrete, surrounded by a battlefield of empty beer cans.

Somewhere between buzzed and blackout, Chris suddenly pointed at the sky. "Ethan… do you see it? The Big Dipp—wait. No. Big Dipper's got… nine stars tonight?"

Ethan snorted. "You're wasted, man. It's the Big Dipper, not the Big Nine."

"Yeah… guess I really am drunk."

"Wait… hold up. I think I see nine too."

"Let me count… one, two, three… eight… nine."

"Shit, you're right."

"Haha… guess we're both hammered."

"Yeah… being drunk feels weird. I swear I just saw the North Star… falling."

"I saw it too. Had this long-ass tail. Way cooler than a shooting star."

"Wait… is that another one? Another North Star?"

"No way… it's red."

Chris let out a groan and rolled onto his side. "Man, I'm done. Can't keep my eyes open. Let's crash—everything'll be fine tomorrow."

And just like that, he was out cold.

Ethan was still blinking up at the sky, his head swimming, eyes locked on that strange red "North Star." It pulsed faintly, like it was watching.

Eventually, the haze of sleep caught up with him too, and he drifted off under the stars.

But the sky had already changed.

That red star—whatever it was—had cracked something open.

Across the globe, strange energy began to seep into the world. It came in waves, invisible but undeniable, like a tide rolling in from nowhere. It spread fast, blanketing the Earth.

But this energy wasn't pure. It carried a rot, a whisper of decay.

And it didn't stay outside.

It slipped into every living thing.

Some people felt nothing. Others… changed.

Their eyes turned blood-red. Their skin began to rot. Their minds unraveled, swallowed by hunger and instinct. They became husks—zombies—driven only by the urge to devour.

But a rare few—those who had been touched directly by the red star's light—awoke to something else.

Power.

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