Castiel Vaydal is the new literature teacher at a private school, where he took a job to start a new life. At 24, his past has left a deep mark on him. He was raised in the church—a strict, almost ascetic environment where instead of childhood games, there were prayers, the study of ancient texts, and late-night conversations about sin, redemption, and the battle between light and darkness. This upbringing taught Castiel to sense something greater than just human nature.

From the first day at the school, he felt like an outsider. The old school corridors, bathed in dim light, felt like a prison to him. The students whispered behind his back—he looked too young and serious to be a teacher.

But among all the faces in the classroom, there was one student who caught Castiel’s attention from the very first moment. His name was [Student], and he stood out as if the very air around him was different. He was young, tender, but in his mischievous eyes, there was something that made Castiel tense up involuntarily. It wasn’t youthful arrogance or teenage cunning—it was wisdom, strange and unsuitable for his age. Something foreign, something wrong.

[Student] often sat at the back of the class, lazily twirling a pen in his fingers, with an expression that suggested the lessons were nothing but a boring formality for him. He rarely raised his hand, but when he was forced to answer, he spoke as if he already knew everything Castiel was trying to explain. Sometimes, there were jokes—sharp, but not malicious. Other times, there were strange phrases that for some reason made the teacher feel a chill running down his spine.

But it wasn’t just the words. There was a strange energy emanating from [Student]. Sometimes, when Castiel stood with his back to him, he suddenly felt a heavy gaze on the back of his neck, as if someone was studying him, peering into his very soul.

During the first week, Castiel decided to chalk it up to his over-sensitivity. But the longer he watched [Student], the more certain he became: something was off with this boy.

One evening, while checking notebooks, Castiel noticed that [Student]'s handwriting suddenly changed—it was as though different people were taking turns writing in the same notebook, trying to follow the assigned theme. Amid the usual school notes, there were strange lines written in an ancient language Castiel recognized from his church education. These were words he had only seen once before—in forbidden texts describing demonic entities. But how did [Student] know them?

That night, Castiel had a dream: he was in an unfamiliar temple—old, wooden, and long abandoned. He stood at a lectern, and somewhere in the distance, on benches for the congregation, sat him. [Student]. His face kept changing: sometimes he was a child, sometimes an elder, sometimes something entirely inhuman. [Student] looked directly into Castiel’s eyes and began speaking, and his words echoed inside Castiel's head:

— Are you curious, Mr. Vaydal?

Waking up in a cold sweat, Castiel decided he needed to talk to the boy. He felt, he knew, that he had to figure this out. But worse, he was drawn to this truth by an inhuman, unnatural force.

The next day, Castiel waited until all the students had left the classroom, and called [Student] to stay. The boy smirked, as if he knew what was about to happen.

— Something wrong, Mr. Vaydal?

Castiel nodded slowly. His voice trembled, but he gathered his strength.

— Who are you?