Chapter Text
Hindsight was always 20/20, as the saying went.
Had he enough time to reflect in the scant split second in the mirror chamber where Trey grabbed his wrist, just before the light hit his back and sent him flying, Riddle would’ve cursed himself for not seeing the writing on the wall first thing that morning. Then again, who could blame him? There wasn’t any grand revelation, no flashing neon sign, no Headmage barging into their classrooms or calling a school-wide assembly before first period to announce some horrific calamity. Just an odd feeling upon waking up, one that could easily be attributed to a change in the weather or a strange sleeping position and gradually faded while ironing out his clothes for the day.
The feeling returned ever so briefly when Deuce approached asking for help in a manner far more sheepish than his usual demeanor, textbook clutched in his hands with Ace trailing along as though he wasn’t trying to mooch a favor. But the icy fingers of discomfort tip-tapping along his spine also could’ve been from the way Ace clapped his palm on his shoulder in far-too casual a manner for a student to address their Housewarden. He got quite the reprimand about etiquette for that one.
And for once, Ace was grateful for the lecture. It helped shuck off the nasty case of the willies crawling up the back of his neck since class let out. Even Deuce seemed to relax, shoulders less haunched, and he’d stopped checking his peripheral once they actually sat down in the lounge. Normalcy taken for granted.
“What else happened during that croquet game?” Riddle prompted Ace at the tail end of a paragraph, expectant gaze drilling holes as he flipped through his notes.
After a couple seconds, Ace perked up. “Oh, easy. The Duchess was set to be executed for boxing ears.”
Satisfied, Riddle nodded, and promptly turned his crosshairs upon Deuce. “And whose ears did the Duchess box?”
“Umm…” Deuce, who had not looked up once since the passage began, scanned the pages, finger racing across the text in his search. “That would be…the White Queen’s.”
In an instant Riddle’s brow twitched and dipped, a failed effort to hold back his exasperation. “Incorrect, Deuce. The correct answer is The Queen of Hearts’ ears. Do you not recall what Professor Trein went over in class a mere two days ago?”
Eyes wide, Deuce’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment and confusion, tripping over his words as he shoved his face back into the book. “But…right here it says it was the White Queen.”
“That’s not possible. The White Queen is not only from a completely different region, but she hadn’t been invited to participate in the tournament, as she preferred chess over croquet. Are you sure you’re on the right chapter?”
“I am! I swear! Chapter six, page three-hundred-forty-one!” Deuce cried, holding up the book and pointing to the line in question.
Huffing, Riddle snatched the textbook to inspect for himself. Shock rocked his brain. There it was, printed neatly upon the page. “What?! That can’t possibly be right!”
“Woooow, is the infallible Housewarden Rosehearts WRONG about something? Pinch me, I must be dreaming,” Ace teased, only to zip it the instant Riddle’s eyes snapped to him with a look that could curdle milk.
“This has to be a misprint. I’ll be sure to inform Professor Trein at the next available opportunity,” Riddle declared. “Tsk, and for such an important detail too. The editors for these textbooks must be ashamed of themselves. Is there a mistake in your textbook as well, Ace?”
“Yeah, looks like it…huh, woah, actually there’s a lot of ‘em in here. Check page three-thirty-six.”
Deuce leaned over in his seat to peer at Ace’s book. “Hey, she’s mentioned here too. ‘Half a month into her rule, the White Queen overhauled the court systems and established—’”
“Preposterous!” Riddle slapped his palm against the tabletop, half rising from his seat, the clap almost as loud as his exclamation. “Yes, the White Queen played her part in refining the laws over her years of service, but the uprooting of the old court was entirely the Queen of Hearts’ work!”
“We just learned about this exact thing earlier! How the hell did we miss seeing something this flat wrong while it was literally being talked about in class?!” Ace laughed.
“More importantly, how did Professor Trein miss it? He even made Grim read from thirty-seven.”
Looking back---or if he'd been allowed to look back, rather—that comment from Deuce right there should've been when he clued in. When the nebulous, strange feeling should've whacked him right in the head, gripped his face, and screamed YOU’RE ALL IN DANGER! But his priorities were, understandably, elsewhere.
Releasing the building pressure in his skull through a growl, Riddle snapped Deuce’s textbook shut and set it flat on the table with a firm, satisfying thump. “Regardless, it’s abundantly clear that we cannot rely on these textbooks for the time being. I still have my notes and books from the previous year with the correct information, so we will use those instead.”
Ace followed Riddle’s lead in dumping his textbook, though with far less care, practically tossing it with a flick of his wrist. “Don’t you think it’d be best to just postpone the study sesh until this gets sorted out?”
“Absolutely not! If anything, it’s now even more imperative that we cover the material thoroughly. Your grades cannot afford to suffer over faulty sources.” Riddle rose from his seat. “I’ll return in just a moment.”
The first-years both watched Riddle exit the lounge, then exchanged a glance, and within moments the textbooks were back in their laps, searching for any other hilarious flubs to add to the tally. “Yadda yadda…court relations, in the following year they blah blah blah…Wh…‘In honor of the White Queen, croquet was—BANNED AS A NATIONAL SPORT?!’” Ace wheezed through the words so hard his voice peaked, squeaking like a boiling kettle. “No way! This isn’t just wrong, this is like satire!”
“Hey, look at the thumbnail on page three-fifteen!”
“Hang on, hang on.” Ace’s head lowered gradually as he tossed aside pages, overshot, and then backtracked to find the proper one. At first nothing appeared amiss with the image, an old, slightly washed out shot of the Queen of Hearts’ scepter cushioned upon a red and gold pillow, the very same one they’d seen in class near the start of the year. But then he read the caption, and his head reared back so suddenly it induced the sharp sting of whiplash in his neck. “‘The White Queen’s scepter!?’ WHAT?!” A caw of laughter left him in utter disbelief.
Even Deuce couldn’t hold himself back from giggling a little at the sheer absurdity, his shock more of the wide-eyed, struck dumb variety than Ace’s bewildered guffawing. “I know! How did this make it to…print?” His voice died away mid-sentence as he looked back at the image and squinted. Was it always…smudged like that? It could’ve been and they’d just never noticed, old images did get messed up from time to time. But as he continued to stare, it almost felt as though he could see the image growing more and more washed out, the color draining away from the red head of the scepter and the pillow beneath.
At the risk of ridicule, he asked, “Hey, Ace? Am I the only one seeing this?”
Only then did he realize that Ace had not only stopped laughing, but had gone eerily silent. “...If we’re seeing the same thing, then no. That picture was definitely way more vivid a couple seconds ago.”
Without another word, they both bared witness as the color faded entirely, a monochrome mimicry of the original left in its place. The smudging grew worse, blurring the edges of the scepter until it became all but impossible to distinguish what exactly they were looking at, the once beautiful heart nothing more than a shapeless blotch of smeared printer ink upon a strangely still-pristine cushion. Then, as though the clock had been rewound, the shape re-sharpened back into a scepter, yet the curves of the head were wrong, branching out into two sharp hooks rather than the smooth mounds of a heart. The top inverted itself, jutting outwards in a bulbous, sharp point. No matter how long they stared, the color didn’t return.
Jaws dropped, the two first-years gaped at the image. Deuce rubbed his eyes, Ace shook his head, and then they gaped some more.
“What…what just…” Ace had started, only to be drowned out by Riddle’s voice.
“I’ve verified that the contents of this textbook are correct. I only have one copy, so you’ll have to share for the time being,” he announced on approach, then paused his stride beside Ace when neither acknowledged him with so much as a glance. “What are you two doing?”
“Housewarden, the…the image just changed,” Deuce explained, holding up his textbook to display the page in the exact same manner he’d done minutes ago. “Right before our eyes! It was the Queen of Hearts’ scepter, but now…”
“It changed?” Riddle muttered aloud, scrutinizing the picture and its caption. Confusion, suspicion, curiosity bubbled together in his head, and he set down the books tucked under his arm to throw open his own textbook to the exact same page. It sat at the bottom of the page rather than the top like the more recent prints, but there was no mistaking the image of the Queen of Hearts’ scepter in all its crimson glory.
“Yeah, it was like that at first! But the caption said it belonged to the White Queen, and then it lost all color and turned into this.”
Glancing back and forth between the images, Riddle’s hand came to his chin in thought. “Could this be a prank of sorts?” His expression scrunched, anger sparking and throbbing in his temples. “Defacing others’ property is unacceptable, and in such a manner that it would have affected your grades had it gone unnoticed…When I find the culprit, it’s Off With Their Head.”
“But for what reason? If you’re gonna pull a prank, you’d target a guy or a place with something to lose, or you’d get ‘em in a way that’s funny. Screwing with our grades wouldn’t really do either…” When Riddle’s gaze shot to him, Deuce immediately averted his eyes and cleared his throat, fingers twitching, itching to tug at his shirt collar. “Uh, not that I would do anything like that…”
“Well MY grades are fine, so I guess? Maybe? I could see someone trying that with me? But there’s really nothing to gain from pranking Loosey Deucey’s textbook too, unless they had some kinda grudge.”
“Hey, I’m doing better than before!”
“Uh-huh, sure you are.” Ace sneered. “Which is why you’re asking for tutoring help, right?”
“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared! And you tagged along too! What’s all that about, huh?!”
Scoffing, Ace waved his hand. “I wanted to see just how screwed you really were.” Then he blinked, pausing his teasing in its tracks when he noticed what exactly was amiss about their banter. “Isn’t this where you’d normally cut in to tell us to knock it off, Housewaren?”
But Riddle hadn’t heard him. In fact, he’d stopped listening halfway through Deuce’s attempted backpedal, when he’d brought his eyes back to his own old textbook just in time to catch…well, THAT.
Now he wasn’t certain how to go about describing what THAT exactly was, but were he to make an attempt, he would say the words were perpetually jumbling themselves. The letters weren’t moving, not at first, but as soon as he had a good grasp on what a word was, it would change to something different, yet at the same time not change at all. It felt akin to trying to tell time in a dream, the hands on a clock always in a new position with each blurry moment. Beginning with the word “Hearts”, the phenomenon bled out until it encompassed every other word on the page, rendering the passages and footnotes incomprehensible. Unsteady like a heat haze mirage, formless like dye mixing in water, like, like…
Just watching it made his brain ache, a hazy bloom entering the corners of his vision, the aura of an oncoming migraine. Riddle had to shut his eyes and rub the sensation away. Upon reopening them he found the phenomenon had yet to stop spreading, and turned his head away towards Ace and Deuce instead. Both of them had noticed as well by then, faces growing pale, similarly sickened.
“I’m going to retrieve a faculty member,” Riddle said with just a little less muster than he’d hoped, both to inform them of his intentions and to command their focus away before one of them keeled over. One by one, with the utmost care lest the swarming letters leap off the paper and take his fingers, he took each of their textbooks from their laps and splayed them out across the table. “Keep these books open on these pages. Do not touch them, or let anyone else interact with them. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Housewarden,” Deuce replied, his watery voice betraying his dizziness.
“As long as we don’t have to watch ‘em directly…” Ace added halfheartedly, perching his elbow against the chair’s armrest to lean his forehead against his fist.
He’d have to rebuke Ace for the response later. Fetching a teacher before the eerie phenomenon faded or spread was a far more urgent priority, and so without another word Riddle sped out of the lounge. On his way out of the building, he couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between two students in the foyer.
“Huh? But…didn’t the Sea Witch do that?”
“I thought so too, but this claims otherwise.”
“Maybe it’s like that article on the Scalding Sands that was released last year? New information discovered and such?”
“You’d think we would’ve learned about it in class by now if it was…”
His stomach sank like a stone. Something was wrong.
Every student he passed appeared confused, huddled around different books and papers and muttering amongst themselves. He could practically feel the wave of unease cresting across campus, teetering on the precipice of crashing into a much more tumultuous panic as he took the stairs as fast as possible without breaking decorum. So laser-focused on his search, he almost ran smack-dab into Rook upon turning a sharp corner, only barely avoiding a collision via Rook prancing out of the way with a startled “Oop!”
“Ah! Sorry, I’m in a hurry and wasn’t watching my surroundings properly,” Riddle said, only slightly out of breath.
“Oh non, non, you need not worry. I myself also happen to be in a rush. Though if I may wager a guess, I don’t suppose you’re searching for the Headmage?”
“Yes, I am. Or rather, any faculty member. I must speak with them immediately—”
“About the textbooks?” Rook finished.
Riddle's breath hitched. A chill shot down his spine. “It’s not just ours, then.”
“Oui, it appears so. And it’s not only the textbooks, for my very own notes, penned by my hand as recently as a day ago, have been altered.”
His jaw clenched. When he last checked his notebook had been fine, but just the thought of his hard work being tarnished without any way to stop it made his gut roil with apprehension. “We shouldn’t waste any more time here.”
“Agreed. Let us make haste to the Headmage toge—”
The PA buzzing, beeping, and clicking silenced them. They looked up towards the ceiling.
“I am hereby calling an emergency meeting. Would all Housewardens and members of the faculty make their way to the Headmage’s Office. I repeat, would all…”
“Well now. I suppose that works itself out,” Rook said over the message, returning his gaze to Riddle.
Never once breaking away from staring up through the ceiling, skin beginning to prickle under his uniform, Riddle replied, “Somehow, I’m not exactly comforted by this turn of events…”
His unease was well-founded.
All over the school, information was being tampered with. Texts, pictures, videos even, nothing was safe. However, for the time being it seemed only certain kinds were being affected; more precisely, historical topics and the like. Dates were a mess of numbers, faces were shifting or swapping with others or flat out missing, names were jumbled or replaced entirely. Some texts, such as Heartslabyul's books, were utterly unreadable, muddled messes, while others, like the example provided by Pomfiore, were being erased and rewritten right in front of their eyes.
To say such a phenomenon was a disaster would be understating it.
The discussion brought forth no leads. None whatsoever. Not the faintest trace of lingering magic to suggest foul play. Even Malleus seemed stumped. Several classes were officially placed on hold, because how in the world could one teach when their very curriculum was at stake? Initially the investigation was to be led solely by the faculty, but in the wake of their staggering lack of worthwhile information Crowley formally requested assistance from the Housewardens. And by “requested assistance” he meant “dangled the threat of being held back a year over their heads until they complied.”
Again.
That was right about when Idia decided he was exiting the meeting—or “going AFK” as he put it.
“Look dw about it, I’m not avoiding this. Just gotta do something important, k?” he so helpfully supplied before the tablet shut off, interrupting Riddle mid-admonishment.
Silence settled for all of a heartbeat.
“He’s definitely avoiding it,” Leona muttered under his breath.
From there the meeting devolved, and everyone split off to spread the word to their dorms.
Trey awaited Riddle at the Hall of Mirrors, but beyond a brief greeting they said little. It wasn’t until they returned to Heartslabyul and called together the students that Riddle relayed the events of the meeting in full.
“I expect everyone to perform their due diligence in helping resolve this matter,” Riddle finished, gaze sweeping over the anxious crowd gathered in the courtroom.
One student raised his hand, and Riddle acknowledged him with his scepter. “But where should we even begin to look? The library’s bound to be super crowded by now,” the student said.
“Anywhere you can think of, so long as it doesn’t impede the faculty’s efforts. Even if this phenomenon is only affecting records and historical texts at the moment, we can’t be certain it’ll stay that way.”
“If this…whatever it is is so focused on rewriting history, it might end up jumping to physical artifacts next. Or it could stick strictly to its current methods and just change topics,” Trey added. “You could start by checking places like the potionology classroom, or the Great Seven statues, and branch off from there. Even finding nothing out of the ordinary gives us information.”
“There you have it. Report anything of note to myself or your nearest teacher. You are all dismissed.” The thwack of his scepter against the wood punctuated his declaration, and the students began to file out of the room, whispering amongst themselves.
“I wonder how many of them are actually gonna help,” Cater mused as Riddle made his way down from the podium.
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. The future of their education is at stake. Few things are more important than that.”
Despite a clear want to say more from the twist of doubt in his expression, Cater refrained from speaking it aloud. His shrug spoke volumes instead. A gesture which Riddle acknowledged, and responded by scrunching his nose and shaking his head in dismay.
Once the remaining students left, Riddle made his way to the lounge with Trey and Cater in tow. “Ace, Deuce,” he called even before he entered, confident in his prediction, and sure enough there they were huddled around the far tea table by the windows, chatting with a sizable group. A flick of his wrist had them both scampering over to his side. “I wish to begin investigating posthaste, and the two of you will be accompanying us.”
Deuce tilted his head. “Eh? Why us?”
“You both have experience in this kind of situation. Recall our efforts during October’s Inter-dorm Spelldrive tournament, for example. Having done this before, I’m positive your assistance will be most helpful.”
“Uh, yeah, about that,” Ace drawled. “I’m gonna pass on this one, Housewarden.”
Riddle cocked a brow. “And why is that?”
“The Headmage never said that EVERY student had to join in, right? And you’ve already got a crapton of people raring to go help, so you’ll turn up something in no time. Ever heard of the phrase ‘Too many cooks in the kitchen?’ AND,” he lifted a single finger up, “and, for the record, this totally shouldn’t be a problem for the students to handle anyway. So nah, count me out.”
Suffocating silence filled the lounge. Even the hedgehogs seemed to go still with anticipation, the dull squeak of an exercise wheel in motion suddenly vanishing. Riddle merely stared Ace down, and Ace didn’t so much as flinch under his gaze, further digging in his metaphorical heels. Beside him Deuce fidgeted, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.
After an eternity came and went, Riddle smiled. “Very well.”
A collective cacophony of surprised HUH and EH and WHATs drowned out Ace’s pleased “Cool.” It took another second for him, too, to go “Wait, what?”
“In fact, I’m proud of you for making such a choice; it’s expected for a student to dutifully attend class over taking the ‘all-day free pass.’”
Ace started to speak, “Attend class? But weren't they—” and was quickly interrupted by Deuce asking, “All-day free pass?”
Riddle looked to Deuce with an innocent tilt of his head. “Did I not mention it during the meeting? As I recall, I explained some of the classes that are less textbook-dependent will be keeping their schedules for the time being. However, due to the nature of this crisis, they’re willing to overlook students who don’t attend as long as they assist in some way with the investigation.” His smile only grew wider, practically beaming. “Knowing that Ace is willingly attending his classes instead of leaping at such an offer is indeed something to be proud of.”
He waved his hand to dismiss the conversation. “In any case, we shouldn’t dawdle here. Let us be off and leave Ace to his—”
At that moment, Riddle turned on his heel to leave. At that same moment, Ace’s hand clapped firm on his shoulder.
“Haaaaaang on a minute,” Ace said, so very saccharine sweet all of a sudden. “Y’know, now that I think about it, maybe I will help out after all.”
Riddle had to stop himself from smirking. Just a little bit more. “Oh? What brought this on?”
“Classes are important, sure, but you also mentioned that we’d get held back a year if this wasn’t resolved soon enough. Then all my hard work would be for nothing if I have to do it all over again anyway, right? And like you said, I’m real good with this kinda stuff.” Oh, and the smile Ace put on just then, one that screamed ‘oh pretty please with sugar on top, won’t you tell them I helped and let me skip?’
Got him. “If you insist, then we would be happy to have you. Come.”
“I won’t let you down, Housewarden!” Ace beamed, and Riddle turned away to hide his blatant triumph, so very, very pleased with himself. Satisfied with his group, Riddle led the five of them out of the dorm to begin their investigation in earnest.
On the way, Trey gently nudged his arm with his elbow, leaning down just close enough to whisper “Nice job,” without the others hearing.
Well, Cater heard, but that wasn’t the end of the world. He, too, scooted a tiny bit closer to keep his voice low. “Never thought I’d see you trick someone into skipping optional classes. What’s the catch?”
In the safety of the shadows cast by their little huddle, Riddle finally let himself smirk, hooked at the edges. “The ‘all-day free pass’, as dubbed such by the Headmage, is a real thing, mind. But I never did state which teacher is continuing the classes with which it may be applied.”
“Which teacher…?” Trey mumbled, then hummed, and soon a huff of a laugh followed. “Coach Vargas. You specified multiple classes, but made it sound as though multiple teachers would be involved when really it’s only him and his PE classes.”
“The first-years of Class A won’t have a lesson with him until later in the week. By then this issue will either be resolved, or he will, and I quote, ‘provide his rippling muscles if the problem really calls for it’, and his classes will be canceled anyway.” His smirk evolved into an outright grin, head raised high in the wake of his deceit. “It wouldn’t do to have Heartslabyul students resting on their laurels when there’s work to be done. Though that’s not to say that I wouldn’t have been genuinely proud had Ace expressed intent to attend after all. Perhaps I’ll have to stress the importance of proper study to him once again.”
Over his head, Cater and Trey exchanged a glance and chuckled, an awkward, nervous little duet for the fate of their poor underclassmen.
Immediately upon emerging from the Hall of Mirrors, a wave of déjà vu swept across them like a frigid wind, and so their first order of business was ensuring they could actually leave the school grounds if evacuation became necessary. Much to their relief, the front gates remained open and free to traverse through. From there they backtracked up the path to catch a glimpse of the Great Seven statues along the way.
Just like the front gates, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Unlike the front gates, something about the statues themselves sent gooseflesh across skin and hair standing on end. The opposite of being watched, an absence of presence, as if the Great Seven themselves had been diminished somehow. Closer inspection only brought them a deep, chilling sense of dread. They made note, and didn’t linger long.
Interrogating the paintings hung outside the faculty office provided little in the way of tangible information, but a lead was still a lead.
“Why not try the Mirror Chamber?” an elderly old portrait rasped. “That old Dark Mirror is good for more than just moving about, you know.”
“The Dark Mirror’s been influenced by magic in the past, so it wouldn’t hurt to check it out just for some peace of mind, even if others probably had the same idea by now,” Trey acknowledged, not without a smidge of an ulterior motive; frankly, after being thoroughly, inexplicably ruffled by the Great Seven statues, some further reassurance would’ve been welcome. Provided that nothing was actually wrong with the mirror, of course.
To their mild surprise, the chamber was rather empty save for a single group of students inspecting the coffins. Throwing caution to the wind, Riddle strolled right up to the front of the mirror, letting Trey’s warning to “Be careful, Riddle,” roll off his back. The glass flickered and lit up, as per usual, the image a dull black as the mirror awaited input.
“Mirror of Darkness, what do you know of the phenomenon plaguing our campus?” Riddle asked, loud and demanding.
That perpetually frowning face appeared in the mirror’s reflection, green flames lapping in from just outside the golden rim. And yet the mirror did not respond. After a moment, the image dimmed again.
Riddle’s nose wrinkled. “Mirror of Darkness, are you going to answer me at all?”
Again the face appeared. “No,” its voice echoed across the chamber.
“Wh—Hey!”
Gone again. All Riddle could do for a moment was stare, mouth agape, and fight back the rising desire to fling his pen at the glass.
“Well, uh, good to know it’s working?” Cater offered, rubbing the back of his neck as he rounded on Riddle to flash a sheepish grin.
“Hmph. Powerful artifact or not, it needn’t be so curt.”
“If the mirror won’t help, then it looks like we really are on our own for this.” Following Cater’s lead, Trey approached.
“What, did you really expect anything useful from this thing?” Ace sneered at Trey.
“Honestly, no. I was more worried about having a repeat of Halloween on our hands.”
“Eugh, I’ve been trying to forget about that since we left the dorm, thank you very much. This feels waaaay too close for comfort.”
“Haha, sorry.”
“So what now?” Deuce asked, cutting their chat short.
Riddle turned to face the group, arms crossed and head bowed in thought. Gates, statues, paintings, the Dark Mirror, all covered without much to show for it besides a healthy dose of the heebie-jeebies. He crossed out locations such as the sports field and the gymnasium in his mind, as while they weren’t exactly devoid of their own cultured history, neither did they fit the criteria for what the phenomenon seemed to be targeting. Library had likely been picked clean for clues by now as well, so… “I believe our next stop should be—”
Maybe it was because he lifted his head at that particular moment and noticed the other students once milling about nearby were gone, or maybe it was because the doors had shut so silently not one of them had heard it. But the dull buzz of dread instilled from the statues condensed, a cannonball dropping through his gut. Whatever he’d been planning on saying was wiped clean from his mind as his heart swooped like he’d missed a step on the stairs, replaced with an almost maddening awareness of the mirror at his back, and an all consuming, deeply primal instinct to run.
And it wasn’t just him, clearly, as each and every one of his dorm mate’s faces had gone frightfully pale.
Trey reacted first, not to turn and flee, but to lunge for Riddle’s wrist. There wasn't enough time for the day's events to flash before his eyes like it had tried. In the next fraction of a second, light exploded from the mirror, accompanied by a roaring wind that bordered on downright deafening and drowned out Trey’s call of Riddle’s name.
All any of them could process was the sensation of being flung, and then pulled, and then everything went dark.