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Prepare for challenge.

Prepare to survive.

Over the next few days, theMarkedwill be notified of their selection. Notification may come in the form of a note passed along, a late-night phone call, or, if you’re especially lucky, yourHuntsmandelivering the news personally. You’ll be getting to know each other quite well… if you manage to survive that long.

As always, we strive to make the Hunt an exhilarating and unforgettable experience for all participants. Guidelines have been established and must be followed. Failure to comply will result inimmediatedisqualification. Further details will follow shortly, along with the official launch date.

Until then:

Stay sane.

Stay safe.

Prepare for The Hunt!

Layla’s voice was hushed when she spoke again. “With everything going on, I almost forgot about this.”

“I wish I could.”

The announcement wasn’t a surprise. Everyone at Crowsfell, the whole town of Hemlock, knew the Hunt was coming. It was an annual tradition, one that blended chaos and legacy in equal measure. I’d never felt unsettled about it before now. I glanced toward the study room window, peering out at the main floor of the library. Heads were down; eyes locked on phones. Even the librarian, Mrs. Loomis, was squinting over her half-moon glasses, her mouth curling into a smile as she read the notification behind the front desk.

Most of our peers looked excited, already buzzing with speculation and theories. I thought of what happened last night and this morning.

“I think that’s why we were being followed this morning.”

Layla’s eyes widened, panic creeping into her features. “It makes sense, but which one of us was their target?”

I wanted to tell her I knew it was me, but until I got official notice, I wasn’t about to speak that into existence. It wasn’t the idea of being Marked that unsettled me. That part could’ve actually been exciting. What bothered me was seeing two, possibly three, different people watching me. Admittedly, I wasn’t the best at math, but The Hunt assigned one Huntsman per Marked. So, whothe hell were the others, and why were they screwing with me before the event?

I stood and grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s head to my place. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Layla stood quickly, trailing behind me as we stepped back out into the main library. We left through the rear exit, meeting with crisp fall air, the kind that crept into your bones if you stood still too long.

“They wasted no time,” I murmured.

The campus had already started its transformation. Woven banners were strung between lampposts, each one fluttering inthe light breeze. A new flag had been added beneath the official Crowsfell one, black with a white skull and crow sigil, an emblem of the Hunt meant to replicate our everyday logo. Close to none of this had been up when I left my last class. I checked my phone as we crossed the green, scattered leaves crunching beneath our feet.

Ashton still hadn’t replied to my last message. Not the one I’d sent when I got to the library, or the earlier one before my last class. That wasn’t like him. The main group chat, though, was blowing up now.

Cade

How long before the townies start selling Hunt merch with pumpkin lattes?

Nick

$400 bucks says some freshman tries to sneak into the game.

Rook

They’re being too quiet about who’s Marked this year.

They're planning something.

Rye????

Doesn’t matter what they’re planning.

If someone chooses one of us, I’ll be the one hunting them.

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