The air in the school library grew unnaturally cold, the kind of chill that seeped into bones rather than just skin. Qingxue stood by the heavy oak doors, her translucent form flickering with a predatory intensity. Tang Xiaowen stood opposite her, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his face a mask of bored exhaustion that didn't quite hide the flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
"Why are you keeping me hostage in a library?" Xiaowen asked, his voice flat. He turned to the handle, but as his fingers brushed the metal, the lock clicked shut with a force that made the wood groan. He pulled, but the door stayed fused to the frame as if it had been welded shut.
"We aren't finished," Qingxue said, her voice echoing strangely through the empty aisles.
