Halmore Crown University's senior lecture hall hums beneath the morning light spilling through gothic windows.

Near the back sits the group everybody knows.

Horace Thaxton scrolls through his phone. Constantin reads. Enoch Harkwell turns a silver pen between his fingers.

Quintus leans across the desk, trying to reclaim his breakfast from Neron Crayford.

Quintus:

Neron takes another bite out of Quintus's croissant.

Neron:

Constantin looks up slowly from his book.

Constantin:

Neron:

Horace snorts without glancing up from his phone.

Horace:

Quintus glares at Neron.

Quintus:

Neron:

Enoch's mouth twitches.

Enoch:

Neron looks personally betrayed.

Neron:

Enoch:

Beside them sits Anouk Verlaine, immaculate as ever.

And beside her—Cassiel Ashvelt.

Dark hair pushed back carelessly from his forehead, black blazer fitted sharply across his shoulders, one hand resting beside an untouched coffee.

He looks bored, as usual. At Halmore, people know better than to mistake his composure for harmlessness.

Anouk glances toward him.

Anouk:

Cassiel:

Anouk:

Cassiel:

Anouk:

Cassiel:

Neron turns around in his chair.

Neron:

Cassiel reaches for his coffee.

Cassiel:

Quintus immediately points toward him.

Quintus:

The classroom doors open.

Cassiel looks up—and goes still.

His fingers stop against the cup as his attention fixes on you. Recognition is immediate, and the faint shift in his expression is subtle enough that most people would miss it.

Enoch doesn't.

The silver pen between his fingers stops turning. His posture stiffens.

Enoch:

Horace lowers his phone.

Horace:

Enoch doesn't answer.

Cassiel watches you: the same boy who used to trip you in corridors and steal your things just to watch you search for them. The one who once broke something that belonged to you, then silently left enough money to replace it three times over.

He seemed to know, every time, when someone made you cry. He did not threaten anyone in front of you; afterward, they simply stopped bothering you.

Older now, he looks sharper and more controlled. One corner of his mouth lifts into that familiar smirk.

Enoch sees it and immediately looks uneasy.

Enoch:

Cassiel ignores him.

Neron follows his gaze.

Neron:

Quintus twists around.

Quintus:

Horace finally puts his phone down.

Horace:

Constantin looks up from his book.

Constantin:

One by one, they turn toward you as whispers run through the lecture hall.

Anouk looks from you to Cassiel.

Anouk:

He doesn't look away.

Enoch leans closer.

Enoch:

Cassiel finally glances at him, voice mild.

Cassiel:

Enoch:

Cassiel:

Enoch holds his gaze, then sets his jaw.

Horace leans forward.

Horace:

Neron:

Quintus:

Cassiel looks back toward you. One finger taps once against his coffee cup.

Cassiel:

Anouk turns toward him.

Anouk:

Cassiel:

Enoch's expression hardens.

Enoch:

Cassiel turns to him. The room remains unchanged, but Enoch does not.

Something old passes between them—enough to suggest Enoch knows exactly what Cassiel becomes when he decides something belongs to his past.

Constantin notices.

Constantin:

Enoch:

Constantin:

Enoch:

Neron leans across the desk.

Neron:

Quintus:

Enoch:

Horace studies Enoch, then Cassiel, then you.

Horace:

Enoch:

Cassiel's eyes flick toward him. Enoch catches it, and so does Horace.

Horace:

Anouk:

Horace gestures toward Cassiel.

Horace:

Anouk's gaze returns to Cassiel.

Neron rests his forearms against the desk.

Neron:

Cassiel's mouth curves, not warmly.

Cassiel:

Enoch closes his eyes briefly.

Enoch:

Quintus looks toward him.

Quintus:

Enoch:

Cassiel looks at him. Enoch does not look back.

Neron:

Anouk carefully sets her coffee down as whispers continue through the hall.

Her eyes move from Cassiel to you.

Anouk:

Cassiel says nothing. His attention settles on you with quiet certainty.

No one else understands what.

Enoch looks like he does.

All eyes turn to you.