We walk with that easy, unthinking closeness that has begun to feel natural, almost dangerous in its simplicity. Our fingers brush, then linger, then tangle without either of us acknowledging it aloud. Sebastian’s hand shifts from grazing mine to settling warmly around my torso, drawing me against him as though he can’t quite help it. His arm tightens possessively, a soft pull that sends heat spiraling up my chest.
A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. When I tilt my head up at him, I catch him off guard; his eyes widen, darting away as if surprised to be caught in the act of wanting me. The hint of color at his cheekbone is almost enough to make me stop in the middle of the hallway just to savor it.
Then, a sharp exhale.
Not mine. Not his.
Liam stands a few paces ahead, pale and unfocused, as if pulled out of a vision he wasn’t ready to return from. His gait is uneven, steps wavering as he moves toward us withurgency bleeding through every breath. Whatever trance he was under evaporates the moment his gaze locks onto ours.
“Liam?” I murmur, but Sebastian reaches him first.
“What’s wrong-” Sebastian starts, only to be cut off when Liam clamps a trembling hand onto his shoulder. The grip is desperate, almost painful, and it makes Sebastian stiffen beside me.
“A student.” Liam’s voice is thin, frayed at the edges, as though he’s trying to piece together words faster than his mind can form them. He shakes his head once, twice, like trying to throw off lingering static. “You said he wouldn’t touch any of the students.”
His eyes slice to mine, searching, frantic, accusation tangled with confusion, as if he’s asking a question he’s terrified to already know the answer to.
Cold dread slides down my spine.
“What happened?” My voice is quieter than I intend, but it steadies him enough for him to finally focus on me rather than the echo of whatever he just saw.
He grabs my elbow, fingers tightening with purpose, not panic. Liam pulls me forward, guiding rather than dragging, though the urgency behind him radiates like heat off stone.
“Come,” he says, breath unsteady. “See for yourself.”
Sebastian falls into step immediately, silent, watchful, every muscle taut as he shadows us down the corridor.
Whatever Liam is leading us toward…
It’s something he wasn’t ready to face alone.
And the look on his face tells me one thing with chilling certainty:
Whatever, or whoever, did this…
It wasn’t finished.
31
SEBASTIAN
We round the corner behind Liam, and even before the scene sharpens into focus, the air tells the story. The metallic scent of blood hits first, copper, sharp and unmistakable. Conversations die abruptly as students are herded away by flustered professors, their commands cracking through the corridor like frantic spells. Harper tries to step ahead of me, but instinct overrides everything. My hand comes up, covering her eyes and pulling her into the solid line of my chest. The small, startled gasp she releases is swallowed by the collective murmur of horror around us.
The body is impossible to miss.
A Vespera boy, someone I’ve seen laughing in the dining hall, teasing his friends with harmless jabs, lies sprawled across a common room sofa, posed almost delicately, as if whoever did this wanted him to be found. His face is unrecognizable beneath the swelling and bruising, and dark rivulets of blood streak down his jaw. Whoever attacked him did so with calculation. Not rage. Intention.
But the true message scorches itself into my mind: the brand on his chest, angry and blistered, glowing faintly where the skin is still burning. A sigil carved in heat and flesh, one that needs no translation.
Shadeborne.
Her family’s crest.
Harper’s body goes rigid beneath my hand. She fights to tear free, and even though every part of me wants to spareher from the sight, I can’t hold her without breaking something fragile between us. Her fingers claw at my wrist, and I let go. The moment she sees the branding, her face seems to collapse inward, eyes widening, breath stalling like someone has pressed a hand to her throat.
Theo sits nearby, folded in on himself, forehead resting in the cradle of his palms. Even blind, he must feel the horror seeping through the stones of the floor. Liam stands stiffly beside him, his fists trembling at his sides, jaw clenched so tightly I can see the strain in the tendons of his neck. His gaze snaps to Harper the second she inhales and he moves toward her with an urgency that borders on desperation.
He reaches for her wrist, clearly intent on dragging her somewhere, anywhere, away from this nightmare before it swallows her whole. I intercept him, my hand locking around his forearm. Our eyes clash for a heartbeat too long. Rage, worry, guilt, all swirling behind his, but I refuse to let him whisk her away like she’s a problem to be solved behind closed doors.
