LUKE
I don’t sleep.
Every time I shut my eyes, I see Elle frozen at the dining table, soup fogging like breath on glass while that new boy stared at her like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.
By dawn, my jaw aches from grinding my teeth, and every sound in the corridor hits too hard.
So I wait outside the girls’ dorm before the first bell, hoodie up, hands in my pockets like I just happened to stop there.
When Elle steps out, scarf wrapped high around her throat, something in my chest tightens.
She looks tired in the careful way that means she’s trying not to show it.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning.” She gives me a small nod.
Students stream past us toward the first period. Heads turn. Then the whispering starts.
“Wrenwood.”
“Witch.”
I shift closer until our sleeves brush and keep walking.
“Did you eat?”
“No.” She hesitates.
I pull a granola bar from my pocket and hold it out.
“Then fix that. Rule one: don’t pass out in class. It’s embarrassing for both of us.”
The corner of her mouth twitches.
After a night like this, I’ll take that as a win.
We head for Folklore & Myth in the oldest part of Ravenshade, where the walls sweat damp and the air smells like stone, wax, and old paper.
By the time we reach the room, my eyes burn from exhaustion. Cracked books sag on the shelves, and the rafters vanish into shadow.
The classroom feels built to keep secrets.
Students file in behind us. Cassian drops into the back row with his usual pack, laughing under his breath.
Maribel glides past in shoes that click too sharply against the floor, all polished hair and poison.
I steer Elle to the middle row and take the aisle seat. Close enough to shield. Far enough not to make a scene.
That’s when I see him.
The new boy is already in the far corner, hands folded on the desk, dark hair falling over his forehead. Too still for a first day. Just waiting.
Something sour twists in my stomach.
The room quiets when Professor Maelor enters.
Gray robes skim the floor, a bone-white folio tucked beneath one arm. He sets it on the lectern and surveys us with pale, unblinking eyes.
“Folklore,” he says softly, “is how a place remembers what it refuses to admit.”
A cough. A chair scrape.
“Today, we begin with the Seal-bearers.” Maelor opens the folio.
The word lands like a dropped blade.
I feel Elle tighten beside me. Her fingers close around her pen, not writing, just holding on.
“Cursed children,” Maelor continues. “Locks wearing human names. Born only when the Rift hungers.”
A girl near the window leans toward her friend and whispers,
“Guess Ravenshade finally got one.”
Heat cuts through the fog in my head.
I turn. “Say it louder.”
The girl is startled. Her friend goes rigid. From the back, Cassian laughs under his breath.
“Relax, Hart. We’re all just appreciating the lesson.”
“Try appreciating it quietly.” I look straight at him.
The room stills. Cassian’s grin sharpens, like he’s weighing whether to push.
For one second, I almost want him to. But Maelor snaps the folio shut.
“Mr. Hart,” he says, calm as ever, “save your territorial instincts for Combat.”
A few nervous laughs break the silence.
I face front again, pulse thudding behind my eyes.
Beside me, Elle hasn’t moved. Her shoulders are still too high.
I nudge her knee under the desk.
“If he assigns a group project, I'll put glitter on our poster.”
Her head turns a fraction.
“A disturbing amount,” I murmur. “Aggressive. Academic.”
A tiny breath escapes her. Almost a laugh. Good.
“I knew you were still alive,” I whisper.
Some of the frozen look leaves her face. Maelor paces once in front of the class.
“What do we know about the First Seal War?”
No one answers. Cassian slouches lower. Juniper glances around like she might try, then doesn’t.
I know I read the packet, but exhaustion has turned my brain to static.
“You.” Maelor’s gaze shifts past us.
The new boy lifts his head. No hesitation.
“The First Seal War began when the Lucent Circle fractured,” he says, voice low and exact.
“The breakaway faction, the Sovereign Order, used forbidden sigils to force open the Rift. The first Seal-bearer was bound here before Ravenshade had a name. Her Guardian fell. Every Seal-bearer after her has failed.”
The room goes silent. That answer is too clean. Too certain. Like he isn’t repeating it. Like he remembers it.
Then he looks at Elle. My stomach drops.
Her hand lies motionless on the desk, pen trapped between her fingers. Even from here, I can see her breathing go shallow beneath the scarf.
Maelor studies the boy for a long moment.
“And why, do the legends insist Seal-bearers are always young?” he asks.
Again, no pause.
“Because older hearts have already chosen,” the boy says. “The Rift lures with what you fear and what you want. The young are easier to turn to.”
A draft seems to move through the room, though none of the windows are open. Someone inhales sharply.
Even half-awake, I can feel the class tipping around him now, everybody caught between curiosity and unease.
Juniper is already scribbling like her notebook might catch fire if she doesn’t get the words down fast enough.
Maelor’s expression doesn’t change.
“And the Guardian?”
This time the silence stretches. The new boy doesn’t look away from Elle.
Not once. The back of my neck goes hot. Maelor folds his hands behind his back.
“Some accounts say the Guardian protects the Seal,” he says at last. “Others say he destroys her.”
The words settle heavy in the room. I don’t know why they make my skin crawl.
Maybe because Maelor says them like he believes both. Maybe because the new boy still hasn’t stopped looking at her.
Maybe because I haven’t slept, and everything ugly feels one inch closer than it should.
Or maybe because Elle goes so still beside me that I can hear the tiny click when her pen slips from her fingers and hits the desk.
I pick it up before it can roll. When I set it back near her hand, my fingers brush her knuckles—cold, even through the overheated room.
“You with me?” I lean in.
Her eyes flick to mine at last. For one second, I see it plain: Something else.
Something deeper.
Something that started the second that boy walked into the dining hall and hasn’t loosened since.
My exhaustion burns away in one hard pulse.
Across the room, the new boy watches us both with that same unreadable face.
And for the first time since Ravenshade opened its gates, I get the sick, certain feeling that whatever found Elle— found her on purpose.