E L L E
The curfew bell had already rung, its echo still caught in the mist when Luke tugged on my sleeve.
“Come on,” he whispered, a quick grin flashing under his hoodie. “Before a prefect catches us.”
My stomach tightened. Every rule at Ravenshade already felt like it was hanging by a thread because of me. One more slip and Headmistress Draven would have another reason to glare like she wished I wasn’t on the roster.
“Luke…” I whispered back, but he just squeezed my hand once before letting go.
“It’s cocoa,” he said, like that explained everything, and honestly, it did.
The path down toward Moonhollow dipped through the fog, lanterns glowing faintly along the way. I pulled my scarf closer, my heart thudding in time with our footsteps. Luke walked like this was nothing, like sneaking off campus was just another version of slipping out of Nan’s kitchen at midnight.
“Remember when you used to steal extra marshmallows?” he said quietly, teasing. I tried not to smile but I failed. “You ate most of them before we even got home.” He nudged my shoulder, warm and familiar, and for the first time since arriving at Ravenshade, my chest finally loosened. Out here, the academy’s shadows felt farther away.
The Spiral Café came into view, its soft gold light glowing through the fog, promising warmth. Luke held the door open for me, still grinning. “Told you. Just cocoa. Just us.” I wanted to believe him. Almost did.
Warm air wraps around me the moment I step inside. It smells like cinnamon and fresh coffee, nothing like the cold stone hallways at Ravenshade. A little bell jingles above the door, and the soft chatter of Moonhollow locals fills the café. It almost feels normal.
Wooden tables crowd the room, carved with decades of students’ initials. The pastry case glitters with sugar-dusted treats, steam curling up from a row of mugs waiting on the counter. A shelf of books and half-broken board games leans against one wall, like time slows down the second you walk in.
Luke takes a booth by the window and taps the seat across from him like he always expected me to follow. I slide in, trying not to notice the couple at the next table who stop talking to stare. Recognition flashes in their eyes. Ravenshade rumors travel fast, even off campus.
I tug my scarf a little higher, but Luke distracts me, flipping a menu he definitely doesn’t need. “Cocoa with extra marshmallows?” he says, a grin tugging at his mouth.
My chest softens. “You remember.”
“Of course I do.” He orders without even glancing at the board.
When our mugs arrive, steam fogs the glass between us, blurring out the world outside. For the first time in days, I let myself breathe. Luke leans back, watching me like he’s trying to memorize this exact second. “See? It almost feels like we’re just two normal students.”
The cocoa is too hot, but I wrap my hands around the mug anyway, soaking in the warmth. Luke does the same, his hoodie sleeve brushing against mine across the table.
“You look less like a ghost now,” he teases, but his eyes are softer than his words. “The scarf helps, but cocoa works better.” I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrays me. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe. But you’re smiling, so I win.”
I duck my head, blowing across the cocoa’s surface. Sweet steam curls against my face, and for a heartbeat, it’s easy to imagine I’m not the Wrenwood girl everyone whispers about. I’m just Elle, in a café with Luke, where nothing dangerous follows.
He shifts forward, forearms on the table, closer than he needs to be. “Elle… can I tell you something?”
My pulse skips, his voice isn’t teasing anymore. It’s low, careful, as though he’s afraid of the answer before he even asks the question. I nod, unsure if I want him to keep going or stop. His hand moves but hesitates, then brushes against mine on the table. Just the lightest touch, but it jolts through me, sharp and warm all at once.
“Back home, before Ravenshade, I…” His words stumble. He clears his throat, trying again. “I should’ve said it then. I don’t want to..”
The bell above the café door jingles. Laughter spills in with a draft of cold air, shattering the moment. Luke jerks back slightly, hand curling around his mug instead of mine. I stare at the spot where his fingers grazed mine, heat lingering like a secret I’m not ready to say out loud.
The café should feel safe. Warm lights glow against wood-paneled walls, and the hum of voices drowns out Ravenshade’s shadows but my skin prickles, the way it always does before something shifts. Luke is still talking, trying to tease the awkwardness away, but his words fade under the sound of my own pulse. My gaze drifts toward the window beside our booth.
At first, it’s nothing, just condensation blurring the fog outside. Then the mist shifts. A thin white line etches itself into the glass, curling slowly and deliberately. My breath stalls, another line branches outward, forming a spiral. Perfect and unnatural.
I blink hard, telling myself it’s just frost, just winter pressing early on the town. But deep down, I know the difference. Frost is random, scattered bu this is exact, purposeful, like the spiral on my desk, like the hum under Locker 237.
I grip my mug tighter, heat burning my palms. “Luke,” I whisper.
He pauses, frowning at the look on my face. “What is it?”
I can’t tear my eyes from the window. The spiral grows darker, thicker, as though the frost isn’t spreading across the glass but carving into it. No one else notices. The couple nearby is laughing, the barista calling out an order. Life goes on, blind, but the spiral is for me, I feel it in my bones. The glass trembles faintly under its own pattern. Something is coming.
The spiral finishes with a sharp crack, the lines snapping together at the center like an eye blinking open, white against the glass. I jerk back so hard I nearly spill my cocoa. Luke notices instantly, his head whipping toward the window.
“What—?”
The spiral splinters before he can finish. The entire pane trembles, a thin crack racing across it. A few customers glance over, confused, but none of them see what I see. To them, it’s just glass reacting to the cold but I hear it. A whisper slips through the café, curling into my ears like fog slipping under a door. Not from outside but from the spiral.
“Choose.”
My chest freezes and my scarf suddenly feels too tight, my lungs too small. Luke’s hand closes over mine, warm and grounding. “Elle. Hey! look at me.”
But I can’t. My eyes stay locked on the cracks spreading outward, glowing faintly as frost blooms across the pane. The spiral pulses once, twice like it’s breathing.
“Choose.”
The whisper sharpens, vibrating in my ribs. The café bell jingles behind us, someone walks in laughing, another person complains about the draft. Life continues, completely unaware the glass is alive under my gaze. Luke squeezes my hand harder, voice urgent. “Elle, we need to go. Now.”
The spiral fractures more, a small shard threatening to fall. The whisper digs deeper, curling through my bones like hooked fingers.
“Choose.” And this time, I know it isn’t my imagination.