The taxi slowed to a stop in front of the wide gates of Victoria High. Its headlights swept briefly across the familiar brick walls and the gleaming letters bolted above the entrance: Victoria High School.
Conus stepped out first, the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes echoing faintly in his chest. Lucas climbed out behind him, slamming the car door shut with his usual careless energy. Music drifted from the main hall, muffled but steady, carried on the night air. Laughter and chatter spilled through the open windows, threading into the rhythm.
For a moment, Conus stood still, staring up at the school. His throat felt tight. The building looked almost smaller now, yet his chest bore the weight of the years he had spent inside it. His eyes caught on the arch above the entrance, on the worn steps that had once seemed endless to climb. He drew a slow breath, as though inhaling not only the sight but the memories rooted there.
Lucas's voice cut the silence. "Strange, huh? Feels like forever since we walked out of here, but standing here now, it's like it was just yesterday."
Conus's lips twitched at the truth in that. He pulled his gaze away and together they moved toward the doors.
The first person they met was waiting at the entrance. A petite, slim young woman stood there in a simple blue dress, her large eyes catching the light like polished glass. Her mouth parted in surprise before breaking into a bright smile.
"Lucas? Conus? Oh my God!" Amelia's voice lifted with pure delight.
Before either of them could react, she threw her arms around them, hugging them tightly. She pulled back quickly, her gaze fastening on Conus. Her eyes widened further, darting from his taller frame to the sharper cut of his features, the way the suit fit across his shoulders.
"Conus… you're different," she said, astonished. "You look incredible. So much better than when we were in school."
A faint flush crept up his neck. "Thanks," he murmured.
Her smile shifted into a mock frown. "Not that it excuses you. You never replied to my messages. Do you know how many I sent? I might as well have been writing to a ghost." She poked his arm, narrowing her eyes before glancing at Lucas. "So I was stuck dealing with this annoying idiot instead."
Lucas clutched his chest as though wounded. "Annoying? I prefer charming."
All three of them broke into laughter. Conus gave a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I wasn't good at keeping in touch. I promise I'll do better."
Amelia's expression softened. She squeezed his hand once. "You better. I'll hold you to it." With a wink, she gestured toward the hall. "Go on in. I'll join you in a minute."
Inside, the atmosphere shifted. The gym had been remade into a party hall. Colored lights spun across the ceiling, streaks of green, purple, and gold flashing in time with the heavy music. The smell of cheap perfume, fried snacks, and alcohol mingled in the thick air.
Conus and Lucas exchanged quick greetings with familiar faces as they moved through the crowd. Most were acquaintances, not friends, people who had shared classrooms but never pieces of their lives. Neither of them had been especially social back then.
They eventually found themselves with drinks in hand, tucked in a quiet corner where they could watch the party take shape.
Lucas, as always, was the first to stir mischief. He leaned close, pointing with his chin toward the dance floor. "See that girl? The one in the short red dress, moving like she owns the place? That's Mary."
Conus followed his gaze. The girl swayed against a tall guy, her laughter sharp even over the music. He frowned. "I remember her."
"Yeah. Apparently she got pregnant by some random guy. Had the baby two months ago." Lucas smirked. "And look who she's wrapped around. Felix. Her old boyfriend. Bet he has no idea."
Conus blinked. "You're serious."
Before he could say more, Lucas tilted his drink toward another corner of the room. A wiry young man sat there, his leg bouncing against the floor as his eyes darted nervously from face to face. "Fred. Addict. And from the looks of it…" Lucas's grin faded.
Conus studied the twitching figure. "Cocaine?"
"Meth," Lucas replied.
Conus muttered low. "Damn."
The next person to draw Lucas's attention was a short boy in an oversized brown suit, nervously tugging at his tie. Lucas's lips twitched. "Victor. Still a virgin."
Both he and Conus burst into laughter that drew a few curious glances before they quieted down. Conus shook his head, still chuckling. "How do you even know this stuff?"
Lucas grinned, raising his glass in mock salute. "Two shots of whiskey and Amelia spills everything. Best source of gossip in town."
As if summoned by her name, Amelia appeared at their side, holding a drink of her own. Her brow arched playfully. "What was that about me?"
Without missing a beat, Lucas spun on his heel and struck a dramatic pose, beginning a ridiculous serenade. "I was just telling Conus how beautiful you look tonight." He twirled around her, making exaggerated gestures that drew a few laughs from those nearby.
Amelia rolled her eyes and slapped his arm lightly. "Idiot." But the corners of her mouth lifted all the same.
And then the music seemed to fade for Conus, though it still pounded across the hall.
Two figures stepped through the door.
The first was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence filling the room as easily as he had once filled Conus's nightmares. Crowley. His smile carried the same blend of charm and menace, the same boy who had made Conus's school years a private hell.
And beside him, her hand looped through his arm, was Deborah Skarlsson.
The sight pinned Conus to the floor.
Deborah, the girl who had once stood by him when no one else dared. The girl he had loved. The girl he had lost. And now she was walking in with Crowley.
Time had only sharpened her beauty. What had once been the soft charm of a schoolgirl had become something striking, impossible to ignore. Her auburn hair fell in gentle waves across her shoulders, glimmering beneath the colored lights. Her hazel eyes seemed older now, heavy with stories unspoken. Every step she took was smooth, each movement deliberate, as if she had been raised to command attention.
Conus's throat tightened. For a moment, the noise of the reunion dulled to nothing. Memories rose—her laugh in the library, her hand clutching his after class. All of it collided with the cruel image of her hand resting so naturally on Crowley's arm.
Lucas leaned closer, his voice breaking the haze. "You good, man?"
Conus forced his shoulders straight, masking himself with a shrug. "Yeah. Fine."
Lucas studied him briefly but let it go.
Crowley and Deb moved further inside, and almost immediately, people began clustering around them. Old classmates, acquaintances, even a few teachers drawn as if Crowley carried his own gravity.
He had always been popular, but tonight it was different. Every smile drew laughter. Every wave of his hand brought attention. And now that he bore the title of Pugnator, he was no longer just the charming bully from their school days. He was a figure people looked at with admiration, a man whose name was starting to carry weight.
Lucas scoffed. "Look at him. Acting like he's the star of a story no one else got to read."
Amelia tilted her head, voice level. "Well, his parents did sponsor this reunion. He's allowed a little spotlight."
"Allowed?" Lucas snorted. "Please. The only reason they paid for all this is so he could show off."
He puffed his chest, deepened his voice, and declared in mock grandeur, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am Crowley, the great Pugnator! Witness my flawless jawline and unmatched legend!"
Amelia nearly choked on her drink, laughing. Conus let the corner of his mouth twitch upward, though his eyes never strayed from the couple.
With a single thought, he opened his appraisal.
Crowley – Level 5.
Conus's gaze narrowed. Level five wasn't high, but it meant Crowley had already been raiding under supervision.
Crowley's family owned one of the high-tier Orders, which made the climb effortless. A single command, and he would be ushered into a controlled raid, veterans clearing the path while he delivered the final blow. The kill would count as his, the essence pouring into him. Levels came quickly that way, without risk, without struggle.
It was the birthright of an Elder's bloodline.
Conus felt the thought settle heavy inside him. He, too, was Aromane. The same ancient blood ran in his veins. Yet when he thought back, all he remembered were the years of frailty, the helplessness that made him an easy mark. Crowley's family name had been a shield. His own had been nothing but a hollow echo, powerless to stop the fists, the sneers, the loneliness. His awakening had come late, unplanned, and no one had been waiting to guard him.
Still, he knew the truth. Raids were not locked doors. Even those without ties to an Order could apply for government expeditions, beginner runs built for survival. Applicants were paired with squads, monitored, and given at least a chance to grow. It was not easy, but it was possible. People clawed upward without favors, without pedigree.
That knowledge made Crowley's reputation taste hollow. A level earned in safety was not the same as a level earned in blood.
But the others in the hall did not see that. They saw only the name, the confidence, the power that seemed inevitable. Tonight, Crowley was their star.
And Deborah stood beside him.