The world feels sharper on Friday morning, as if every color is outlined in silver, every sound is a warning. I wake before dawn, restless, haunted by dreams I can't quite remember—whispers in the dark, familiar voices repeating my name. The house is silent except for the faint tick of the grandfather clock in the hall and the distant hum of the city pulling itself awake. I lie very still, watching the shadows move across my ceiling, and listen.
A soft tap at the door signals Adrian. He peers in with a tray—coffee, poached eggs, and bruised raspberries on fine china. His manner never shifts, even after yesterday's tension, psychic wounds hidden neatly beneath that flawless suit.
"I'll escort you today," he says, setting the tray on my desk, eyes flicking to the window as if enemies could already be waiting outside. "There's more chatter. Security is a mess, and police have stopped answering basic inquiries."
"They know something we don't." I cradle the mug in my hands, trying to draw warmth from it. "Or they're frightened of what's moving on campus."
Adrian gives a slow, careful nod. "Either way, you're not alone."
I believe him. That's the problem.
---
Campus is crawling with new faces—security in somber uniforms, more than a few nervous parents loitering at the gates, eyes wide and wild. Jay walks me from the sidewalk, jaw set, hands shoved into jacket pockets.
"Got stopped by three security officers between the lot and the gym," he mutters. "Someone's overcompensating."
Or someone's losing control, I think. Out loud, I say: "Anything from your friends?"
He shakes his head. "Not yet. But the Black Sea Guild... people are seeing their marks now. Bathroom mirrors, locker doors, even on library books." He leans in, whispers. "Don't go anywhere alone, Ila. Promise me."
Jay hasn't called me by my nickname in years. Only family, only when he's truly worried.
"I promise." It's my best lie yet.
We part ways at the lecture hall. The atmosphere is sour, taut as a cable about to snap. Professor Reed's entrance is met by absolute silence—he adjusts his cufflinks, surveys us like a general with tired eyes. His lesson drones on, barely holding my attention.
Midway through his explanation of supply chains, I feel the prickling gaze of someone behind me. I turn, catch a flicker by the window—a silhouette, gone before I can focus. My body tenses. I scribble a note in my book as a cover, every nerve screaming.
Noah finds me as I slip from class, touching my elbow gently. "I checked the DVR backup," he whispers. "The missing library footage—some files jumped, time-stamped around midnight. Whoever did it was in and out in under three minutes."
I stare at him, pulse thrumming. "That's impossible."
He shakes his head. "For most people. But not for someone who knows this system inside and out."
We glide through stacks, Noah lowering his voice further. "I think one of the Guild's operatives posed as maintenance. We had an overnight work order, but the signature's fake." He pulls a form from his sweater pocket—scrawled initials I don't recognize.
"I'll look into it," I say, mind already racing through my network. "And be careful. Please."
---
Later, in the quiet of the reserve reading room, my guild's messages filter in through secure apps. My team has tracked a suspicious newcomer—someone using forged credentials to access sensitive staff areas, seen speaking to both students and faculty. The description is vague: average height, dark hair, black jacket, voice like velvet over broken glass.
Among the blur of data is a single image snapped from a distance: a man talking with Reed outside the administration building, both their faces turned away from the lens.
I freeze. Reed is tied to the Black Sea Guild? Or being watched? My hands tremble.
A soft notification pops up—a new coded note from Kai.
**"Shadows getting thicker. Lay low. If you need cover, say 'sunset'."**
My chest tightens. I type a reply, fingers moving faster than my thoughts, then erase it. I can't risk putting him at further risk.
---
By evening, I slip away to gather my own intel, using forgotten hallways and service stairs to move unseen. I greet a few of my trusted guild runners—a girl in the art department, two boys from computer science—all normal in the daylight, all sharper than knives behind closed doors.
We share updates: black envelopes mailed to select students across campus—NO RETURN ADDRESS—each containing one word:
**"Choose."**
"That's a threat," one of them mutters, eyes wide. "Or a test."
I pocket one myself, unease coiling in my stomach.
As dusk smears the city skyline red, I hear footsteps. Adrian, always at my back. He falls in step beside me, gaze hard.
"You're becoming a target," he says, barely louder than a breath. "I've handled two watchers today, but I won't always be close."
I swallow. "What do I do?"
He stops, turns me to face him—his gloved hand surprisingly gentle. "Whatever it takes. You're my priority, Illiana. If they touch you, there won't be enough left of them to bury."
Something in his voice chills the air between us.
---
At home, I collapse onto crisp white sheets, my mind still turning over new threats, new betrayals, new codes. In the cold moment before sleep, I realize the real danger isn't what the Black Sea Guild takes.
It's what they leave behind.
And somewhere, in the shadows between sunset and dawn, my own secrets wait—hungrier than ever.