The weekend descends with a kind of heaviness—clouds hanging over the city, rain painting the windowpanes with streaks of gray. I stand at my bedroom desk, watching the water pool in the courtyard below as the Rose Manor breathes quiet and deep. Every hour, the house's old walls seem to exhale secrets I'm never sure I want to hear.
I should be studying; final exams loom on the horizon. But my mind aches with other questions. What did the Guild mean by "Choose"? Which students received envelopes? Was Jay one of them? Did Noah? Am I next?
I reach for my phone, searching for new messages. Kai has left another coded text:
**"Three birds at the gate. Two flew. One waited. Watch the watcher."**
His warnings nestle in my thoughts, threading themselves through every decision. I wonder if he's seen what I've seen, how closely our shadows overlap.
---
I dress quietly, in storm-blue and black—a deliberate choice, an unspoken shield. Adrian waits by the door, umbrella angled perfectly, his white hair falling into calm green eyes. "The car's ready," he says, voice a touch softer than usual. "Do you want direct drop, or the long way?"
"The long way," I reply, pulse quickening. "Let's watch who's watching."
He nods, and we step into the misty city together. Every street seems narrower, every corner sharpened by invisible eyes. Adrian drives slow, his gaze flicking to every mirror, every stray pedestrian. At the third block, a motorbike purrs behind us, then turns off. Adrian notes the license plate under his breath—a habit I find both comforting and terrifying.
At campus, students cluster beneath awnings, trading theories and rumors. Even those who claimed not to believe in guilds now scan the faces of every stranger, suspicious. Jay finds me by the gym, eyes tired, energy taut.
"Got something," he says, passing me a scrap of black paper—crisp, cold to the touch. No message this time. Just the envelope.
"Did you tell Father?" I ask, voice low.
Jay frowns. "You know Dad. Smiles, shrugs. Like nothing can ever reach us here."
Sometimes I wonder if that's protection, or blindness.
---
At lunch, the campus is thick with tension. Students from my guild move quietly, every one of them reporting back with clipped phrases and veiled glances. Noah messages me from the archives:
**"Someone snooping in the faculty office. Reed wasn't there. I followed, but lost them in the storm."**
I reel, anxiety mounting. The security cameras still loop on last year's footage. Everything feels orchestrated, calculated.
I make time to visit the library, breathing in the scent of old paper as a balm. Noah meets me in the stacks, rain dripping from curls against his forehead. He looks less nervous today, more determined.
"I got one of the envelopes," he confesses, voice barely audible. "Mine said, 'Change.' What do you think it means?"
"I think it means stay alert," I whisper. "Trust no one. Not even me."
He looks away, considering. "What if we're already too late?"
I want to reassure him. But the truth lives elsewhere.
---
Adrian intercepts me on my way to my late seminar, pressing a slip of paper into my palm. A security report:
Two suspicious men asked about the Rose family at the front desk. One tall, one shorter, both in dark coats, hands gloved. They left without answers.
"Shall I locate them?" Adrian asks.
"Observe, only," I reply. "For now."
The seminar blurs by, my mind elsewhere. The professor drones about Renaissance economics; I focus on faces, hands, gestures. Nothing gives away who is loyal, who is dangerous.
When class ends, Adrian meets me in the corridor. "Jay's left for training. Kai isn't answering calls," he notes. "I'll take you home."
We drive in silence. Adrian hands me a closed envelope. "From your guild. The note inside came for you."
I slip the paper out, heart thud-thud-thudding.
**"You are not alone. Choose your allies before your enemies do."**
I feel the lines tightening around me. Alliances forming, fissures opening.
Back home, Father's voice is gentle at dinner. He asks about exams, about rumors, never about danger. Jay and I trade coded questions. I wish for Kai's presence, or at least his calm.
Alone in my room, I sit at my desk, envelopes and notes spread before me like tarot cards. Rain ticks against the glass, and somewhere below, Adrian prowls the hallways with the intensity of a man promised nothing but war.
My phone glows—a new text, a new code.
**"Sunset."**
The game has shifted.
Tomorrow I will draw my own lines.
And in shadow, I will choose.