Morning brings no comfort—only sunlight filtered through uneasy clouds and the distant toll of church bells crossing the city. My breakfast sits untouched, cold on the fine porcelain. Father hums quietly as he scans his tablet; Jay checks messages, eyes dark rimmed. The weight of new secrets presses on all our shoulders, heavy and silent.
I gather my bag and slip outside, air cool on my cheeks, Adrian falling into step beside me. Every street seems to shift under my feet, as if some invisible web is tightening—old friends avoiding eye contact, strangers pausing a second too long near our gates. I scan every face, noting details out of habit: tall woman with black scarf, teen in tattered sneakers, the gardener's assistant eyeing my car as I pass.
At the university gate, my phone buzzes:
**"Guild meet. Clock tower, 8:15."**
I text a quick confirmation, then smile as Jay peels away toward the stadium—no words, just a quick, meaningful look between us. I wonder, not for the first time, what roles we all play when no one is watching.
---
The clock tower room smells of stone, oil, and damp wood. Three of my guild runners wait already—Sima, all nerves and brisk intelligence; Damian, stubborn and loyal; and Haru, silent, eyes always scanning for exits.
"We tracked the envelopes," Sima says, spreading copies across the battered table. "Twelve in all. No pattern—students from every department. Some we know. Some we don't." She taps a list, lips twisting. "But here's the thing: the only real link is you."
I study the handwriting—each message the same neat scrawl, crisp and careful. "What about the faculty?"
Damian shakes his head. "Nothing yet, except—Noah's library envelope. We pulled camera footage again and saw Professor Reed nearby. He doubled back twice after closing, spent ten minutes in the south stacks."
A cold pit opens in my stomach. "Do any of the recipients know each other?"
Haru passes me a photo. My heart catches. Standing in a group outside the canteen: me, Jay, Noah, and two others I barely recognize except from guild briefings. Only Jay's face is in focus, his eyes darting sideways.
"They're watching us together," I breathe, realization settling over me.
Sima nods. "And the envelopes? Four never got delivered. They're missing—and the only person with access to postal logs those days was Adrian."
Bitterness prickles beneath my skin. Adrian, who would kill or die for me. Had he intercepted them to protect me, or to keep me blind?
---
After the meeting, I exchange messages with Kai for the first time in days, our codes tight and quick:
**Me:**
"Sunset turns red."
**Kai:**
"Don't trust the storm. Even allies. Test everyone."
**Me:**
"What about you?"
**Kai:**
"Even me, little sister."
His cryptic warnings are a comfort and a curse. I tuck my phone away, senses heightened now for any sign of betrayal.
---
Classes drag—with every tick of the clock, tension coils tighter. Reed's lecture is ghost-thin, his expense of words precise; my gaze drifts, scanning faces, looking for the telltale spark of recognition when "guild" is mentioned in passing. Noah slips a note under my elbow as I gather my books:
**"Meet me. Archives. Urgent."**
I make my way through the labyrinth of shelves, every step echoing off stone. He waits in shadows, voice hurried, face pale. "I ran the envelope's paper through the chemistry lab—trace elements indicate it was manufactured in the city's south district. Black Sea territory."
I stifle a shiver. "Did you tell anyone else?"
He hesitates. "Only Adrian. He found me before you arrived."
Panic clutches my spine. "What did he say?"
Noah glances over his shoulder, voice almost inaudible. "He told me to leave this alone. That for your safety—everyone should stop asking questions."
For a moment, I don't know whether to be grateful or afraid.
---
By dusk, messages arrive rapid-fire—word of another attack, this time on a student residence. Windows smashed, no one hurt but every personal belonging overturned, a single word painted across a mirror:
**"Watch."**
When I return home, the manor's lights gleam through the rain. Adrian waits on the steps, hands folded, expression perfectly blank.
"You were followed today," he says quietly. "I lost them near the bakery."
I reach for his hand, surprising us both. "What aren't you telling me, Adrian?"
He looks away. "I would do anything to keep you safe. Even if you hate me for it."
I wish, suddenly, I could trust my own heart to know where that line is.
---
Jay finds me in the hall before bed, shirt untucked, hair damp from the shower. "Something bad's coming, Ila," he says, voice raw and weary. He hugs me—an awkward, lingering squeeze—and for a moment, I am just his little sister, small and unprepared for the world.
But as the night darkens, my mind spins through every possibility: allies, enemies, the spaces in between. Who sent the envelopes? Why target us now? And what will happen if we're forced to choose the wrong side?
I sleep fitfully, dreams crowded with mirrors and shadows, hands reaching out from the edges of sight.
By morning, the first real line of battle will have been drawn.
And all that's left is to see who crosses it first.