VERA
The floor creaked under the weight of students spilling from their classrooms into the hall.
Any coherent thought I had was smothered by the noise—laughter, chatter, the kind of energy that only ever showed up on Fridays. Everyone looked lighter, brighter, like the weekend had already sunk its teeth into them.
Sunlight poured in through the windows, washing the hall in gold. Beneath it lingered the faint scent of rainwater, hanging in the air like a promise that hadn't been kept yet.
I moved against the tide of students and stopped at the library entrance, pushing the door open.
The smell hit me immediately—aged paper and dust, a combination I'd never quite learned to tolerate. It clung to the back of my throat as the door clicked shut behind me, sealing off the noise from the hall until it faded into a distant hum.
The shelves stretched endlessly, rows upon rows blurring together until my eyes caught on a familiar figure.
The floorboard creaked softly as I crossed the room.
"Hm. Calen," I said, dropping my bag onto an empty chair. The fabric sagged into the cushion. "Didn't expect you to actually show up on time."
He glanced up from his paper, attempting what might've been a glare if he'd committed to it.
"For your information, I'm rarely tardy," he said. "And I wouldn't dream of leaving our grade in your hands. My 3.9 GPA would plummet to a 2.7 in a heartbeat."
I rolled my eyes. Calen was a nightmare to work with—obsessive, meticulous, and entirely incapable of relaxing. It was also the reason no one ever wanted him as a partner.
The upside? All I had to do was show up.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, sinking into the chair across from him. "So what are we basing the project on again?"
"It's honestly a miracle you're not failing all your classes, Sparks."
There it was.
My jaw tightened. "Don't call me that."
"I'll stop when you stop looking like you're contemplating arson at all times."
I leaned back, arms crossing. "Listen, sunshine. I didn't come here to be patronized. Remind me what the paper's on before I decide to leave."
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock. The sound seemed louder in the stillness, like the room was holding its breath.
Finally, he sighed.
"It's a debate paper," he said. "Whether Aesterials do more harm than good to society—and whether the use of one's blessing should be restricted."
I bit back a scoff.
What a joke. As if anyone chose to be blessed in the first place. Policing Aesterials for something innate was no different than punishing mortals for lacking one. But then again, if there was one thing mortals excelled at, it was controlling what they didn't understand.
I opened my mouth, but Calen lifted a hand.
"Before you say anything—I signed us up for the side supporting Aesterial free will."
"Shocking." My tone stayed neutral, though relief curled quietly in my chest. At least I wouldn't be arguing against basic rights.
He tapped his pen against the table. "I wouldn't ask a glass of water to write a paper about fire. I still want a passing grade."
I snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get started."
Time slipped by faster than it had any right to.
***
By the time I checked the clock, it was already six—late enough that Selene was probably waiting for me. Friday meant cleaning duty, our weekly attempt at developing good habits.
The halls were dim and empty now, the earlier chaos reduced to silence. I glanced out the long stretch of windows lining the corridor. Trees swayed in the wind, moonlight spilling through their branches, shadows whispering secrets to the night.
Thud.
I stopped.
The sound came from a nearby classroom.
The wind seemed louder as I approached the door. My fingers brushed the knob. The hinges squealed in protest as I turned it.
Fire flared instantly across my hand—warm, restless, eager.
I pushed the door open.
The flames vanished.
"Selene?" I called.
She turned from the board, the rag in her hand dripping chalky water onto the floor.
"Vee?" she said. "What took you so long? I was starting to think you ditched me."
I stepped inside, grabbing a spare rag from the bucket. "Ditched you? Weren't we assigned to the cafeteria?"
"Not anymore," she said, already scrubbing again. "Too many complaints. Now everyone rotates positions weekly."
Fantastic.
As if cleaning the cafeteria every Friday wasn't bad enough.
"Where's your beeper?" she asked. "You should've gotten the memo."
"It's in my backpack—" I paused. "…which is in the library."
Right.
"I forgot it after studying with Calen."
"Oof," Selene laughed. "Mr. Perfect again? That's the third time this month. Maybe Mr. Lewis has beef with you."
"Clearly," I muttered, wiping down a desk. "I must've wronged him in a past life."
"Well, maybe he's trying to tell you something," she said lightly. "Subtly."
I froze.
Slowly, I turned toward her. "Selene Avaris. If I ever so much as hint that I like Calen—even a little—I trust you, as my best friend, to deal with me appropriately."
She grinned. "Relax. I'm kidding. Besides, we both know you only have eyes for pretty boy."
"Rylan?" I scoffed. "Please. He wishes."
"That, I believe."
She tilted her head, studying me. "You went from 'put me in a padded room' to 'I'd consider it.' That's not very 'I don't like him,' Vee."
"Focus on the board, Selene, I swear…" I muttered, tossing the damp rag back into the bucket. It landed with a wet slap.
"I'm going to grab my backpack from the library," I added, already moving toward the door. "I'll be back."
"Mhm," Selene said, not even looking at me. "Sure you're not just running from this conversation~"
"Absolutely not," I said, deadpan. "That would imply I'm a coward."
She laughed as I left.
The hallway greeted me with silence—thick, unnatural. The lights overhead buzzed faintly, flickering just enough to make my skin itch. Outside the tall windows, clouds had swallowed the night sky whole. Rain tapped against the glass at first, hesitant, then harder—like it was testing the building's patience.
By the time I reached the library doors, the rain was pouring.
I slipped inside. The space felt different now. Earlier, it had been quiet in a peaceful way. Now it was quiet like it was waiting.
I headed straight for the table Calen and I had occupied, already half-expecting my backpack to be right where I'd left it—slouched against the chair, forgotten but loyal.
Nothing.
I circled the table once. Then again. Checked beneath the chairs. Between the shelves nearby.
Gone.
"Seriously?" I muttered.
That was when the siren blared.
The sound ripped through the library, sharp and metallic, looping over itself as golden emergency lights flashed along the walls. My heart jumped straight into my throat.
Then—
Silence.
The lights died. The siren cut off mid-cry. Power failure.
I stood there, frozen, listening to the rain hammer against the windows like applause for whatever nightmare this was turning into.
That was wrong.
Drills only happened on the first of the month. Everyone knew that.
A small flame sparked to life in my palm, casting trembling shadows across the shelves. The fire steadied as I breathed, responding to me like it always did—warm, familiar, alive.
If there were a real threat, the alarm would still be screaming. This had to be a malfunction. Storm interference. Faulty wiring.
Right?
Still, every instinct I had was screaming at me to stay alert.
I left the library, footsteps echoing too loudly in the empty hall. The rain outside was relentless now, the sound seeping through the walls, drumming into my skull.
When I reached the classroom Selene had been in, my stomach dropped.
Empty.
"Selene?" I called, stepping inside.
No answer.
I checked the corners, the supply closet, even beneath the desks—like she might've shrunk herself down just to mess with me.
Nothing.
A cold knot twisted in my chest.
I went back into the hall, moving faster now, checking nearby classrooms, my flame flickering brighter with every unanswered call of her name.
Then—
creeeak.
It came from the bathroom at the end of the hall.
The fire in my hand flared instinctively as I approached, lighting the cracked tiles and peeling paint. The door was slightly ajar.
The bathroom itself was silent.
Too silent.
But the uneven breathing behind one of the stalls gave it away.
"Selene?" I called softly, stepping closer.
No response.
I exhaled, bracing myself, and pushed the stall door open.
Two figures flinched violently.
Evan and Alisa were huddled together in the corner, eyes wide, shoulders sagging in visible relief when they realized it was me.
"Oh—" I started.
Alisa crossed the space in two steps and pressed a finger to my lips.
"Shh."
Her hands were shaking.
"Didn't you hear the sirens?" she whispered.
"Yeah," I said, keeping my voice low. "Probably a malfunction."
She shook her head quickly and pulled out her beeper.
The screen glowed faintly.
CODE YELLOW SHUTDOWN.
4 INTRUDERS IDENTIFIED.
1 CAPTURED. 2 IN PURSUIT. 1 UNACCOUNTED FOR