Noah and Arlo turned towards the voice, a frown on their faces.
A tall figure stood there, dressed in the same neatly pressed uniform of the third years.
The young man was built like a seasoned warrior, with broad shoulders and the kind of arrogance that came from old blood.
He had close-cropped white hair, but what drew Noah's attention, though, were his eyes.
He had pitch black irises.
For a moment, Noah thought he was seeing an older reflection of Arlo.
They had the same angular jawline, and the same straight nose, but where Arlo's emerald eyes held a hint of humanity and focus, this man's were empty of both.
Arlo's expression turned to stone. "Florian," he greeted, voice clipped and cold.
The older student smirked faintly. "Still pretending we're on formal terms, cousin?" His gaze slid past Arlo and landed on Noah.
Disgust twisted his features. "I see you've found new company," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Fraternizing with dirt now, are we?"
