The dam didn't crack bit by bit—it burst all at once.
Flocks of greedy nobles and eager commoners swarmed them, circling like vultures around fresh prey. Questions piled on, one after another, each more insistent than the last. Minutes stretched, bloated with noise.
What a fat waste of time.
Vael knew the Academy was more than lectures and tests, but this—this parade of sycophancy—was too much.
And still, the crowd pressing in on them was nothing compared to the throng around the true stars of the evening. The Royals. The so-called "big three." Their raised platform teemed with bodies, at least twenty strong, all desperate to be seen, heard, acknowledged.
Glorified praise, shameless flattery, outright boot-licking—nothing was beneath them.
Pathetic.
Vael, careful to give vague answers that revealed nothing of worth, caught a flicker of movement—white hair.
Golden eyes glared at him from across the room, bright with pure, unfiltered hatred.
Sylas.
A fragile boy hiding behind an overpowered ability. Fragile nonetheless.
Vael met his stare head-on, unblinking. He could guess what this was about. But if Sylas was too much of a chicken to act on it, then so be it.
He turned back to Kiera, her conversation with a buff noble boy thick with polite lies neither of them believed.
Outside, the rain hammered the Academy's windows, relentless, drowning out the dull hum of voices.
They could leave whenever they wanted. Most wouldn't—too afraid to look indifferent, too desperate to preserve appearances. No one wanted to be the fool who acted like they didn't care.
That didn't apply to them. Why would they seek the approval of the very people they intended to destroy?
A single glance was enough. Kiera caught it, nodded once, and smoothly excused herself before slipping after Vael.
The crowd parted as they moved, students stepping aside as though by instinct. Some watched them with open curiosity, others with the sharp gleam of predators sizing up prey.
At the threshold, Vael paused. His gaze slid back across the hall, seeking out the flash of white.
Sylas.
The boy hadn't looked away once. Those golden eyes were locked on him, drilling into his every movement, unblinking, unrelenting.
"Coward," Vael mouthed, lips shaping the word deliberately. The noise of the hall swallowed his voice, but it didn't matter. Sylas could read the word clear as day.
It was a gamble. One that paid off. The faint flicker in Sylas's expression told Vael enough.
A smirk tugged at his lips. He turned, stepping into the storm with Kiera at his side.
The storm outside hit them in a wave, sheets of rain crashing against stone. Vael and Kiera didn't bother with walking. A brief pulse of mana, and space folded. In an instant, they reappeared beneath the archway of their building, safe from the downpour.
The halls were dim and silent, most students still lingering at the feast. Their footsteps echoed faintly as they made their way inside, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and fresh wood polish.
They stopped at the fork where the dorms split, exchanging a look that carried no words. Exhaustion hung between them, heavier than the storm.
"See you tomorrow," Vael muttered.
Kiera nodded once, turning away.
In his room, bare and cold, Vael stripped and dropped onto the floor without hesitation. The bed stood untouched, pristine and useless. The stone beneath him was hard, but familiar. Comfort, in its own way.
Oculor slithered out of his socket, as was his habit. Expanding his body size, he curled around Vael's body, a makeshift blanket.
He closed his eyes, letting the steady drum of rain against the window lull him.
Tomorrow would be worse.
And that thought alone was enough to carry him into sleep.
A sleep where he would dream of the past.