Gaius slumped in his private room at Ouroboros Academy, the neon-blue glow from the window carving sharp shadows across the stone walls.
In his hand, Morgan's prefect badge gleamed, its serpent sigil cold, thrumming with a faint, destructive pulse that prickled his skin.
His chest tightened, guilt surging—the badge felt like a chain, pulling Gaius into a memory as warm and vivid as sunlight.
The room dissolved, and Gaius stood in a field of green grass, soft and endless, swaying under a clear, pale sky—a stolen moment of peace.
Morgan sprawled beside him, grinning, his dark hair mussed by the breeze, starlilies dotting the field with white petals.
He tossed the prefect badge between his hands, catching Gaius's eye with a playful nudge.
"I'm only taking this badge because of you begged, but you know I don't want it," Morgan said, his voice light, friendly, but with a serious edge.
He pinned the badge to his cloak, the serpent sigil glinting.
"But if you accept the head prefect badge, just know you're making the wrong decision, and I won't listen to you."
Gaius chuckled, flicking grass at Morgan. "Drama queen."
Morgan laughed, a bright, infectious sound, but his eyes held a flicker of worry.
He leaned closer, resting a hand on Gaius's shoulder, his grin softening.
"Firstly, Talus will control you, then he will try to use you to control me." His voice dipped, warm but firm, as if sensing a shadow beyond the field, a tick like the clocktower's pulse. "Don't take it, Gaius," Morgan said, his smile steady but pleading.
"Promise me." The starlilies swayed, their scent sharp and sweet, sealing the moment.
The memory shattered, and Gaius was back in his room, the badge burning cold in his hand.
Gaius's throat burned, guilt clawing deeper. Now Morgan was dead, and he had started to see his warnings.
Talus sat in his office, sigil scrolls strewn across his desk, their red-black ink pulsing under candlelight.
Yul strode in, boots scuffing, offering no greeting.
Talus's lips curled behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "You're still very rude."
Yul leaned against the wall, smirking, his dark eyes sharp. "I'm not here for your approval."
"So, have you met Asher?" Talus asked, his voice low, probing.
Yul snorted, brushing hair from his face. "He doesn't look like he has the potential you think he does."
Talus leaned forward, fingers steepled, eyes glinting. "He does. He just doesn't realize it yet; that's why we have to take advantage of it."
Yul's smirk widened, mischief sparking. "And I need you to do that," Talus continued.
Talus and Yul had a brief stare.
"Do you get the message?" Talus asked.
"Is that a question? I love things like this,I live for them." Yul said leaving the office.
Talus's smirk returned, colder.
"Whatever you do—" Yul halted his movements to listen.
"—don't kill him," Talus continued.
Yul scoffed and continued out of the office, leaving the door ajar.
The clocktower's tick sharpened, a signal of plans unfolding.
Lira sat in the quadrangle, sketching starlilies in her notebook, their petals jagged, bleeding red in her mind despite the paper's white.
The blood-red sky pressed down, amplifying her fear—Morgan's death, the rift's hum, Kal's shadow lingering.
Her pencil trembled, Nico's quiet hurt flashing as she'd pulled away, needing space to breathe.
She wanted to be herself again, not just this knot of fear, but it clung tight.
A shadow fell over her page.
Lira flinched, nearly dropping her pencil, as a girl plopped beside her, a yellow scarf vibrant against the Academy's gloom, her wrists adorned with colorful beaded bracelets.
"What's that?" the girl asked, her voice bright and warm, her wide smile lighting up her freckled face.
Lira slammed her notebook shut, cheeks burning. "Nothing." She forced a small smile.
"I'm Candice," the girl said, her grin infectious, her blonde hair bouncing as she gently tugged the notebook open.
"It's nice! Starlilies, right? You're really good." Her enthusiasm felt genuine, a spark of light cutting through the quadrangle's gloom.
Lira's smile grew, tentative but warm.
"Thanks," she said, her voice softer, wanting to lean into Candice's kindness.
Candice said, leaning closer, her bracelets clinking.
"I've noticed you—sitting alone, not with that guy anymore. You okay?"
"Nico?" Lira's eyes flicked up, her smile faltering but holding.
"Yeah, him. We're… still good. I just needed space. It's been… a lot."
Candice nodded, her grin softening, eyes kind. "I get it. Tough times, huh? 've always wanted to be you friend." She twirled a bracelet, her voice dropping.
"You know, you've been quite popular since you won the CCT—"
"Yeah, I know," Lira said, swaying her hair behind her ears.
"Your popularity grew more when you started hanging out with that prefect guy, Darel, every girl's dream guy," Candice continued, her grin soft.
" Is it that obvious?" Lira asked, her face showing a bit of shock.
"Of course it is. I was jealous of you in a good way. I feel like you have the life, and I've always wanted to be your friend, and I just felt like this was the right moment," Candice said, adoring Lira with a soft smile.
"Trust me, you don't want to know what I've been through," Lira said, her expression shifting to a sad look.
"I don't know what you've been through, but from what I see, you are that girl—bold, confident, determined, and most of all, strong. I want to learn from you so I can be like that," Candice praised.
Lira felt touched by her words. "Whoa, that's a lot to take in," Lira said.
"Did I say something wrong?" Candice asked, worried.
"No, you didn't. I felt a bit touched. I've never really seen myself as any of those things you said. We can be friends," Lira said.
"Really!" Candice screamed, excited.
"Yeah, your cool, I love your energy" Lira praised.
"Enough of that. So Tell me about Darel. I don't have a crush on him, but am asking for a friend, how is he like?" Candice asked.
Lira's smile twitched, a spark of amusement breaking through. "He's… intense," she said, meeting Candice's warmth with her own effort to be friendly.
The two continued talking and laughing.
Candice's scarf seemed brighter under the red sky, and Lira's starlilies felt less heavy.
Asher sat with Nico and Darel in the library's shadowed corner.
The Eleven photo lay tucked in his pocket.
Asher's scar throbbed, a pulse like the rift's tick, urging him to act.
He had to chase the journal alone to protect his friends from the danger that took Morgan.
Kal's shadow loomed in his mind, the way Morgan's bargain ended in blood, how the rift's hum had twisted their lives.
Nico had nearly broken under Kal's taunts, Darel's defiance had cost him his prefect badge, and Lira's fear had pushed her away.
Asher couldn't let them into more danger again.
If he told them about what Elara told him, they'd follow, loyal to a fault, straight into Kal's trap—or whatever worse thing waited.
Nico's quiet concern, graying hair falling into his eyes, made Asher's chest ache.
Asher's scar flared, the clocktower's tick louder in his mind. Telling them could drag them into Morgan's fate—Kal's cold laugh, the rift's pull. Going alone was the only way to keep them safe.
Nico leaned forward. "You're quiet, Asher. Something up?"
Asher's throat tightened. "Just… thinking," he muttered, his voice low, eyes flicking to the clocktower outside, its neon-blue glow calling.
Asher's mind raced—Kal's shadow, Morgan's blood, the journal's promise. He couldn't risk them. He stayed silent.