The music dulled as the microphone screeched once, drawing every eye to the small stage near the back of the hall. Crowley stood there, tall and certain, his smile dazzling beneath the lights. With a flick of his wrist, he lifted the mic closer.
"Good evening, everyone," he began, his voice smooth and carrying easily across the room. Conversations tapered off, laughter died, and soon the hall belonged to him. "First of all, thank you all for being here tonight. This reunion is more than just a gathering of old classmates. It is a reminder never to forget where we came from. For me, this school will always be home. Victoria High is not just a building. It is my heritage."
Applause rang out, cheers echoing off the walls.
From his corner, Conus scoffed, lifting his drink slightly as if in mock salute. His eyes slid toward Deb, against his will. She was already watching him. For a moment, their gazes locked, memories crashing between them. Just as quickly, she looked away, her face unreadable. That dismissal tightened something in Conus's chest. He exhaled slowly, jaw set, and forced his eyes back to the stage.
Crowley was still speaking, his tone heavy with the polished arrogance he had always worn.
"I've tried to live my life with humility, even as a member of an Elder family," he declared, placing a hand against his chest with false modesty. "And I promise you all, no matter where this path takes me, I will remain the same humble man you see today. Even as a Pugnator, I will not forget you all."
The room erupted again, laughter and applause flooding the space. Conus felt the urge to roll his eyes.
Crowley gave a final bow. "Once more, I thank each and every one of you for being here. Tonight, we celebrate not just our school, but the bonds we once shared."
With that, he descended the steps, applause following like a tide. But instead of joining the crowd, his path was direct. Straight to Deb. He reached for her hand, pulled her close, and kissed her deeply in front of everyone. A ripple went through the hall, cheers, whistles, and envious murmurs. Crowley, as always, commanded the stage.
When the kiss broke, his gaze wandered and found Conus. Their eyes met. Crowley's lips curled into a smile filled with triumph and provocation. He slipped his hand firmly around Deb's arm and led her through the crowd until he stood before Conus.
"Conus Aromane," Crowley said warmly, as if greeting an old companion. "It's been a long time. How have you been?"
He closed the last of the distance, eyes narrowing as they flicked to the tattoo beneath Conus's eye. "That's new. Quite the addition. Suits you."
Lucas stepped forward before Conus could answer, planting himself in Crowley's path. "What do you want, Crowley?"
Crowley chuckled, his voice laced with mockery. "Still the clown, aren't you, Lucas? I missed that. Always quick to bark."
Conus, however, was not looking at Crowley at all. His focus was on Deb. The world narrowed until only the two of them remained. She managed a soft, hesitant smile. "Hello, Conus."
His lips lifted faintly. "Hello, Deb."
He said it gently, the word carrying more weight than it should. He ignored Crowley completely. That, more than anything, seemed to dig under his skin. Crowley's smile faltered.
With a sudden shove, he pushed Lucas aside like he was nothing. Then he stepped close enough that the air between him and Conus bristled.
"It's rude," Crowley said lightly, though his eyes had hardened, "not to return a friend's greeting."
Conus met his gaze coolly, refusing to flinch. "We're not friends."
Crowley clutched his chest theatrically, feigning injury. "Not friends? Why would you say that?"
"Crowley." Deb's voice slipped in, low but urgent. She tugged at his arm, trying to pull him back. "Stop it."
But Crowley ignored her, his focus locked on Conus. "Still upset about high school, huh?"
Conus said nothing, but silence spoke louder than words. Crowley caught the message and smirked.
"Grow up," he said, his voice dropping, venom hidden beneath his pleasant tone. "We're not children anymore. This is the real world."
Conus gave a short laugh, sharp as glass. "You're full of yourself, Crowley."
That smile returned, sharper now. He leaned in, close enough that only Conus could hear. "Or maybe," he whispered, "you're just upset I'm sleeping with your ex."
Heat surged through Conus's chest. His hand twitched, his fist tightening until his knuckles turned white. Every instinct screamed to strike, to wipe that smug smile away. But he didn't. He held himself in check, his silence a form of defiance.
Crowley's chuckle was low and satisfied. He straightened, gave Deb's hand a tug, and let her pull him away at last. She shot Conus one final look before vanishing into the crowd with him.
The bathroom door creaked shut behind him, muffling the music and chatter outside. Conus moved into a stall, shutting the latch with a soft click. He sat heavily, elbows braced on his knees, his head sinking into his hands. His thoughts were a storm, colliding with every breath.
Crowley's smug smile. Deb's silence. The words pressed against his skull until it felt like his brain was splitting.
Calm down, he told himself. Breathe.
But the command was useless. Something new had taken root inside him, raw and jagged. Rage. Not the fleeting anger of youth, but something darker. A hunger. It coiled in his chest like smoke, filling every hollow space until all he could think about was violence. He wanted to kill. To crush. To tear something apart until nothing remained.
"This isn't me," he muttered under his breath, forcing his fists to unclench.
He pushed himself upright and staggered to the sink. Cold water hissed against porcelain as he twisted the tap, splashing his face. When he looked up, the sight nearly made him stumble.
His reflection was not his own. His eyes were pitch black, twin voids staring back. For a moment, the room tilted, the world trembling around that alien sight.
Conus slammed his eyes shut. His breath hammered in his chest. Slowly, he opened them again.
Normal. Dark irises, white sclera. Nothing strange.
His breath came uneven. "I'm… seeing things," he whispered, but the lie offered no comfort.
The door creaked open behind him.
A man stepped inside. He wore a long black robe, cinched at the waist with a simple belt. The cloth hung neatly, its folds whispering against the tiled floor. A mask covered his face, black and angular, carved to resemble the snout of a dog.
For a second, Conus dismissed him. Some former student being stupid, showing up in costume. But then he felt it.
Aura.
It was faint, a thread seeping into the air, but unmistakable. Conus's body stiffened, every instinct snapping awake.
The man moved casually, stepping into a stall, then out again within a minute. He washed his hands, his movements efficient, unhurried, before turning to leave.
Conus's frown deepened. Two Pugnators were supposed to be here tonight. Himself. And Crowley. No one else.
His pupils widened as he whispered the trigger in his mind. Appraisal.
Three question marks appeared above the stranger's head.
Conus's breath caught. Too high. His level was too high to read.
By the time the man reached the door, Conus was already moving. He kept his steps light, silent, trailing the robed figure back into the heat of the reunion.
The hall buzzed with laughter, drunken shouts, and clinking glasses. None of the others noticed the black-robed man weaving through their midst. His mask drew no attention, his movements blending as if the crowd's eyes had been clouded.
Conus kept his distance, weaving carefully between swaying classmates. Every muscle in his body was tense, instincts screaming at him to stay alert.
Then it happened.
The man stopped in the center of the dance floor. Without a word, he pulled a blade from his sleeve. Its edge caught the light, sharp. He turned his palm upward, pressed the steel against it, and dragged. Blood welled instantly, droplets falling onto the polished wood.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
A sound followed, low and guttural, like a beast's growl crawling from beneath the earth. Then came the light.
It tore into the world without warning. A jagged rip in the air, black and red at the edges, yawned open in front of the masked man. A portal, massive and alive, roared as if it had been waiting.
The ground shuddered beneath their feet.