Blue's Pov
It has been a week since I was thrown out of Heaven.
A week of pretending I didn't care.
A week of pretending I wasn't counting the days in the back of my mind.
I'd always imagined being exiled to live among mortals would be a kind of hell on its own — the noise, the fragility, the way they wore their hearts like open wounds. I'd expected disgust, discomfort, maybe even boredom. But to my surprise… it was peaceful.
Almost too peaceful.
The Waves — Lacey and Robert — weren't what I'd expected either. They weren't cruel. They didn't pry into things I didn't want to talk about. They didn't even seem to realize who I really was. Instead, they gave me something far more dangerous: warmth.
The first morning here, I'd gone to breakfast, expecting awkward silence and maybe burnt toast. Instead, I froze in the doorway, my gaze snagging on the framed photographs hanging in the living room and lining the corridor walls. Even on the small desk in my room.
Photos. Of me.
Not just any photos — but me and the two of them… from when I was a child.
For a second, my chest had tightened, my thoughts tangling.
Had my old man really gone this far? Built me another family, tucked away in a human life as if I'd always belonged here?
Apparently, my human age now was seventeen. Seventeen. In Heaven, that age would barely be considered infancy — a toddling stage where you still tripped over your own robes. Here, it was practically adulthood.
I still don't know why he sent me here. Maybe he thought watching me stumble through mortal life would be his great victory. Maybe he's watching right now, waiting for me to beg for mercy.
If so… he can keep waiting.
Because as much as I want to hate it, I've decided to enjoy what I can — the warmth Lacey fills the house with, the way Robert's calm presence feels like an anchor. Even if this is all part of his twisted test, I'll prove him wrong.
Lacey works as a nurse at the City Hospital, just three blocks away. She usually has night shifts that leave her groggy and half-asleep the next day, curled on the couch like a discarded pillow, hair messy and eyes half-shut. Robert always dotes on her when she's like that — cooking her favorite meals, teasing her until she laughs, making the entire house smell of butter and spice.
Robert's a chef at a small hotel across the street. I never thought I'd admit this, but his food might actually rival some of the feasts in Heaven. Chocolate pancakes. Raspberry muffins. I didn't think mortals could craft something so addictive.
---
Tonight, the dining room is quiet — too quiet.
Usually, it's Lacey's endless chatter or Robert's dry humor filling the air, but tonight there's just the clink of silverware and the faint hum of the fridge. I don't need divine intuition to know they're holding something back.
I catch their glances — quick, cautious, like they're testing the water before diving in. I keep my head down, eating in silence.
Then Robert clears his throat.
"Son."
It's ridiculous how much that word still hits me. I'd wanted to hear it from my real father all my life, but I never did. Hearing it from Robert… it's different. Softer. Something that sinks in and stays.
I raise my gaze from my plate.
"So… remember that scholarship you were dying for?" His lips curve in a small smile.
I don't remember anything of the sort. Still, I give a noncommittal, "Yeah."
"Well, you weren't accepted," he says, tone careful, almost testing my reaction.
I stay quiet. Their eyes stay locked on me, waiting for some dramatic display. When the silence stretches too long, I finally mutter, "Okay."
Lacey jumps in before the mood settles too deep. "That's not it, baby…" Her smile blooms wide enough to show the tiny gap in her teeth. "Dad got you into an even better school!" Her words end in a squeaky pitch that makes my ears twitch.
"In King Salvador Academy," Robert finishes, giving her hand a squeeze.
King Salvador. The name pokes at the edges of my memory, like a half-forgotten dream. It sounds luxurious — too luxurious for people who have to double-check the grocery bill. I narrow my eyes, waiting for the explanation.
"I know you're wondering how we pulled it off," Robert says, grinning. "Your old man's got connections." He winks like it's supposed to reassure me.
I force a smile, lower my head, and focus on my food. The truth is, I have zero interest in being trapped in a building full of mortal teenagers. In Heaven, I barely spoke to other gods. Now they want me to… mingle?
Since arriving here, I haven't stepped foot outside. I had no plans to change that.
"Oh, and there's a surprise in your room, dear," Lacey chimes in.
Not interested.
"I think you should turn in early," Robert says, rising from his seat. "You've got a long day tomorrow."
"Why?"
Lacey laughs, like the question's ridiculous. "Nut head, we just told you — King Salvador. You start tomorrow."
Tomorrow.
Too soon. My chest tightens. I'm not ready for this — not mentally, not emotionally. Without a word, I push back my chair and head upstairs.
---
The first thing I see when I open my bedroom door is the neatly folded uniform laid out on my bed.
White long-sleeved shirt. Black necktie. Black khaki pants. A sleeveless black sweater with white stripes on the V-neck. And the blazer — black, heavy, with a crest embroidered on the pocket.
A black owl with blind eyes and a crown.
It feels familiar, but the memory won't surface.
"Someone seems nervous," Lacey's voice comes from behind me, startling me. I didn't hear her enter.
I sit on the bed, refusing to look at her. She sits beside me, the mattress dipping. She runs her fingers over the fabric, her lips twitching upward.
"You'll look so handsome in this," she murmurs, eyes already imagining me in it.
When she finally looks up, her gaze is thick with emotion. I notice the shimmer of tears before she wipes them away.
"I'm nervous and excited for you," she admits. "You've been homeschooling for years. I understand if you're upset, but this is for your own good. We just… don't want you to be alone anymore."
Her hand tightens around mine, and I don't pull away.
"It's fine… mother," I say, forcing a small smile.
Her eyes widen — maybe because I've never called her that. Then she's hugging me, arms tight around my neck. I sigh and hug her back. I still don't understand her completely… but her care feels genuine.
The door creaks open. Robert's standing there, arms folded, smiling.
"So you didn't tell me there was a family hug party?"
Lacey laughs. Robert steps in and wraps us both in his arms, squeezing until Lacey complains she can't breathe. I don't even realize I'm smiling.
---
The next morning, I descend the stairs, clearing my throat. Lacey's eyes widen the moment she sees me in the uniform.
"Oh my… Bob, I think I'm going to cry," she says, fanning her face.
Robert smirks. "Spare the girls, will you?"
I roll my eyes and take my seat. Breakfast is full of their tips and advice on how to 'survive' school. I listen quietly, their voices somehow warming me more than the food.
---
The drive is long and quiet.
"So… are you excited?" Robert asks.
"Not really." The unease gnaws at me. Not about mortals… but something else.
"You'll be fine. You're a Wave. We handle things."
I don't answer, eyes fixed on the streets passing by.
Finally, we pull up.
The school gates are huge. Black. Heavy. And as soon as we pass through them, the air changes — colder, sharper, almost watchful.
Robert rests a hand on my shoulder. "It's gonna be okay."
I nod.
Inside, I keep my eyes forward, ignoring the stares. But I can feel them. Piercing. Measuring. Whispering things I can't quite hear.
A woman in a tight skirt and high bun approaches. "Mr. Wave?"
"Yes," Robert answers.
"This way, please."
She leads us to a door labeled Principal Williams.
The principal's office is spotless — almost unnaturally so. He greets Robert warmly, but I barely hear. My mind drifts to Siren. Is he back? Has he mastered the earth's mist? Will he join the demon hunts without me?
"Blue, are you listening?"
I nod.
"As I was saying, you have calculus now," he says, handing me a timetable. The word sounds foreign in my head.
He makes a quick phone call, then stands. "Come on, I'll take you."
Robert gives me a firm pat on the shoulder. "See you in the evening, son."
When he walks away, the halls feel colder.
---
The principal's shoes click against the polished tiles in slow, deliberate beats, like each step is an announcement. His back is straight, his posture perfect, as if the weight of the entire academy rests on his shoulders. I trail a few steps behind, my timetable clutched loosely in one hand, the other buried deep in my pocket.
The hallways stretch out in long, sterile lines, lit by pale strips of light that hum faintly. Every few seconds, we pass students lingering near lockers or leaning against the wall. Their conversations drop when we walk by, replaced by curious — or outright suspicious — stares.
I ignore them. Or at least, I try to.
The air here is heavy. Not in the way Heaven's gates feel, with their crushing divinity. No — this is different. Thicker. Like the school itself is watching.
We stop outside a door with a brass number plate: Room 3B. The principal pushes it open without knocking.
The room falls silent instantly.
Thirty pairs of eyes shift toward me, scanning, assessing. I can almost hear the unspoken questions: Who's he? What's with his hair? Is he trouble?
"Class," the principal begins, "this is your new classmate. He'll be joining you from today onward. His name is Blue Wave. Treat him with the same respect you give one another."
The "respect" part almost makes me laugh. Almost.
I step forward, my gaze brushing over faces without lingering. I don't smile. I don't wave. I just exist, the way I've learned to.
That's when I see him.
Leaning back in his chair near the middle row, arm draped casually over the seat beside him, is a boy with jade green almond eyes that gleam like polished stones. His silver hair is braided tight, the braid resting neatly over one shoulder, catching the light every time he moves. Two silver piercings glint on each ear, deliberate and symmetrical.
He's watching me the way a cat watches a bird — not hungry yet, but considering it.
Beside him, a girl with glossy black hair and too-red lips twirls her pen lazily between her fingers. Her nails are painted the same shade as her mouth. She leans in close to him, her shoulder brushing his arm, and whispers something that makes him smirk.
The principal gestures toward an empty seat in the third row, by the window. I move toward it without a word, the quiet in the room slowly unraveling into hushed murmurs.
As I pass, I catch the tail end of the girl's voice — Pen, someone calls her. "He looks like he thinks he's better than us," she says, not bothering to lower her tone enough for me to miss it.
The boy — Grey, I hear another whisper — lets out a short, amused huff. "We'll see about that."
---
The principal leaves, and the moment the door shuts, the room's energy shifts.
The teacher, a man with a thin moustache and a sharp suit, resumes his lecture on derivatives. His voice drones in the background as I slide into my seat, my eyes drifting to the window. Outside, the school courtyard stretches wide, dotted with trimmed hedges and iron benches.
I should focus. I don't.
There's a weight pressing in from my right. I know without looking that Grey's turned his attention fully on me. I can feel his stare — unwavering, deliberate, the kind that demands acknowledgment.
I don't give it to him.
A folded piece of paper lands on my desk. I glance at it, then at the teacher, who hasn't noticed. Slowly, I unfold it.
New meat.
Two words. Nothing else.
I refold it and slide it under my elbow.
Minutes pass before something taps the back of my chair. A boot.
"You deaf or just slow?" The voice is smooth but edged with mockery. I look over my shoulder just enough to meet his eyes. Up close, the green in them is almost unreal, like they've been cut from glass and polished until they gleam.
I don't answer.
He grins. "I'm Grey. You'll remember me. Everyone does."
Pen leans over, her perfume a suffocating cloud of sweetness. "Don't mind him. He just doesn't like new people stealing his spotlight." Her tone is sugary, but her eyes are sharp, calculating.
"I'm not here to take anything from anyone," I say flatly.
Grey chuckles, low and amused. "That's good. Means I won't have to break you in."
Pen giggles like he's said the funniest thing in the world.
The teacher's voice cuts through the air. "Mr. Grey, if you're done harassing the new student, perhaps you'd like to answer problem five on the board?"
Grey doesn't even look embarrassed. He stands, solves it in less than thirty seconds, and drops back into his chair with a flourish. His eyes flick to mine again, the unspoken your turn will come lingering between us.
I turn back to the window. I don't know what game he's playing, but I've survived worse than a mortal with an ego.
Still… the way the air feels thicker now, the way the hairs on my arms rise — I know Grey's not just an ordinary bully. There's something under his skin. Something that doesn't belong to this world.
And that makes him dangerous.
---