The room stayed quiet long after Kade's vision faded.
Mira didn't rush him. She didn't ask if he was okay or tell him to sit down. She just stayed where she was, one hand still gripping his arm, steady enough to keep him upright in case his leg gave up on him again.
Kade focused on breathing.
In through his nose and out through the mouth.
With his eyes wide open, his soul gripped with fear
The image of fire clung to him like smoke. Not clear enough to be a memory, not distant enough to be ignored. Just flashes—heat on his skin, the sound of wood cracking, the sense that something huge had moved behind him in the dark.
"You said something's waking up right," Mira said gently.
He nodded twice.
"Does it have a name?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said. His voice sounded rough"If it does, it hasn't told me."
Mira finally let go of his arm and stepped back. She crossed the room and began walking with slow strides,like she was sorting her thoughts into the right order.
"My brother wrote about a presence," she said. "Not a voice. A presence. He said it felt like it was older than the academy."
Kade leaned against the desk, like he was bracing himself. "Older than the school?"
"Yes. Older than the town. Maybe older than the country." She stopped pacing and looked at him. "Whatever is attached to you certainly didn't start with the fire."
The air in the room felt unusually cold, the room a little bit dark gave an off aura, everywhere unusually quiet not even a sound of cricket.
His breathing slowed a little.
"So what," he said, trying to keep his tone light, "it's been waiting for its turn?"
Mira tilted her head without smiling. "Or it's been watching."
Silence stretched again.
Eventually, she picked up Evan's notebook and closed it carefully, like sealing something fragile inside. "You should try to sleep."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Kade said.
"I didn't say alone."
She reached into her drawer and pulled out a thin blanket, tossing it toward the floor. "You're still on the floor. The rules haven't changed."
He caught it, surprised by how normal she acted "You're really not scared of me."
"I didn't say that," she replied. "I said I don't think you're the threat."
There is a difference.
Kade lay down fully dressed in his pajamas, staring at the underside of her bed. Every sound felt louder now—the hum of distant lights, footsteps somewhere down the hall, the faint wind brushing the window.
Sleep came in pieces.
Dreams slid in and out without permission, Hallways that bent the wrong way. Doors that led nowhere. A pair of glowing eyes watching from behind a wall.
When he woke, sunlight was creeping across the floor.
For one second, everything felt normal.
Then he remembered the sketch.
The notebook.
The words: The boy from the fire is here.
He sat up too fast.
Mira was already awake, sitting at her desk with her hair tied back, flipping through a thick folder. She looked like she hadn't slept at all.
"You move like someone who is expecting a huge attack from the world," she said without looking at him.
She glanced over, studying his face. "No nightmares?"
"Nothing new," he said.
"That's not an answer."she said
He shrugged. "Then I had nightmares."
She accepted that and turned back to the folder. "I skipped morning assembly."
"That's allowed?"
"Nothing's allowed here. It just depends on who notices you,"
Kade stood and stretched, his muscles stiff. "What's that?"
"Disciplinary records," she said. "Students who disappeared, transferred suddenly, or were expelled without explanation."
"That's… a lot of pages."
"Seven years' worth," she said. "And that's only what I could access."
He leaned over her shoulder despite himself.
Names filled the pages. Dates. Notes written in vague language that explained nothing but, behavioral issues emotional instability, safety concerns.
"Every single one of them," Mira said, tapping the page, "had access to the West Wing."
Kade straightened. "You think the school feeds people to whatever's in there."
"I think the school knows something is there," she said. "And instead of stopping it, they manage it."
A knock sounded at the door.
Both of them froze.
Another knock. Firmer this time.
Mira closed the folder and slid it into her drawer. "Stay quiet."
"Kade Solarin?" a male voice called. "This is Prefect Hale. Open up."
Mira rolled her eyes and opened the door just enough to look irritated.
"Yes?"
Hale was tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes. His prefect badge gleamed unnaturally bright.
"You missed assembly," he said. "Both of you."
"I was sick," Mira replied sluggisly.
"And you?" Hale's gaze slid to Kade.
"I got lost," Kade said.
Hale's smile widened. "You'll want to learn the layout of the building quickly. People who wander tend to fall behind."
Mira folded her arms. "Was there an announcement, or are you just here to intimidate first-years?"
Hale's eyes flicked back to her. "Headmaster wants to see Solarin. After classes."
Kade felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"Why?" he asked.
"Curiosity," Hale said. "Isn't that what this school runs on?"
He stepped away, boots echoing down the hallway.
Mira shut the door slowly.
"That didn't sound friendly," Kade said.
"It wasn't," she replied. "The prefects are closer to the truth than most students."
"That's comforting."
"Welcome to Aurelian Academy."
Classes blurred together.
Kade tried to focus—on lectures, notes, the normal rhythm of school—but his attention kept drifting. He noticed things now. How some teachers never blinked. How certain hallways felt colder. How students instinctively avoided the western side of campus without being told to.
At lunch, Mira slid into the seat across from him like she belonged there.
"You're not eating," she said.
"I will."
"You said that yesterday."
He poked at his food lazily.
Across the cafeteria, a girl with silver rings and dark eyes watched them openly. When Kade noticed, she didn't look away. She smiled.
"Who's that?" he asked quietly.
Mira followed his gaze. "Lena. She's… interested."
"In what?"
"Everything she shouldn't be."
Lena stood and approached their table, dropping into the empty seat beside Kade without asking.
"So," she said, resting her chin on her hand, "you're the new mystery."
Kade blinked. "Sorry?"
"You walked past the West Wing yesterday," she continued. "Most people won't even go near it."
Mira stiffened. "You followed us?"
Lena shrugged. "I follow lots of things."
"That's not creepy at all," Kade sarcastically
She smiled wider. "Careful, Mira. Secrets don't like being kept forever."
Then she stood and walked away, just like that.
Kade exhaled. "Is everyone here like that?"
"No," Mira said. "Some are worse."
By evening, the weight in Kade's chest had returned.
The headmaster's office was at the highest point of the academy, overlooking the grounds like a watchtower. The walls were lined with portraits whose eyes seemed a little too off.
Headmaster Crowe sat behind a wide desk, hands folded.
"Kade Solarin," he said. "You arrived quietly. That's rare."
"I wasn't trying to be noticed," Kade replied.
Crowe smiled faintly. "Few ever are."
His gaze sharpened. "Tell me—have you heard anything unusual since arriving?"
Kade chose his words carefully. "Depends what you mean by unusual. sir"
Crowe's eyes flicked, just slightly. "Voices. Dreams. Feelings of being watched."
Kade's pulse picked up.
"No," he said immediately.
The headmaster studied him for a long moment.
"Good," Crowe said at last. "Because this academy does not tolerate disturbances."
Kade stood. "Is that all?"
"For now," Crowe replied. "Welcome, Mr. Solarin. I hope you find what you're looking for."
Kade left with the strong feeling that the man knew far more than he'd said.
He walked outside, night was settling in.
Mira waited near the stairs.
"Well?" she asked.
"He knows," Kade said.
"Of course he does."
As they walked back toward the dorms, Kade felt it again—the pressure at the back of his mind. The sense of something stretching.
A whisper brushed his thoughts.
Soon.
He didn't tell Mira.
Not yet.
Because whatever was waking up wasn't just watching him anymore.
It was getting ready.