The next day felt heavier.
Daniel arrived early—again. Too early to be accidental.
He took a seat at the back of the lecture hall, pen rocking between his fingers, gaze already fixed on Ember. She hadn't noticed. She never did.
It bothered him.
Last night had been the first night in years without the nightmare. No demon. No counting. No panic. Just sleep. Clean. Undisturbed.
Whatever she was, she'd done something to him.
Jasmine walked in late.
She saw him immediately—clear-eyed, sober, untouched by the chaos she was used to. He hadn't returned her calls. Not one. She slowed, glare sharp, but didn't approach. He'd warned her. No scenes in school. Especially not when Liora was present.
Liora was already seated at the front.
As always.
The lecturer entered.
"Discipline 322," he wrote across the board.
Mr. Greene. Old. Sharp. Unimpressed by money.
He turned to face the class.
"Leadership question," he said. "Simple in wording. Difficult in execution."
The room stilled.
"You're placed in charge of a collapsing institution. Corruption is embedded at the top. Public trust is gone. You have authority—but not loyalty. Do you enforce reform immediately and risk rebellion, or stabilize first and risk becoming complicit?"
Silence.
Liora raised her hand.
Mr. Greene nodded.
"You enforce reform immediately," she said confidently. "Leadership is about decisiveness. Delayed action is weakness."
A few heads nodded.
Mr. Greene tilted his head. "And when the institution collapses from within?"
Liora frowned. "Short-term instability is the price of long-term control."
He studied her for a moment, then wrote PARTIAL on the board.
"Anyone else?"
Ember spoke.
"You stabilize first," she said calmly. "But not publicly."
The room turned.
"You secure loyalty quietly," she continued. "Remove key threats without announcing reform. Make the system depend on you before you change it. Power isn't seized by force—it's sustained by dependency."
Mr. Greene stopped writing.
"Continue."
"Once loyalty is irreversible," Ember added, "you introduce reform as preservation, not punishment. Rebellion only happens when people think they can survive without you."
Silence.
Then—
"Correct," Mr. Greene said. "Fully correct."
He turned to her. "Name?"
"Ember."
A pause.
"You'll be dangerous in this faculty," he said. "If you survive it."
A few students laughed nervously.
Ember smiled.
At the back of the room, Daniel stopped breathing for half a second.
Liora didn't look away.
Not because Ember dressed better. Not because she wanted attention. But because something about her answer felt… familiar. Strategic. Cold. Effective.
And Daniel was still staring.
"This is getting disgusting," one of her friends muttered. "Did you hear about the café yesterday?"
"Enough," Liora said sharply. "You're exaggerating."
She didn't mean it.
"Tami," she added quietly, eyes locked on Ember. "Find out who that girl is."
Tami smiled. "Yes, Queen."
At the back of the hall, Daniel leaned into his seat, jaw tight.
Whatever Ember was—
She wasn't nothing anymore.
———————————————————
"So you're smart smart," Lily said as they walked toward the dormitory.
Ember shrugged like it was nothing. "I am. And I've always wanted to come here."
"Same," Lily replied easily. "It was my mom's dream. Paragon was her alma mater. She talked about it so much I figured I should finally see what the obsession was about."
They stepped into the first floor hallway.
THE MAROON FLOOR.
The difference was immediate. Less space. Less shine. Still expensive—but restrained. Controlled.
Ember's bunk sat beneath a girl who was aggressively devoted to Hello Kitty. Pink sheets. Pink pillows. Pink everything. It was blinding. Somehow, she was sweet. People always wondered how someone who spent that much money still ranked a subordinate.
Ember's corner was the opposite.
Soft lights. Hanging leaves. Black and gold accents. A sun painting pinned to the wall. The air smelled like amber—warm, grounded, intentional. It matched her boots, her black suit, the gold jewelry resting against her skin, catching in her golden-brown eyes.
Lily stopped short. "Wow," she breathed. "You could literally do this as a job. This is… nice."
Ember smiled, just slightly.
"Helloooo, new girl of the year!" her bunkmate suddenly screamed from above, popping her head over with dramatic flair.
Ember looked up. "What?"
"Everyone's talking about you," the girl said happily. "Gossip travels fast here."
"Like, really fast," Lily added with a shrug.
Ember frowned. "Talking about what?"
"The café," her bunkmate said, grinning. "Word is you made the King speechless. It's all over Intralog."
She hugged one of her plush toys like it was a victory prize. "You're making us proud."
Ember blinked.
Her chest tightened—just a little.
———————————————————
Liora slammed into Daniel's room without knocking.
Music thumped. Weed hung thick in the air, mixed with expensive perfume and sweat. Girls lounged everywhere—on the couch, on the floor, half on his friends' laps. Laughter died the second she stepped in.
She owned the room instantly.
Liora walked straight up to Daniel, heels sharp against the marble floor, posture flawless, face calm. Too calm. She shoved her phone into his chest.
A video played.
The café.
The line.
Ember.
Daniel staring like he'd short-circuited.
"What is this, baby?" she asked softly. "Hmm?"
Her voice was sweet. Dangerous.
Daniel knew that tone better than anyone—it was the sound before things burned.
He leaned back against the counter, unfazed on the surface. "It's nothing. Some random girl walked up to me because I cut the line."
Liora rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm not mad about that. It's not your fault some random tramp doesn't know her place in the ecosystem."
She stepped closer. "What I want to know is why you didn't do anything."
Daniel scoffed lightly. "Ever heard of mercy? She's new. She doesn't understand how Paragon works yet."
Liora's smile sharpened.
"But you didn't show mercy to Leah," she said calmly.
"Or Cole."
"Or Ike."
She tilted her head. "Should I keep going?"
Daniel's jaw tightened. "They crossed me."
Liora turned away, walked to the table, picked up a glass, and filled it without asking. She took a slow sip, eyes never leaving him.
"Don't cross me, baby," she said, smiling—beautiful and terrifying. "You know I don't like games."
"I'm not playing," Daniel said quickly. He stepped toward her, lowering his voice. "You're my queen. You always will be."
He kissed her forehead—possessive, familiar.
Liora didn't react.
She stared at him for a long second, unreadable. Then she turned and walked out.
The door slammed.
The room exhaled.
His friends let out collective sighs, tension snapping like a broken wire. Someone muttered, "Damn."
Even Daniel stood still for a moment.
Because no matter how powerful he was—
Liora was still the one person who could shake him.
——————————————————
The alcohol pulled him under again.
Sleep came fast, heavy, and familiar.
Daniel was back in the nightmare.
His father's office loomed around him—dark wood, cold floors, the smell of power and fear. The window rattled softly. The voice came again, slow and cruel, calling his name like it had every other night.
He didn't hesitate.
Daniel slid under the desk, knees tight to his chest, palms pressed to his ears. Same position. Same survival mode.
Count to eight hundred.
Don't listen. Don't look.
"One," he whispered.
"Two."
"Three—"
The air changed.
Not violently. Not suddenly.
Warmth seeped into the room, gentle and unfamiliar, like sunlight breaking through curtains. The wall beside him opened—not breaking, not tearing—but parting, smooth and quiet, as if it had always been meant to.
She stepped through.
The girl again.
Her golden eyes glowed softly, not blinding, not threatening—just steady. Reassuring. She moved like she belonged there, like fear didn't apply to her.
She crouched in front of him and reached out.
"It's okay," she said calmly. "You don't have to hide anymore."
Her voice cut through the noise in his head.
She took his hand and guided him through the opening.
The office faded behind them.
They stood in a wide, open space—warm and endless, like a dream without edges. The air felt light. Safe. Daniel's breathing was wild at first, his body still expecting pain, punishment, something chasing him.
He couldn't stop shaking.
She turned to face him fully.
"Breathe," she said, placing her hand over his chest. "Slow."
He followed her rhythm without thinking.
In.
Out.
His heartbeat steadied.
"I sent it away," she said gently. "But they sent another one."
Daniel frowned, confused but no longer terrified. "They?" he asked. "Who are they?"
She studied him for a moment, something ancient and knowing in her expression.
"Oh little boy, You've been trapped for a long time," she said softly. "Longer than you realize."
She smiled then—small, sincere, almost sad.
"But you're not alone anymore."
For the first time in years, Daniel believed it.
And then—
He woke up.
Gasping. Sweating. Alone in his massive room, bottles on the floor, silence pressing in.
But the fear was gone.
No voice.
No demon.
No panic clawing at his chest.
Just warmth lingering in his bones.
He sat up slowly, staring at nothing.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
Because whatever she was—
She had changed something in him.