Wednesdays were library days.
After school, the campus never emptied completely.
Some students stayed back for club activities—art club, music rehearsals, debate practice, student council meetings.
Joy usually disappeared toward the debate room or science lab, claiming she had "important intellectual battles to win."
Lira preferred the library.
It was quieter there.
Safer.
Rows of tall shelves stretched toward the ceiling, dust motes floating in golden streaks of evening light.
The air smelled faintly of paper and polish.
Whispers replaced laughter.
Footsteps softened.
She moved slowly between the shelves, her silver hair catching the light each time she turned her head.
It shimmered gently against the darker wood around her.
Her white eyes scanned the spines.
Then she found it.
A familiar book.
She pulled it out carefully, fingers brushing over the worn cover. A small smile touched her lips.
She had read it many times.
She just… liked reading it again.
Turning around—
She walked straight into something solid.
Her breath hitched as she stumbled slightly.
Strong hands steadied her shoulders before she could fall.
She looked up.
"Ronan… you're here," she said softly.
He looked down at her, expression unreadable as always.
Their eyes locked.
For a brief second, she thought she saw something different in his gaze.
Not red.
Not glowing like Lucien's.
But something sharper. A faint, dangerous flicker that vanished almost instantly.
"Of course I'm here," he replied calmly.
His hands dropped away from her shoulders.
That's when he noticed the book in her hand.
Without asking, he gently took it from her.
He glanced at the title and let out a quiet huff. "Funny. I was looking for this too."
She blinked. "Really?"
He nodded slightly, flipping it over once before handing it back.
"I've read it a lot of times," she said. "I just wanted to reread it."
He studied her for a moment.
Then, without another word, he reached to a nearby shelf and pulled out a different book.
He held it out to her.
"Take this instead."
She looked down at it, surprised.
"I think you'll like it more," he added.
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away between the shelves, hands sliding into his pockets like the conversation had never mattered.
She stood there holding the new book.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
"What's his problem…?" she murmured under her breath.
Still—
She glanced down at the title.
And for some reason—
Her heart skipped.
She stepped out of the library, the evening air cooler now.
She glanced down at the book Ronan had given her.
She read the title once.
Then again.
"The Forgotten Storm: Rise of the Lightning Heir."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the cover.
Lightning.
Heir.
Storm.
Her chest felt strangely tight.
Why would he give her this?
Before she could think further—
A hand suddenly grabbed her arm.
Hard.
She barely had time to gasp before she was yanked sideways behind the building.
The book slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground.
"Got you alone for once," Marissa's voice sneered.
Selene stood beside her, arms crossed. Ivana lingered behind them with two other girls, blocking the exit.
"What are you—" Lira started.
Marissa shoved her lightly against the brick wall. "We're helping you."
"Helping," Selene echoed coldly.
"You'd look way better if you just tried," Ivana added.
Lira's heart pounded.
"I don't need—"
"Oh, you do," Marissa cut her off.
They grabbed at her hair.
"Maybe start by changing this," Selene said.
Lira struggled lightly, but they were stronger. Louder. Bolder.
Someone unscrewed a bottle.
Cold liquid poured over her head.
Red.
Sticky.
It dripped down her silver strands, staining them crimson.
Cherry soda.
The sweet smell clung to her immediately.
They laughed.
"Oops," Ivana mocked.
Before she could recover, something thicker smeared across her sleeve.
Black paint.
It streaked across her sweater, across her arm.
"Now you match the freak show," one of them said.
Lira's hands trembled.
She didn't fight back.
She never did.
Because if she pushed—
If she shoved—
If she defended herself—
She would be the "aggressive one."
The "problem."
People already whispered about her.
They'd only need one excuse.
"Why don't you ever fight back?" Marissa taunted.
"Because she's weak," Selene answered for her.
They stepped back, satisfied.
Lira stood there, hair dripping red soda, black paint staining her clothes, bruises already forming faintly beneath her sleeve.
Her white eyes burned—but not with power.
With humiliation.
They laughed one last time and walked away, heels clicking against pavement.
Silence returned.
She slid slowly down the wall, sitting on the cold ground.
Tears streamed down her face quietly.
She wiped at them, but more came.
Why can't I just—
Why can't I—
Footsteps hurried toward her.
"Lira?!"
Joy.
She rushed around the corner and froze.
"Oh my—"
Joy dropped her bag immediately and knelt beside her.
"Are you okay? Who did this?"
Lira shook her head, unable to answer.
Joy carefully brushed sticky strands away from her face, adjusting her glasses as they slipped.
Her expression changed.
From shock—
To anger.
She pulled Lira into a tight hug.
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm here."
Lira cried quietly against her shoulder.
Joy held her firmly, protective, steady.
After a moment, Joy's voice hardened. "I think I need to tell Caelan about this…"
She didn't say it like a suggestion.
She said it like a decision.
----
The bathroom door clicked shut.
Lira locked it.
Only then did she let herself breathe.
She stood in front of the mirror for a long moment. Red streaks clung to her silver hair. Dark paint crusted along her collarbone and sleeves. The scent was sharp and sweet — cheap cherry liquor.
It had been Grenadine syrup mixed with sparkling wine — bright red, sticky, impossible to ignore.
Tch. She thought it was just cherry Juice.
She turned the shower on.
Hot water rushed down, washing the paint first. Black swirled into gray, then faded into nothing at her feet.
The red followed slowly, stubbornly clinging to strands of her hair.
She scrubbed quietly.
No sound.
No crying.
Just water and the faint tremble of her hands.
Joy had told Caelen.
She knew that.
But nothing had happened.
If she had known the truth — that if Caelen had acted, those girls might never have walked the halls again — she would have begged him not to.
The last streak of paint finally lifted from her shoulder.
Still, faint stains lingered near her wrist.
Her hair remained silver.
It always would.
She stepped out, wrapped in a towel, then dressed in soft, oversized clothes — loose sweater, comfortable pants. Something safe. Something quiet.
Dinner was already set.
The dining room glowed under warm light. Plates clinked softly. The air smelled like rosemary and baked bread.
Lira sat down.
Aurelia paused mid-bite.
She sniffed lightly.
"…Why do you smell like that?"
Lira kept her voice steady. "It's nothing."
Across the table, Caelen's fork froze.
His eyes darkened.
He didn't say a word.
Seraphine set her glass down carefully. "If you're having any trouble," she said gently, "you should speak to us."
Lira nodded. "Okay."
Silence lingered for a second too long.
Then Seraphine straightened slightly. "Your father is coming back."
Lira blinked. "Where did he even go?"
The three siblings exchanged a glance.
Aurelia's eyes shifted to Seraphine.
"Should we tell her?"
Seraphine shook her head almost immediately. "No. We shouldn't. Let her find out herself."
Caelen's jaw tightened. "But she looks confused."
Seraphine smiled calmly. "Business trip."
Lira nodded slowly.
Her gaze drifted toward the clock on the wall.
9:00 PM.
Her stomach tightened slightly.
She had to go tonight.
She stood. "I'm tired. I'll go upstairs."
No one stopped her.
She disappeared up the staircase.
The room fell quiet.
Aurelia leaned back in her chair. Her silver hair was tied in a messy bun, loose strands falling around her face.
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them—
They glowed.
Soft. Pale. Not bright enough to light the room — but unnatural.
"I can't keep lying," she whispered.
Caelen's voice lowered. "Calm down."
Seraphine leaned forward slightly, a small knowing smile forming on her lips.
"You're not lying," she said smoothly. "She just doesn't remember."
Aurelia's glowing eyes flickered.
Then slowly—
They returned to normal.