Yeah, sure, dude snarls and scowls, bares his teeth. But he's still holding your hand while you try and find your snacks at midnight in the corner store closest to your apartment. He still half listens when you mutter something or the other about how you're pretty certain you saw them on a diffrent shelf, or a diffrent corner store entierly. It dosn't matter, he still wadles with you to the next, mumbling under his breath about how you'll catch a cold for forgetting your coat. He gives you his because you pout.
The cold nips at his cheeks, he's still bleary eyed and he thinks he'll kill whoever took the photo of him and his bed tousled hair. But you do a little spin, grinning with the ease of someone who's loopy, when whatever you were unable to sleep about is finaly in your hands, paid for. The street lamp makes you look golden, it ultametly makes up for the fact that he'll wake up late for work tomorrow.
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attempt in writing angst from these promts number two.
sebchal, 8
"are you hurt?"
charles gets out of the medical department with an exhausted sigh. his neck hurts and the dizziness is killing him. he tries to smile at everyone who's asking how he feels and tells them he's okay, but his pace speeds up in an attempt to be finally left alone.
but as soon as he opens the door to his driver's room, he sees seb is sitting on the couch. it's rather difficult to control emotions when you feel like shit, so charles rolls his eyes without even realizing it at first.
"are you hurt?" seb asks standing up.
"i'm fine," charles answers irritated.
"that's not really an answer to my question, mäuschen," sebastian frowns and comes closer.
"i'm not hurt. happy now?" charles snaps.
"well, i am happy you feel just fine to be a little shit to me, but i don't really understand what i've done to earn it," seb's voice is calm but it usually means no good, because when vettel is not making silly jokes, something is clearly very wrong.
"i'm just not in the mood to discuss anything related to today" charles regrets that seb has come to him now, because he will feel guilty eventually and it's not the feeling he would like to add to his today's list.
"well, i'm terribly sorry that i wanted to be a good boyfriend and check on you after the crash," seb says crossing his arms on his chest, "i won't bother your highness with my stupid caring anymore."
and that's how charles knows he pushed his attitude too far with seb. but he doesn't have any energy to fix it right now. he just watches seb go and only when vettel is half way through the door, he says, "congratulation with the podium."
"thanks, much appreciated," seb answers and closes the door behind.
charles will fix it, just not now. now he is tired.
Just-just listen, okay? This is nothing, nothing at all. It’s not in character, or driven, or anything, but it still is. So, have it. Have my Izuku Midoriya (kind of)xReader blurb. (It was written in a car.) -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You belong in seaside castles with wast, silent ballrooms. Sounds of the shore spilling into large, open windows. Your skin adorned with silvers and pearls, draped in linens.
Not here. Not in plain smothering meeting rooms with people who'll never see beyond your surface. Not with your elbows scraped raw, knees bloody and aching, having witnessed and done things you will never speak of outside of low murmurs in debriefings.
Fuck. Izuku thinks.
He doesn’t belong with you ether. Not in his office or on rooftops sharing little bits of yourselves over sweats and coffees he insisted you try. Not in his glass house, not quite a home, not in the one you speak about having back in your country. He shouldn't get to see it, not it's ancient doors and dented stone steps, not the soft and tender parts of yourself you must hold and leave there.
Then why did you let him witness and handle some little, aching bit of your soul in the palms of his hands? Why did you wrap your fingers along his as they trembled, as if your eyes hadn't gone red and glassy by simply doing so? Why is he the one splayed along the arm of your couch, laughing with you into the quiet of night, something warm and fluttering filling his gut?
You are greatness and grace, an electrifying power hidden along the marrow in your bones. All wrapped in the wonder of knowing you, how your eyes feel tracing the non-existent pattern of his freckles. Eternally busy, at least he wishes you were. Maybe then you couldn't turn him stupid with a quirk of the corner of your lips, amused or questioning, it doesn’t matter.
You blur at the edges, in the morning sun, between his fingers. Some part of you feels uncharted and yet still like something intimately known, like a sea of winking starts.
He imagines your water's warm, soft like milk, on his calves, staining his pants. He imagines you're warm and soft too, as is, not draped in linens and silks or infused with the sun. But just as you are, blood and bones, and greatness, held at your seams together with skin.
Would you let him? Hold, touch you. He thinks. Would you let him learn your softness? Burrow some bit of himself next to the parts of you that hurt, ache in their tenderness, the same as him. Press his forehead to yours like a bunny saying sorry, apologizing for simply being someone you know, at your feet, in your home, staring up at you as if compelled to by your sky’s.
Somehow, you've come to occupy the little cracks and spaces of himself he wasn't even aware were empty.
Subgenres / Tropes: Enemies to lovers / Forbidden pairing / “Fated but fighting it” / Opposites (light vs shadow) / Forced proximity / forced partnership / Run away together / “us vs the world” / Prophecy / prevent-the-future plot
Word Count: 7.5k
Warnings: Mild swearing mentions of blood, death, super angsty, arguments, and a semi fluff ending.
Main blog: @ap-writings / Wattpad: ap-writing
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
The faint ticking of a clock threaded through the room, barely audible over the professor's droning voice and the low hum of restless conversation.
No one was really listening.
The witches sat to the far right, irritation flickering across their faces as they took turns erasing the chalk lines the warlocks, spread across the far left, kept lazily sketching across the board with quiet amusement. A cluster of vampires murmured among themselves, debating lunch like it was a fine art, blood types, sources, preferences, voices low and measured.
Down front, the werewolves huddled together, passing around a broken claw from last night's training, inspecting it like a badge of honor. Along the very back wall, the shadow assassins stood in a line of near-perfect stillness. Silent. Watchful. Some tracked movement across the room, others kept their attention fixed on exits and shadows. Not one of them had spoken since arriving.
To the right, near the front, the fae leaned close together, soft laughter slipping between them as they scrolled through glowing images on a phone, arguing over which colors best brought out the shimmer of opal wings. Closest to the tall windows, the sun-blessed healers tilted their faces toward the light, quietly drawing in energy from the thin rays that slipped through the glass, recovering from a night spent nearly powerless.
And at the center of it all, the light oracles sat in composed silence. A sea of silver-blonde hair and softly glowing skin, heads bent over parchment as they took careful notes. They were the only ones paying attention. The only ones who hadn't forgotten that, at any moment, the results of the project partner questionnaire would be announced.
Elira, seated among the light oracles, let her attention drift, not to the professor, but to the fae.
"Truly, Posy," one of them chimed, voice dripping with sweetness, "that violet hue draws the eye so sharply to the fractured light within your wings. It makes the delicate cracks of opal almost impossible to ignore."
Lie. Elira's eyes narrowed slightly, gold flickering brighter as the truth slipped cleanly into place, That color is so loud it drowns everything else out. Your wings look cracked. Worn. Like they're falling apart, and everyone's going to notice.
A quiet scoff left her lips. "What a little backstabbing fae."
"What did you say?" another oracle murmured beside her, not looking up from her notes.
"Nothing," Elira said smoothly. "Just... fae being fae. You know how they are."
Right then, the door opened. The secretary entered like a shadow that had learned how to walk in heels—tall, thin, sharp in a way that made people sit up straighter without knowing why. Conversations died almost instantly, every head turning as she glided to the front. "The results for your projects, Mr. Hargenbal." She handed over the envelope with practiced ease. As she turned, her gaze swept the room, cool, assessing. "Good luck to you all." And then she was gone. The silence she left behind lingered a beat too long before the room exhaled all at once.
"All right," Mr. Hargenbal said, holding up the envelope. "Inside are your assigned partners. As you all know, these were determined by the academy's compatibility questionnaire. I don't want anyone coming to me afterward with complaints.. I have no control over the results." His gaze swept the room. "Any questions before I open this?"
They stared at him like he held something far more dangerous than paper.
"No?" He nodded once. "Fair enough." With a flick of his hand, the envelope split open. "First pairing: Sun-blessed healer Torrina, and fae Meadow."
A squeal cut through the tension as Meadow practically floated out of her seat, darting toward Torrina.
"Next: Light Oracle Lucinda, and Sun-blessed healer Shawnee."
Chairs shifted. Movement resumed. The room began to breathe again. Elira waited, patient, but her eyes began to glow, faint at first. Then brighter. The vision hit without warning.
A dark room. Heavy and still. A single maroon lamp burned in the corner, casting low, suffocating light. A figure stood near the window, unmoving, swallowed in shadow.
She couldn't see his face. Only the slow inhale, the measured exhale, then sudden motion. He turned, grabbed the lamp, and hurled it.
Elira blinked hard, her body leaning back slightly as the weight of it dragged its way out of her chest.
"Whoa—hey." Daisy turned to her, concern breaking through her focus. "What did you see?"
Elira shook her head, still catching her breath. "I don't—I don't know. A man... a room... he threw a lamp, I—"
"—Daisy, and Sun-blessed healer June."
Daisy's head snapped toward the front. Then to June, already making her way over. Then back to Elira. "We'll talk later?"
"Yeah," Elira nodded. "Yeah, of course." She watched her go, then turned back, drawing in a slow breath as she fixed her attention on the professor again, waiting. Names continued. Pairings fell into place easily, predictably.
Healers with fae. Oracles with healers. Vampires with wolves. Shadow assassins with their own kind, as always.
Order. Balance. Expectation.
Until it stopped when two names remained. The kind of silence that followed wasn't loud, but it was wrong. Like the room itself had caught on.
"Uh..." Mr. Hargenbal frowned down at the page. "This... this can't be right."
A ripple moved through the class.
"Professor?" someone called. "Everything okay?"
"Yes—yes, of course." He cleared his throat quickly. "I just need to make a quick call. Sit tight." His eyes flicked up, just for a second, to Elira. Gone so fast most wouldn't notice. But she did. And she knew.
Lie.
The room slowly filled with noise again, speculation, laughter, curiosity. People comparing partners, guessing outcomes, already planning. Some even started wondering aloud who Elira would be paired with. They hadn't noticed that there was one other name that hadn't been called.
Mr. Hargenbal rose from his chair, the movement alone enough to pull the room back into uneasy silence.
"Okay," he said, voice tighter than before. "There was no mistake." He stepped out from behind his desk, the paper held a little too carefully in his hand. "Light Oracle... Elira." A pause, one long enough to feel wrong. He glanced down again, as if hoping the ink might rearrange itself. "And..." His hesitation deepened. "Shadow—"
Gasps cut through the room immediately. Then silence.
Heavy. Absolute. Silence.
"Shadow assassin," he finished, quieter now. "Kael."
It landed like a dropped blade. Every head turned toward Elira. She didn't move, she couldn't.
Along the back wall, the shadow assassins shifted, not loudly, not chaotically, but with purpose. A subtle closing of ranks. Bodies angling just enough to block, to obscure.
To hide him.
"Surely that's a mistake, Professor..." Daisy's voice broke through first, sharp with disbelief.
"That's like throwing gasoline on a fire," another student added. "There's no way that's safe—"
Voices began to rise, overlapping, tension bleeding into panic, and Elira's vision hit again.
A rooftop this time, cold air and open sky. The same figure sat at the edge of the academy, hood pulled low, shadow clinging to him like a second skin. A blade flicked between his fingers, effortless, precise, controlled.
A voice, distant. Not his. "Is it done?"
"Not yet," the man replied, calm. Certain. "Soon. Give it time."
"There isn't much left to give."
The knife stilled and the head of the hooded figure turns ever so slightly, not enough to see face.
Elira gasped softly as the vision snapped away, her chest rising and falling as the weight of it dragged through her. The room rushed back in.
Voices. Questions. Judgment.
Him.
They were talking about him. About how it wouldn't work, how it couldn't work.
"Everyone, settle down," Mr. Hargenbal called, raising a hand. "I spoke with the Dean. The questionnaire does not make mistakes."
"Oh, what does he know?" Daisy shot back. "He sits in his office all day like he's allergic to the sun."
"Hey," a vampire muttered flatly, "that's a real condition, thanks."
"Not the point," Daisy snapped, already pushing forward. "There has to be something you can do. We all know this—" she gestured toward Elira, then vaguely toward the back of the room, "—isn't right."
Mr. Hargenbal exhaled slowly, tension lining his face. "I know. Believe me, I do. But there's no changing it. The project assigned to them will likely explain the reasoning."
"And what project is that?" Daisy pressed. "Do you even have the topics yet?"
He shook his head. "They'll be distributed later today. And no, I don't control that either."
Murmurs spread again, quieter now, more unsettled than before. Elira barely heard them. She sank back into her chair, dragging a hand through her silver-blonde hair, her pulse still uneven.
Kael Vireth.
The name settled heavily in her mind.
A shadow assassin, which is the exact opposite of a light oracle. He was everything she wasn't, unseen, untraceable, lethal. Trained to kill without a sound, without a witness.
While she was always seen. Always watched. Studied. Praised. Placed on a pedestal she never asked for, expected to be flawless simply because of what she was.
And she hated it.
She carried the weight of futures that hadn't happened yet, guilt for outcomes she hadn't caused while he existed as nothing more than a file in a drawer. A name. A face. A weapon.
"Elira..." Daisy's voice cut in softly. "Elira."
Elira blinked, turning her head slowly. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Daisy said immediately. "You just had another vision, and you look pale. That's not normal."
Elira closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself. "The academy doesn't make mistakes. It never has." Her eyes opened again, still gold, but dimmer now. "I'll be fine. Kael—" She stopped because the name felt heavier out loud, then with a quiet sigh, "I'll be fine."
Daisy studied her, gaze flicking toward the back wall where shadows still gathered unnaturally, then back again. "You call me if you need anything," she said. She moved to bump Elira's shoulder, then caught herself, pulling back slightly. "If anything goes wrong, me and the others, we'll be there. Immediately."
Elira nodded. "I know." A small, practiced smile. "Have fun with June. I hope your project is... easier than mine."
Daisy snorted. "Doubtful. She's so self-obsessed I'll be doing all the work while she stares at her reflection in a pen." She shook her head. "I hope you get an easy one."
The bell rang.
Lunch. Chairs scraped. Voices rose. The room emptied in a rush of movement and conversation.
Everyone left. Almost, Kael didn't move. Still against the back wall, half-swallowed by shadow, he watched as Elira finally stood—watched the way she gathered her books, the careful, controlled way she moved. Then he stepped forward. "You know this is a problem for me too, yeah?"
Elira's movements slowed. She looked up at him.
Nothing. No flicker. No shift. No quiet pulse of wrongness.
He wasn't lying.
"When did I say it wouldn't be?" she replied evenly.
For a moment, her light shifted his shadow for her, bending it just enough against him to catch part of his face. Not all of it.
But enough. Sharp lines. Controlled stillness. Grey eyes that didn't soften. He noticed, stepped back, and the shadow closed over him again. "You were going to," he said. "When you said my name, and stopped." He tilted his head slightly. "You also told Daisy you hoped hers was.. easier than ours, so."
Elira's eyes flickered, gold flaring just a touch brighter.
The same movement and the same angle from the vision.
Her breath caught, just for a second.
It could be him... Or it could be coincidence.
She forced the light in her eyes to dim, blinking it away as she inhaled slowly. "We don't have to talk now," she said. "We can wait until we get our project." She slung her bag over her shoulder. "I'm late for lunch." She didn't wait for a response. Just turned, pushed the doors open, and walked out, leaving him standing in the quiet classroom.
Watching like he always does. He inhales, a finger tapping the desk beside him before walking towards the door.
Lunch was quieter than usual.
Elira sat with Daisy and a few of the other oracles in the courtyard, the noise of the academy softened by open air and distance. For a moment, it almost felt normal. She tilted her face toward the sun, letting the warmth settle over her skin as she inhaled slowly.
Peaceful, almost.
"You know something's going on." The voice cut through the calm like a blade. Elira's eyes didn't open, but she listened.
"What do you mean, Rey?"
"What I mean—" Rey took a loud bite of her apple, chewing like she had all the time in the world, "—is that the academy doesn't just pair two polar opposites for a stupid class project."
"It's not stu—"
Rey talked right over her. "There are two outcomes here. We can place bets now if you want, I'll happily collect later, but either they fail, spectacularly..." A pause. "...or one of them ends up dead."
Elira's fingers curled slightly in her lap, Daisy inhaled slowly, eyes glued on Rey.
"And honestly?" Rey added, voice lowering just enough to carry, "that would suck for her, considering she'd probably see it coming. Imagine watching your own dea—"
"Rey." The warning snapped sharp through the air. One of the wolves shot her a look, gesturing not-so-subtly toward Elira and the oracles.
Rey froze. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, shifting awkwardly. "Hey, look, I didn't—"
"Lying already?" Daisy cut in smoothly. "That might be a new record, even for you."
Elira opened her eyes. The sunlight felt dimmer now. Daisy stood, brushing off her uniform before glancing down at Elira. "Come on."
There was no room for argument in her tone. Elira rose without a word, the other oracles following quickly. As they passed, the tension lingered, thick and uncomfortable. Daisy didn't look back.
But Elira did. Just for a second, and Rey looked away first.
"Way to go," one of the wolves muttered under their breath once the oracles were out of earshot. "Now we're all going to have to watch what we say around them."
"Yeah," another added quietly. "Like they weren't already doing that."
A few floors above the courtyard, the shadow assassins occupied the shaded balcony overlooking it. They didn't gather like the others. No loose circles. No easy laughter. Just scattered stillness, each of them positioned with purpose, backs to walls, eyes on exits, on movement, on everything.
"Leave it to the queen mutt to make this worse than it already is," one muttered, glancing sideways at Kael. "You good?"
Kael didn't look at him. His gaze stayed on the railing below, where students moved in clusters, unaware—or pretending to be. "Queen mutt isn't wrong," he said quietly. He shook his head once. "Not even close." There was a shift in the air at that. Subtle, but there. "Something's coming," Kael added. "Been feeling it for days."
"Yeah," another voice chimed in from the far end of the balcony. "Same here. They never tell us anything until it's time to suit up and ship out."
Kael gave a small, humorless nod, leaning his shoulder back against the wall. "Who knows," he muttered. "This place is a joke."
"Tell me about it," the first one scoffed. "I'm only here because my dad drilled it into me, 'assassin blood, assassin legacy.'" He rolled his eyes. "Told him once I just wanted to be Brian." A low whistle followed. "If looks could kill? I wouldn't be sitting here right now."
A few quiet snorts broke the tension, but not for long. It never lasted. Kael didn't join in, his attention had shifted to the courtyard down below.
The oracles had already gone, but he had seen her before she left. The way she moved. The way the light bent around her. Different from the other oracles.
His jaw tightened slightly at the full thought of her. Of all people, she had to be his partner. His problem.
His gaze lingered a second longer before he pushed off the wall. "Bell's about to ring," he said flatly. But he didn't move right away. Because that feeling, the one sitting heavy in his chest, wasn't going anywhere.
Back inside, the room lit up with the sharp chorus of notifications, phones buzzing, laptops chiming in near unison. A ripple of reactions followed, claps of excitement. Groans of disappointment. Immediate chatter as everyone compared results.
"June and I got the Light Amplification Experiment," Daisy read off her screen. "We're supposed to enhance oracle visions using healing light, boost clarity and duration safely." She hummed, tilting her head. "That's... actually kind of interesting."
"Rainey and I—" another oracle leaned forward, scanning her phone, "—we have Preventative Healing Based on Prophecy." She blinked. "I have to predict injuries before they happen, and she has to treat them before they occur." A pause. "...We're basically testing if you can heal something that hasn't even happened yet."
A low chorus of intrigued hums circled the group. Daisy glanced sideways at Elira. "Did you get yours and Kael's yet?"
She shook her head, eyes already on her screen. "No."
She refreshed. Nothing for a second, and then it appeared. "Oh. Wait." She clicked it, and stilled.
Elira Solenne,
Access to your assigned project has been restricted.
You and Kael Vireth are required to be physically present in the same room, unaccompanied, in order to unlock and view the contents of this message.
This condition is mandatory.
Be advised: Kael Vireth has received identical instructions.
No further access will be granted until these requirements are met.
Her shoulders dropped slightly, tension settling in where curiosity had been. "...Kael and I have to open it together," she said quietly. "I can't just—" She exhaled, shaking her head once. "Is anyone else getting a bad feeling about this?"
"Thank you," one of the other oracles said immediately. "I didn't want to be the first to say it."
A few others nodded, unease threading through the group now. Elira gave a small, humorless shrug. "Yeah. I get it." Her gaze dropped back to her phone, the unopened message still glowing on the screen like it was waiting for something. "I need to find Kael."
Right as she stands, her eyes glow and she takes a step back. A vision hits, but this time, it's not the same figure.
It's the Dean.
He's laying flat on the floor of his office, a blade buried deep in his back, blood pooling slowly beneath him.
"It's done." A voice says, cold and impatient. "Now let me leave this fucking place."
Elira gasps, blinking hard as the vision snaps away. "Shit—" A hand flies to her chest, her breathing uneven, "The Dean—he—" She looks up quickly, panic slipping through, "You need to make sure nothing happens to the Dean." She's already moving, the panic behind her fading. As she is pulling her bag higher onto her shoulder as she rushes forward, she rounds the corner and slams into someone. "Sorry! I'm in a bit of a rush."
His hands lift instinctively near her arms, hovering, not quite touching, and his familiar voice cuts in, "I was coming to find you."
"Yeah, well you found me," Elira snaps, stepping back, shrugging her bag into place. "We have to open—"
"I know." He cuts in, sharp and immediate. There's no hesitation. "Come on." He steps around her, barely brushing past, already moving down the hall like he expects her to follow.
And for a second it feels like he already knows something she doesn't. Elira follows, close, but not too close. He pulls open the door to one of the meeting halls, pausing just long enough to scan the room before motioning her in. She walks past him, setting her bag on the table as she pulls out her phone. "Do you know something?"
"No." He answers instantly. Certain. "I don't."
Not lying. Elira narrows her eyes, studying him for a brief second before shaking her head. "Fine. Let's just—"
"We have to open it at the exact same time."
She looks up at him. His shadow lags, just for a second, catching the light wrong, giving her a fleeting glimpse of half his face. It was gone as quickly as it came.
"Are you counting, or am I?"
He nods toward her.
She exhales once, steadying. "One... Two... Three."
They open it.
Elira Solenne. Kael Vireth.
Your pairing has been designated under restricted parameters.
This assignment is not optional.
You have been selected to operate in tandem for a specialized directive beyond standard academic scope.
Your objective:
To identify, track, and prevent a future catastrophic event.
Elira Solenne—your role is to observe, interpret, and report through prophetic vision and truth-seeing.
Kael Vireth—your role is to act, utilizing concealment, infiltration, and elimination where necessary.
You are to rely on one another.
You are to trust the function of this pairing.
Failure to complete this assignment will result in consequences deemed appropriate by the Academy.
Further details will be disclosed as the future clarifies.
Proceed accordingly.
Elira lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "This..." She rereads it, slower this time. "This is crazy."
Kael doesn't respond right away. His eyes stay fixed on his screen. "I fucking knew it."
Elira's head snaps up. "You fucking knew what?"
His gaze cuts to her, sharp, assessing. There's a flicker there. It's brief, gone just as fast. He didn't expect that language. Not from her, or any oracle for that matter. They weren't known to curse, not even when repeating phrases from a vision. "Nothing." He looks back down at his phone. "Let's just figure out how we're going to start this."
She stares at him, disbelief creeping in. "You—" she scoffs softly, shaking her head, "You think this is just a project? Kael, we have to—"
"I know what we have to do," he cuts in, voice flat. "I read it. Twice."
She inhales. "Fine. You want somewhere to start? Tell me what you knew."
"Tell me what the visions you had were."
"No. I asked you first."
"Your visions are more important, Elira."
Elira.
The way he says her name sends a spark, and a chill, down her spine.
He's right. And she hates that he's right. She inhales again, her eyes flickering faintly, gold catching, slipping, like light struggling to stay steady. He notices, of course he does. He's seen it before. But he says nothing, he doesn't let on that he's already clocked the pattern, when it happens, how it happens. When she's about to slip. "Elira," he says again, quieter this time. "Tell me."
"The Dean," she starts, voice tighter now. "I think... something's going to happen to the Dean."
"The Dean?" he repeats, watching her carefully. "Do you know why?"
She shakes her head. "I—no."
There's a brief moment of silence. His head tilts slightly. "Mm." It's subtle. Almost thoughtful. "You know," he says, voice low, measured, "you're not the only one who can tell when someone's lying."
Her eyes flicker again.
"I might not get some glowing truth spelled out and dropped into my head," he continues, "but I'm very good at reading people." He steps just a little closer, not enough to touch, but enough to press. "Spill."
She keeps her eyes on his shadowed face. "I think it's one of your guys... I've—" she swallows slightly, steadying herself, "the visions... they've been shadowed." She gives him a pointed look. "I haven't seen a face. But in the first one, it was a room. Dim. The figure standing by the window, and then they threw a lamp." Her breathing starts to pick up. "The second... same figure, I think. Sitting on the edge of the academy roof. Someone asked if it was done yet—they said no. Said to give them time. But... there isn't much left to give." A pause. "And the one right before I ran into you—" her voice tightens, "—the Dean. Dead."
Kael doesn't react the way she expects. "How?"
Elira blinks, thrown. "What do you—" She exhales sharply. "A blade. In his back. Blood pooling under him."
"What did the blade look like?"
"I don't—I didn't focus on that," she snaps, frustration bleeding through. "The Dean was dead, Kael. D.e.a.d dead!"
"Keep your voice down, alright?" He steps closer, voice dropping. "There are bloodsuckers in this place that could hear you from across the damn school."
"I'm sorry if that offends you," she shoots back, "but this is serious." She scoffs, shaking her head. "We're talking about the person who keeps this place running. The one who makes all of this—" she gestures vaguely, the academy, the balance, "—even possible."
"What if you're wrong?" he snaps. The words land harder than anything else. "You ever think of that?"
"I'm not wrong," she fires back instantly. "When have I ever been wrong?"
"You haven't been yet," he says, just as quick. "But that doesn't make you perfect."
They stare at each other, each of them rapidly questioning each other in their own heads.
"Everyone fucks up," he adds, quieter now. "Some just later than others."
"I am not wrong." She states low, cold, "Something is happening, you even said so yourself, which speaking of.. Your turn to tell me what exactly you meant by, 'I fucking knew it'."
Kael inhales through his nose slowly, "It's not what you think."
She doesn't budge, just waits for him to continue, which he does, "My director, the one just for the assassins, has been quieter, lately. We all picked up on it. We're mostly silent, yes, but he-" He glances over his shoulder then slowly back to her, "He's been different."
Again, not lying. Which pisses her off more because she does not trust him, every alarm bell is going off in her mind and body, and yet, no truth being spelled out.
"I feel like you're lying." She breathes out, "I just- There's no truth coming out of it."
"Because it is the truth, Elira." He holds his eyes on her, watching her watch him, "What the hell do you want me to do?"
The door opens. Another student freezes instantly in the doorway, eyes widening as they take in the room. "Uh—s-sorry." They clear their throat, shifting awkwardly. "I thought Miss Cleyvers was holding the meeting here."
"Clearly not," Kael says smoothly, voice edged in ice. "Close the door on your way out."
The door shuts almost immediately with a heavy click, and silence follows for a moment.
"Answer the question."
Elira scoffs, shaking her head. "I don't know, Kael. I don't—"
Her eyes flicker again, growing brighter.
"Elira." Kael steps forward, tension snapping tight in his voice. "You're having a vision."
"No. No, I'm not." The lie falls apart the second it leaves her mouth.
The vision hits anyway.
The shadow assassin director stands in a dim room, hands clasped behind his back as he looks out the window.
Two figures stand behind him. Shadows. Unclear. Watching.
"You do this," the director says calmly, "and you can walk out of this place free."
"How do we know you're telling the truth?" one of the shadows asks. "We do this, and what, just trust you, or someone else won't turn on us after?"
He lets out a low chuckle. "You should know by now," the director says, "I always keep my word."
Then the second shadow speaks, voice quieter and colder, "Everyone fucks up." He scoffs, almost inaudible, "Some just later than others."
Elira gasps, the sound catching, choking in her throat as she's dragged back.
Kael's hand is around her wrist, firm, grounding. "Elira. Hey—hey."
She looks up at him slowly, breath uneven. "Everyone fucks up... some just later than others..." Her voice trembles, just slightly. "That's what you just said to me." She shakes her head, almost in full disbelief. "And that's what one of the shadows in my vision just said."
Something shifts in his expression. Small but very real. Kael swallows. "Elira, let me explain—"
She yanks her wrist free. "No." The word comes sharp, cutting him off instantly, her hand raised between them like it can stop him. Her next breath breaks. "It's—it's you—" Her voice cracks, too, but she doesn't stop. "You're..." she shakes her head slightly, like she wishes the words would change before she says them, "you're the catastrophe I have to stop."
He doesn't move, his hand still hanging where her wrist was freed, "Elira-"
"Don't. Do not.. say my name like that, don't even say it at all." She steps back, bumping into the table, but her eyes stay on him, "I can't- they knew I couldn't- they knew-" She inhales sharply, "Why?" She asks, voice cracking again, "I'm not- I'm not.. yours.. I don't deal with death, not like this, i see it, i tell the right people, i stop it before it happens, I don't-"
Kael doesn't say a word. His hand slowly drops back to his side. Elira turns away, he watches her pace a step before stopping and facing him again. "The truth, Kael..." her voice wavers, then steadies, "I want—no, I need it."
He says nothing. Her frustration snaps when he doesn't speak like she wants, "Now!"
Kael flinches.
It's small, barely there, but she sees it. And it hits her just as fast, "I—" The anger drains, replaced by something unfamiliar.
Guilt.
It spreads slowly, uninvited, settling heavy in her chest. And she hates it.
Why does she feel guilty? She shouldn't. Not for him. Not for something this. He's the one she's supposed to stop. The one at the center of something awful, something that hasn't even happened yet, but will. So why does it feel like she's the one who crossed a line?
"Kael..." she says, softer now.
"Don't." He turns his head away from her, jaw tight, like even looking at her is too much.
She doesn't say anything. Her eyes do all the talking. That flicker, the sudden brightening of gold, is a dead giveaway.
She's thrown into another vision.
It's Kael.
Younger. Sixteen, maybe. Not hidden by shadows and a hood.
He stands in a room, cement, not big but not small. It's bare, and very cold.
"Again." The voice comes from a shadowed corner, deep, sharp enough to make him flinch hard. "We are not stopping until you get this right. You should have it by now, boy."
Kael exhales shakily. "I—I'll get it... I swear, I just—"
A dagger flies from the opposite shadow. Fast, and it sinks into his shoulder.
He groans, folding forward, breath hitching. His hand shoots up, gripping the hilt before ripping it free with a sharp inhale and he hurls it back toward where it came from. "I'm not meant for this life, dad."
The shadow moves closer now. An arm extends, and a gloved finger presses into the wound in his shoulder. "You healed instantly, boy."
Kael's breathing fills the space, heavy, uneven.
"You were chosen for this life." Another press into the wound. "And you will do it the honor by becoming the best."
Elira stumbles back. The corner of the table slams into her side, knocking the breath from her as her balance gives out.
Kael is there instantly. One hand at her back, steadying, the other at her hip. "Easy," his voice is lower now, controlled, but there's something under it. "That was a big one, wasn't it?"
She doesn't answer, just goes still for a second, breath coming in uneven pulls.
He helps her upright slowly and carefully. Then steps back just as slow, like the contact itself means something he won't acknowledge. "Thought so."
Her eyes flick towards him, then his shoulder, then away. He caught it, "Just say it." He keeps his eyes on her, "Tell me what you saw."
She doesn't answer right away. A part of her is hoping someone comes in again, enough to break the tension, for even just a second. The moment stretches, and she realizes that no one is coming.
"Elira."
He barely finishes her name before she cuts in. "You."
"Me," he repeats, slower. "What about me?"
"You were... training, I think." Her voice falters slightly. "But it looked more like torture..."
His jaw tightens. "Mm."
Her eyes flick up to him, then drop again. "Your d—"
"Don't call him that." The words come quick, then softer, almost pleading, "...please."
She nods once. "He made you flinch," she continues, quieter now. "And you took a dagger to the shoulder and pulled it out like it was nothing."
"I did," he says. No hesitation. "That—" He drags a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "Fuck. Yeah. That was training." "I started when I turned eleven." His voice hardens again, like he's forcing it back into place. "My—he..." He cuts himself off, frustration flashing across his face. "They called it conditioning." He shakes his head slightly. "I had to learn how to read hidden targets. Move faster than whoever was in front of me. Not hesitate."
Elira's eyes gloss over, the gold dimming to something softer, something him, nor anyone else ever seen before. His gaze locks onto hers and that makes his chest tighten. "Don't look at me like that," he says, sharper now, almost defensive. "Don't look at me like I'm some kind of bullshit pity project."
"I-"
"Or something you need to feel sorry for." He adds, half turning away from her. His eyes dart around the room in front of him, like he's debating something.
"I didnt-" She sighs, for once, the first time in her life, stumped on what to say or do next.
Kael beats her to it anyway, "You were seeing me in those visions."
Her heart skips a beat, hard. It makes her gasp.
He continues before he can second guess it, "I met with my director today with Brian. We both want out, a lot of us do.. so we came up with a plan.. we take out the top dog, the Dean. Everyone will be so focused on that, that I'll have enough of a head start to get the fuck out of here, but this.." He sighs, "I'm going to be honest here, Elira.. This whole thing feels like a whole set up, against both of us."
He wasn't lying. Or maybe he was, and somehow still keeping her from reading him.
She didn't know. Her brows furrow, frustration flickering across her face. "You think that—" She exhales softly, the pieces starting to settle in a way she doesn't like. "They know how powerful I am."
Kael's head turns fully toward her now. Then he speaks, slow and measured, "Just how powerful are you, Elira?"
Elira doesn't look at him. She just shakes her head.
"Elira."
"I'm the top oracle," she says, the words coming out tighter than she expects. "I took over for the High Seer, Marcie, four months ago because she's sick, really sick. The vision I had of her dying..." her voice dips, "it's next week." She finally looks up at him, and it all starts spilling out. "I didn't tell anyone. None of the other oracles know. I used my magic to conceal it, from everyone who can read me. I'm not supposed to, but—" She exhales sharply, frustrated, overwhelmed. "Fuck, I am so sick of this." Her voice trembles now. "I am so tired of being treated like I'm something to be feared, or something that needs to be put on a pedestal, because I'm not." Her chest rises and falls unevenly. "I'm here because, just like you, it was drilled into me at such a young age. This is all I know, and I fu—" Her voice breaks. "I fucking hate it, Kael."
Kael just stares at her. His hand twitches like he wants to reach out, but he stops himself. He knows she doesn't like to be touched, also knows that it could trigger another vision, and she's had enough of those today. "Elira..." His voice is quieter now. "I didn't—"
"Of course you didn't know," she cuts in, wiping at her cheek. "Why would you?" She inhales, forcing herself back together. "We just need to focus on this. Figure out what we're going to do because Rey was right... There's only two outcomes."
"No, there's not," he says instantly. "There's not just two. Screw that mutt for even saying that shit."
Elira blinks. "You heard her?"
"Of course I did," he scoffs. "And if you think I'm going to let a dog that loses her mind every full moon be right about us, then you're just as wrong." He glances around the room, checking, always checking. "If you're not going to turn me in like you oracles love to do, then—"
"It's in our nature," she snaps. "We're bound by the light to—"
"And I'm bound by the shadow," he cuts in. "Polar opposites, remember?" He gestures slightly toward the far wall. "There's a tunnel behind that bookshelf. You start going. I'll find Brian, bring him with us—we call the plan off, and we leave."
Elira just stares at him like he's grown another head. "You—"
"Yeah," he cuts in, already moving, already decided. "I'm doing the thing I swore not to do." He looks back at her, something sharp, and almost urgent behind his eyes, "Don't make it a big deal. If we're going, we're going now. So make up your mind." He walks over, breaking off the leg of a chair and shoving it through the handles to the door.
Elira inhales sharply. "What i- they can track us? Right? Don't you remember what they did on our first day here? We—what if—Kael, we can't—"
"Elira. Listen to me." He cuts her off, turning toward her sharply. "If we don't go now, you're stuck here. I'm stuck here. And I won't have a choice but to kill the Dean." The words land heavy. "And that's the last thing I want. For either of us." He turns, moving to the bookshelf, gripping the edge and pulling at it.
"Why do you suddenly care?" she asks.
That makes him stop. His hands tighten against the wood. He turns his head slightly, but he doesn't look at her, "Why are you suddenly against leaving?" he shoots back, not looking at her. "You were just.. bawling about how much you fucking hate it here."
"I wasn't—"
"You were." He yanks at the shelf again, harder this time. "If you're not going, then I'll get Brian. We'll leave." The shelf shifts slightly. "And you can send everyone on a wild fucking goose chase." He glances back at her, eyes sharp, certain. "Because mark my words, Elira.. When I'm gone..." His voice drops. "No one is seeing me again."
His words make something in her chest tighten. Before she can think better of it, she steps forward and lays her hand against his cheek. His skin is warm, she was expecting cold. Her breath hitches, and her eyes flare gold. She pushes herself into a vision.
Kael gasps, "Wait—no, what—"
Kael and Brian are running.
Fast. Silent. Sharp turns through a narrow tunnel, boots barely making a sound against the stone.
Behind them, there's shouting, echoing off the tunnel walls.
"Stop them!"
"They're getting away!"
"Kael Vireth! Brian Swellow!"
"Go, go—" Kael shoves Brian forward, urgency cutting through his voice. "We're almost there."
They pick up the pace, moving faster and a light at the end of the tunnel becomes visible, its dim, moonlight.
But they cross through.
It suddenly snaps, shifts to another vision, one later.
The sound of water floods in before the picture does. When it hits, a waterfall crashes somewhere close, mist catching in the air.
They're sitting near it, somewhere far, somewhere unknown.
Safe for once in their lives, and for the first time, since he was seventeen, Kael's hood is down.
Allowing the sunlight to touch his face, really touch it.
And also for the first time, he looks still. He wasn't tense or watching.
He was just breathing.
His silver eyes are dim, unfocused in a way that almost looks peaceful.
His fingers turn something slowly.
A necklace.
Her necklace. The one resting against her collarbone in the present.
"You miss her?" Brian asks, glancing over.
Kael doesn't look at him. "Every day."
Elira exhales sharply as the vision drops, and her hand slides slowly from his cheek. "You—" Her voice is quieter now, almost unsteady. She looks up at him. "You'd miss me..."
Her fingers lift, gripping the necklace at her throat. "You took this. I stayed here... you and Brian—"
Kael doesn't pull away, in fact he doesn't move at all. "Is that your choice?" he asks, voice low, controlled, but there's something tight underneath it. "Is that what you're doing, Elira?" He exhales through his nose, tension barely contained. "I need to know."
Her mouth moves but no sound comes out.
"Elira!"
"No!" The word slips out before she can stop it, startling even herself. "I—" She shakes her head quickly, trying to steady it. "You went through more than I did." She swallows. "You deserve to go."
He just stares at her, like that wasn't the answer he expected. "What..." He exhales slowly. "You—" He doesn't blink. Barely breathes. "A-Are you sure?"
The hesitation in his voice throws her off and makes something in her chest twist hard. "I—Kael, don't—don't do this to me..." She drags a hand through her hair, frustrated, overwhelmed. "I saw you, the vision. You were happy. Your hood was down, and you—" Her hand moves to her neck and she snaps the necklace free. "You had this." She places it in his hand, folding his fingers over the gold chain. "Go. I'll find Brian. I'll send the board the other way, you have time."
His hand stays loose around it as he swallows once. "I ca—"
"You can. And you will." She steps closer, lifting her hand to push his hood back just enough for her light to bend his shadow.
And for the first time, she sees him.
Fully.
He's beautiful. Dark hair falling into his eyes, soft in a way that doesn't match anything else about him.
Grey eyes, rimmed with silver.
Freckles scattered across pale skin, faint but there.
Human.
She tilts her head slightly, her own eyes glossing over. "That..." her voice softens, almost fragile, "is the face of someone who deserves to be happy, Kael Vireth."
He sucks in a sharp breath, "Elira."
She steps back. "Go. Now. I'll give you time." She turns toward the door, glancing back at him once before moving the chair leg out of the way and slipping out.
"Elira!" he calls after her, but she doesn't come back.
The door shuts, and Kael turns, slamming his palm into the books on the shelf once, the sound echoing sharp through the room. He pauses, just for a second, then moves to pull his phone out, typing a quick encrypted message to Brian.
Office with the bookshelf. Now. Not much time left.
The response comes almost instantly.
On my way. Bringing a few others like we planned.
Kael pockets his phone, glancing at the door, then down at the necklace in his palm. "Fucking hell," he mutters. "I can't just—" He exhales sharply, then starts moving. He slips out into the hall, scanning like normal, then stills.
Brian and a few others already heading toward him. Kael pushes the door open, letting them file in. Brian's last. He stops just inside, eyes locking onto Kael. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Just go." Kael nods toward the room. "I'll catch up."
Brian grabs his arm. "We don't have to do that anymore."
Kael looks at him. "That's not what I'm doing." He pulls his arm free and walks off without another word. Behind him, Brian hesitates, then turns, ushering the others into the tunnel. Kael doesn't look back because he already knows where he's going.
Elira paces her dorm room, wiping at tears that won't stop, no matter how much she wants them to. She mutters under her breath, cursing herself for feeling this much, for letting him get under her skin, for everything. After a moment, she exhales sharply and moves to the door.
She pulls it open and freezes.
Kael stands there, fist raised like he was about to knock. He freezes too.
"Kael?" She breathes. "What—"
"I'm not leaving you here to clean up my mess." His jaw tightens slightly.
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