Meet me at the meadow after school. I need to tell you something.
I stopped mid-step, rereading Anya's message. What did that mean?
Was she not coming in today?
My stomach twisted.
I should have felt relief. But there was something off about the timing. The silence all break, then suddenly this?
Maybe she couldn't come in and just missed me. Maybe it was good news.
But still.
I'd waited weeks. She could've said something sooner.
She should have said something sooner.
Lyra turned as we entered the main hall, catching the shift in my expression.
"What's been up with you today?"
"It's nothing. Anya's not coming."
"Oh, to be young and in love," she said, flashing a grin as she patted my head.
This was going to be a long day.
—
The start-of-semester assembly was held in the Academy's vaulted auditorium. Light filtered through stained-glass windows, casting coloured patterns across polished wood and cold tile. The walls echoed with centuries of speeches, honours, and eulogies. Halden Metropolitan Academy was old-world to its bones, with stone archways, wrought-iron detailing, and banners that hadn't been taken down since before the war. The kind of place the Accord kept open to train the next generation of Authority favourites.
I found a seat near the back, just in view of the stage. I had to show up early thanks to Lyra's vice president duties. I didn't mind, it kept me away from the rest of the student council who would sit on stage, facing the audience. Most of them were little more than bootlickers trying to get close to the real power, the student president himself, Eitan of the Hale Legacy.
He stood at the centre podium, speaking now.
Tall, clean-cut, sharp suit under his uniform blazer. That annoying, practiced smile. Every word came out smooth. Polished. Trustworthy.
I didn't trust him for a second.
I watched him steal another glance at Lyra, subtle, but not to me. His smile tilted ever so slightly when she adjusted the mic. He nodded at her like they shared some unspoken joke.
I clenched my jaw.
My friends caught it too.
"Bro, is your sister dating the president?"
I blinked at him slowly.
"No," I said flatly.
"But didn't they spend, like, the whole summer-"
"They're not."
I didn't care if it came out sharp. I didn't like the idea of him watching her. I didn't like that she didn't tell me about it. I didn't like how close they stood backstage. She deserved better. Someone honest. Someone real.
I felt my phone buzz again. Anya? No, just social media. I checked anyway.
Nothing new from her.
Now Lyra was up, stepping into the light like she was born for it. She adjusted the mic and smiled out across the student body. No nerves. No hesitation. She wore her confidence like a second skin.
"Welcome back, everyone," she said, clear and bright. "For those of you returning, you already know the kind of year we're facing. And for those just joining us, don't worry. It only gets harder from here."
Laughter rippled through the hall.
She owned the room. She always did.
I should have felt proud. I think I did. But it gnawed at me, the way the president leaned forward in his seat, like Lyra was already his.
Like he thought she'd stand beside him at the top.
He didn't deserve to even imagine that.
As the speeches ended, the headmaster stepped up. Old man Carrow, a retired Sworn, half-senile, and always looking like he'd wandered in by mistake.
They said his Reverie trial cost him half his memories. The other half he kept locked behind cloudy eyes.
"We also have a new student joining us this semester," he announced, eyes flicking down at the list. "Transferred under special Accord Authority dispensation."
The room quieted a little.
That wasn't normal phrasing. The Accord Authority was the part of the government that dealt with everything to do with the Reverie, Vows and the Citadels. This could only mean one thing.
The transfer was someone who'd been Marked.
"Please welcome… Cayos."
Chaos?
Whispers broke out immediately. No surname. Just Cayos.
A boy stepped onto the stage, hands tucked into his uniform pockets like he hadn't noticed the thousand eyes staring at him. He was tall, lean, and, annoyingly, looked like he belonged on the cover of a fashion mag. His black hair was tousled like he'd run a hand through it on his way in, and over one eye he wore a tight black eyepatch that matched too well with his outfit to be a medical necessity.
His uniform was the same as ours, but his posture was all wrong. Relaxed. Casual. Like none of this mattered.
My first thought, Sworn.
No doubt about it. The way he moved, like the world bent slightly around him.
His uncovered eye swept the crowd lazily, but I could swear that it had lingered on me a second to long.
Amber. No, deeper. Something bright flickered inside, just for a second, like fire behind glass.
And he smiled.
Not at the teachers. Not at the crowd. At me.
Huh? Why was he looking at me.
"Dude, he's looking right at us."
My friends looked scared.
I looked away, jaw tight.
I hated guys like this the most.
Then he stepped forward, lazily, like he had all the time in the world. The room quieted instinctively.
"I was told to introduce myself," he said, voice smooth, unhurried. "But names are fragile things. So let's start with a lie instead." He paused, eyes sweeping the crowd again.
"They call me Cayos."
A ripple moved through the room. Confusion, interest, unease.
"Like... chaos?" someone whispered too loudly from the front.
He smiled again, sharper this time.
"Close enough."
I frowned. What the hell was he talking about?
"They say the Reverie chooses the worthy," he continued, pacing slightly across the stage. "I say it chooses the interesting."
Another pause. He knew exactly how to hold the room.
"Some of you will forget this moment." He tilted his head. "Some of you won't survive it."
A few students shifted. The air felt tighter now.
"Either way..."
He tilted his head.
And then, with a glint of something off behind his expression.
"...Hello."
The silence that followed was heavy, like everyone had forgotten to breathe.
And then the whispers started.
The girls in front of us were already leaning in, murmuring. "Could he have come from that new Citadel that just came?"
Lyra raised an eyebrow as he passed her seat. Her lips twitched, not quite a smile, but enough. Curious. Great.
"I bet he doesn't even have the Mark behind that eyepatch. Probably just wears it to look cool," I started.
They nodded, but it was half-hearted. Uncertain.
"Or," one of them muttered, voice low, "he's the real deal. What if he came back with one of those rare Vows? I heard there's a guy in Sector Twelve who can see five seconds into the future."
"Five seconds isn't much," I said, though my voice came out thinner than I liked.
"Still enough to dodge a bullet," another replied.
"I heard some can't sleep anymore," someone added. "Close their eyes and fall straight into the Reverie. Like… permanently linked."
A hush fell over the group.
But I kept my gaze on Cayos's back as he moved off the stage.
Something about him didn't feel washed-up.
It felt like a warning.
Cayos slid into an empty seat at the end of the front row.
At first, I thought nothing of it. But then he shifted, just slightly, angling his body in that quiet, deliberate way that kept Lyra in his periphery.
My stomach tightened.
He wasn't just watching. He was studying.
This was going to be a long day.