Katt – September 4th, Early morning around 4 am
Dorm Room 113. Greystone Academy.
I woke up gasping.
My lungs pulled at the air like I'd been drowning. The sheets clung to my body, slick with sweat, twisted around my legs like restraints. The silence in the dorm was unnatural—too clean, too sharp, as if the world was holding its breath right alongside me.
The dream was still with me. Not fading like most dreams do. It lingered, sticky and full of teeth.
That room—windowless, cold. The mirror. The boy.
No… not just a boy. Him.
Adrian.
Even now, fully awake, I could still feel his voice crawling down my spine. It hadn't been like normal dreams, where sound is muffled, distant, forgettable. His words cut. They branded themselves onto the inside of my skull like prophecy.
"Remember what was taken."
"You'll find me in the ruins. Beneath the oath."
"The hunger… began with us."
Each sentence was a riddle. But it didn't feel like a game. It felt like a warning. A promise. A key turned halfway in a lock I didn't remember needing to open.
But the worst part wasn't what he said.
It was how he said it.
He called me Katt.
Not Katherine. Not like the staff at Greystone. Not like my records or the file they keep locked away on me in Admin Hall. Only a few people had ever called me that. My mom, once. A friend I lost. But no one here.
No one but him.
I pressed a hand to my chest. My heart was hammering so hard it felt like it might crack a rib. My mouth was dry. My skin tingled like I'd been touched, but I was alone. Or I should've been.
It wasn't just a dream.
I knew it. In the pit of my stomach, in the marrow of my bones—something in me had been reached. Pulled.
Drawn.
My eyes flicked to the desk, to the box, to the tape player. The reels were still. The room was still. But the air felt changed. Charged.
I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to move. But I had to see.
I rose slowly, walked barefoot to the desk, and reached out with trembling fingers to touch the first tape again. My hand hovered, afraid it might be hot, alive, watching me back.
"Who are you?" I whispered, the sound barely more than a breath.
Silence.
But it didn't feel empty. It felt like something was listening.
And for the first time since arriving at Greystone Academy, I wasn't afraid of what I didn't know.
I was afraid of what I might remember.
KATT'S POV
September 4th – 5:32 AM
I couldn't stay in my room any longer.
The air was too heavy. The tapes sat on my desk like they were breathing, waiting for me to press play again. My skin crawled with restless energy, every nerve alight, my muscles twitching as if I'd been shocked. I needed to move. I needed to do something before I lost my mind.
So I did the one thing that always grounded me.
The gym.
Greystone's gym was never busy this early. Most students hated mornings enough without adding sweat and sore muscles. But for me, pushing myself—hearing my breath turn ragged, feeling the ache in my body—was proof that I was still here. Still real. Not just the echo of someone else's dream.
I tied my hair up, slipped into leggings and an old hoodie, and padded down the silent dorm corridors. My sneakers squeaked on the polished floor, each sound magnified in the emptiness. I prayed no one saw me. I didn't want to answer questions. I didn't want to lie.
When I pushed open the gym doors, the smell of rubber mats and metal greeted me, sharp and grounding. I dropped my bag, loaded a bar with just enough weight to distract me, and started with deadlifts. My body knew what to do, even if my mind was in chaos. Each pull, each breath, stripped away a layer of panic.
Still, I couldn't shake the memory of Adrian's voice. His words pulsed like a second heartbeat inside me.
"The hunger began with us."
I gritted my teeth and lifted harder.
CASPIAN'S POV
Same Morning – 5:37 AM
Sleep had abandoned me hours ago.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail of what I'd seen the night before—Katherine slipping into the REDACTED archive, the tapes, the way her hand shook when she touched the box. She had no idea how dangerous this was. No idea what she was walking into. And no idea how much I was already breaking protocol by not reporting her.
Every rule I'd been taught told me to distance myself. To report. To intervene coldly, cleanly. But the thought of someone else handling her—someone like Aiden or Marlow, men who saw people as pieces on a board—made me sick.
So I stayed awake. Watching shadows crawl across the walls. Fighting myself.
By 5 AM, the silence in my room became unbearable. My thoughts wouldn't stop clawing at me, so I did what I always did when the weight of my choices grew too heavy. I went to the gym.
The halls were dark and empty as I made my way there, pulling on a hoodie, headphones hanging loose around my neck. I wanted the sound of my heartbeat drowned out by effort. I wanted exhaustion to do what sleep couldn't.
But when I opened the gym doors, I froze.
She was there.
Katherine.
Sweat darkened the back of her hoodie, her breath sharp and rhythmic as she lifted, determination etched into every line of her posture. She looked fierce. Strong. But beneath it, I saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the same restless storm that had kept me awake.
For a second, I just stood there, caught between instinct and impulse. Instinct said: Turn around. Don't get involved. Impulse said: This is your moment.
I chose impulse.
"Didn't think I'd find anyone else here this early," I said, my voice low, careful not to startle her.
She looked up, startled anyway, eyes flashing with the guarded sharpness of someone who wasn't used to being caught off guard. Then, slowly, she softened just a fraction.
"I could say the same," she replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Most people are asleep at this hour."
Her voice carried exhaustion, but also fire.
That was my opening. My chance.
So I stepped forward, grabbed a set of weights, and said, "Guess that makes us the restless ones."
And for the first time, she didn't look through me. She looked at me. She smiled.
And something—something I wasn't ready to name—shifted between us.
KATT'S POV
September 4th – 6:58 AM
The gym lights hummed above us, casting long shadows across the floor, and for once, I didn't feel like I was carrying the weight of my own silence.
Caspian was easy to talk to. Easier than I expected. He wasn't loud or arrogant like most guys at Greystone. He didn't fill the air just to hear himself speak. He asked questions, listened, and even when he answered, it was with this measured, thoughtful tone that made me curious.
We moved from benches to mats, talking between stretches and sets like we'd known each other longer than ten minutes.
"So," I teased, trying to catch my breath, "are you one of those people who just naturally looks like they belong in a gym, or do you secretly suffer like the rest of us?"
Caspian smirked, shaking his head as he wiped sweat from his brow. "You mean do I actually enjoy this?" He leaned on the dumbbells. "I'll admit, it helps me think. But enjoy? Not exactly."
"Good," I said, grinning. "I was about to hate you if you said yes."
He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm. "Guess I'm safe then."
I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me. I was smiling, really smiling. It felt… good. Lighter than I'd felt in days. Maybe weeks. "So," I said between breaths, wiping sweat from my forehead, "do you usually hang out in the gym before dawn, or is this your first time stalking the treadmills at sunrise?"
Caspian laughed—low, quiet, almost reluctant. "Maybe a bit of both. Sometimes I need the quiet. The campus feels… different before the day starts. Cleaner. Less crowded."
I tilted my head, curious. "You sound like someone who likes watching people more than talking to them."
His lips curved in that half-smile again. "Maybe. Depends on the people."
"Oh?" I leaned on the bar, arching a brow. "And which category do I fall into?"
He paused long enough to make me nervous, then said, "Still deciding."
I snorted, but there was a strange flutter in my chest. "Well, don't strain yourself."
We kept trading barbs, but there was more under it now. Real conversation began to slip through the cracks of our teasing. He asked me about the books stacked on my desk, about why I always looked distracted in the cafeteria. I asked him why I never saw him at campus events, why he always seemed to vanish just when people were looking for him.
"Maybe I'm not a crowd person," he said, his tone measured.
"Or maybe," I countered, "you're just really good at hiding."
He didn't answer right away, just looked at me with something unreadable in his eyes. Finally, he said softly, "Maybe both."
Time became elastic. We went from benches to mats, swapping complaints about professors, jokes about cafeteria food, even ridiculous hypotheticals—like if Greystone had a secret underground fight club (which, given the school's weird history, didn't feel that far-fetched).
For a moment, the world outside the gym didn't exist. Not the tapes. Not Adrian's haunting voice. Not my restless questions. Just this—laughter, sweat, and the kind of conversation that made minutes collapse into hours.
CASPIAN'S POV
She was radiant in motion—sharp focus one second, teasing banter the next. Katherine had this fire about her, this restless spark that matched the storm in me. For a dangerous heartbeat, I let myself forget who I was and why I was here.
But every time she laughed, every time her eyes lingered on mine like I wasn't just another face in the crowd, I felt the reminder like a blade twisting.
This is a mission. Not a friendship. Not… anything else.
Still, I couldn't deny it: I liked being here. I liked her presence. More than I should. The irony burned. The very person I was supposed to investigate, the girl flagged in Nightshade's archives as dangerous and unpredictable, was the only one who made me feel steady.
I tightened my grip on the dumbbells, the cold metal grounding me. Don't forget who you are. Don't forget why you're here.
And yet…
"Guess you're not so bad, Swartzchild," I said lightly, as she teased me about my perfect form. "Might even make mornings tolerable."
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the spark in them. "Careful, Caspian. Keep talking like that and I might think you actually like me."
Her words were playful. Mine should have been too. But the way she said it lodged in me like a secret I couldn't admit.
KATT'S POV
When I finally glanced at the clock, my heart dropped.
"Caspian—we're screwed."
He followed my gaze. "No way…" His eyes widened. "Almost seven?!"
I scrambled for my bag. "If I don't shower in five minutes, I'll be late for Harrow's class—and smelling like a dead raccoon."
Caspian chuckled, slinging his hoodie over his shoulder. "Guess we're both doomed, then. What class?"
"History. Harrow."
He blinked, pulling a folded schedule from his pocket. "Same. Then Literature?"
I froze mid-step. "…Yes."
"Physics after that?"
My laugh came out sharp with disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."
We compared schedules side by side. Identical. Line for line.
"Convenient," he said, smirking.
"Creepy," I shot back, but I couldn't hide my smile.
We left the gym together, our footsteps echoing in the empty halls. For once, I wasn't thinking about shadows or secrets. Just him.
And as we split for our dorms, I caught myself thinking the strangest thing—
How have I not met him sooner?
The thought lingered as I pushed into my room, cheeks warm. I shook it off, told myself it was nothing.
But deep down, some part of me knew better.
First Class
KATT'S POV
By the time I slipped into Harrow's classroom, my hair still damp from a too-quick shower, my heart was racing. Not because I was late—but because he was already there.
Caspian sat two rows back, close enough to see me but far enough to pretend he hadn't been waiting. His eyes flicked to mine, and I swear there was something unspoken in them. A question. Or maybe just recognition.
I forced myself into a seat by the window, pulling out my notebook. But my mind wasn't on history. It was on the tapes. On Adrian's voice.
"You'll find me in the ruins. Beneath the oath."
His words clung to me like a second skin. What ruins? What oath? And why did his voice sound like it was made to fit into the cracks of my memory, like he already belonged there?
My pen hovered above the page, but I didn't write the date or the lecture notes. I wrote one word: Adrian.
Then, without meaning to, I glanced back. Caspian's eyes were on me. He looked away quickly, but not quickly enough.
And for the briefest second, I wondered if maybe he had answers I didn't.
CASPIAN'S POV
I should've been paying attention to Harrow's droning lecture about forgotten wars and treaties that no one cared about. But my mind wasn't on history.
It was on her.
Katherine.
Every second I spent near her blurred the line between mission and something else. She was magnetic, yes—but not just because Nightshade had flagged her as dangerous. She was magnetic because she was herself. And that was dangerous in a completely different way.
Last night's report had been thin. Too thin. I'd left out the part where I followed her into the west wing. Left out the archive box. Left out the way my chest had tightened when I saw her standing there, fearless and reckless all at once.
I couldn't put it into words without exposing myself. So I didn't.
But I knew Nightshade would see through me eventually. They always did.
And still, here I was, sitting in Harrow's class, pretending to take notes while watching her from the corner of my eye.
The way she frowned in thought. The way she chewed the end of her pen. The way she looked at me, once, when she thought I wasn't paying attention.
I forced myself to look away, scribbling meaningless notes. Stay focused. The mission comes first.
But my pen betrayed me. In the margin, I'd written her name.
Katherine.