Celeste’s POV

*****

Female Dormitory building, 6:30Pm

"Girl, you’re scaring me now," Willow grumbled as I walked back to my bed after shutting the balcony doors. "Did you really sense something? Was it a Vein beast? Are—"

"Relax, Willow." I sighed, waving dismissively. "I thought I felt someone staring at us from the balcony. But there’s no one there so it’s fine."

Willow’s eyes twitched from where she sat. "Fine? What about everything you said sounds fine?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Willow can we just... go back to what we were talking about?" I paused. "Montecito and all."

Her eyes squinted, wandering from me to the open balcony doors repeatedly. Then, she shook her head. "If you insist, I guess."

I waited expectantly for her to ask something else.

Hopefully, it had nothing to do with that whole child of chaos bullshit.

I was still pretty much shaken from the dead cleaner in the Dean’s office. Images of her dead eyes and sprawled blood soaked figure flashed through my head like unwanted guests.

Then there was the part of me getting ’popular’ after our return from the trip. I really needed to check out those videos in case it had anything more... incriminating.

"Let’s forget about all the supernatural chaos," Willow finally clapped once with excitement. "Let’s go to something more mundane. Like... your time with the boys."

My eyes widened. "You can’t be serious."

"Why’s that such a hard thing to tell me, Celeste?" She grabbed a pillow, threatening to throw it at me. "Come on, I’ve been dying to know. You and Silas just broke up. So what does that mean for the rest of them?"

She gasped, placing both hands on her face. "Are you dating all of them at once now? How does that work? Especially in the bedroom. Do they—"

"By the moon, Willow!" Heat exploded in my cheeks as I tore my eyes away from her. "How can you be so vulgar right now?"

"Well, sorry, but I don’t think the mood right now rejects vulgarity. Besides, that was a tame thing to ask."

Ugh, right.

The girl wasn’t aware of my internal turmoil surrounding the dead body. The number of times this academy has traumatised me has made me eligible for compensation of sorts, right?

"There’s nothing much to explain, Willow." I tried hard to hide the smirk on my face. "We’re... taking things slow. Understanding ourselves and finding ways to make the dynamic work."

The green in my best friend’s eyes seemingly brightened seconds after I dropped that. She placed a hand on her mouth, lifting her head to the ceiling.

Soon, she burst into a fit of laughter, bringing her gaze back to me. "Oh my gosh! Oh my—it happened, didn’t it?"

"What?"

"You. Them." She made gestures with her hands, forming a fist with one then lifting the middle finger of the other. She proceeded to shove her finger in and out of the hole in the fist, giving me a wink. "I’m sorry, but I can’t help myself from imagining it."

"You need an exorcism."

"Guilty, girl."

Willow finally settled down after laughing herself breathless, wiping imaginary tears from the corners of her eyes.

"You’re glowing," she accused, pointing at me. "Don’t even try to deny it."

"I am not glowing."

"You are." She narrowed her eyes. "And if that’s what taking things slow looks like, I don’t even want to know what fast would be."

I threw a pillow at her.

She dodged, cackling, before eventually crawling back onto her own bed. "Fine, fine. I’ll stop harassing you." She flopped onto her back dramatically. "For tonight."

For tonight.

The words lingered heavier than she intended.

Once the laughter faded and the room quieted, I moved to freshen up. The water against my skin felt grounding. Nothing like the suffocating pressure of Nyx in the Vein. Or the metallic scent of blood in the Dean’s office.

When I finally crawled into bed, exhaustion settled deep into my bones.

My hand drifted instinctively to my wrist.

The bracelet.

Atlas had given it to me days ago. A subtle piece glowing faintly with a gold light. A summoning tether. If I ever truly needed him, I could simply rub it and he would feel the call.

My fingers wrapped around it now.

It was... warm.

Or maybe that was my imagination.

I closed my eyes.

For a fleeting second, I could’ve sworn I felt something pulse back.

Not a full summon. Not even a conscious signal.

Just... magic.

His magic.

Powerful. Steady. Slightly eerie.

Like something brushing against the veil of death itself.

A strange chill ran down my spine.

Before I could dwell on the odd feeling, Willow’s sleepy voice cut through the darkness. "Goodnight, chaos princess."

A huff escaped me. "Goodnight, menace."

The room fell silent after that.

And despite everything, sleep came quickly.

.

.

The next morning felt almost normal.

Almost.

Willow and I walked toward the Combat Wing together, the morning air crisp and buzzing with academy chatter.

"Mixed Combat Lab first thing in the morning should be illegal," Willow grumbled. "I barely survived basic sparring yesterday."

"You complain every week and still show up," I pointed out.

"That’s called character development."

We entered the massive hall, the high ceiling echoing with voices from students across different years.

My eyes automatically searched the room.

Luther leaned casually against one of the stone pillars, arms folded. Silas stood beside him, scanning the room like he always did. Azrael stood a little apart, sunglasses in place despite the indoor lighting.

But—

No Atlas.

I frowned faintly.

That’s weird.

Still, I brushed it off. He was probably late. Or buried in some ancient tome or something like that.

"Morning," Luther greeted me when we approached.

"Good morning." I forced a smile before asking lightly. "Where’s Atlas?"

Silas shrugged. "Not sure. Haven’t seen him since last night."

Azrael didn’t say anything.

The professor in charge of Mixed Combat Lab stepped forward then, clapping once for attention. Professor Varrick. Broad shoulders. Grey streaked hair. Aura sharp enough to slice stone.

"Settle down."

The chatter dimmed.

"Today," he began, pacing slowly across the front of the hall, "we’ll be doing something different. Something that reflects your final evaluation this semester."

A murmur rippled through the students.

He raised a hand.

"Each race will call out four champions to represent them. Hybrid. Wolf. Witch. Hunter." His eyes scanned the crowd. "You will compete in a tag-team free-for-all."

Excited whispers exploded instantly.

"Monitored by me," he added coolly. "This is not a brawl. It is a demonstration of coordination, restraint, and combat intelligence."

From the witches’ section, someone spoke up loudly. "Where’s Atlas?"

"Yeah! If we’re choosing champions, shouldn’t the top witch be here?"

More murmurs.

Professor Varrick’s jaw flexed slightly. "Atlas Stormwood’s attendance is his responsibility." Without pause, he continued, "Each faction has five minutes to nominate its representatives."

Willow’s elbow jabbed my side just then. "You’re going in, right?"

"What? No."

"Yes." She grinned. "You’re literally one of the Blood Trials winners. And your brother’s here."

At the mention of him, I glanced across the hall.

Caelum stood with the other hybrids, blonde hair catching the overhead lights. He noticed me looking and gave a subtle nod.

Yeah.

If I competed, he’d definitely be one of them.

"I don’t need more attention," I muttered.

"Too late," Willow said. "You trended, remember?"

Annoying... but true.

Before I could argue further, Caelum stepped forward, voice clear. "I’ll represent the hybrids."

No surprise there.

A fourth-year hybrid female in the academy’s crimson uniform followed, quiet and composed. I recognised her vaguely from supernatural history and politics classes.

"That’s two," Willow whispered. "Come on, girl. Go."

I exhaled slowly.

Fine.

Balling my fists, I stepped forward. "I’ll compete."

The reaction was immediate.

Whispers. Shifts in posture. A few raised brows.

"Of course she will," someone muttered.

The quiet fourth-year hybrid gave me a surprisingly respectful nod.

"That’s three," Professor Varrick stated plainly.

A brief pause hung in the air.

Then—

A familiar voice cut through the murmurs.

"I’ll be the fourth."

My stomach tightened instantly.

Lysandra.

She stepped forward from the hybrids’ section, posture elegant as ever. Crimson lips curved into something dangerously close to a smile.

Whispers erupted louder this time.

"They can’t be serious."

"Those two on the same team?"

"After everything?"

My gaze locked with hers. Mind replaying everything this bitch has put me through.

And now we’re teammates.

Professor Varrick’s lips curved faintly. "Hybrid team selected."

The hall buzzed with anticipation.

And as Lysandra took her place beside me, I realised this wasn’t going to be a simple combat exercise.

Not with her at my side.

Professor Varrick’s voice boomed across the hall. "All selected champions, advance to the center."

The scraping of boots against stone echoed as students began moving.

I stepped forward with Caelum on my right and the crimson-uniformed fourth year on my left. Lysandra fell into place beside me like this was choreography we’d rehearsed.

Still no signs of Atlas.

My fingers brushed the bracelet on my wrist without thinking.

It didn’t glow this time.

Didn’t pulse.

Just sat there—silent.

A knot tightened in my stomach.

He wouldn’t skip classes like this. Not without a reason.

As we reached the center of the hall, lining up against the wolves, witches and hunters, I forced my expression into something steady.

’Atlas, wherever you are... please be okay.’

Because for some reason, the air in this hall felt charged.

And not just from the coming fight.