The hum of the jet softened as the descent began, and the cabin buzzed with restless energy. Sixty first years filled the narrow rows, their voices a storm of nerves and excitement. Some clutched their bags tightly, others craned their necks toward the windows, but the clouds revealed nothing.
Pathetic, Jayden thought, lounging back in his seat. His amber-grey eyes swept over pale knuckles, jittering knees, and anxious faces. He smirked.
Then, aloud:
"Relax. You look like you're being marched to an execution."
The chatter faltered. Dozens of heads turned, unease tightening the air. Jayden leaned forward, his voice smooth, deliberate.
"This isn't a death march. This is Prestigeon. The greatest academy in existence. A place where history's being written. And we—" his hand swept broadly, commanding the cabin, "—we're the ones about to ink our names across it."
Some students laughed nervously. Others rolled their eyes. But before Jayden could soak in the attention, another voice cut in, clear and bold.
"Or maybe you've just got too big an ego to fit in this jet."
Laughter rang out, sharper this time. De' Oliver Walker leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, grin flashing wide. His dark eyes burned with golden undertones as he added, "All I'm saying is — if you're already bragging about being the top dog, don't cry when someone else yanks the crown off your head."
The cabin rippled with energy — claps, whistles, chuckles. Some students even leaned closer to catch every word.
Jayden tilted his head, a smirk never fading. "And who might you be, exactly?"
"Name's De' Oliver," he shot back. "Remember it. You'll see it plenty on the scoreboards."
A cold chuckle slipped from Jayden. "Scoreboards? Adorable. You sound like a child chasing stars. Careful, you don't burn out before you even lift off."
De' Oliver leaned forward, grin unfazed. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you."
The tension surged. Voices rose. For a moment, it seemed the two might leap from their seats right then.
But a crisp chime rang overhead, followed by a mechanical voice:
"Attention, students. We are now circling Prestigeon Academy. Please remain seated until the aircraft has landed."
The banter broke like glass. Groans, mutters, and nervous laughter filled the pause. De'Oliver threw his hands up, still grinning, but before he could fire another jab, a firm tug pulled him back down into his seat.
Jordan King Walker sat beside him, calm and quiet, one hand gripping his friend's sleeve. "Sit down, Oliver," he said, voice steady. "You'll get your chance."
De' Oliver chuckled, shaking his head but obeying.
Jayden turned his head at the motion — and his smirk froze.
For the first time, his eyes met Jordan's.
Two faces. Two frames. Two mirrors.
The cabin seemed to fall silent as they stared at one another across the aisle, the realization flickering in both their gazes. No words. No jokes. No boasts.
Only the shock of seeing their own reflection staring back.