The steady hum of conversations filled the campus café, a comforting background noise that Yurilex Nightshade had learned to appreciate. She sat at a corner table, fingers lightly tracing the rim of her coffee cup, eyes flickering between the rain-splattered window and the open textbook in front of her. Quiet black coffee, exactly what she needed.
Outside, students hurried across the quadrangle, heads bowed against the drizzle, and Yuri allowed herself to sink into the illusion of normalcy. Nineteen years old. Freshman. Biology major. Just a girl trying to blend into the chaotic rhythm of university life. If anyone looked her way, they'd see just that—a quiet, dark brown-haired student, lost in thought.
But Yuri's gaze wasn't just idle observation.
Every movement,
every shifting shadow,
registered in the back of her mind.
Escape routes mapped. Faces memorized. The habit was ingrained, almost reflexive—like breathing. She scolded herself silently. That was the old her. The part she'd buried along with her past.
A gust of wind forced the café door open, letting in a rush of cold air. Yuri stiffened, eyes subtly narrowing. A figure slipped inside, hood pulled low, but not enough to hide the slightn glint of silver at his neck—a collar. Her heart skipped, and she forced herself to take a measured sip of coffee, fingers steady on the cup's ceramic edge.
She hadn't seen that particular shade in years. Silver Creed. Her mind whispered memories of late-night training, bruises, and whispered code words. Aetherium.
The past clawed at her resolve, but she kept her breathing calm, reminding herself she was just a student now. She had left that life behind.
The figure didn't look her way, moving to the counter to order, and Yuri exhaled slowly.
Just a coincidence, she thought, but her muscles remained tense, ready. As the stranger left, he brushed past her table, dropping a crumpled napkin. Yuri hesitated before unfolding it.
One word. Handwritten in sharp, precise lettering: Blue.
Her pulse quickened. She forced herself to crumple the napkin again, dropping it into her coffee. Coincidence. Just paranoia.
But as Yuri gathered her things to leave, her thoughts were a tangled mess of dread and curiosity. She muttered under her breath, an old mantra from a time long past:
"Alæ caeruleae clausae brunneae ."
Slipping her bag over her shoulder, Yuri stepped back into the rain, the ordinary world feeling just a little more fragile, as if the past was pressing its face against the glass—waiting for a crack to seep through.