The first morning at Velgrave began with fog.
Not the light, gentle kind—but thick, white mist that pressed against the windows like something alive. The kind of silence that felt... intentional. Like someone had pressed pause on the world while we slept.
Breakfast was served in a dining hall that looked like a memory. Stone walls, dark stained glass, long wooden tables worn by time. It smelled like old tea, damp parchment, and quiet things no one dared to say aloud.
Students whispered. Some greeted each other like they'd known one another for years. Others—like me—sat in silence, trying to blend in. No one asked who I was.
No one asked who he was either.
Gael Dravien.
He sat three tables away from mine.
He was talking to a blonde girl who laughed too easily. His gestures were calm, refined. He smiled like he carried no scars. Like he had never heard my name.
And yet... I saw it.
Just for a second, his eyes drifted toward me.
But they didn't stay.
They passed right through me.
Like I wasn't even there.
---
Our first class was Ancient Runes. The room was circular, carved with glowing symbols on the walls. At the center of the ceiling hung a clock—one with no hands.
He was already seated when I arrived.
Middle row. Straight posture. Eyes forward.
I was placed two seats behind him.
Close enough to see him.
Close enough to remember things I wish I didn't.
The professor spoke about symbols, old bonds, and names that leave marks.
All I could think about...
was his.
And mine.
He didn't turn around. Not once.
Not during roll call.
Not even when the professor said some runes mark deeper than scars.
Not even then.
---
By the end of the day, the sky had turned violet-blue. I was walking through the hallway that led to the gardens when I saw him again.
He was ahead of me, calm and quiet, like he was gliding instead of walking.
"Gael," I whispered. It slipped out.
He didn't stop.
Didn't look back.
Just kept walking.
And I stood there, frozen and foolish,
with a name in my throat
and the mark on my back pulsing like it remembered something I wasn't ready to feel.
That was the moment I understood:
He knew who I was.
He just chose not to remember me.