Paris buzzed quietly beneath a thin morning mist, the kind that blurred edges and softened details. But for Thorne, clarity had never felt sharper.
As the sunlight filtered through his window, he tapped a few keys on his phone and brought up a familiar contact: Zoé Lee.
Thorne:"It's official. Your flight lands tonight. One more step and we'll finally be back in the same city."
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
Zoé:"So you really pulled it off? I'm coming to Paris… For real?"
Thorne:"For real. And your transfer's confirmed. But there's a catch."
Zoé:"What kind of catch?"
Thorne:"Chloé doesn't know. I want it to be a surprise. She's… complicated."
Zoé:"Complicated's one word for it."
Thorne:"Just get here safely. I've got the rest handled."
He stared at the message for a few seconds longer before sliding the phone into his jacket pocket. Today wasn't just about Zoé. It was also the day something changed in the air—a feeling he couldn't shake.
"I didn't expect a stranger at a private shoot," Adrien Agreste said with a polite but clearly surprised smile.
"I was invited by Gabriel Agreste's design assistant," Thorne replied smoothly. "Fashion circles are small, even across the Atlantic."
Adrien offered a hand, the formality etched into him after years of modeling. Thorne shook it, not missing the slightly tired look in Adrien's eyes. The boy was good at hiding it, but Thorne knew the pressure behind the camera. He'd seen too many kids in New York drown under similar expectations.
"You're Adrien," Thorne said. "Top model. Son of Gabriel Agreste. Perfect student."
Adrien blinked at the description. "Well, I wouldn't say 'perfect'…"
Thorne smirked, leaning against the courtyard wall. "Maybe not perfect. But admirable. You've got the act down."
Adrien's mask faltered a little. "And what about you?"
"I'm new here," Thorne said with a grin. "Trying to make a few friends before the school year rips me apart."
Adrien chuckled. "You'll survive. Collège Françoise Dupont isn't that bad. Just avoid Chloé Bourgeois on a bad day."
Thorne raised an eyebrow. "Noted."
The conversation might have ended there, but Master Fu stood watching from a nearby bench—carefully disguised as a harmless old man reading the newspaper. He had been watching Thorne for several days now.
There was something different about this boy.
He didn't radiate the light of Ladybug or the chaotic mystery of Chat Noir. No, his energy was… veiled. Controlled. But not shallow.
It was knowledge—deep knowledge—held close to the chest. And Master Fu had seen enough lifetimes to recognize a mind touched by fate.
Not a candidate for the Miraculous of Creation.
Not a candidate for Destruction.
But something else. A force waiting to find its balance.
Thorne stood beneath the shade of the plane trees outside the school, gazing across the courtyard. Students filtered past, but one figure stood out—Ivan.
He recognized the moment. The heartbreak. The rejection. The cracks forming.
Stoneheart would be born from this very hurt.
But he couldn't stop it. Wouldn't.
Any interference now could break the chain of events—jeopardize Ladybug's awakening. Still… maybe he could ease the pain.
He walked up to Ivan, whose shoulders were slumped as he stared at the text on his phone.
"She didn't mean it like that," Thorne said gently.
Ivan looked up, surprised. "Huh?"
"Mylène. She's just nervous. You're brave for trying."
Ivan blinked at him, wary, but softened slightly.
"Name's Thorne. New here. But I've been the guy standing in your shoes."
Ivan stared a moment longer, then nodded.
"Thanks," he muttered.
Thorne extended a hand. Ivan hesitated… and shook it.
A flicker of tension dissipated. Not enough to stop what was coming—but maybe enough to shift something, somewhere down the line.
Zoé stepped off the private jet, sunglasses covering her tired eyes, the Paris air brushing against her face for the first time in months.
She took a long breath.
Paris.
It smelled like old rain, expensive perfume, and distant secrets.
She pulled out her phone and texted one word.
Zoé:"Landed."