The sprawling campus of Crimsonveil Academy stretched before him like a city carved from stone and ivy. Gothic towers spiraled skyward, their spires glinting faintly in the morning sun, while arches and bridges connected various wings with an elegance that seemed both ancient and impossibly precise. Courtyards lay dotted with fountains, each reflecting the light in ripples that danced over cobblestones worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. Ivy crawled along the walls in green spirals, contrasting sharply with the crimson banners that flapped lazily in the gentle breeze.
Stone's eyes—Grayson's body moving fluidly, calm yet observant—took in every detail. The classrooms were clustered in quadrants, linked by narrow stone paths, while the sports grounds shimmered with dew, empty except for the occasional early riser running laps. The library towered like a cathedral of knowledge, its windows tall and pointed, sunlight streaming through to illuminate rows upon rows of polished wooden shelves inside.
He walked through one of the main courtyards, hands casually in pockets, silver-grey eyes scanning the students moving between buildings. Some hurried with books clutched tightly, others strolled in lazy circles, lost in conversation. To them, he was just another student, if perhaps unnaturally composed and unnervingly beautiful. But Stone cataloged everything: exits, hidden alcoves, shadowed corners, security patrols, and potential vantage points. Every brick, every arch, every flowing banner was a mark on a map in his mind.
A group of freshmen passed by, whispering nervously about the entrance test. Stone caught snippets: names, scores, complaints, predictions. He allowed a faint smirk to brush his lips.
"Perfect," he thought. "All the chaos I need to study… all the fear I need to enjoy… and all of it will amuse me without lifting a finger. Step one, infiltrate. Step two, observe. Step three, reap the fun."
He paused by a fountain in the center of the main quad, letting the water ripple around his reflection. For a moment, the world seemed serene—the only sounds the faint rustle of leaves, birds chirping high in the branches, and the distant murmur of students. But beneath that calm, his mind moved like a predator, noting weak spots in security, exits, and pathways. Even the way sunlight spilled over certain rooftops told him something about the building layouts inside.
Passing through a hallway, he observed the architecture up close: carved stone columns spiraled upward, each etched with ancient runes that glimmered faintly in the morning light. Doorways were wide and arching, heavy wooden doors polished smooth with brass handles. The faint scent of old parchment and polished wood lingered in the air, interspersed with the occasional whiff of freshly brewed coffee from the student café tucked in the far corner of the hall.
He let his eyes linger on a small alcove just off the hallway, almost hidden in shadow. A perfect spot to observe without being seen, he thought. Another mark in his mental map.
Even as he walked casually, he felt the pull of his own purpose beneath the calm: finding what he came for. The Demon Hunters, the hidden knowledge, the places within the school that might hold power, secrets, or answers. He didn't need to reveal himself to anyone; every movement was quiet, precise, unnoticed, yet deliberate.
By the time he reached the edge of the quad, he glanced back once at the fountains, the towers, the sprawling crimson banners fluttering in the breeze. Everything looked peaceful. Idyllic, even. But Stone's mind knew better.
"Beauty is just a mask," he thought, letting a faint smirk brush his lips. "Every corner hides a secret. Every shadow, a story. And by the end, I'll have cataloged it all."
He moved on, shadow merging with shadow, red-tinged aura faintly brushing against the edges of perception—too subtle for anyone else to notice, but enough for those who could see past the ordinary to sense something not quite right. Every step he took was both a walk among students and a silent mapping of power, influence, and opportunity.
And though the campus seemed alive with ordinary students rushing to classes, laughing, and fidgeting with nerves, Stone—inside Grayson—felt the world bend around him. Every building, every hallway, every courtyard was now a part of his vision. The academy was more than a school. It was a chessboard, and every student, every teacher, every shadow was a piece waiting to be played.
The call echoed through the speakers, a calm yet commanding tone slicing across the sprawling campus. Students murmured, glancing at one another as they adjusted their bags and shuffled toward the main hall. Stone—inside Grayson's body, composed, unreadable—walked at his own pace, observing the chaos of nervous and excited applicants around him. Some jogged, some whispered frantic predictions, others walked serenely, confidence radiating in subtle arcs.
By the time he reached the entrance of the hall, most had already gathered. Rows of polished wooden seats filled with students sat rigidly, eyes forward, awaiting instructions. Stone paused at the doorway, silver-grey eyes scanning the room. Heads turned as one, murmurs dying instantly. Silence fell, a curious tension gripping the space. His presence—unassuming yet magnetic—sent ripples through the crowd. He moved slowly to the back, seating, hands in pockets, posture relaxed.
At the front, a man—a teacher or administrator—raised his hand for attention. Dark eyes, sharp features, and a smile that seemed genuine yet unreadable, he projected authority effortlessly. "Good morning, applicants," he began, voice steady. "Today's entrance test will determine your eligibility. Only those who demonstrate sufficient aptitude will be admitted."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "Please ensure your contact information is accurate on the applications. You will receive notification if you pass or fail. That's all, you may return home and await your results."je concluded.
Stone/Grayson caught the man's gaze briefly—dark, measured, unsettling in its calmness. Something was off, though he couldn't place it. The man's smile remained genuine, warm, yet the aura around him felt… different, layered, almost imperceptibly dangerous. Stone noted the subtle tension, then turned and left as the administrator returned to his podium, voice fading behind him.
Outside the gates, the morning sun painted the campus in golden light, long shadows stretching across the cobblestones. Stone's hands remained in his pockets, posture relaxed as he leaned slightly against the gate. From the corner of his eye, he noticed movement.
"Hey there, you still here?"
Lara stepped beside him, her coconut hair catching the sun, brown eyes sparkling. Stone turned slightly, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips.
"Yeah," he replied, voice calm, almost teasing.
They walked together along the stone path, conversation flowing easily. The test had been brutal, complex beyond anything Stone had chosen to let on, but he feigned mild exhaustion. Lara laughed at small details, her voice light, some of it real, some of it hollow—but she didn't notice his carefully veiled amusement as he calculated, observed, and cataloged everything around them.
"You think we'll survive the next few days?" she asked, leaning slightly closer. "This place… it's huge."
Stone/Grayson chuckled, brushing the hair from his forehead. "I think so. But… we'll see. Every challenge is… manageable, if you know how to read it."
They shared a few quiet laughs, sunlight glinting off the academy's towers, before Lara's voice shifted. "You know, I was thinking… maybe we could grab breakfast at this cafe I know. It's amazing—"
"Sorry," Stone/Grayson interrupted lightly, turning slightly, a glint of playful arrogance in his silver-grey eyes. "Already made plans."
Lara froze for a moment, disappointment flickering, then forced a polite smile. "Oh… okay… who with?"
"My cousin," he replied casually, voice low, composed.
Before she could ask another word, the sound of a luxury car approaching drew their attention. Alora stepped out, her crimson hair glinting in the sunlight, lively silver-grey eyes scanning for him. Her casual outfit—designer jeans, flowing white blouse, soft leather jacket draped over one shoulder, and gold-accented loafers—spoke wealth without shouting it. She moved with effortless elegance, the air around her radiating confidence and mild amusement.
"Hey, cousin!" she called, voice playful.
Lara's gaze widened, her heartbeat skipping. So that's… his cousin? Shock and awe mixed in her chest. The two of them didn't seem like they belonged to the same world as everyone else, and yet here they were, casual, natural, untouchable.
"I told you not to pick me up," Grayson said lightly, smirking. "And why come with a car?"
Alora's smile was mischievous, almost teasing. "Sorry, I was expecting to find you sulking over that test. Thought I'd save you from it… sort of."
Grayson's smirk deepened. "However you thought that test would go… it didn't. The outcome was… different."
She stepped close, eyes briefly meeting Lara's. Curiosity and amusement sparkled in them as she studied the younger girl. "I see you've already made friends… and who is she?"
Lara froze for a heartbeat, then steadied herself, confidence returning. She wasn't intimidated; if anything, she was thrilled by the attention. "I-I'm just a classmate," she managed, voice steady despite the racing of her heart.
Ben stepped forward, sensing something unspoken in the tension, and whispered, "We need to go. Now." His green eyes flicked from Grayson to Alora and back, silent but screaming urgency. Their senses, finely tuned, picked up something beyond ordinary, though the reason remained unspoken.
Stone, still in Grayson's body, watched silently, noting every flicker of emotion, every microexpression. He didn't move until the others had turned away, leaving the space between him and Alora.
"Those two," Alora murmured, voice low, almost to herself, eyes following the retreating figures. "nice pair… too bad it won't last."
Stone tilted his head, smirking faintly. "What?"
"Nothing," she replied, shrugging. "Come on, we don't want to be late."
They walked to her car, entering smoothly. Stone's aura, faintly tinged with red, moved with him, subtle, unreadable, powerful.
But as they drove away, a pair of eyes watched them from a shadowed tower within Varnguard Academy. The figure was obscured, only a faint glimmer of eyes visible—swirling, iridescent, filled with strange symbols, a presence not quite of this world.
"So death got to you first....sneaky rat for god....I look forward to seeing what you do in this life… Stone," the voice murmured, low, inhuman, echoing with an unplaceable authority.
The car disappeared down the cobblestone path, leaving the figure alone in the shadows, the aura of divinity lingering, heavy, unbroken.
And there, for the first time in months....someone,—perhaps something—knew.