The academy was quieter than usual that evening. Most students had gone into the city for the weekend, and the empty hallways echoed with the faint drip of leaking pipes and the hum of flickering lamps.
Elena walked alone, her satchel slung across her shoulder, her mind replaying the greenhouse incident like a cursed melody she couldn't silence. The look in Damian's eyes haunted her—half-boy she had known, half-stranger she couldn't recognize.
She should've felt safe within the academy walls. But instead, every shadow seemed to press closer, whispering that danger wasn't just coming—it was already here.
---
Damian wasn't in his dorm.
He hadn't been since the confrontation. Instead, he lingered in the corners of the academy where no one dared to go: the disused chapel, the underground archives, the west wing that smelled of dust and mold.
And tonight, he had a plan.
His hands shook as he unfolded the letter he had stolen—from Adrian's private desk. He had waited, watched, and taken it the moment Adrian was careless enough to leave it unattended.
The letter was sealed with a crest Elena didn't know, but Damian did.
It was from them.
The people Adrian had ties to—the ones who weren't supposed to exist outside of whispered rumors. Dangerous people. Powerful people.
Damian's jaw tightened.
If Elena knew who Adrian really was… she wouldn't even look at him. She'd come back to me.
And so, Damian decided: if Adrian wouldn't leave willingly, he would drag the truth into the light himself.
---
Elena was startled when someone knocked urgently at her door. She had been trying to read, to bury herself in something ordinary, but her thoughts refused to focus.
"Who is it?" she asked softly.
"Elena—it's me."
Her chest tightened at Damian's voice. She hesitated, but the tremor in his tone sounded… different. Broken.
Against her better judgment, she opened the door.
Damian stood there, eyes shadowed, his knuckles still bandaged. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"We need to talk," he said, voice low.
She wanted to close the door right then. To walk away. But part of her still clung to the boy she used to know.
"Fine," she whispered, stepping aside.
---
Inside, he moved restlessly, pacing like a caged animal.
"I know you don't trust me right now," Damian began, his voice trembling, "but you have to hear me out. Adrian isn't who you think he is."
Elena stiffened. "Damian…"
"No—listen!" He pulled the stolen letter from his jacket and thrust it toward her. "I found this. He's hiding things from you, Elena. Dangerous things."
She hesitated before taking the parchment. The unfamiliar crest glared back at her like an omen. She glanced up at Damian, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.
"This doesn't prove anything," she said cautiously.
Damian's desperation flared. "Why do you always defend him? Do you think he cares about you? Really cares? You're just a game to him!"
Her jaw tightened. "And what am I to you, Damian?"
The question silenced him. For a heartbeat, he looked like the boy she remembered—shattered, vulnerable, human.
"You're… everything," he whispered. "Everything I have left."
Her chest ached, but before she could answer, the door creaked open.
Adrian stepped inside without knocking. His presence filled the room instantly, his gaze sweeping over Damian and Elena with chilling calm.
"Interesting," Adrian drawled, his eyes landing on the letter in Elena's hands. "So that's where it went."
Damian's face drained of color.
"You stole from me," Adrian said, his voice silk over steel.
"I was protecting her!" Damian shouted, his voice cracking. "From you!"
Adrian's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "No, Damian. You weren't protecting her. You were trying to cage her. That's the difference between us."
The tension thickened, the room shrinking around them. Elena clutched the letter, her heart pounding as if she were standing between two storms about to collide.
Adrian stepped closer, his gaze locking on hers. "You don't need to read it now," he said softly. "But when you do, you'll know the truth. And you'll understand why Damian is nothing more than a desperate child grasping at shadows."
"Don't listen to him!" Damian roared, grabbing her wrist. "Elena—he'll destroy you!"
"Let go of me!" she cried, yanking her arm back.
The look on Damian's face when she pulled away—it shattered something in him. A crack that couldn't be mended.
And in that moment, Elena realized something terrifying.
Damian wasn't just jealous anymore. He was dangerous.
---
Later, after Adrian had left, Elena sat in the quiet, staring at the letter. She hadn't opened it yet, but it felt heavy in her hands, as though it contained not words but fate itself.
She whispered to herself, almost afraid of the answer.
"Who are you really, Adrian?"
And outside her window, Damian stood in the shadows, watching, the fracture inside him growing wider, darker, hungrier.