Loe had barely stepped out of her first class when she felt it—the unmistakable prickle of being watched.
She didn't flinch, didn't turn her head. She just adjusted the strap of her bag and kept walking, her pace steady, almost casual.
From behind, Ana jogged up to her. "Okay, so remind me why algebra has to exist?" she groaned, linking her arm with Loe's. "I swear I blacked out midway."
Loe gave her a sideways glance. "Because the universe is cruel."
As they turned the corner toward their lockers, Cristina and Cloe caught up—Cristina mid-rant.
"And then he took my lip gloss!" Cristina huffed. "Said it was 'a distraction.' It's literally peach-flavored hydration!"
Cloe rolled her eyes. "You reap what you sow, glitter goblin."
Cristina stuck out her tongue.
Just as they reached their lockers, the hallway tension shifted. Murmurs picked up. Heads turned.
Loe felt it again—that crawling weight of eyes on her back.
She didn't need to look. She already knew who it was.
"Late and surrounded by chaos. How predictable."
Michael Hart's voice was like chalk dragged across a board—smooth, smug, and annoying.
He stood leaning against a locker a few feet away, arms crossed and eyebrows raised like he owned the building.
Loe sighed without turning. "Please, Michael. Some of us evolve past the caveman stage. Try it sometime."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "You always have so much to say, Bourgeois. I wonder if you'd still be so mouthy if you weren't always hiding behind your fan club."
Ana took a protective step forward, but Loe calmly placed a hand on her shoulder, stepping ahead herself.
"Unlike you," Loe said coolly, "I don't need a group of followers to function. You? You'd probably cry if no one laughed at your weak insults."
Michael opened his mouth to snap back but paused—eyes narrowing.
For a second, it was quiet. His smugness flickered. Loe's gaze didn't waver.
Then he scoffed and pushed off the locker, brushing past her with a mutter. "Whatever."
Cristina watched him walk away and let out a dramatic sigh. "You two fight like a married couple."
"Say that again and you're sleeping on the roof tonight," Loe warned without missing a beat.
Ana grinned. "Still… that was kind of hot."
Loe groaned. "I need better friends."
Cristina smirked. "Too late. You're stuck with us now."
The day dragged on, class after class blurring together in a haze of lectures and scribbled notes. By the time the lunch bell rang, Loe was more than ready for silence and solitude.
She slipped away from the others under the pretense of needing to grab something from her locker. Really, she just wanted five minutes without Ana humming pop songs, Cristina narrating her whole life, or Cloe sighing about cafeteria food.
She swung open her locker with a practiced flick.
And froze.
A slip of paper sat on top of her books—cream-colored, folded precisely, and sealed with a golden wax stamp.
A dragon seal.
Her blood turned cold.
This wasn't from anyone at school. No one here would know that symbol. Except her. And maybe…
Loe checked both ends of the hallway. Empty.
She peeled off the seal and unfolded the letter.
"The moon remembers, even if the stars forget.The Crystal Flame still burns.Trust no one.—A Friend"
Her fingers clenched around the paper.
The Crystal Flame.
Only someone from the Crystal Planet would know that name—her family's sacred relic, one that had been lost in the war.
Her heart pounded. Was this a warning? A threat? Or a call for help?
Loe quickly slid the paper into her hoodie pocket and slammed her locker shut. Her appetite was gone.
Someone knew she was awake.
Someone was watching.
And it wasn't Michael.
Loe returned to the cafeteria like nothing had happened, slipping into her seat beside Ana, who was dramatically debating the ethics of pineapple on pizza with Cristina.
Cloe glanced up briefly. "Took you long enough."
"Forgot my pen," Loe muttered, forcing her shoulders to relax and hands to stay still. The letter burned a hole in her pocket like a curse.
Cristina shoved a tray toward her. "We saved you fries. You're welcome."
"Eat fast," Ana added. "History's next and you know Mr. Halberd's gonna quiz us."
Loe nodded, picked up a fry, and stared at it like it was a foreign object. Her mind wasn't on food. It was on the letter. On the seal. On the line: Trust no one.
Except the moment she read that, her eyes betrayed her—they flicked to her sister.
Cloe was watching her.
Not the usual distracted glance. This was full-on, narrowed-eyes, brain-whirring, silent-audit type of watching.
Loe turned away fast. Too fast.
But it was already too late.
Cloe didn't say anything. Not then. She just took a slow sip of her drink and looked away.
The rest of lunch passed in a blur. No one noticed the shift. No one except Cloe.
But Loe could feel it.
The moment class ended, Loe made a beeline for the music room—a place barely used during school hours. She needed quiet. Time to think.
She didn't get it.
She'd barely sat down when the door creaked open.
Michael Hart.
Of course it was Michael.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, that usual smug look softened with something unreadable. "You've been off all day."
Loe didn't look up. "You've been annoying since birth. We all have our burdens."
He stepped into the room, voice lower now. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Pretend you're fine."
Loe froze.
Michael's eyes met hers—calm, steady, piercing. "Something happened. You're hiding it. And I don't know why… but it scares me."
Her first instinct was to lash out. Push him away.
But she didn't.
Because underneath the snark and the arrogance, Michael wasn't lying.
He'd noticed.
And that scared her more than the letter.