Blue's POV
"Sooo… are you gonna talk to him?" Shane breaks the silence that's settled between us for over thirty minutes. I haven't uttered a single word since lunch break began. My mind is still spinning, trying to figure out why he did that.
"Big guy, snap out of your thoughts and answer me. Plus, I'm gonna take that panini you've barely touched."
"Why did he do that?"
"Blue, that's the only thing you've been saying like a damn chant. Don't ask me—ask him."
How can I just approach the guy who's suddenly managed to install fear inside me?
I take a bite of my panini—damn, this is a good panini. I can't believe I've started to get fond of human food. Especially their squishy meat pies. Damn that stuff is good.
"You feeling good now?" Shane asks out of nowhere, confusing me. Why that sudden question?
"Umm… was I not okay?"
"You were dying with a weird flu just two hours ago."
Right.
"But you still look kinda pale," she adds, her face softening with concern.
To be honest, I'm not feeling any better. But I can't show it. I'm tired of Shane's constant worrying. I know she's just being a good friend, but this whole thing makes me feel fragile. Like I'm made of glass. A whole Vard depending on a mere mortal—it should be the other way around.
Coming to the mortal realm made me feel worthless, weak, vulnerable. The word Vard feels like just a title now.
"I'm totally fine. Don't sweat it." I wave her off, hoping she doesn't push. But she keeps studying me like I'm a complicated puzzle.
"If you say so."
The rest of lunch break is quiet. But her worried look keeps getting deeper, and it's suffocating.
---
Thank the heavens I don't have an evening lesson today. I finally get some time to rest my body. The fever isn't going down and my back—damn it—it's killing me. It's like my old man cursed me himself.
I left Shane earlier, all bright and giddy, heading to her History class. She's obsessed with Mr. Link, her teacher. No wonder that's the only subject she gets straight A's in. But honestly, Mr. Link looks like a total wimp.
I decided to hit the washroom before going to the library to nap a bit.
As I wash my hands, the mirror in front of me starts to crack by itself.
"What the fuck?"
And worse, my reflection isn't moving. It's still, like a statue. What the hell is happening?
I stare at it and notice blood oozing from its nose. I touch my own—nothing. No blood.
My breathing quickens. My heart hammers against my chest so hard it feels like it'll burst out. Suddenly, the reflection's eyes start bleeding too as the mirror continues to crack with a disturbing, shrill sound.
Fuck! I gotta get out of here.
I sprint to the exit, but the door's locked. It won't open.
I pound, kick, and shout for help, but my voice barely comes out. The air is thick—dark—and something else is here with me. A presence that feels ancient, powerful, and wrong.
When I turn back to the mirror, the reflection is gone.
Something is coming out of it.
"So–someone, please… help me! Heeellppp!!"
My voice is weak. My vision blurs. My body feels heavy, like I'm sinking into the floor. I can barely breathe as the horned shadow steps closer.
Then, everything goes black.
---
The room reeks of antiseptic.
Everything feels wrong.
My eyelids are heavy. My body aches like I've been crushed by a boulder.
A ragged breath escapes, sharp pain slicing through my ribs as I force my eyes open. Fluorescent lights burn into my vision. My head throbs like a drum.
A blur of movement—
The door creaks open and—
"Grey?"
Am I still unconscious?
"You're awake," he whispers, almost like he doesn't believe it.
My throat feels like it's lined with glass shards, but I rasp out, "Where am I? And why are you here?"
"Before that, I have to call the doctor." He turns on his heel and bolts out.
No shit. What the hell's going on? Why am I here—with Grey?
Moments later, the doctor walks in—middle-aged, tired eyes, about Grey's height. He does a few checkups, says something I don't even register. My head is spinning.
When he leaves, it's just me and Grey.
He sits down beside the bed. His voice is quiet. "I found you in the washrooms, unconscious. Your back was bleeding a lot."
Wait. I remember. The mirror. The blood. The thing.
My chest tightens. I clench the sheets until my knuckles ache.
Why him? Of all people, why him?
"Does anyone else know? Does Shane know?" My voice comes out rough.
"I don't think so."
"Where is this place? It doesn't look like the school dispensary."
"Hospital. The nurse and I brought you here. She left already."
"Why are you still here?" My confusion mixes with irritation.
The thought of Grey finding me helpless makes my stomach twist. What's his angle?
"To take care of you when you wake up. And… to take you home."
I freeze. "I don't need that—especially not from you."
"One, the nurse instructed me to. Two, I couldn't just leave you like that. I'm not that inhuman, you know."
"Thanks, but I don't need your damn help or concern! I can take myself home!"
Perfect. Just perfect. Now he probably sees me as weak again.
"You can't even walk properly, Blue. Just look at yourself."
I ignore him and try to stand. Pain shoots through my body. My knees buckle and I nearly fall before landing back on the bed.
I try again—two steps this time—but Grey grabs my wrist before I hit the floor.
"Leave me the fuck alone! I don't need your help, okay? I can do this on my own!" I struggle against his grip, but he's stronger.
"I'm sorry, Blue."
…What?
"I'm sorry."
He repeats it, softer. His grip loosens. His eyes drop. There's something raw in his tone that makes my anger falter.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I'm sorry for everything, okay? I just—" He exhales, fingers raking through his silver-braided hair. "I did a lot of awful things to you. I knew—I know you hate me."
Wrong. I've never hated him.
I'm a Vard god. Even without my powers, I am one.
We protect, help, forgive. Our hearts are built for mercy—whether we like it or not.
And I hate that. I hate that my heart forgave him the moment he said he brought me here.
Right now, I want to punch his face, demand to know why he did all those things—but I can't. Not yet.
"It's fine," I finally mutter, sighing deeply.
"Fine? Just like that?" He looks stunned.
"What? Want me to change my mind?" I ask flatly.
"No—I just… I did a lot of awful things, and—"
"It's fine. Can I go home now?"
Lacey and Robert must be losing their minds right now. Hopefully, they don't know the details.
Grey suddenly turns, his back facing me.
"Come on, I'll take you to the car."
"What?"
"I'll carry you on my back."
Is he nuts?
"No!"
"You can barely walk. Come on—it's late."
I stare, completely dumbfounded.
"Are you serious?"
"Do you want your dad to come with that old jeep instead? No offence," he adds with a teasing smirk.
I sigh heavily, then reluctantly climb onto his broad back.
"So embarrassing," I mutter.
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