Iman woke before dawn, drenched in sweat. The dream hadn't faded-it had sharpened. She could still hear his voice: "If you dream of me again, I won't be able to leave." Her collarbone throbbed. The mark was still there, faint but pulsing like a warning.
She dressed quickly, avoiding the mirror. it had fogged again, even though the air was dry. No condensation. No reason, But the words were back: Don't fight it.
She stepped into the hallway, heart pounding. The academy felt unfamiliar-like it had shifted overnight. Lights flickered. Shadows stretched unnaturally. Every creak of the floorboards made her flinch. Yet she kept walking. Fear clawed at her spine, But something deep-something brave-pushed her forward.
Outside, the courtyard was cloaked in mist. Lucien stood beneath the archway, his form barely visible. He didn't speak. Just watched her, like he'd been waiting for centuries.
Iman approached slowly, breath visible in the cold morning air. "I saw everything" she said, voice trembling.
Lucien's eyes glinted. "Then you know what's coming."
"I don't understand it," she admitted. " But I'm not running."
He stepped closer, and the mist seemed to recoil from him. " You should. They'll come for you now. The mark makes you visible.'
"To who?"
Lucien hesitated. "To the ones who cursed me. To the ones who want you broken."
A sudden gust of wind tore through the courtyard. The trees groaned overhead. Iman flinched but didn't back away.
Lucien reached for her hand. "You're scared."
"I'm terrified," she whispered. "But I'm still here."
Thier fingers touched- and the mark on her collarbone flared with heat. A pulse of energy rippled through the ground. The fountain behind them cracked. The sky darkened.
Lucien's voice was barely audible. "It's starting."