The vigil always began at midnight.
Ariel adjusted the light cloak over her shoulders as the low bell echoed through the school, a sound too ancient to be just metal. The barrier was already active—she could feel it in her skin, like a constant chill, an invisible pressure that separated Noxhollow from the rest of the world.
Kael waited for her at the stone archway that led to the inner courtyard. Leaning against the cracked column, he looked like part of the ruin: quiet, dark, alert. His red eyes reflected the blue light of the runes on the floor.
"You took a while," he said, without accusation.
"Lumi wouldn't stop talking," Ariel replied, trying to sound lighthearted. "As if I were going to sleep after class today."
Kael curved one corner of his mouth, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
They walked side by side around the designated perimeter of the watch. The ancient floor creaked under their footsteps, and the ethereal torches floated at regular intervals, casting shadows that moved too slowly.
During the day, the school was noisy. At night, it breathed.
"Did you feel it?" Kael asked after a while.
Ariel nodded. She didn't need to ask what.
"Since Maelis's class," she said quietly. "It's like... something is watching."
Kael stopped. The mark beneath his T-shirt pulsed once, hot.
"She lied," he murmured. "Not entirely. But enough to hurt."
Ariel closed her eyes for a moment. The teacher's words still echoed in her mind: disappeared, distant lands, expelled. The clean, acceptable narrative. The lie that kept the sky intact.
"They didn't leave," Ariel said. "They were erased."
The night wind passed between them, cold and dense, as if it had heard.
Kael started walking again, more tense now.
"My father used to say that some truths don't die," he said. "They just learn to hide better."
Ariel watched his profile for a few steps. The way Kael said "my father" was not casual. There was a slight, almost imperceptible pause, as if the word carried too much weight.
"Your father..." she began, hesitating. "Did he study here?"
Kael cleared his throat, clearly taken aback. He adjusted his glove more tightly than necessary.
"Oh... No," he replied.
It wasn't a complete answer. Ariel noticed, but didn't press the issue right away.
"And your family?" she asked carefully. "What are they like?"
Kael let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Complicated," he said. "That usually sums it up pretty well."
They kept walking. The silence between them was different now. Not heavy—vigilant. Ariel felt she had crossed an invisible but not forbidden line.
"Lumi talks about you sometimes," she commented, trying to lighten the mood. "She says you seem to know more than you let on."
"Lumi talks too much," Kael replied, but without irritation. "And she observes too much."
Ariel smiled slightly.
"She likes to understand people."
"Not everything is meant to be understood," he replied, too automatically.
That caught her attention.
"You talk as if..." Ariel paused, choosing her words. "As if carrying silence were an obligation."
Kael stopped walking.
For a moment, Ariel thought she had gone too far.
He took a deep breath, his eyes drifting to the floor marked with ancient runes.
"Some things," he said finally, "aren't secrets because someone ordered them to be hidden. They are because... if they escape, they hurt more than they protect."
Ariel felt a tightness in her chest.
"I didn't mean to intrude," she said quickly.
Kael shook his head.
"I know."
He started walking again, more slowly now, allowing her to keep up.
"What about you?" he asked, without looking at her. "Your parents. Do they really believe everything they teach here?"
Ariel took a moment to respond.
"They believe in what holds the sky in place," she said. "Even if something is missing."
Kael nodded, as if it made perfect sense.
The vigil continued without incident. No breakouts. No ancient whispers that night.
But something had changed.
Not because a secret had been revealed—but because they had both just realized that the other held more than they showed.
And for the first time, they wanted to know what lay behind it.
For a few seconds, they just watched the vigil flame, as if it were a shared secret. Ariel felt, for the first time, that Kael wasn't just a sarcastic, closed-off demon — there was something heavy there. Ancient. A burden he carried alone.
When the vigil ended, they walked back in silence, side by side, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
It was only when Ariel entered the dormitory that reality caught up with her.
Lumi was sitting on the bed, arms crossed, expression clearly calculated.
"So..." she began, humming. "Was the night patrol educational?"
Ariel froze.
"Lumi."
"What?" Lumi smiled mischievously. "You left tense and came back... thoughtful. That usually means drama or romantic interest. Which is it?"
"It's not that," Ariel replied too quickly.
Lumi raised an eyebrow.
"Ah. So it's both."
Ariel threw her cloak over the chair, trying to hide the heat in her face.
"He's just... different than he seems."
"They always are," Lumi replied, lying down on the bed and resting her head in her hands. "The question is: do you want to find out how different?"
Ariel didn't answer. But the silence said it all.
Lumi smiled, satisfied.
"Just be careful, Ari. Old stories tend to come at a high price."
Ariel lay down, staring at the invisible ceiling beyond the magical barrier.
Kael's name echoed in her mind—not as a danger... but as a promise.
And that, she knew, was even more frightening.
IN KAEL'S ROOM...
Kael closed the bedroom door more carefully than usual.
The silence inside was different from the hallway—less alive, less... dangerous. He dropped his jacket on the floor and ran his hand through his hair, still feeling the cold of the night watch clinging to his skin.
"You took your time," Darius's voice came from the bed, lazy. "I thought you'd turned into a statue out there."
Kael let out a humorless half-laugh and went to the window.
"The watch went on longer than expected."
"Of course it did," Darius sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "When it's her, everything takes longer."
Kael clenched his hand too tightly.
"Don't start."
"It started a long time ago," Darius raised an eyebrow. "You don't stay silent like this for just anyone."
Kael took a deep breath. Ariel's face popped into his mind without asking permission: her attentive eyes, the way she listened as if every word carried weight, as if Kael were... important.
"She asks questions," Kael finally said, in a tone that was too neutral. "Too many questions."
"And you hate that?"
Kael took a moment to respond.
"I... don't know."
Darius smiled sidelong.
"That was a 'no'."
Kael turned abruptly.
"It's not simple. She looks at me as if she expects something I can't give."
"Answers?"
"Truths."
The room was silent for a few seconds.
"You don't owe her anything," Darius said, more serious now.
Kael nodded.
"I know." He paused. "But even so... when she asks about my family, about who I was before I came here... I feel like I'm lying, even without saying anything."
Darius watched Kael closely.
"Be careful," he said. "Some people don't need the whole truth to get close. They just need you not to run away."
Kael looked away toward the window again.
"Running away is the only thing that keeps me sane."
Darius didn't respond right away.
"Then hope," he said finally, "that she's not the type to chase after you."
Kael swallowed hard.
Because, deep down, part of him already knew:
Ariel was exactly that type.
Kael stared at the window for a few seconds, where the distorted reflection of himself returned a face he no longer fully recognized. Sometimes he saw the human boy he had been. Sometimes, something much older.
"She doesn't look at you like the others," Darius continued, his voice lower now. "Not as a threat. Not as empty curiosity."
Kael closed his eyes for a moment.
"That's what bothers me the most."
Darius let out a short laugh.
"Of course it is."
Kael ran his hand over his forearm, feeling the familiar warmth of the mark. The Crimson Veil was never completely still. Always alert. Always waiting for a weakness.
"When she asks," Kael said slowly, "it's not to use against me later. It's not to measure me. It's as if... she's trying to understand where she stands."
Darius got up from the bed and went to the bookcase, pretending to organize some old books. Kael knew it was a habit he had when he was thinking.
"And that scares you."
"No." Kael turned, serious. "It disarms me."
Silence fell again.
"You don't have to carry this alone," Darius said, without looking at him. "Even if you think you deserve it."
Kael felt the impact of the sentence like a direct blow to the chest.
"I can't involve her," he replied quickly. "Not after what happened to those who got too close."
Darius finally turned around.
"She's not fragile."
"I'm the problem."
The confession escaped before Kael could hold it back.
Darius sighed, crossing his arms.
"You've always been like this." He made a vague gesture. "You think pushing people away is protection. Sometimes it's just fear."
Kael didn't deny it.
"She already carries too much weight," he added. "The prejudice, the wings, the silence imposed by her own people... If I get too close, I'll drag her to a place of no return."
"Maybe she's already in that place," Darius retorted. "She just doesn't know the name yet."
Kael sat down on the edge of the bed, finally too tired to stand. He ran his hands over his face, letting out a long sigh.
"I don't want to like her," he admitted, almost in a whisper.
Darius smiled slightly.
"Bad news," he said. "That's usually the first sign."
Kael let out a short, bitter laugh.
"If Malrik notices..."
He fell silent immediately.
Darius remained alert.
"If who notices?"
Kael shook his head, closing himself off again.
"It doesn't matter."
But it did matter.
Because as Kael lay down and stared at the dark ceiling, one certainty took hold in his mind:
Ariel wasn't just curiosity.
Nor was she just danger.
She was a line that, if crossed, could lead him back to humanity...
or sink him once and for all into what he was trying to contain.
And that night, for the first time in a long time,
Kael wasn't sure which of the two he feared more.