I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her walking away. The ring. The crack in her eye. The way she told me to move on.
But when sleep finally did come, it wasn't rest. It was...
Something else.
—
The dream wasn't mine.
The meadow was there, but wrong. Too still, like a photograph. The grass didn't move. The sky was amber-gold, seared at the edges.
A girl sat on the rock at the centre of the clearing, field now covered in forget-me-nots.
Her right eye shimmered like frozen moonlight. The left... something in it reminded me of Cayos. A knowing. A game already halfway played.
She smiled. Wide. Crooked.
Mischievous.
"Clinging to ghosts? Tsk. You'll break something like that," she said, voice like bells cracking under laughter.
"Who are you?" I tried asking, but no words came out.
The sky behind her split like glass. Her grin widened.
"You want names?" she asked, head tilting.
"I am the Veilweaver. The first laughter. The last lie." She winked.
"But you can call me Vaelith. Everyone does, eventually."
She twirled a forget-me-not between her fingers, glancing at the field.
"Nice choice, by the way."
The sky cracked like a mirror.
The world broke
And I fell.
—
Morning light barely touched the rain-slicked windows. The Gate's low hum buzzed beneath the city like a heartbeat. Probably flying high today, to get a clean opening above the clouds.
I padded into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and half-dressed. Lyra stood by the counter with her usual cup of coffee, scrolling something on her phone with a faint look of boredom. The light from the screen flickered across her face like something fading in and out of focus.
She looked up.
"You look like hell," she said.
"I didn't sleep."
She raised her coffee in lazy salute. "Congrats."
I grabbed a glass and stood at the sink, letting the cold water run over my fingers for a few seconds before filling it.
"Hey," I said after a beat, not quite looking at her. "That new guy. Cayos. What do you know about him?"
Lyra didn't respond at first. Just slowly set her mug down.
When I finally glanced up, her expression had shifted, flat, wary. The kind of look she saved for arguments she thought might already be lost.
"Why?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said, too quickly. "He just… said something weird. Something about the Reverie. Made me think."
"Right," she said, voice tightening. "You saw me give him my number, and now you're doing this again."
"What? No. I wasn't-"
"You don't need to pretend it's about something else, Dio." She crossed her arms, coffee forgotten. "I know that look. It's the same one you give when discussing literally anyone I've even talked to."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?"
I tried again, softer this time. "I'm just asking what you know about him. That's all."
She shook her head. "You don't get to ask that like it's neutral. Like you didn't spend all of last year interrogating me about every guy I looked at sideways."
Her voice wasn't angry, just tired. Frayed at the edges.
"I'm not trying to control you," I said. "I just…"
The words caught in my throat.
I couldn't just say I had a nightmare and now I feel like something's wrong with him. Not without sounding insane.
"I just don't trust him."
Lyra blinked, her mouth tightening.
"I'm not dating him, Dio. I gave him my number because he's new and didn't know anyone."
"I know," I said, but it came out wrong. Defensive.
"I have to get ready for school."
She turned and walked out of the kitchen.
I didn't stop her.
—
We drove to school in silence.
Rain tapped the windshield. Everything outside the car looked blurry. Distant.
—
First period was the Accord-mandated Citadel Initiate Protocols.
Jokingly called Sleep Class, mainly because of the Reverie's dreamlike nature, and the fact that actually getting the Mark of Madness was rare enough to feel like a fairy tale.
If there was no reason to pay attention, you might as well nap. Though no one actually did. Not after the first week.
Despite the name, Citadel Initiate Protocols turned out to be the most anticipated, whispered about, and secretly obsessed-over class on the schedule. Especially in Halden, the jewel city of the world, clean streets, curated weather, no slums in sight. If any school got the good guest speakers, it was ours.
"Who do you think they'll bring in?" my friend asked, elbowing me as we made our way to the hall.
I didn't answer. My eyes were on Cayos, surrounded by girls as usual.
Didn't know anyone my ass.
Two days in, and he had already talked to more girls than most guys had done the entire year. Although I guess it didn't really count as he rarely responded with anything more than a nod or a few mysterious sounding one-liners.
My other friend was getting excited.
"They brought in the Flamebearer and the Prophet of paper last year, who do you think it will be this time?"
The Flamebearer had a Vow allowing him to turn his blood into oil and his voice into fire. He gave a live demonstration of his ignition pulse, lighting up a dummy.
Before that, it was The Prophet of Paper. Her Vow let her fold meaning into anything written, one wrong sentence, and it was like being buried alive inside your own thoughts.
Both were... unsettling. And unforgettable.
This year?
The double doors swung open.
We straightened in our seats.
The teacher, a stocky man with a soldier's posture and the kind of burn scars that told you he'd seen the inside of a Shard, stood tall and silent at the entrance. Behind him: a woman in a long grey coat, blindfolded, with silver thread stitched across the hem. She moved as if she didn't need eyes.
"The Lady of the Hollow Star," someone whispered.
No way.
But it was.
She stepped into the room with the grace of a ghost and the presence of a god. And we, all of us, shut up.
She didn't speak. Not at first. Just reached into her coat and withdrew a coin.
"This," she said, her voice thin but sharp, "is what separates you from them."
She let it fall.
The coin never hit the floor.
It stopped halfway, hovering, spinning slowly in the air as if the air itself had made a choice.
"Vows," she said, "are promises you make to the truth inside you. Not your surface thoughts. Not the lies you tell the world. But the thing you truly are when all the masks fall off."
The coin snapped to a stillness mid-air.
"When that truth aligns with the your actions, you can make your Vow. With a Vow you become Sworn. You unlock the natural divinity which exists within all of humanity."
She turned toward us.
"But if your truth is a lie, if your soul is hollow or cracked, the Reverie breaks you. Or worse. It remakes you."
A silence thickened the air. No one moved.
Then, without warning, the coin spun violently. A gust of wind whipped through the room, desks rattled. My vision blurred-
And just as suddenly, it stopped.
The coin dropped. Tinked against the tile.
Everyone exhaled.
Someone clapped, but it felt wrong. Like applauding a thunderstorm.
She looked up, or seemed to.
"You want to survive?" she said. "Then don't just dream of power. Find your truth. Or the Reverie will find it for you."
She turned on her heel and walked out.
The door shut behind her.
No one spoke for a long time.
Then the teacher coughed. "Right," he said gruffly. "Page 42. Vow Classifications."
But no one opened their books.
I sat there, heart pounding. I couldn't stop thinking about that coin. Spinning between two fates.
Vow or void. Chosen or forgotten. Truth or trial.
Was I even ready to know which I was?
I turned slightly in my seat.
Cayos sat a few rows behind me, apart from everyone else. He hadn't taken notes. Hadn't even looked impressed.
He'd watched the whole thing with the stillness of someone who'd already seen it before, maybe even lived it. Like this, too, was playing out exactly as it should.
One finger tapped the desk in a slow rhythm.
Not bored. Counting.
Waiting.
I reached for Anya's photo again.
I needed to talk to him
To save Anya.
—
I thought I'd have my chance at recess.
But no.
As always, Cayos was surrounded.
Not by friends, exactly, just people drawn in, orbiting like flies to a flame they couldn't name. Mostly girls, asking him questions he pretended not to hear, like their interest was beneath him.
He didn't smile. Didn't laugh. Just nodded now and then, like he was humouring them. Like he didn't care.
Or like he cared exactly enough to keep them watching.
I hovered, waiting for a chance to cut through the crowd. Nothing. Even Lyra was standing near him now, head tilted like she was trying to decode a puzzle.
When Lyra joked about seeing someone like him downtown, Cayos paused. Just for a second. "Common face," he said. Too casual.
She wasn't flirting. But she was curious.
And that was enough to twist something in my gut.
I told myself I was overreacting.
But I was watching.
—
Same with lunch.
He didn't even seem to eat. Just stood at the courtyard's edge, staring at the Citadel of Mirrors like it held some answer the rest of us weren't smart enough to ask.
His one exposed eye caught the sunlight, one moment cold, the next almost gold. For half a second, I remembered her smile.
People kept drifting toward him. Not just girls now. Guys too. Even Eitan tried to talk to him. Cayos barely looked his way.
And still… they stayed.
—
Last period, though. That was my chance.
Self-defence class. We were supposed to pair up.
And as it turned out, no one wanted to spar with Cayos.
Not even the athletic ones. Not even the cocky ones.
He didn't seem bothered. Just stood off to the side, hands behind his back, watching like he already knew who would approach.
Like he was waiting.
Was he waiting for me?
No. Stupid. Delusional.
I was reading into everything now.
But still, I stepped forward.
And he smiled.