Percy stepped toward the gate, pulling out the exclusive keys that only student leaders were entrusted with. The heavy iron door groaned as it opened, the sound scraping through the forest silence.
On the other side, Signos stiffened. His senses had already flared—there was a human nearby.
He frowned, tugging his mask tighter against his face, but it was useless.
The scent was overwhelming.
Death.
Thick and cloying, it clung to the air like smoke. It curled down his throat, sour and wrong. It was so jarring, so unnatural, that he didn't notice the object sailing through the air toward him—until it struck.
A blunt smack landed squarely on his nose bridge and forehead. Signos stumbled, swearing under his breath. The sudden jolt made him bump into Kyan, who jerked back on instinct—only to clip Miro in the knee. Miro yelped, twisted sideways, and promptly crashed into Roujan, sending him tumbling to the ground with a disgruntled grunt.
Miro bent down and picked it up. A phone, screen cracked, was blaring a song on loop. Some weird tune repeating over and over, loud enough to jar the mood from unsettling to just bizarre.
The stench faded. Just like that.
Signos blinked, the haze of death dissipating with the song's strange rhythm.
And then he saw her.
A human girl, lying on the ground not far from the gate.
Percy moved instantly, his expression tightening as he approached.
Signos narrowed his eyes.
She made a small sound—half groan, half whimper—eerily the same with the gate's creak as it swung open.
"Is she... dead?" Signos muttered, his voice low, unreadable.
He took a hesitant step forward, sniffed the air again.
No blood. No fear. Just...
Death.
"Why does she smell like that?"
Still rubbing his nose, Signos stepped back, letting Percy tend to the human girl. But as he turned to leave, their eyes met.
And for just a moment, something curled in his chest—a chill that ran down his spine.
It wasn't just the scent anymore. He could feel it.
Death clung to her like a second skin. His instincts screamed at him to stay away.
They met again not long after.
Signos was lounging in the Dawn Council office, absently staring at the whiteboard where the photos and names of all the missing students had been pinned. The neat grid of faces stared back at him—some familiar, some recent additions. The silence was thick.
Matilda called him in.
"The chairman wants to see us."
On their way to the office, they ran into Percy, his clothes damp and his hair sticking to his forehead.
"East?" Matilda asked without stopping.
Percy gave a breathless laugh. "No."
Later, Signos found himself hauling a battered suitcase through the halls of the West Wing—her suitcase.
The girl's name, it turned out, was Careina Dione.
A human. In Lunar Class. In the West Wing.
They had already asked the chairman. Why put a human girl in night classes? Why place her in the West Wing of all places?
As always, the chairman's answer had been maddeningly cryptic, "Just wait for it."
Hauling the luggage, Signos couldn't quite place it—why the human girl smelled like death.
But as he made his way down the West Wing corridor, his attention snagged on something else, the number of monitor crows had increased.
Too many.
They were watching the halls now, perched on ledges, light fixtures, banisters. Their glassy eyes followed his every step.
A quiet warning from the administration. No more disappearances.
When they were done settling the human girl into her room, and the door shut with a dull thud, letting the lock click into place. His expression was unreadable—half wary, half resigned.
Then came a sharp smack to the back of his head.
"—Ow! What the hell, Matilda?" he groaned, rubbing the spot. Just because his body could take a hit didn't mean it didn't hurt.
Matilda gave him a cold glare. "What do you mean we're not answering her questions?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Since when do you care?"
She stepped ahead of him, brushing her long braided hair behind her with a huff. "Why are you being so difficult with her?"
He sighed, tugging his face mask back into place. "How about you—you can see it, right?"
Matilda paused. Her gaze flickered to him—sharp and calculating. "I do," she said at last. "But that doesn't mean I can't fix it."
Signos let out a short, dry laugh. "You know how this works. You change too much, and it snaps back. Fate's a taut rope—pull it too hard, and it breaks."
"And if we don't pull it?" she said, her voice calm as she resumed walking. "Then it tightens. And chokes."
He passed her this time, his voice low. "Whatever you think you're seeing—it won't help. I don't see opportunity, Matilda. I see death."
Matilda stopped again, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to read the threads of fate overhead.
She exhaled through her nose.
"Death is inevitable," she said slowly. "But me? I see the future. And I think we can still use her. For the Institute."
Signos turned, golden fire flickering behind his eyes. "She won't be of use to us," he said flatly. "I just know."
Matilda clicked her tongue. "You sure? What's your instinct telling you?"
He stared ahead, jaw tight.
"…Stay away."
She smirked. "Mine says keep your distance."
Eventually, Signos left Matilda behind, tasked with rounding up the wayward students of Lunar Year One. With a sigh, he made his way to class. The halls—familiar and dark—seemed to guide his steps without thought.
When he entered, the room was already settling into its usual rhythm. Kyan sat upright, posture perfect, silently watching. Roujan slouched in his seat, clearly attempting to block out the noise. Miro, of course, had climbed onto a chair, observing the chaos like it was the finest theater.
And then—Kael burst through the door, eyes locked onto Signos.
Signos winced internally. Not again.
Kael stormed forward, but Kyan immediately moved to intercept him, catching him by the arm. "Kael, not now."
"How can you call yourself my brother when you do this?!" Kael shouted, voice cracking.
Signos narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched. He took a step forward, but—
—BANG.
The door flew open a second time, and a blur of motion spun into the room.
Signos didn't even register what hit him until it hit him—a bag, hurled blindly, collided with his face. He stumbled backward, cursing under his breath, nose already beginning to heal, but the shock left him stunned.
"Wha—"
It was Careina.
She was spinning. Literally spinning.
Her bag had flown over her head and now hung awkwardly over her face as she tumbled forward. In her disoriented momentum, she collided with a chair, which skidded sideways—straight into Miro's sides. Miro tried to dodge, slipping on the desk and nearly crashing into Kyan.
Kyan, still holding Kael, got yanked forward in the chain reaction.
Kael, stunned mid-rant, was pulled along with him.
They all toppled to the floor in a spectacular tangle of limbs.
Roujan didn't even look up from his desk. He just groaned.
Half the class had already stood up to try to stop Kael's outburst—but now, they were frozen, watching the absolute spectacle unfold in front of them.
All eyes turned to the new transfer student—Careina—who was now tangled in a chair, her bag still over her face, mumbling something that sounded vaguely like "Oh God, I think I killed someone."
It was a mess.
But somehow, it was still better than Kael's shouting.