Shadows, Secretes and Scales

Cora tossed and turned in bed, her restless body refusing to surrender to sleep. She had been trying to sleep after she returned from the bathroom but every time she closed her eyes, flashes of the night before returned—dark corridors, a haunting voice, and the chilling sensation of the woman calling and watching her. By the time morning arrived, exhaustion weighed heavy on her limbs, her eyes shadowed with deep circles.

A soft knock on the door stirred Amelia from her own sleep, and she sat up groggily, her gaze landing on Cora. The moment she took in her friend's face, her expression shifted from sleepiness to concern.

"Are you sick?" Amelia asked, her voice laced with worry as she brushed her hair back and climbed out of bed.

Cora let out a tired sigh, rubbing her temple. "No, just tired." She grabbed her books, stuffing them into her bag with little care, her movements sluggish.

But Amelia's sharp eyes caught something unusual. Her brows furrowed as she took a step closer, eyes narrowing in on Cora's forehead.

"Oh my god, Cora, who hit you like that?!" she gasped, reaching out, her hand hovering over the faint but noticeable bruise.

Cora stiffened. "I—I bumped into the wall last night," she lied, forcing a weak chuckle.

Amelia's expression turned skeptical. "You suck at lying, Cora." Without waiting for permission, she turned on her heels, marched to her side of the room, and retrieved a small first aid kit. Pulling out an ointment, she twisted off the cap and dabbed a small amount onto her fingers.

"Hold still."

Cora barely had time to protest before Amelia gently applied the ointment to her bruise. A sharp sting bloomed across her forehead, and she hissed, biting her lip to keep from jerking away.

"I'm always here if you need to talk," Amelia murmured, her voice softer now, before putting the ointment away.

Amelia freshened up before joining Cora who had finished earlier.

Cora exhaled, gripping the book Damien had given her about the sea and shoving it into her bag before looking at her. Without another word, the two of them stepped out, heading for their first lecture.

"Looks like Sienna left early," Amelia mused as they walked.

Cora merely nodded.

Meanwhile, at the boys' dormitory…

A sharp knock echoed through Damien's room. He arched a brow, reclining lazily against the bed's headboard, twirling a silver coin between his fingers.

Max and Leonard didn't knock. And Cora would text before coming over.

Which meant…

With an exasperated sigh, he swung open the door, only for his smirk to vanish the moment he saw who was standing there.

Roseline.

He nearly slammed the door in her face, but she was quicker, shoving a hand between the frame before he could shut her out completely.

"I came to see you," she rushed out, her breath slightly uneven.

Damien leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, amusement dancing in his sharp, unreadable gaze. "And why, exactly, would I waste my time with useless conversations?" His voice was rich with mockery, but Roseline ignored it, shifting her weight to peer past him into his room.

"Can I come in?" she asked, lifting her chin.

Damien let out a low chuckle. "Did you read the rules before waltzing in here?" His smirk widened. "Or are you too privileged to think they apply to you?"

Roseline rolled her eyes. "When have we ever followed the rules, Damien?" she murmured, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

He tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. "That was then. This is now."

Roseline pursed her lips. The tension between them thickened, an invisible battle of wills. But before Damien could shut the door on her entirely, she pulled out a sleek black box.

"Your mother said to give this to you."

The amusement in his eyes dimmed slightly. He took the box from her hand, weighing it in his palm before flicking his gaze back to hers.

"Next time, give it to Max or Leonard to give it to me," he said flatly, then slammed the door shut in her face.

At the Lecture Hall…

Cora sat unmoving, the professor's droning voice washing over her like the steady hum of the ocean. The weight of exhaustion, confusion, and a lingering sense of unease pressed heavily on her chest.

Amelia, noticing her friend's unfocused stare, finally sighed.

"You know what? Screw lectures. Let's go to the beach," she declared, grabbing Cora's wrist and dragging her out of the class before she could protest.

The ocean breeze hit them the moment they arrived at the shore, the scent of salt and freedom filling the air. The rhythmic crash of waves against the sand calmed Cora's nerves, grounding her.

As Amelia laid their things down, Cora's phone buzzed. A text from Damien.

She didn't respond.

Her mind was already overflowing with questions. Did Damien know about his mother's reincarnation? Why didn't he say anything? Was he keeping something from her? Could she really trust him?

"You're really stressing me out with this gloomy energy," Amelia muttered, crossing her arms.

Cora sighed. "Sorry."

They walked toward the water, the cool waves lapping at their feet. Cora knelt down, dipping her fingers into the sea, feeling its pull on her soul. The moment her skin made contact with the water, a strange warmth spread through her veins.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

"I had a weird dream last night," she murmured.

Amelia, who had been staring at the horizon, turned to her. "What kind of dream?"

Cora hesitated before speaking. "I was in the west wing of the school. A woman called me Alicia—no matter how many times I told her that wasn't my name, she wouldn't listen. She got angry… threw something at me."

Amelia's hand clenched at her side looking at her forehead.

Before she could respond, her eyes widened in shock.

"Cora—your hand—" she gasped.

Cora glanced down.

Blue and gold scales shimmered along the skin of her left hand, glowing faintly beneath the sunlight.

"I…" Cora trailed off, mesmerized.

"They're beautiful," Amelia whispered in awe, reaching out to touch them.

Footsteps crunched against the sand.

Cora quickly jerked her hand back, submerging it in the water before turning to see who was approaching.

Damien.

Even in the casual daylight, he carried himself like royalty—shoulders broad, posture relaxed, but eyes sharp as a predator's. His smirk deepened when he noticed the way Cora stiffened.

"What, no greeting?" he mused. "I thought we were past playing hard to get, little bird."

Amelia noticing Cora's reluctance stepped in front of Cora, arms crossed. "You're not needed here."

Damien chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You say that like it matters." He then turned to Cora, gaze raking over her. "Ignoring my texts now? I should be offended."

Cora scowled, looking away.

From a distance, Roseline watched, her crimson glowing gaze locked onto Cora.

"Who is that?" she asked, her tone icy.

Maximilian, standing beside her, let out a low chuckle. "Someone you really don't want to mess with if you want to stay in Damien's good graces."

Roseline's eyes narrowed.

So this was her—the infamous masked girl.