18. We can be woke

A single match strikes in the dark.

The flame flickers before it's passed along a row of candles, twelve of them, each held by a hooded figure seated around a worn circular table. Wax drips, pooling like blood on the cold, stone floor of what might once have been a lecture chamber, now forgotten and sealed from the rest of the university.

They speak no names. No one here needs them.

A

The leader, taller, voice like silk cut with gravel, raises hand and whispers:

"We are.... the ones left behind by fate.

Not chosen.

Not blessed by flame or storm or time.

But we… are watching."

One by one, the others mirror the gesture, hands raised, fingers bent into a silent symbol.

"While the world watches the strong…

We remember the weak."

The candles flicker in perfect unison. A wnd not from outside, passes through the room.

Then silence again. And the words that follow feel etched in bone:

"Let them mock our silence.

We are the scream yet to come."

The leader lowers his hand, and the flames extinguish themselves.

Darkness. Only a heartbeat remains.

Virelia was beautiful in the snow. That rare kind of quiet beauty, where even the air paused to admire itself.

Winter coats rustled as Luan and Willy strolled down one of the cobblestone paths on the western side of campus, their breath curling like smoke in the cold.

Willy's ears were red. Not from the cold, necessarily.

"So... I was thinking," he said, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, "if we both flunk LOS 107 together, maybe it'll be a bonding experience?"

Luan raised an eyebrow, pulling her scarf tighter. "sounds like you've been planning this for some time, cause you didn't even get the study materials."

"Textbooks are a scam, Luan. Wheeler agrees."

Right on cue, Wheeler, the little air squirrel familiar spiraled above their heads, kicking up a gust of snow that blew Willy's already tragic hair into comedic disarray.

Luan laughed. "He's got more game than you."

Willy sighed. "That... actually hurt."

They walked in silence for a moment, enjoying the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the occasional giggle of students engaged in snowball warfare across the quad.

Then, Luan broke the quiet. "Do you think Huey's right?" she asked, more seriously now. "About Lorenzo and DiMarco?"

Willy didn't answer immediately.

"I dunno," he said finally. "Huey's always right. Or... close enough it's creepy. I'm just along for the ride."

They both looked up as two students zoomed by, half-covered in snow, chasing each other with enchanted snowballs that crackled on impact.

Luan smiled faintly, then shivered.

"We're so failing that test tomorrow."

"I fully plan on blaming you when I do."

"Of course you do."

They turned toward the dorm block, disappearing into the snow, two silhouettes laughing through the frost.

Snow drifted gently across the campus as clusters of students pelted each other with enchanted snowballs, laughter echoing through the cold. In the distance, seated alone on a bench near the courtyard fountain, was Huey.

He didn't laugh.

His eyes, half-lidded, faintly glowing with that telltale electric blue, remained fixed on the game of frost and flying slush like one observing ants building castles.

His fingers dug lightly into the snow beside him. The air around him buzzed faintly with static.

"Virelia… the most prestigious academy in the world. A beacon of civilization. A fortress of Crest-bearers…"

"been preaching those lines from time to time tryna convince myself into thinking that's what it really is"

His gaze drifted upward. The same sky, the same clouds.

"And yet… same darkness. Same ghosts."

With a soft grunt, Huey stood, brushed the snow from his coat, and stretched lazily like he hadn't just mentally dissected every headline of the past week. He began walking back toward the dorms.

And then, passing just a few paces behind him, another figure, coat dark and dragging along the snow, never once turning to face him.

They didn't speak.

Still facing forward, the figure held out a small flash drive. Huey, without breaking stride, took it and slipped it into his coat.

"He'll be the one addressing today at the annex," the figure said calmly, voice low and precise. "You gonna be there?"

"I try to avoid speeches," Huey replied, dryly. "Especially when I already know the ending."

No more was said.

They continued in opposite directions.

Five minutes later, Huey was walking briskly down a narrow backroad, the kind students were told not to use. Surveillance here was either weak or nonexistent. Trouble had a habit of finding this path.

Huey didn't mind.

Then, voices.

Just ahead, a group of third-years had backed a nervous-looking girl into the wall. Her clothes were plain. No Crest flared. Her eyes were darting.

"C'mon, normie. How'd you get into Virelia?"

"Must've been someone's mistake."

"Or someone's bed."

Huey paused at the edge of the alley.

He didn't move forward.

He pulled out his phone and quietly hit 'record'.

He'd been here before.

He knew how this worked.

The girl wasn't the first. She wouldn't be the last. And if he stepped in now,

"It's not worth it," he muttered.

But someone else had already moved.

A tall, sharply dressed student in a charcoal blazer and a university badge on his lapel stepped forward. His eyes were a soft British blue, hair swept and jet-black. His voice, calm and educated:

"That's enough."

The third-years turned, unimpressed.

"Xavier," one of them scoffed.

"Crestless Club's lapdog."

"You want us to sign your petition next?"

The man, Xavier didn't flinch.

He simply said: "Let her go."

The tension in the air thickened.

One of the guys stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

"Maybe we rough you up too."

Just as the first blow was about to land, a voice rang out, cool, quiet, certain.

"...You know, this is all being recorded."

The bullies froze.

From across the alley, Huey stepped into view, phone in hand, video clearly playing.

"Harassment, discrimination, inciting violence..." Huey listed off like reading a grocery bill. "Pretty sure the disciplinary board won't like this. Neither will the press."

"And you all know what happens when a normie's rights get trampled on video. That's legal ground for a full-scale crackdown. Even Arcana Order gets involved when the optics are bad."

The color drained from their faces.

"W-We didn't mean anything," one stammered.

"Just a joke," another added.

"Uh-huh," Huey said, tucking his phone away. "Then laugh it off… elsewhere."

The third-years scattered.

The girl fled down the alley.

Xavier approached Huey, extending a hand.

"well that went smoother than I thought it would. I'm Xavier Laine, president of the, well, unofficially the 'Crestless Advocacy Coalition.'" He smiled. "Or as the rest of Virelia calls us, Crestless club."

Huey shook his hand briefly.

"Huey Cross."

"I know. Everyone knows. You're a legend. A normie holding rank in Virelia's top academic tier?" He looked genuinely impressed. "We've been hoping you'd join our cause."

Huey smirked.

"I'm allergic to politics. Especially the-superpowered kind."

"Just one day," Xavier pleaded. "Come see what we're about. Let me try and convince you. If you still say no, I won't ask again."

"You lawyers," Huey muttered. "Always making side deals."

"Only when the cause is noble."

Huey turned to walk.

"Are you attending the Captain's address at the Annex today?"

"If life doesn't distract me," Huey said without turning back.

Huey approached the east dorm complex. From afar, it looked mostly deserted, everyone too busy preparing to welcome the famed Captain of Luce Nera at the Annex.

The perfect time for a nap.

As Huey climbed the stairwell and entered Room 202, he noted the eerie stillness. His roommate's bed was untouched. A rare silence.

He liked it.

He took off his jacket, set the flash drive on the table, and dropped onto the bed.

And then he noticed it, folded neatly on his pillow: a slip of white paper with bold red lettering and a golden apple icon.

"Special Customer: ONE-TIME OFFER – your favorite apple pie awaits. Valid until 2PM today. Claimed only at Pie Rose, West Lane."

Huey checked the time: 1:30 PM.

He groaned.

"Really? On today of all days?"

But even as he said it, he was already up and sliding his gloves back on.

He was halfway out the dorm before reason had time to argue with impulse.

Fifteen minutes later, Huey was walking briskly down a narrow backroad, the kind students were told not to use, The same one he passed initially just for the sake of beating the clock.

He was halfway to Pie Rose, eyes flickering with anticipation at the imagined scent of warm pastry, when,

Rustle.

A shadow moved behind him.

Then darkness.

A paper bag was yanked down over his head. Strong arms grabbed him.

Huey tensed... then relaxed.

He could have stopped it.

But he didn't.

"They really want this to be theatrical," he murmured under his breath.

"Alright, alright," he added, voice muffled through the bag. "But if this pie is cold when I get back... heads will roll."

And just like that, the snow-covered street was empty again.