The lecture hall smelled like old coffee and stressed-out students.

Professor Elaine was droning on about Kant’s categorical imperative, her pointer tapping against the whiteboard with a rhythm that seemed designed to put people to sleep. Most of the class had already surrendered—heads on desks, eyes glazed, fingers twitching toward phones hidden under notebooks.

Lucian sat near the window, staring at the rain.

It had started an hour ago, a soft grey drizzle that turned the campus into watercolors. Droplets raced down the glass, merging and splitting, and he watched them like they held some secret he couldn’t quite grasp.

He wasn’t thinking about Kant.

He was thinking about Cora’s hand in his. The warmth of her fingers. The way she’d said, Then we find out together. Like it was simple. Like it was already decided.

The rain blurred the trees outside.

"Mr. Vale."

Professor Elaine’s voice cut through his thoughts. He turned his head, slowly, meeting her eyes across the room.

"Care to enlighten us on the difference between hypothetical and categorical imperatives?"

The class turned to look at him. Some with curiosity. Some with pity. A few with the vague hope that his answer would eat up enough class time to push back the quiz.

Lucian blinked. "One depends on desired outcomes. The other is universally binding regardless of goals."

Professor Elaine raised an eyebrow. "And which does Kant argue for?"

"The categorical imperative."

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Correct. Try to stay with us."

She turned back to the board.

Three seats behind him, a paper ball bounced off the back of his head. He didn’t flinch.

Leo’s whisper came from the left. "Dude. You’re spacing hard."

Lucian glanced at him. Leo had his notebook open to a page of doodles—stick figures fighting dragons, a surprisingly detailed rendering of a taco. His green eyes were bright with amusement.

"I’m fine," Lucian whispered back.

"You’re not. You’ve been staring at that window for twenty minutes." Leo leaned closer. "Is it a girl thing? It’s a girl thing, isn’t it. You’ve got that look."

"What look?"

"The look my older brother gets when he’s been on a date. Dreamy. Distant. Slightly constipated."

Lucian’s expression didn’t change. "I’m not constipated."

"So it is a girl thing."

Across the aisle, Jenna’s phone was angled toward Lucian. She wasn’t even pretending to take notes anymore. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her grin was wide enough to be dangerous.

"He’s blushing," she stage-whispered.

"I’m not blushing."

"Your ears are red."

"They’re always red."

"They’re not."

Tara, sitting on Jenna’s other side, reached over and pushed the phone down. "Leave him alone. Some of us are trying to take notes."

"Your notebook is upside down," Jenna said.

Tara looked down. Flipped it. "That’s not the point."

Leo snickered.

Lucian turned back to the window. The rain hadn’t stopped. Neither had his thoughts.

Professor Elaine droned on.

---

Ashford University – Main Quad – After Class

The rain had lightened to a mist by the time they stepped outside. Students hurried between buildings, jackets pulled over heads, backpacks held like shields. The quad was a mess of puddles and fallen leaves.

Leo walked beside Lucian, his hands in his pockets, his steps deliberately splashing through every puddle he could find. Jenna was on Lucian’s other side, her phone now safely stowed, her attention fixed on him like he was a puzzle she was determined to solve.

"So," she said. "Who is she?"

Lucian kept walking. "Who?"

"The girl. The one making you stare at windows like a lovesick puppy."

"I don’t have a lovesick puppy face."

"You absolutely do. Tara, back me up."

Tara was a few steps behind, reading something on her phone. She looked up. "I’m not backing anyone up. This is between you and your gossip addiction."

"It’s not gossip. It’s journalism."

"It’s nosiness."

"Same thing."

Leo laughed. "She’s got you there."

Jenna waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. Don’t tell me. But I’m going to figure it out. I always do."

Lucian almost smiled. Almost.

They walked in silence for a moment, the mist settling on their jackets, the distant sound of traffic hum from beyond the campus walls.

Leo bumped his shoulder against Lucian’s. "You know, you’ve been different lately."

"Different how?"

"Less... closed off. Like something’s thawing." Leo grinned. "Or someone."

Lucian didn’t answer.

They reached the student union. Jenna peeled off toward the coffee shop, dragging Tara with her. "We’re getting lattes. You two want anything?"

"Coffee," Leo said. "Black. Like my soul."

"You don’t have a soul."

"Exactly."

Jenna rolled her eyes and disappeared into the building.

Leo leaned against the wall outside, crossing his arms. He looked at Lucian, his expression softer now, less teasing.

"You don’t have to tell me who it is. But whatever’s going on... I’m glad. You needed something normal."

Lucian looked at him. "You think this is normal?"

"I think you’ve been carrying something heavy for a long time. And now you’re not carrying it alone." Leo shrugged. "That’s normal. That’s good."

Lucian was quiet for a moment. Then: "Thanks."

"Don’t thank me. Just don’t forget about us normal people when you become some big-shot CEO."

"I won’t."

"Good." Leo pushed off the wall. "Now let’s go get that coffee before Jenna drinks mine."

---

Ashford University – Dining Hall – Lunch

The dining hall was crowded, the usual chaos of students fighting for tables and debating the quality of the mashed potatoes. Lucian found a spot near the window, sat down, and stared at his tray.

He wasn’t hungry.

A shadow fell over the table.

Margie stood there, tray in hand, her expression caught somewhere between defiance and uncertainty. Her hair was shorter than before, pulled back from her face, and there were new calluses on her fingers—training scars.

"You mind?" she asked.

Lucian gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit."

She sat.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Margie pushed her food around her plate. Lucian drank his water.

"The Greyhollow mission," she said finally. "I heard about it."

"From who?"

"People talk." She stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. "You killed a Glimmertongue. Fought off rogue hunters. Saved a village."

"The team worked together."

"That’s not what I heard." She looked at him. "I heard you did most of it. I heard you’re getting a reputation."

Lucian set down his cup. "Reputations don’t matter. Results do."

Margie’s jaw tightened. "I’ve been training. Hard. With the Amazonians. With Margaret. I’m getting better."

"I know."

"I want to join a field mission."

Lucian was quiet for a moment. Then: "It’s dangerous."

"I know."

"People die."

"I know." Her voice was steady. "I’m not a kid anymore, Lucian. And I’m not afraid of what I am."

He looked at her. Really looked.

There was something different in her eyes. The old hatred was still there, buried deep, but it wasn’t in charge anymore. Something else had taken its place. Something harder. Sharper.

"The demon side," he said. "You’re accepting it."

"I’m learning to live with it." She set down her fork. "It’s part of me. I can’t cut it out. So I’m going to use it."

Lucian studied her face. "Margaret knows?"

"She’s the one who approved the request."

He nodded slowly. "Then I won’t argue. But be careful. The first time you lose control—"

"I won’t."

"You don’t know that."

She met his eyes. "Then I’ll have you to pull me back."

The words hung in the air.

Lucian reached across the table and put his hand over hers. Just for a moment. Just enough.

"Okay," he said. "We’ll do it together."

Margie’s eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry. She pulled her hand back, picked up her fork, and stabbed another piece of chicken.

"Good," she said. "Now eat your lunch. You look terrible."

Lucian almost smiled. Almost.

He picked up his fork.

The rain stopped.

Outside, the clouds began to break.