The city was alive by eight in the morning — alive in the way old things pretended they weren't rotting inside. Elior Serrano liked that lie. He clung to it like the warmth of his coffee cup, paper sleeve damp with the early drizzle.
Outside the café window, students hurried along cracked sidewalks, heads down, earbuds in. Nobody looked twice at the boy in the corner booth — the boy with shadows under his eyes, tracing a finger absentmindedly over the faint red mark blooming just above his collarbone.
"Hey. Earth to Eli."
Celeste flopped into the seat across from him, her backpack exploding with papers and half-zipped pencil cases. A pastry bag slid across the table — her way of bribing him to look less dead inside.
"You didn't sleep again, didn't you?" she asked, voice equal parts scolding and soft. Celeste Oria Santos, chaos in human form — hair always half-pinned, sleeves rolled, bruised knees from running for buses she always missed. The only thing clumsier than her steps was her fierce loyalty.
"Nightmares," Eli mumbled. He forced a smile. "You know. Same old weird dream. Blood. Doors. The usual."
Celeste froze, pastry halfway to her mouth. "Dude. Normal people dream of hot classmates, not… doors dripping blood."
Before Eli could reply, a familiar weight slammed into the booth beside him. Jace Navarro, hair perfect as always, sunglasses perched like a crown of vanity. He ruffled Eli's hair — to annoy him, mostly.
"You two are boring," Jace declared, ignoring Celeste's glare. "Liam's got news. Big news. Weird news. Where is he—"
"Here." The voice came before the footsteps did. Liam Ortega, calm as dusk, slid into the booth last — black jacket, eyes that always seemed to see past the world into something darker. He placed his phone on the table, screen cracked, battery barely hanging on.
"You guys ever heard of the Hollow Sect?" Liam asked.
Celeste scoffed. "Sounds like a bad punk band."
But Eli's hand twitched on his cup. The name tasted familiar, bitter on his tongue. Something from a nightmare maybe — or maybe from a memory he didn't want.
"It's a cult," Liam continued. "Old. Obsessed with… well, let's just say bloodlines. There's talk they're sniffing around campus. Looking for someone."
Jace laughed. "A cult? What is this, a bad horror movie?"
Celeste elbowed him. "Shut up, Jace. Liam wouldn't bring this up for nothing."
Liam's gaze slid to Eli — too sharp, too knowing for comfort. "You ever feel like you're being watched, Eli?"
Eli's throat tightened. He looked out the window again. A man in a long black coat stood under the dripping awning of the bookstore across the street. Pale face. Still as a statue. Eli blinked — and the man was gone.
"It's nothing," Eli said, voice barely there. "It's just… in my head."
Outside, rain traced the glass in crooked lines. Somewhere deep in the city's bones, something ancient shifted. Watching. Waiting.
And in the booth at the corner café, The Fourfold sat together — still ordinary, still human.
But the Veil was already bleeding them dry.
The rest of the day unfolded like any other — papers, lectures, half-finished group notes scrawled across café napkins. Celeste tripped over her own feet twice before lunch, Jace flirted with anything that moved, and Liam sat too still for too long, his eyes drifting to the corners of the room as if he could see the shadows breathing.
Eli tried to pretend. Pretend the mark under his shirt didn't burn whenever someone said Veil like an accident, like a curse. Pretend the ache behind his eyes wasn't growing stronger with every blink.
"Eli," Liam said, voice low as they crossed the quad to their next class. "You know you can tell me, right? If there's something more?"
Eli forced a laugh, pushing his shoulder against Liam's in that easy, brotherly way. "It's just nightmares, Li. I'm fine."
Liam didn't look convinced. Neither did Celeste, jogging to catch up, nearly colliding with Jace who had his phone up, front camera on, fixing his hair.
"God, Jace," Celeste groaned. "Can you not—"
"Babe, perfection takes maintenance," Jace shot back with a grin. "Unlike you, Miss Walking Disaster—"
She punched his arm. He didn't flinch. He smiled wider. And behind all that noise, Eli felt the world slip just a little more sideways.
When the last bell rang and dusk painted the campus in bruised gold, Eli stood alone by the rusted bike rack behind the old library. The air smelled of rain again, and something else — iron. Old. Familiar.
He felt it before he saw it — a presence so cold it made the hair on his neck stand. He turned.
A man stood half in shadow between two broken streetlights. Tall, all sharp edges, coat draped like a cloak. Pale eyes that pinned Eli to the concrete.
"You should be careful walking alone, Elior Serrano."
Eli's breath hitched. "Do I know you?"
The man stepped forward just enough for the light to catch the faintest flash of a signet ring — a blood-red crest shaped like thorns.
"Not yet," the stranger murmured, voice smooth as glass. "But you will."
In the blink it took Eli to step back, the man was gone — swallowed by the dusk like he'd never been there at all.
Eli's heartbeat stuttered. Somewhere in his veins, something ancient shifted — a lock turning in a door that had been waiting years to open.
When he stumbled back to the dorm, the Fourfold were there. Celeste dropped her phone mid-rant. Jace froze, mouth open, half a joke dying on his tongue. Liam stepped forward first, hands out, grounding him.
"Hey. What happened?"
Eli wanted to tell them. About the eyes. The voice. The door inside his chest that felt like it was about to break wide open.
But all he said was, "It's nothing. Just tired."
Outside the rain started again, soft and cold, washing the city clean for something darker to crawl through.
And in the far distance, two ancient things waited in the dark — one with fangs, one with flame — smiling like they already owned him.