Vane had been in the library for exactly six minutes.

He was tucked away in the back of the north wing, deep within a row of dusty archives on pre-Imperial history. It was one of the few places on campus where the air didn't hum with active mana. He sat on the floor, his back against a mahogany shelf, trying to focus on a text about ancient spear forms.

Then he felt the vibration in the wood behind his head.

It was faint, a rhythmic tapping that didn't match the ambient sounds of the building. Vane didn't look up immediately. He slowly closed his book and let his hand drift toward the pocket where he kept his sharpening stone.

"You're making it very difficult to concentrate, Ashe."

"Good," a voice rasped from above him.

Vane looked up. Ashe was perched on the very top shelf, fifteen feet in the air. She was crouching on the narrow ledge like a bird of prey, her heavy boots dangling over the side. She wasn't wearing her jacket anymore, just a black tank top that showed the bruising around her collarbone. Her blood-red eyes were fixed on the top of his head.

"The library is a quiet zone," Vane said, standing up and brushing dust off his trousers. "They literally have guards to throw people out for breathing too loud. How did you even get up there?"

"Climbed the outside of the building," Ashe said. She hopped down, landing with a heavy thud that made the surrounding shelves rattle. She didn't stumble. She just stood there, staring at him with that same unsettling, wide-eyed intensity. "You spend a lot of time hiding in corners. Is that a habit from the slums or are you just antisocial?"

"It is a habit of people who don't want to be bothered by bored Oni," Vane replied. He started walking toward the exit.

He didn't make it five steps before she was walking beside him. She didn't say anything. She just matched his pace, her shoulder occasionally brushing his. Every time he turned a corner, she was there. Every time he stopped to check a reference board, she leaned over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.

It wasn't an attack. It was a siege.

He left the library and headed toward the dining hall. As he crossed the central quad, he saw Isole and Valerica sitting at a stone table near the fountain. Isole waved him over, her emerald and crimson eyes lighting up with amusement.

"I see you've picked up a shadow," Isole said as Vane sat down. She looked at Ashe, who was now standing three feet away, staring at a nearby tree as if it had offended her. "She's been following you for three hours, hasn't she?"

"Since breakfast," Vane muttered.

Valerica didn't look up from her notes. She was currently sketching a complex gravitational vector diagram. "She followed him to the men's showers, too. One of the second years nearly had a heart attack when she saw a Red Tower student scaling the wall to look through the vents."

"I was checking his posture," Ashe defended herself. She sat down on the edge of the fountain, ignoring the splash of water on her pants. "He walks like he's expecting a knife in his ribs. Most people here walk like they're in a parade. It's annoying."

"It's called being a target, Ashe," Vane said. He leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Which is exactly what you're making me right now. Look at the terrace."

Across the quad, at a table draped in Blue Tower silks, Jax was watching them. He wasn't alone. He was surrounded by four other students, all of them wearing the polished silver pins of the noble coalitions. They weren't laughing. They were taking notes.

"They're watching the hierarchy shift," Valerica said, finally putting her pen down. She looked at Ashe with a cold, measuring gaze. "Ashe is Rank 4. We are Rank 3 and whatever Isole's true standing is. Together, we represent a concentration of power that the Blue Tower cannot account for. By following Vane like a lost dog, Ashe, you are declaring an alliance."

"I don't care about alliances," Ashe spat. She picked up a loose stone and crushed it in her fist. The sound of grinding rock was loud in the quiet afternoon. "I care about the fact that the next practical is in a month and I don't want to be stuck with a group of nobles who will cry when they get dirt under their fingernails. Vane knows how to win. I want in."

"We're a trio," Vane said. "We don't need a fourth who throws wooden swords at people's heads."

"The rules say four, Vane," Isole reminded him softly. "And the school doesn't care if we like each other. If we don't pick someone, the registrar will assign us a leftover. Would you rather have Ashe or a Rank 500 who will trip over their own shadow in the mines?"

Vane looked at Ashe. She was grinning at him again, that sharp, jagged smile that made her look more like a monster than a student. She was dangerous, unstable, and would likely get them all killed by doing something reckless.

But she was also the only person in the school who wasn't afraid to get blood on her hands.

"I'm going to the training grounds," Vane said, standing up. "Alone."

"I'll see you there," Ashe called out.

Vane walked away, but he could feel her eyes on his back. He could feel everyone's eyes. The psychological warfare had begun. Ashe wasn't just following him to be annoying; she was testing his limits. She was pushing him to see when the "Rat" would finally bite back.

He reached the dorms and climbed the stairs to Villa 3. He locked the door and slumped against it. He waited for the sound of someone scaling the balcony. He waited for a knock.

Silence.

He let out a breath and started to unbutton his shirt. He caught his reflection in the mirror and froze.

Pinned to the outside of his balcony glass, held in place by a single, jagged shard of red obsidian, was a small piece of parchment.

Don't go to sleep yet. The Blue Tower hired a third year to jump you in the alley behind the labs. I took care of it. You owe me lunch.

Vane stared at the note. He looked out at the dark campus.

The safe zones were gone.

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