The library smelled like dust and old paper and things that had survived too long to be forgotten between the walls that enclosed them.
Thorn sat cross-legged on the floor between two stacks, while Xavier leaned over a low table cluttered with open books, scattered notes, and half-finished drawings of runes that made no sense. His hair fell forward, covering most of his face, but he still caught the way her breathing stuttered as she flipped between pages of books older than either of them.
Candlelight flickered along the spines of tomes that hadn't been checked out in decades, their titles stamped in languages Thorn didn't bother trying to translate.
They'd been at this for hours.
"Okay," Xavier said finally, tapping the margin of a page with the eraser of his pencil. "If Alarie was right about the anchors feeding sequentially, then starting with the most important one is the worst possible move."
Thorn nodded faintly, eyes skimming a passage she'd already read twice before she rubbed her eye with the back of her hand. It had been hard to stay awake these past few hours. "Yeah, because they'd feel it immediately."
"Exactly. The Choir isn't stupid," he paused, "Not entirely, but if we stabilize something central first, they'll definitely know what's happening before we really even get started."
He flipped a page. "Which means we start with the least powerful anchor."
Thorn's gaze shifted; she flipped back a few pages in the book in front of her. Her fingers moved fast against the page.
"It seems like the forest might be the weakest."
Xavier looked up at her, studying her for a moment longer than he needed to. His eyes lingered on the way her lips parted as she read, and on the slight wrinkle in her brow as she thought.
"The forest is saturated," she continued more carefully now. "Too alive to hold resonance cleanly. Sound fractures there. Memory doesn't store properly. It disperses instead of focusing."
She swallowed.
"And the wolves are strongest there," she said quietly. "Which only makes the Choir weaker."
Xavier nodded. "So, if we stabilize it first, they won't realize what we're doing. At least, not right away."
Silence crept in again, thin and tense.
Thorn closed the book in her hands with deliberate care. "Then we'll start there."
He hesitated, knowing just how the forest had haunted her last time. "Are you sure?"
She didn't look at him. "We don't get to pick the order just because it's comfortable."
That was answer enough. They packed up slowly, sliding books back into their spots without a word.
The walk back to Thorn's dorm was slow.
Not because the distance was far, but because Thorn moved as if each step required negotiation. Her shoulders were tight, her posture was rigid, and each breath sounded like it took a large amount of effort. The path through the courtyard dipped toward the treeline, and with every step closer, her breath grew shallower.
Xavier noticed.
He noticed the way her pace faltered, how she favored one side without meaning to. The faint tremor in her fingers when she adjusted the strap of her bag.
He said nothing.
Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know how without breaking something, without starting a conversation he wasn't sure he was ready to have.
He let Thorn walk the first few steps by herself once they reached the staircase. If she fell or staggered even a little, he would be there to catch her, even if she didn't want him to. She didn't seem to notice, or just didn't have the energy to.
Thorn's dorm had become a second home to him; the warmth it provided was one he didn't get anywhere else. Not from the stone corridors of the Academy, not from the classrooms that hummed with expectation and scrutiny. Just here, where the lights were softer, where Pippa's things were always half-spread across every surface, where Thorn existed without being watched quite so closely.
She slipped inside first, moving on instinct. Xavier lingered near the door, giving her space as she crossed the room and set her bag down with a quiet thump. The violin case leaned against the wall where she'd left it earlier, dark wood catching the lamplight.
For a moment, Thorn just stood there, breathing.
Then she reached for the violin.
Her fingers moved carefully, sliding the shoulder rest off as she placed it and the violin in the case. The bow followed next as she slid it into its place next to her spare.
"I should be good," Thorn slung the strap over her shoulder and headed back out into the hall. Xavier followed a step behind, careful to keep his distance, matching her pace without crowding it. The lanterns flickered as they passed, casting long, uneven shadows that stretched and shrank along the walls.
Outside, the night air was cool and damp. Fog clung low to the ground, curling around their ankles as they crossed the grass toward the trees.
The forest loomed ahead, dark and dense, its edge ragged where branches reached out like grasping hands.
Thorn slowed as they reached the treeline, eyes slowly tracing every branch. Leaves covered the ground, dead and crisp under their boots.
Xavier stopped with her, close enough to feel the shift in the air, but not close enough to touch. He waited.
"We can—"
"No," she said immediately. Too fast. "We're doing this."
She stepped forward before he could finish, and the forest seemingly swallowed them whole.
The clearing they chose was small and uneven, roots twisting through the earth like veins. Moonlight filtered down in broken fragments, silver and green and shifting. The air hummed. It wasn't hostile, but it was restless, like something half-asleep.
Xavier crouched and picked up a fallen branch, snapping it cleanly in half. He moved to the center of the clearing and began to draw, carefully and precisely, the stick scratching softly against the dirt and leaf litter.
A wide rune. Diffuse by design. Nothing that tried to bind the forest; only guided it.
Thorn watched from a few paces back, violin case at her feet. Her hands were steady when she fumbled with the zipper on her case.
Thorn took a deep breath and lifted the violin; her arm trembled once as she set it beneath her chin.
She ignored it.
When the bow touched the string, the forest listened.
The sound didn't echo the way it did in stone halls. It fractured, splitting between trunks, dissolving into the bare branches above. The resonance glimmered in a soft purple light as Thorn's music echoed between the trees.
Xavier watched the rune respond, the lines he'd drawn warming faintly, sinking deeper into the soil as if the earth itself were accepting them. The restless hum softened, spreading out and thinning until it settled into something steady and calm.
But his focus wasn't on the glow, or the barren branches arching overhead, or even the cold bite of night air that made his breath fog.
It was on Thorn.
On the way, her fingers moved with practiced precision along the fingerboard, confident even as her body swayed subtly with the melody. On the concentration etched into her brow, the tight control in her posture as she held the music together through sheer will. She looked ethereal, framed by trees and violet light. Immeasurably powerful.
The forest didn't resist her.
It followed.
Threads of sound winding through bark and moss and soil.
Xavier reached back out, stick in hand, as he drew another rune to seal in the tune of her music.
Xavier felt it settle, and the forest exhaled.
Thorn finished on a suspended note, holding it just long enough for the last vibration to fade naturally.
The clearing stayed calm. The hum stayed in tune.
The mission was successful.
She lowered the violin, and her arm shook.
Xavier was on his feet in an instant. "Thorn—"
"I'm fine," she snapped automatically, stepping back.
Her grip faltered. The violin dipped, and she caught it against her side with a sharp breath.
Xavier stopped short, jaw tightening.
"Goddammit, Thorn." He scrubbed a hand over his face, frustration breaking through his restraint. "You don't let people help you."
She laughed once, brittle and hollow. "That would imply people try."
"I'm trying!"
The forest froze.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
Thorn stared at him like he'd spoken in another language.
No one had ever said that to her like that. Not with heat. Not with desperation. Not like it mattered.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Her chest tightened, panic and confusion tangling together. She turned abruptly, drawing her attention back to the case of her violin. She kneeled next to it, carefully setting the instrument back in.
"Thorn—"
"Don't."
"Please," he said, voice low and breaking, taking one more step against the crunch of the leaves, "Just tell me how I can help. I can't watch you like this. Pippa can't watch you like this. Not after everything, you know that."
The words hit harder than the forest ever could.
Thorn's breath shuddered, and her shoulders slumped. The truth sat at the tip of her tongue. Bitter and unforgiving. She stared at the case in front of her. The vintage dark wood glistened in the moonlight as she slightly turned her head to speak.
"… They're starving me," she said finally, barely audible.
Xavier went very still. "Who?" he asked, although he did already know the answer.
"The school," she clarified, eyes fixed on the ground. "The blood pouches? They're synthetic. They are made in the infirmary. It's just enough to keep me functional, but weak."
His grip tightened reflexively.
"That's—" He stopped himself, anger flashing sharp and immediate. "That's not okay. Why would they want you weak?"
"You know why, Xavier. Everyone is scared of me, and for good reason. You saw me at the masquerade, too much power makes people nervous."
"That still doesn't give them the right. This is supposed to be the most prestigious school for outcasts. Help you learn your powers and hone your craft, or whatever the fuck is in their brochure. "
She let out a humorless breath, reaching out to zip up the violin case to keep her hands busy. "Yeah, well... that's only for the outcasts that can fit in one of their pre-determined boxes."
"What?" he demanded.
She hesitated, pushing herself off the forest ground. "Everyone says that I'm a half-vampire, half-psychic hybrid. It makes sense, I died a psychic, I was resurrected with vampire blood, but the truth is," Thorn reached up to fidget with the blood vial around her neck. "No one knows what I am. So instead of trying to help me figure it out, they just keep me weak to lessen the fact that I'm an anomaly. Hungry dogs are obedient dogs."
Thorn looked down, overwhelmed by the admission more than the truth itself.
Xavier didn't speak for a long moment.
Then, softly, "I can help."
She laughed weakly. "You don't owe me anything, Thorpe."
"I know,"
"Then why—"
"Because I want to,"
Silence wrapped around them again, not empty, but full of something fragile and new.
"And because I'm worried," Xavier continued. "I don't know much, but I know you. Like this? It's not..." He didn't finish his thought because he didn't even know what to say.
Xavier swallowed, jaw tightening as the rest of the words finally found him.
"It's not sustainable," he said quietly. "And it's not your job to endure it just because they're afraid."
Thorn flinched, just barely. She hugged the violin case closer to her side like a shield.
"This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you," she said, voice thin. "Because now you're looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like... Like you see something worth looking at."
Xavier stepped closer, careful, slow, as if approaching a skittish animal. He didn't touch her. Didn't crowd her. Just stood there, close enough that she could feel his warmth through the night air.
"Maybe because I do, you're still a person, Thorn," he said. "And I'm not going to pretend this is acceptable."
She shook her head. "You don't understand how this works. If I push back, if I make noise, they'll decide I'm too much trouble. They'll isolate me. Or worse."
"Worse than starving you?" His voice cracked despite himself. He exhaled sharply, reining it in. "Thorn… I respect that you don't want me meddling. I do. I meant what I said earlier about not pushing. But this isn't just about curiosity or sticking my nose somewhere it doesn't belong."
Her eyes flicked up to his, guarded and raw. "Then what is it?"
He hesitated. Long enough that she almost told him not to bother.
"You tell your parents," Xavier said. Calm. Steady. Not angry, but unmovable. "Or I go to Maren."
The words landed like a stone dropped into still water.
Thorn stared at him, breath catching hard in her chest. "You wouldn't."
"I would," he said, immediately. No heat. No drama. Just truth. "Not to punish you. Not to make a scene. But because this stops now, one way or another."
Her pulse roared in her ears. "You don't get to make that choice for me."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm giving it back to you."
She laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. "That's not how ultimatums work."
"It is when the alternative is watching someone I..." Xavier swallowed thickly, "care about getting ground down until there's nothing left," he said. His voice dropped, rough around the edges. "I won't do that."
Thorn turned away, pacing two steps into the clearing before stopping short. Her hands trembled again, worse this time. Anger. Fear. Something dangerously close to relief.
"You go to Maren," she said slowly, "and you put a target on my back, I might not survive."
"And if you don't," he countered, just as quietly, "you're already not surviving... you're just existing."
That hit.
She pressed her lips together, eyes burning, staring out at the trees as if they might offer her an answer. The forest was calm now, peaceful, even.
As if mocking her.
"You don't understand what my parents are like," she said finally. "If I tell them, it's not just a conversation. It's opening old wounds, it's..." Thorn sighed, her shoulders dropping.
Xavier didn't hesitate, not even as he watched the war happening behind Thorn's eyes. "Then we plan for that too."
She turned back on him sharply. "You keep saying 'we' like it's some sort of group project."
"Yeah," he said, standing just a bit straighter. "I do."
His gaze met hers, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound between was the soft crunch of leaves and Thorn's uneven breathing.
Finally, she looked down at the violin case, fingers tightening around the handle.
"I'm not promising anything," she said. "At least not tonight."
Xavier nodded once. "That's fine."
"But," she added, voice barely above a whisper, "you can't go to Maren. Not yet. You have to give me time to figure out what to say to my parents."
Xavier took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay. I won't go to Maren. Yet," he reached out and grabbed the violin case from Thorn's hands.
Thorn couldn't keep her grip tight around the strap of her case as Xavier slid the strap over his shoulder.
"I'll carry it," he said simply. Not an argument. Not a challenge. An offer.
Thorn hesitated, fingers flexing where the handle had been. Letting go felt… strange. Her first instinct was to snatch it back, to reclaim the one thing that had always been hers to manage alone. Her violin was one of the few comforts she brought from home. Passed down from her mother, carved from the hands of an Italian luthier.
But she didn't.
"You better not drop it," she muttered instead, because it was easier than saying thank you.
A corner of his mouth twitched. "I'm not an idiot."
They started back through the trees together, the forest parting for them without protest. The rune Xavier had drawn remained faintly warm beneath the soil, a quiet pulse that felt like a promise kept. No echoes followed them. No distortion. Just the ordinary sounds of night, the distant rush of wind moving higher up in the trees, and the flutter of birds that stuck around this early into the winter.
Thorn walked a half-step ahead, arms folded tight against her ribs. Her exhaustion was no longer something she could pretend away; it sat heavy in her limbs, dragged at her spine. Every so often, she slowed without meaning to.
Each time, Xavier matched her pace without comment.
They didn't talk about the ultimatum again. It sat between them, solid and unavoidable, but not sharp. Not yet. There would be time for that. Tonight had already taken enough.
They walked the rest of the way in silence until the lights of the Academy peeked through the trees. When they reached the path that split toward the dorms, Xavier slowed, then stopped.
"This is you," he said.
Thorn nodded. She reached for the violin case without thinking, then paused when he didn't hand it over right away.
"Hey," he said quietly.
She looked up, and the way her green eyes softened when she met his made Xavier's breath stutter. Her face looked soft in the warm lantern light.
"I meant what I said. I won't go to Maren. Not yet." A beat. "But I'm not walking away either."
Her throat tightened. She didn't trust herself to answer, so she just gave a slight nod.
"Goodnight, Thorpe."
"Goodnight, Rosales."
He finally handed her the case. Their fingers brushed, brief and accidental. She pulled back just as quickly, turning toward the dorm before either of them could linger on it.
Xavier watched until the door closed behind her.
Only then did he exhale.