That morning began in the same way all mornings did in the academy. With dawn.
The sun peeked slowly over the horizon as the students in the dorms turned over in their beds.
Some woke up with a loud yawn and a packed schedule, and others decided to sleep for longer, content to waste away the day.
Noah woke up, staring at his ceiling for almost a minute. Then, a small smile creeped upon his face. He sat up, throwing off his covers, and getting out of bed.
He padded over to the bathroom, heading under the showers. As the water cooled his blood down, his shadows surged around him, crowing for blood.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" One shadow kept hissing as it zipped around the bathroom. The others celebrated their joy, bloodlust pouring off them in an almost physical wave.
Today was the seventh day of the week. That meant there would be no classes and no private lessons. And better yet, students were allowed to leave academy grounds, as long as they returned by nightfall.
A grin appeared on his face at the thought. Not because he had anywhere he would be going, but at the thought of what awaited him at the end of the day.
His shadows couldn’t refrain from expressing their giddiness. They whispered in overlapping threads, clacking their teeth on names.
He ignored the chorus and stepped out of the bathroom. He dressed, and headed out for breakfast.
The Gold-tier section was quieter than usual. Some students would rather sleep in, and others had left earlier for their rides into the capital.
Noah didn’t mind. He simply took a tray and let his hands choose his food for him while his head panned the room.
There.
Leo Hargreaves laughed at something Galahad Lawless said, head tipped back, throat bared with the careless trust of someone who believed the world existed to admire him.
The two second years sat at a table next to the windows with plates already half emptied. They both had the posture of men who had learned how to occupy a room first and ask permission later.
Perfect.
Noah headed to a seat on an opposite window. Then he began to eat without even tasting his food, the way soldiers load ammunition. It was part reflex and part habit.
He watched the reflection of the pair in the window glass next to him more than he watched them outright.
Leo gestured as he spoke, while Galahad leaned back and smirked with the same confidence Noah recognized.
When they finished, they didn’t dawdle. The plates clicked into a neat stack, chairs scraped, and the two peeled off together through the side doors.
Noah wiped his mouth, rose with a student’s unremarkable slowness, and fell in behind them at a distance that wouldn’t register in nervous systems built on privilege.
The morning was beautiful as both walked through the academy. There were the clear paths, the lazy patrols, the occasional couple lingering in the cloisters.
Noah folded himself into the flow, drifting behind a cluster of first years, then a pair of second years arguing about a duel rule.
Leo and Galahad crossed the fountain court without hurry, before arriving at the courtyard. That was the place where they said their goodbyes.
Leo angled towards the south gate, which led off-campus, and Galahad stayed. He clapped Leo’s shoulder and spun a lazy circle back towards the western gardens, alone now, whistling.
Even more perfect.
Noah chose the garden path with three turns and two hedges.
He kept Galahad within sight, but never stayed too close as to be accused of following him. Sometimes, they were not even in the same courtyard, with Noah watching the young man from a nearby courtyard.
Galahad strolled through the sights, before finding himself a bench. He sat for a few minutes like a man warming his bones, fingers drumming slow patterns, gaze on nothing.
From what Noah had been able to gather, Galahad had broken up with the girl Leo had blackmailed him with to come for the monolith expedition.
Apparently, the relationship he was willing to head into a monolith to protect in order to hide it from his father hadn’t worked out well in the end. Noah didn’t know what to think of that.
After a few minutes of that, Galahad rose from the bench, looped the track once as if by obligation, and wandered towards the sculptures.
By noon, a picture took shape.
Galahad was a creature of habit. He circled where other boys sprinted, exercised without sweating, and occupied space without friction.
He spent twelve minutes in the libraries, touching none of the spines, nine minutes at the archery galleries, loosing three casual arrows and nodding to himself at a cluster that would have impressed most, then setting the bow aside without logging the score.
He then proceeded on a leisurely stretch on the east terrace, where he spoke to two second year Gold-tier girls like a man trying to pick up girls at a bar.
Noah watched. He learned the cadence of Galahad’s walks, when he cut corners and when he chose the long view, where he paused to check the time against the tower’s sun-ring.
He catalogued everything, because he needed to. He needed to know what kind of man Galahad was. And if he knew the tells, then he could predict his every move, and destroy the man before he lifted a finger.
By evening, Noah was back in his dorms. He already had what he needed.
He headed to the bathroom, washing up for the day. Then, he dressed.
Dark clothing first, with nothing to catch light. The leather cloak next, the hood drawing an edge across his vision that felt like narrowing the world to exactly what he wanted to see.
He crossed to the mirror, checking out the man staring back at him.
Behind him, his shadows gathered, grinning with too many teeth and weeping with too many eyes, each one hungry for something with a different name and the same taste.
The smile bloomed to life on his face before he could even stop it.
"It’s time."