By the time the bell chimed and the st wave of lunch-goers trickled into their cssrooms, the atmosphere on campus had shifted into a quiet, mid-afternoon hum.

  Stel led the way into the Life Sciences building with Alex walking a few steps behind her, still sipping from the same bck thermos she’d been carrying since morning.

  “Don’t look too interested,” Stel said over her shoulder. “You’ll scare the pnts.”

  “No promises,” Alex replied, her tone dry but pyful. “Botany sounds like a vacation compared to biophysics.”

  They entered the greenhouse-adjacent lecture hall, where potted pnts lined the windowsills and trays of soil samples sat waiting on the counters along the walls.

  The room smelled faintly of earth and mint. Light filtered in through a curved ceiling of tinted gss, casting leafy shadows across the pale tile floor.

  Several students had already arrived, some scrolling through tablets, others casually chatting. But nearly all of them paused to gnce up when Alex entered behind Stel.

  She didn’t need to say a word. Her presence, composed and unbothered, commanded attention. Some students looked at her out of curiosity; others, with something closer to wariness.

  One girl nudged her friend with a whisper and tilted her head in Alex’s direction. Alex didn’t acknowledge it, only took the empty seat beside Stel without so much as a gnce around.

  “You’re causing ripples again,” Stel whispered, trying not to smile.

  “I barely blinked,” Alex whispered back.

  “That’s the problem.”

  The professor arrived a moment ter, a tall, soft-spoken man with an enthusiasm for pnt life that rivaled most students’ enthusiasm for coffee.

  He welcomed them all back, his gaze briefly resting on Alex, noting her presence but saying nothing about it. There was no awkwardness—just a natural nod before he began the lecture.

  Today’s topic was mutualism and parasitism. The professor gestured toward the front bench, where a delicate specimen of mistletoe twined around a slender host pnt. “Let’s begin with the pnts that challenge our definitions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ retionships.”

  Alex sat quietly, her gaze trained forward, but Stel could tell she was listening carefully. She wasn’t just there to pass time. She absorbed every word, every slide, like she’d never have to hear it twice.

  Stel leaned slightly toward her. “You’re actually into this.”

  “It’s peaceful,” Alex murmured. “Organic violence. Slow, beautiful theft.”

  Stel blinked. “That’s… unexpectedly poetic.”

  Alex gnced at her with a small, zy smile. “You inspire me.”

  The words made Stel shift in her seat, flustered. She turned her attention quickly to the notes on her tablet, lips twitching despite herself.

  The rest of the css passed uneventfully. No interruptions. No pointed remarks. Just the low murmur of expnation, the rustle of paper, and the occasional flicker of ughter when the professor made a dry botanical pun.

  When the lecture ended, Alex stood and stretched slowly, drawing a few lingering looks her way. She didn’t mind. Her expression was rexed, unreadable. She offered Stel a hand to pull her up from her seat.

  “Well?” Stel asked as they stepped into the hall.

  Alex gave a small nod. “I liked it.”

  “You liked it?”

  “It was oddly soothing. And you—” she nudged Stel’s arm, “—take very tidy notes. I might ask for copies.”

  “Of course you will,” Stel muttered, but the warmth in her face gave her away.

  ***

  The sun had begun its descent over Fairhaven, casting long shadows across the stone walkways as students dispersed for their afternoon break.

  Hazel stood at the edge of the courtyard, idly watching the movement of students as the golden light caught the edges of her hair.

  She’d just stepped away from campus after parting ways with Stel and Alex—content to walk alone, unnoticed for a moment.

  But someone noticed.

  “Miss Everleigh?”

  The voice was soft and even, but something in it made Hazel turn instantly. Verity stood a short distance away on the path, dressed in her usual business-casual ste gray—pressed scks, pale blouse, and a navy coat buttoned to the colr. But it was her face that drew Hazel’s full attention.

  The normally unshakable woman looked… tired. Gloomy, even. Her eyes were downcast, and she held a folder pressed tightly against her chest like it might float away if she loosened her grip.

  Hazel approached slowly. “Verity? Is something wrong?”

  Verity didn’t answer at first. She just exhaled, gncing sideways as if gathering her thoughts. “Would you mind coming with me? It’s easier to expin back at the office.”

  Hazel studied her a moment, the concern subtle but real in her eyes. “Should I bring Alex?”

  Verity shook her head almost immediately. “No… no, she’s had more than enough to deal with tely. Especially after what happened.”

  Hazel narrowed her eyes. “The church boys.”

  Verity nodded, expression tightening. “They tried to escate it—filed a formal compint with the city and their church leadership. Framed it as self-defense against a ‘hostile entity.’”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line. “But it was shut down. Quickly. Turns out when you throw fists at a civilian outside a registered pce of worship, people take issue with that.”

  Hazel’s voice was quiet, but it didn’t lose its edge. “So they're being protected.”

  “Legally? Not as much as they hoped. But they're not going away either.”

  Hazel’s jaw tensed slightly, her posture straightening. “Alex shouldn’t have to deal with that. None of us should.”

  “I agree,” Verity said gently, finally meeting her eyes. “Which is why I need to talk to you. Alone.”

  Hazel paused a moment, then gave a single nod. “Lead the way.”

  Verity turned and began walking down the sidewalk with steady steps, and Hazel followed in silence. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—like the air had shifted, just slightly, ahead of a coming storm.

  The building Verity led Hazel into was as discreet as ever—unassuming from the outside, its tinted windows and minimal signage giving no indication of its purpose.

  Inside, the lighting was soft and indirect, the décor modern and understated. A private waiting room branched off from the main corridor, where Verity paused and opened the door for Hazel.

  “They’re already here,” she said quietly.

  Hazel stepped inside.

  The air shifted immediately. Not with tension—but with presence. It was unmistakable.

  Two women sat on opposite ends of a curved sofa, both radiant in their own ways. They looked up in unison as Hazel entered, golden eyes catching the light, each pair uniquely colored.

  The first woman stood to greet her. She was tall, but less so than Hazel—slim and sharp-featured, with tightly coiled bck hair that framed her face in a controlled halo.

  Her skin was deep and luminous, and she moved with a dancer’s grace, each step precise. Her gaze was curious, intelligent, with eyes like golden citrine ced with flickers of warm brown. She wore high-waisted trousers and a sleeveless olive blouse, simple but stylish.

  “Hazel Everleigh?” she asked, offering a hand. “I’m Mariah.”

  Hazel took it, her grip light. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Mariah gave her a smile—not cold, not guarded, but cautious. Measured. “Likewise. Verity said you’d come.”

  The second woman rose a little slower. She was shorter and curvier, with soft features and long honey-blonde hair braided down her back.

  Her expression was gentler, wide-set eyes the color of sunlit amber with glints of pale green at the edges.

  She wore a pale sweater tucked into a dark pleated skirt, and there was a comforting warmth to the way she held herself—like someone who could soften a room just by sitting in it.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice soft but clear. “I’m Celine. And wow… you’re just as poised as Verity made you sound.”

  Hazel gave her a faint smile. “That’s either a compliment or a warning.”

  Celine smiled back. “Both, probably.”

  Verity closed the door behind her and stepped toward the center of the room. “I know this wasn’t scheduled. Thank you all for coming on short notice. I’ve been asked to begin formal documentation and coordination protocols regarding confirmed cases of Hemotropis luxura within the Fairhaven region.”

  Mariah tilted her head. “You mean we’re being grouped now.”

  “You’re being acknowledged,” Verity corrected gently. “Up until now, everything’s been reactive. We’re moving into observation, outreach, and—eventually—representation. But before that, I need your input. And your experiences.”

  Hazel crossed her arms loosely. “Why now?”

  Verity’s gaze lingered on her for a beat. “Because there’s interest. Because what happened with Alex drew attention. And because more people are watching than before.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Then Mariah spoke again. “So… we’re a case study.”

  Verity didn’t flinch. “You’re the first. That makes you important. And it means people are afraid of what they don’t understand. The better we handle that now, the safer it is—for all of you.”

  Celine shifted slightly in her seat, then looked at Hazel. “If we’re going to be known, we should at least be able to speak for ourselves.”

  Hazel nodded slowly. “Then let’s speak.”

  The silence that followed Hazel’s words was brief—Verity hesitated only a moment before stepping closer, the file in her hands now resting against her side rather than held protectively.

  “There’s something else,” she said quietly. Her tone changed—no longer neutral, no longer procedural. Her voice had weight now, like she was choosing each word with care. “This morning, a patient registered under Hemotropis luxura status was found deceased.”

  All three women fell still.

  Hazel’s golden-amber gaze sharpened immediately. “What happened?”

  Verity’s eyes swept across the room. “I don’t have all the details yet. It wasn’t one of you. The subject was in another district—South Fairhaven. Female. Seventeen. She’d only gone through full transformation two weeks ago.”

  Celine’s hands folded tightly in her p. Mariah leaned forward slightly, the expression on her face unreadable.

  “And?” Hazel asked, her voice low. “Was it an accident?”

  Verity’s answer was blunt. “No. All indications point to murder.”

  Mariah’s brows furrowed. “Was it covered up?”

  “No,” Verity said, shaking her head. “But it’s being handled quietly. Too quietly. Local authorities were the first on scene, but within an hour, someone from the federal liaison office intervened and sealed the case.”

  “Because of the virus,” Hazel murmured.

  “Yes,” Verity confirmed. “There’s fear of backsh. Containment, panic, possible retaliation. If people think someone is going around killing infected—”

  “They’ll hide us,” Celine whispered, her voice faint. “Or worse.”

  Hazel’s jaw tightened. “Do we know who did it?”

  Verity didn’t answer right away. “There’s specution. The girl’s body showed signs of a struggle, and signs of restraint. She wasn’t drained—she was bled out. Surgical, deliberate. Someone knew exactly what they were doing.”

  That was met with another pause. Cold, heavy.

  Alex’s words came back to Hazel then—They don’t think we’re human anymore.

  She didn’t speak them aloud.

  Mariah stood and crossed her arms, her posture rigid. “So what now? We wait to be targets too?”

  Verity looked to Hazel. “That’s why I called you here. Because we have a choice. You can continue hiding in pin sight—or you can help me make sure that never happens again. But it starts with information. Cooperation.”

  Hazel held Verity’s gaze. “What happens to her name? Will she be remembered as a girl… or as a virus carrier?”

  Verity’s voice was barely above a whisper. “That’s what we’re fighting for.”