Liam and Dylan strolled leisurely across the academy grounds, the silver moonlight reflecting off the cobblestone paths. The evening was quiet, save for the chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.
As they moved, Dylan's eyes caught sight of a figure up ahead, trudging toward the dorms. It was Asher, and he looked like he was dragging himself through sheer willpower alone. His legs barely lifted off the ground, and his posture screamed exhaustion.
"Hey, Asher! Wait up!" Dylan called, quickening his pace with a burst of energy. He glanced back at Liam, who continued at his usual unhurried stride. "C'mon, Liam, pick up the pace! We're not in a funeral procession!"
Liam didn't even dignify the comment with a reply.
Dylan jogged up to Asher, tapping him on the shoulder. Asher turned slowly, and when his face came into view, Dylan recoiled so dramatically it looked like he'd just seen a ghost.
