Sydria Academy, Massachusetts, USA

December 14th, 2024

The soft hum of the classroom lights fluttered as Professor Arohn swept to the center of the room, his chalk in hand. He began to write, and his looping script formed one word on the board: PROMETHEUS.

"Who here," Arohn said, his voice low but commanding, "can tell me the story of Prometheus?

A few hands shot up but Sevyn remained silent, his pen tapping aimlessly against the notebook. Raze, predictably, had his head propped on one hand, already halfway to sleep.

Arohn didn't wait for a response. He never did.

Prometheus," he started, turning to face the class once more, "was a Titan who defied the gods. He stole fire from Olympus, fire meant for the divine, and gave it to humanity. A gift of knowledge, of power. A gift that changed the course of mankind forever."

He allowed a pause, letting the words sink in.

But it was an action not without consequences. For his rebellion, Zeus punished Prometheus, chaining him to a rock, where each day an eagle dined on his liver. Immortal as he was, the wound would heal, only to be torn open again: an eternal cycle of agony, inflicted for the gift humanity neither asked for nor fully comprehended.

Arohn's eyes brushed the room, catching on Sevyn for a half a second. "What do you think, then? Was Prometheus a hero? Or a fool?"

The class murmured quietly. Arohn's lips tilted into a slight, wolfish smile.

"Some would say he was a hero. After all, fire gave humanity the tools to thrive—civilization, technology, power. But consider this: fire also gave us destruction. War. The power to destroy everything we've ever built. So, was his gift worth it? Did he help mankind ascend—or did he doom us?"

He began to pace, the soft click of his shoes on the tile filling the silence.

"Maybe Prometheus knew the cost. Maybe he gave us fire because he believed in our potential. Or." Arohn stopped, his gaze turned toward the window, the faint glow of the overcast sky reflected in his eyes. "...maybe he was simply tired of the gods keeping their power to themselves. Maybe he wanted to see what would happen if mortals held the same fire as the divine."

Sevyn shifted in his seat as he placed the pen down.

Arohn turned back to the class, leaning against his desk. "I wonder, if someone gave you fire—gave you power beyond what you could imagine—what would you do with it? Would you use it to build? Or would it destroy you?"

The bell rang, cutting through the moment like a knife. Students rose quickly, muttering about lunch, but Arohn's gaze lingered on Sevyn as he gathered his things.

"Think about it," Arohn called after the class. "Because sometimes, whether you're the giver or the receiver, the fire burns all the same."

Raze was balancing precariously between consciousness and the deep embrace of sleep, with his chin in danger of falling off his palm any second, when a sudden crack at the back of his head sent his senses surging.

"Get up. It's time for lunch," Sevyn grumbled, his tone half sigh, while Raze tumbled forward in his chair, about to overbalance.

Raze blinked groggily, glaring at his brother through a haze of sleep. "You've got the bedside manner of a drill sergeant."

Sevyn ignored him, already slinging his bag over his shoulder.

With a loud yawn, Raze stretched his arms theatrically, one hand "accidentally" brushing his notebook. He twisted his body in an exaggerated stretch—before snapping upright and whipping the notebook across Sevyn's face.

The slap was more bark than bite, but Sevyn recoiled, his face caught somewhere between irritation and resignation.

"You're such a child!" Sevyn shouted, angrily.

But Raze was already halfway out the door, cackling like a madman, darting down the hall with his bag flopping against his side.

Sevyn shook his head, stifling a groan. "Seventeen years old, going on five," he muttered, smoothing off non-existent lint from his sleeve as he followed more slowly toward the door.

Before he could step out, the professor's voice cut through the quiet.

"Mr. Veylan."

Sevyn froze, then turned to see Professor Arohn standing behind his desk, gesturing with a subtle flick of his fingers. "A word?"

Sevyn hesitated. He had no idea what this could be about, but skipping a professor's summons wasn't an option with Arohn. Adjusting his bag, he walked over.

"As you're well aware," Arohn began, his tone measured, "finals are approaching, and I must say, your performance in this class has been nothing short of impressive. Top marks.

"Thank you, sir," Sevyn replied, his voice cautious. Praise from Arohn rarely came without a catch.

The professor leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Unfortunately, I can't say the same for your brother."

Sevyn raised an eyebrow. "Raze?

"Yes, Raze. While you hold the highest grade in this class, your brother is dangerously close to failing. He's hovering around a low C, closer to a D, in fact. Missing assignments, incomplete work, sloppy effort."

Sevyn frowned. "That doesn't sound like Raze. I mean, sure, he's lazy, but he always turns in his work. Most of the time, at least."

"Turning in work and doing the work are not the same thing, Sevyn," Arohn said pointedly. "Most of his submissions are either incomplete. or suspiciously identical to another Veylan I have in this class."

Sevyn blinked, his expression tightening. "You're saying I'm doing his homework for him?"

"I'm saying," Arohn replied, leaning forward, "that it's rather curious how much his work mirrors yours."

Sevyn laughed dryly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Please. I wouldn't do Raze's homework even if he paid me—"

As he spoke, he pulled his phone from his pocket, accidentally sending a crumpled wad of bills tumbling to the floor. Alongside them fluttered a red slip of paper with messy handwriting: '12-Hour Raze Buck.'

Both Sevyn and Arohn stared at the odd currency in stunned silence.

Arohn bent to pick it up, inspecting the makeshift "bill" with all the gravity a man would reserve for some sort of lost artifact. "...A Raze Buck?

Sevyn opened his mouth and then closed it, heat rushing to his face. "Okay, look," he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He doesn't leave me alone at home. It's annoying. So, yeah, I do his homework sometimes. But he pays me with these stupid things so I can have some peace for however many hours he writes on the paper.

Arohn's eyebrow twitched, his expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Sevyn."

"I know," Sevyn groaned, raising both hands. "It's stupid. I'm stupid. But to be fair, he started it. And they work! Mostly."

Arohn released a sigh, setting the Raze Buck down on his desk. "I'm not here to reprimand you, Sevyn. But your brother's slipping, and whether or not you're aware, you're enabling him. I'd suggest you encourage him to take this class and his education-more seriously. I have tried talking with him many times, but it's like I'm talking to a wall.

Sevyn nodded reluctantly, scooping up the Raze Buck and stuffing it back into his pocket. "Yeah. I'll talk to him."

"Good," Arohn said. "Now, go enjoy your lunch."

------------------------

The cafeteria was a sea of sound: students laughing, griping about tests, and swapping food they didn't want. Sevyn sat across from Raze, stirring the unidentifiable mush on his tray while Raze was busy constructing an architectural masterpiece out of chicken nuggets and fries.

"You're supposed to eat that, not play with it," Sevyn muttered.

"Art before appetite," Raze replied, delicately balancing a nugget on top.

Sevyn rolled his eyes and looked around the cafeteria. There was something about it that was. off. At first, he couldn't place it; then his gaze fell upon the new addition to the wall near the vending machines: a sleek, glass-encased touchscreen display glowing with crisp, high-definition ads.

The screen flickered, flashing a small looping video.

"Orpheum Corporation: Expanding the Future Today."

It then cut to shots of the same high-rise building with futuristic structures, slender robotics, and smiling scientists in sterile labs. The voice was smooth and sophisticated:

"Orpheum is proud to invest in the future, enabling the next generation through innovation, education, and community partnerships."

The commercial closed with the glowing ouroboros logo of Orpheum before its loop started again.

Sevyn furrowed his brow. "Since when did we have that?"

"Have what?" Raze asked, his gaze never leaving the sculpture of his food.

"The–whatever that is." Sevyn motioned toward the display.

"Oh, that," Raze said between bites. "They installed it last week. Guess it's supposed to make us feel important or something." He shrugged. "It's just ads. Nothing new."

Sevyn's brow furrowed. "Why would a company like Orpheum care about our school? Don't they make, like, weapons or biotech or something?

Raze laughed. "Maybe they're here to make us into super-soldiers. About time somebody realized my potential." He flexed, melodramatically, and then crammed another fry into his mouth.

The comment was barely out before a group of students passed their table, laughing. One of them—a wiry boy in a jacket two sizes too big—pointed toward the screen.

"You know those new scholarships Orpheum's offering? My mom tried signing me up, but the forms were wild. They wanted my DNA or something," he said, laughing nervously.

"Yeah, my parents thought it was creepy," another student replied. "But my dad was like, 'It's Orpheum—they probably just want to make sure you're not a criminal or something.'"

Their conversation tapered off as they walked away, Sevyn glanced at Raze, who was now trying to stack a napkin tower on top of his food sculpture.

"You don't think that's weird?"

"Don't think what's weird?" Raze asked, eyes still on his masterpiece.

"Orpheum. Being here. Doing all this." Sevyn waved his hand vaguely at the display. "It's like they're trying too hard to look friendly."

Raze shrugged. "Big companies always try to look good. Don't overthink it, Sev. They're probably just bored."

But Sevyn wasn't so sure. He turned back to the ad display, watching the ouroboros spin endlessly in its loop. 

"And now, for the final touch!" Raze grinned, lifting his empty milk carton and triumphantly placing it on top of his food tower like the cherry on top of a masterpiece.

Just as he was about to admire his work, a cold, firm hand slammed down on his shoulder. Raze froze, his eyes squeezing shut in resignation, the smile dropping from his face. A soft whimper escaped him, as if he had accepted whatever fate was about to befall him.

"Boy."

The voice was low and gruff, sending a shiver down Raze's spine.

"M-Mr. Griggs..." Raze muttered, looking up with an exaggerated, nervous grin at the school's janitor. The man was built like a linebacker, with a thick neck and a permanent scowl.

"What did I tell you," Griggs growled, squeezing Raze's shoulder with the strength of someone who was used to lifting heavy things, "about building those damn food forts?"

Raze's eyes went wide as Griggs shook him back and forth like a ragdoll. His milk carton teetered dangerously on the top of the tower. Desperate, Raze flailed his arms and looked toward Sevyn, silently begging for help.

Sevyn, ever the reluctant hero, let out a dramatic sigh. With a quick glance at his brother, he picked up his tray, dumped it in the trash with a soft clink, and started walking out of the cafeteria.

"W-Wait! G-GAH!" Raze yelped, the sound of his brother's retreating footsteps echoing behind him. Griggs wasn't letting go anytime soon.