Cora stood frozen, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat. Damien's silhouette was sharp against the moonlight spilling through the open window, his features cloaked in shadow but his piercing blue eyes glowing with unsettling clarity.
The crow on the windowsill shifted its weight, its claws scratching softly against the wood. It tilted its head, fixing its beady black eyes on Cora like it, too, had some dark message to deliver.
Damien's voice was calm, yet laced with something that made her heart pound. "You're bleeding."
Cora instinctively glanced at her bandaged elbow, the faint stain of blood soaking through the white fabric. "It's nothing," she said quickly, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nerves.
"Nothing?" Damien stepped forward, his presence overwhelming the small room. The door shut behind him with a quiet thud, sealing them in. "You call that nothing?"
His gaze flicked toward the crow, and the bird hopped onto the bedpost, its feathers gleaming like oil under the pale light. Cora shifted uncomfortably.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice firmer now despite the rapid thud of her heartbeat.
Damien's smirk was barely visible in the dim light. "To return what was stolen."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small black pouch. The sound of coins clinking together was faint but unmistakable.
Cora's brow furrowed in confusion. "What is that?"
"The prize," Damien replied, tossing the pouch onto the bed. "The one Jaffet cheated to win."
Her eyes widened. "How did you get this?"
Damien shrugged, his movements languid and deliberate. "Let's just say Jaffet doesn't hold onto things very well when properly motivated."
Cora stared at the pouch, her mind racing. The trials were supposed to be a test of skill, yet Damien had interfered as if the rules didn't apply to him.
"You didn't have to do this," she said quietly.
Damien's smirk faded, his expression growing serious. "Yes, I did."
The weight of his words hung in the air, thick and oppressive. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The crow cawed suddenly, breaking the tension. Cora flinched, but Damien didn't so much as blink. He reached out, his fingers brushing the bird's sleek feathers.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with intent.
Cora shook her head, unsure if he was talking about the bird or the pouch.
"This crow," Damien began, "is a symbol. In the old world, they were considered messengers of death. Omens of what's to come."
Cora swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Are you trying to scare me?"
Damien chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. "No, little bird. I'm trying to prepare you."
"For what?"
His eyes locked onto hers, and she felt as though he could see straight through her. "For the reality of this place. The trials, the alliances, the betrayals—none of it is what it seems. If you think the maze was dangerous, you haven't seen anything yet."
Cora's stomach churned. She wanted to dismiss his words as melodramatic, but something in his tone told her he wasn't exaggerating.
The tension between them was palpable, like a taut wire ready to snap. Cora finally found her voice, though it trembled slightly. "Why do you care what happens to me?"
Damien's gaze softened, but only slightly. "Because you're different."
"Different?"
He stepped closer, the air between them growing warmer and more charged with each step. "You're not like the others here, scrambling for power or recognition. You don't belong in this world, and yet here you are, trying to survive it."
Cora's chest tightened at his words. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn't. He was right—she didn't belong here.
But she also couldn't leave.
Damien seemed to sense her turmoil. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her bandaged arm. "You're stronger than you realize, but strength alone won't protect you. You need allies."
Her eyes narrowed. "And you're offering to be one of them?"
His smirk returned, but there was a genuine warmth behind it now. "Consider it a mutual arrangement. I'll keep you safe, and in return, you'll stay out of trouble."
Cora raised an eyebrow. "Trouble seems to follow me whether I want it or not."
"Then it's a good thing I'm used to handling trouble," Damien said, his voice low and teasing.
The moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway. Cora tensed, her mind flashing to the strict rules about male students being in the girls' dorms after hours.
"Damien—"
He held up a hand, silencing her. With a swift motion, he pulled the crow off the bedpost and stepped back toward the window.
"Until next time, little bird," he said, his voice a whisper that sent shivers down her spine.
Before she could respond, he was gone, the crow's wings beating against the night air as it followed him into the shadows.
Cora stared at the empty window, her mind racing with questions she didn't know how to answer.
When Amelia returned a few minutes later, babbling about how someone had clogged the bathroom sinks, Cora barely registered her words.
Her thoughts were elsewhere—on Damien, the crow, and the ominous warning he'd left her with.
Because deep down, she knew he was right.
The game was only beginning.