Present day, inside the classroom. Jake sat next to Lucy, who was staring at the front of the room, her gaze sharp and cold. “I still don’t get it. We were just having fun, and then… this happens?” Jake absentmindedly doodled on his paper, his mind elsewhere. Lucy glanced at him, her voice flat. “You heard her. She doesn’t need us. We’re too weak for the priestess of the stars.” She echoed Yasmine’s words, the weight of them sinking in.

  Jake bit his lip, his hand gently covering hers. “I don’t believe that,” he said softly. “She didn’t mean it. I know she didn’t.” His words were meant to comfort, but Lucy only rubbed her tired eyes, her face blank. “I’m fine,” she muttered, but the pain in her voice was clear.

  Jake nodded but couldn’t shake the thought. His gaze drifted to the window. “Mel… I wish you were here,” he whispered.

  Just then, the door of the classroom slammed open with a loud bang, and a person in a wolf costume stumbled inside, clearly struggling with the mask. “Hard to see in this thing!” the person muttered under their breath.

  Shieka, standing across the room, smirked. “Are you an idiot or something?” she called out.

  Under the mask, Mel coughed awkwardly, trying to stay in character. “I became the janitor,” he whispered to Shieka. “Draven didn’t do any background checks. Deal with it.” He began sweeping with exaggerated movements, trying to blend in.

  A student in the class raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the new janitor? And why is he wearing a wolf costume?”

  Mel stammered, tightening his grip on the mask. “Uhh… my name is… Wolf Wolfington!” he called out, his voice muffled by the mask.

  The teacher shrugged and gave a brief nod. “A kid threw up over there, Wolf,” she pointed towards the mess, and Mel immediately felt his stomach lurch. “Certainly, ma’am,” he muttered, trying to hold it together. He walked over and began mopping up the vomit, his movements mechanical, trying to ignore the stench.

  Shieka perched on a desk, unnoticed by everyone else. “You really can’t stay in a room for eight hours?” she teased, watching him work. Mel sighed and wiped his brow, glancing briefly at her. “It’s a trauma thing,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting to explain further.

  He finished mopping and stood up, his eyes falling on Jake. The moment their gazes met, Mel’s face softened. Jake, slightly confused, tilted his head. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked, the polite tone veiling his curiosity.

  Mel shook his head, wiping his eyes quickly. “No,” he replied, his voice low. He turned toward Lucy, who sat with cold, tear-filled eyes, and a knot twisted in his chest. “Why is Lucy crying?” he thought, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned away, deciding not to press further. He stepped toward the door, his heart heavy, and left the room in silence.

  Moments later, in the bustling cafeteria, students chatted and laughed, the lively atmosphere echoing through the room. At a crowded table sat Caius, Lumi, Sera, Rue, Anita, Renita, Arid, Lance, Clyde, and Jake, with Lucy quietly seated beside him.

  “Anyone notice the new janitor?” Arid asked, idly tapping his finger against the table as his gaze followed Wolf Wolfington, who was clumsily sweeping up crumbs nearby.

  Rue rubbed her temple and groaned inwardly. That idiot! she thought, immediately recognizing Mel beneath the ridiculous wolf costume.

  “He’s pretty weird,” Arid added, still watching. “I saw him talking to himself earlier.”

  Wolf Wolfington—Mel—approached their table, wiping it with exaggerated flair. “How y’all doing, sweetiepies?!” he said in an overly deep, exaggerated country drawl, mimicking the tone of a diner waitress.

  Anita raised her plate so he could clean underneath it. “We’re fine,” she replied politely, though she arched an eyebrow at his strange demeanor.

  Mel nodded. “Good, good!” he said, his voice still in character.

  “So, where are you from, Wolf?” Lance asked, squinting suspiciously as he studied the mask.

  Clearing his throat, Mel deepened his voice even further. “I come from the Ironclad Isle,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Before anyone could react, Rue stomped on his foot under the table. Mel winced, biting back a yelp to avoid blowing his cover.

  “Ironclad? Isn’t that where Mel’s from? You know, where Caldara Bastille is?” Clyde chimed in, his curiosity piqued.

  Mel’s heart raced, and he forced a nervous chuckle. “Mel? Who’s that?” he said, trying to play it cool, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nerves.

  “Melanthius Shadowbane?” Renita said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  Mel shrugged nonchalantly, doing his best to feign ignorance. “Never heard of him,” he lied smoothly.

  Clyde raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in disbelief. “You’re from the Ironclad Isles and you don’t know Melanthius Shadowbane? That doesn’t add up.”

  Before Mel could respond, Lance loudly sipped his drink, the obnoxious sound drawing all eyes to him. With a smirk, he leaned back in his chair, clearly relishing the moment. The pride of describing his sensei was too tempting to resist.

  “Listen up,” Lance began, his voice dripping with admiration. “Melanthius Shadowbane is like... imagine a bunch of gods, genius meisters, and legendary kings all rolled into one person. Now trap all of that greatness in the body of a sixteen-year-old. That’s him. Smart as hell, experienced, terrifying when he’s angry, and a total hero. The kind of guy who makes you believe in miracles.”

  Mel nodded along, keeping his act together, though his chest swelled with pride. If he weren’t wearing a mask, his growing smirk might’ve given him away. “Sounds impressive,” he said, his voice steady, though in his mind, his ego basked in the unexpected praise.

  “He even killed the Wild Storm Spider,” Jake chimed in, his voice tinged with awe. He was the only one at the table who had witnessed it firsthand.

  “The Wild Storm Spider, huh?” Mel said, keeping his tone casual while adjusting the mask to hide his growing grin. “I heard she was a nasty one.”

  Shieka, invisible to everyone but Mel, rolled her eyes and hissed at him. “Can we get out of here already? I’m bored,” she whined, dramatically draping herself over a nearby table.

  Mel resisted the urge to sigh at her antics. “Patience,” he whispered under his breath, pretending to focus on cleaning the table. “I’m trying to lay low here.”

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  Shieka groaned. “You’re the only janitor wearing a wolf costume and using a fake diner waitress accent. You’re about as low-key as a marching band in a library.”

  Mel stifled a snicker but couldn’t keep it in. “Okay, that was a good one,” he muttered with a chuckle.

  Arid shook his head and gestured to the group. “Told you guys he was crazy.” He stood and headed toward the trash bins to throw away his plate.

  Before the group could respond, a warden strode over to their table, his stern expression making the room feel ten degrees colder. He locked eyes with Wolf—Mel—and sneered. “You kids still yammering about fighting?” His voice was sharp and condescending. He turned his attention to Mel. “And you, Wolf, you’re new here. Shouldn’t you be scrubbing toilets instead of playing comedian?”

  Without waiting for an answer, the warden unsheathed a sword and pointed it at Mel’s masked cheek. The cafeteria fell silent. “You kids need discipline,” he barked. “You’re the future of your kingdoms. Enough of this laughing. No laughing!” He punctuated his words by wiggling the blade threateningly in front of Mel’s face.

  Mel froze for a second, then casually grabbed the blade with his gloved hand. The warden’s smug demeanor faltered as he tugged, only to find the sword completely immobilized. “It’s rude to hold a blade to someone’s face,” Mel said, his voice calm but with an edge of menace.

  In one smooth motion, he disarmed the warden, pulling the sword free from its hilt. He rotated the gleaming blade in his hand, letting the light catch on its polished surface, then pointed it directly at the warden’s eye. The tension in the room was palpable.

  “Your blade, sir,” Mel said coolly, flipping the sword and sliding the blade back into the hilt—backward. The warden stumbled back, visibly shaken.

  The room stayed quiet for a moment before Mel went back to his cleaning, as if nothing had happened.

  Victoria approached the tense scene, her expression calm but her tone carrying a hint of humor. “Don’t sweat it, newbie. Wardens are a clan. Sure, some of us are total dickheads,” she said, shooting a pointed glance at the warden, “but we’re not all bad.” She gave Mel a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

  The warden from earlier cleared his throat loudly, clearly trying to regain control of the situation. “I was just making an example. These kids need to toughen up so another accident doesn’t happen,” he said, his voice laced with self-importance.

  Mel froze mid-motion, his posture stiffening. Slowly, he turned to face the warden, his voice firm and dangerously controlled. “Accident?” he repeated, his tone sharp enough to cut steel. His hands clenched as he rubbed his face, as though trying to hold back his growing frustration. “I don’t think it’s right to call it an accident,” he continued, his words measured yet simmering with anger. “A boy was killed. A girl was kidnapped. That’s not an accident—it’s negligence or worse.” He locked eyes with the warden, his glare unrelenting.

  The warden faltered, his confidence crumbling under Mel’s piercing stare. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

  “Uh-oh,” Rue muttered under her breath. She knew Mel’s calm before the storm.

  Suddenly, Shenelle strolled up to the group, yawning and lazily stretching her arms. “What’s all the commotion about?” she asked, her voice nonchalant. Caius, Lumi, and Sera turned toward her in unison.

  “Mom?” Lumi said, her eyes widening in surprise.

  “I thought you quit working here,” Sera added, her brow furrowed.

  Shenelle cracked her neck and gave them a wry smile. “You kids need an education somehow. Can’t have you running around clueless,” she replied, then turned her attention to Mel—or rather, Wolf Wolfington. “And who’s this?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

  Mel cleared his throat, trying to deepen his voice again. “Wolf Wolfington, ma’am. I’m the new janitor.”

  Shenelle raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Wolf Wolfington, huh?” she said flatly. Then, with a wave of her hand, she gestured down the hall. “Well, let me show you around the school I built.”

  Mel nodded and followed her, doing his best to keep his disguise intact.

  Moments later, behind the school, Shenelle grabbed Mel by the collar and slammed him against the wall with surprising force. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she hissed, her calm facade gone. “When did you get back?! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

  Mel winced, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the wall. “You knew it was me?!” he asked, his voice rising in shock.

  Shenelle rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Your last genius disguise was Fox Bearrington. Did you really think I wouldn’t see through this one?” she said, her tone dripping with exasperation. “It’d be an insult to my intelligence if I didn’t know it was you.”

  “Oh, right.” Mel chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Before he could say more, Shenelle suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, catching him completely off guard. For a moment, he stood frozen, but then he wrapped his arms around her, returning the embrace.

  “You idiot!” Shenelle’s voice cracked as she cried into his shoulder, her fists lightly pounding his back. “You really tried to take on that gold-plated moron all by yourself?! What were you thinking?!”

  Mel tightened his hold, his expression softening. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice full of regret. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was reckless.”

  Shenelle pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face a mix of relief and frustration. “Reckless doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she said, shaking her head. “You scared the hell out of me, Mel.”

  “I know,” he said quietly, guilt weighing on his words. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

  Shenelle released him and wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “So,” she began, her voice wavering slightly, “when do you plan on telling everyone that you’re alive?”

  Mel sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted. “Goldman’s still out there, and King Liam clearly has it out for me. If they figure out I’m here, it won’t just be trouble—it’ll be a bloodbath.” He stared at the ground, his voice heavy with worry.

  Shenelle nodded thoughtfully, her expression serious. “You can’t stay in hiding forever, Mel,” she said, reaching out to take his hand. “I know about your... reliant immortality.”

  Mel’s eyes widened beneath his mask. “Of course you do,” he murmured, a bitter chuckle escaping him. “But let me guess—you couldn’t tell me because of the wizard’s promise, right?”

  Shenelle nodded, guilt flashing across her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t break it.”

  Mel exhaled slowly, gripping her hand firmly. “It’s not your fault, Shenelle. I don’t blame you.”

  “Mel?” Lucy’s voice came from behind him, soft but sharp enough to make him jump. He spun around with a startled yelp. “How did you know it was me?!”

  Lucy walked toward him, arms crossed. “I figured out you were Fox Bearrington. Give me some credit—I’m not an idiot. But enough joking around.” Her tone turned serious as she backed him against the wall.

  “A few days ago,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “my mom defeated me, my father, and every single member of the Blades and the Blunts. She said she’s with Camelot now.” Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mix of confusion and pain.

  Mel’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry that happened!” he said earnestly, his voice heavy with sympathy.

  Lucy nodded, but her expression remained grim. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She said we were too weak. That I was too weak for her to stay.” Her voice cracked as she admitted it, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “She left because of me.”

  Mel’s heart ached at her words. “Lucy, that’s not your fault,” he said gently, stepping forward to hug her.

  But Lucy wasn’t ready for comfort. In one swift motion, she flipped him onto the ground. “Why were you attacking me?!” she demanded, her voice sharp with suspicion.

  Mel kipped back to his feet, brushing himself off. “I wasn’t attacking you!” he shot back, his tone exasperated.

  Lucy held up a hand to shush him, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “Relax. I haven’t told anyone that you’re alive. I figured you’ve got a reason for staying under the radar.”

  Mel sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I do.”

  “Good,” Lucy said firmly. “Jake’s been acting as our leader, but now I need you back. We need you back.” Her words carried a weight that Mel couldn’t ignore.

  He ran a hand through his hair beneath the mask, nodding slowly. “I got your back,” he muttered, though he already knew what he had to do.