The red lollipop clacked against Cassian's teeth at regular intervals, an irritating sound that echoed through the classroom like a declaration of authority. Sitting cross-legged, elbows casually resting on his knees, he dominated the scene—literally. Beneath him, on all fours, Axel served as a human chair, his face tense but stubbornly silent.

  "Fuck, Axel, are you shaking or what?" Cassian tossed out, shifting his weight slightly and forcing his "seat" to readjust. "What kind of shitty service is this? I've had cafeteria chairs that were more comfortable."

  Laughter erupted around him. His crew—five guys and two girls—formed a loud circle that drew every eye in the class. Marcus, a massive guy with bleached hair, gave Axel a light, "friendly" kick in the ribs.

  "Dude, you're supposed to be premium seating. Cassian pays for your services with his friendship—it's a privilege!"

  More bursts of laughter. Axel clenched his teeth, his knuckles whitening against the tiled floor. The same obsessive thought looped in his mind: If I say anything, tomorrow I'll be the punching bag. Or worse, I'll end up excluded, like Damien last year.

  Cassian pulled the lollipop out with a satisfied pop, pointing the glistening candy at his group.

  "Seriously, guys, did you see the game last night? That last-minute pass was..."

  "LEGENDARY!" Iris finished, appearing at his side, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. The school's popular girl, the one everyone wanted to know. She gracefully perched on the adjacent desk, crossing her legs. "My brother was in the stands—he said it was historic."

  "Your brother has good taste," Cassian replied with that crooked smile that made half the girls in school melt. His naturally arrogant face—high cheekbones, square jaw, those piercing gray eyes that seemed to judge everything—took on an almost charming edge when he smiled like that.

  Even when he's sitting on someone, thought a student bitterly from the back of the room, quickly looking away when Cassian scanned the class.

  "Alright, I'm hungry," Cassian announced suddenly, standing up. Axel slumped slightly, his arms trembling. "Axel, go grab me something from the cafeteria. Chicken sandwich, spicy chips—not that salt crap—and something sweet. Surprise me."

  Axel stood up painfully, brushing off his uniform. "Class... class starts in ten minutes, Cassian."

  Silence fell like a guillotine. Cassian turned slowly, popping the lollipop back in his mouth. His gray eyes narrowed.

  "And?"

  "I... I just meant that..." Axel swallowed, feeling every stare on him. "If I don't make it back in time..."

  "Then it'll be your fault for not being fast enough, right?" Cassian's voice was soft, almost friendly. That's what made it terrifying. "You're not telling me you can't handle something this simple, are you?"

  "No! No, I..." Axel held out his hand, waiting for money.

  Cassian tilted his head, pretending confusion. "What are you doing?"

  "The money for..."

  "Your money, Axel." Cassian grinned wide. "Why would I pay for your slowness? You're the one making me miss the first minutes of class. You gotta compensate, yeah?"

  Nervous snickers rippled through the group. Iris looked away, fiddling with her phone. She'd seen this routine dozens of times.

  "That's... that's logical, man," Marcus muttered, avoiding Axel's desperate eyes.

  Axel froze for a second too long. Then, shoulders slumped, he left the classroom to mocking laughter.

  "Too good, that guy," Cassian sighed, dropping into a real chair this time. "Loyal as a dog."

  ---

  In the opposite corner of the classroom, Soren was trying to make himself small. Literally curled up over his desk, notebook open like a flimsy shield, he prayed to become invisible. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me.

  "Yo, Soren!"

  Shit.

  Cassian strode across the room, that confident walk of someone who owned the space he occupied. Before Soren could react, a muscular arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a "brotherly" embrace that was anything but friendly. The scent of Cassian's expensive cologne filled his nostrils.

  "How's it going, buddy? Been a while since we talked!"

  Soren stiffened, every muscle screaming danger. "It's... it's fine, Cassian. I..."

  "Cool, cool." Cassian tightened his grip slightly, forcing Soren to lean awkwardly. "Where were you last night? Didn't see you at the gym."

  "I had... family stuff."

  "Yeah? Family's important." The tone was light, almost sincere. Cassian patted Soren's shoulder. "You know, I get that. I'm close with mine too."

  Of course you are, Soren thought bitterly. Your dad funds half this school. Without your family's generous donation for the new high-tech gym and sports field, this place would just be... average.

  Soren's discomfort must have shown, because Cassian's expression shifted subtly. The smile stayed, but his eyes cooled.

  "I get the feeling you're not super comfortable around me, Soren."

  "No! Not at all, I..."

  "Cool. Because I actually wanted to talk to you about your sister."

  Soren's heart stopped.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "I ran into her in town yesterday." Cassian removed his arm but stayed leaned in, invading Soren's space. "Damn, man, she's totally my type. That smile, you know? And the way she walks..."

  "Cassian, I..."

  "You could set us up? Like, just introduce us casually. Nothing forced." His smile widened. "Brother to brother, you get it?"

  Soren's world narrowed to this moment. He knew the stories. Lisa had dated Cassian for two weeks last year—two weeks before she transferred schools, eyes red and gaze empty. Tom Chen had "filed a complaint" after getting beaten up—his family got a visit from Cassian's family lawyers, and suddenly Tom had "fallen" on his own.

  His sister. His little sixteen-year-old sister who still hugged him and called him "big brother" with that admiring voice.

  No.

  "It's not possible, Cassian. She's... she's too young for you, and she has a boyfriend, and..."

  Cassian's face darkened. When he spoke, his voice rose just enough for the whole class to hear.

  "Too young? She's sixteen, man. It's not like I'm asking to date a kid." He straightened, arms crossed. "And a boyfriend? You think I'm an idiot? I checked her Instagram—there's no one."

  "Cassian, please..."

  "Please what?" His voice rose further. Several students turned, then quickly looked away. "I'm just asking for a favor between friends. What's your problem? My family not good enough for yours?"

  "It's not that!"

  "Or is your sister just a tease who likes attention but plays hard to get? That it?"

  Soren's blood ran cold. "Take that back."

  Cassian laughed, a hard, metallic sound. "What, hit a nerve? Listen, I'm just saying what I see. A girl walking around in skirts that short, smiling at every guy..."

  "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

  Soren's fist flew before he even realized he'd moved. A straight, clumsy punch loaded with months of powerless rage.

  It hit only air.

  Cassian dodged effortlessly, pivoting like a trained boxer. Then his own fist—fast, precise, brutal—slammed into Soren's ribs.

  "WHAT THE FUCK!" Cassian roared as Soren collapsed, wind knocked out of him. "I tried to be NICE to you! Just because your sister's hot, I made a real effort, and this is how you thank me?!"

  A kick to the gut. Soren curled up.

  "You know how many guys would kill to be in your shoes? To have a NORMAL conversation with me?" Another kick, to the ribs this time. "But no, you're too proud!"

  At the back of the class, near the door, Mr. Renard—the history teacher—glanced inside. His eyes landed on Cassian beating Soren, on the circle of students looking away, on Iris staring at her phone with feigned concentration.

  Mr. Renard sighed and continued down the hall.

  My father would be disappointed if I got punished for this, Cassian had once said, with that smile that wasn't really a smile. Really disappointed. And when my father's disappointed, he asks questions. About budgets. Programs. Job contracts.

  "ARE YOU LISTENING WHEN I TALK TO YOU?!" Cassian grabbed Soren by the collar, half-lifting him. Soren's face was swollen, his split lip bleeding down his chin.

  "I... sorry..." Soren gasped.

  "Sorry?!" Cassian dropped him in disgust. "Your sister isn't even worth it anyway. Probably as pathetic as you."

  He turned back to his group, smile restored. "Fuck, I'm starving. When's that idiot Axel getting back?"

  Marcus and the others laughed, relieved the focus had shifted. In the corner, no one helped Soren up. One girl—Mia, from the middle row—quietly pulled out her phone, filming the last moments before quickly putting it away.

  To prove I wasn't there if anyone asks, she thought. Or to have proof if one day... if one day someone is strong enough to take him down.

  ---

  The afternoon dragged on in the sticky late-summer heat. Cassian and his crew hung out downtown, Iris having left for a dentist appointment with her friend. They wandered aimlessly, savoring that post-school freedom where the world belonged to them.

  "Yo, park?" Marcus suggested, kicking an empty can.

  "Nah, I feel like..." Cassian stopped dead.

  They were passing right by Saint Catherine's Academy—that posh all-girls school with its stone walls and gilded gates. Except there, in the courtyard, chatting with a group of girls in uniform...

  A guy.

  "You seeing what I'm seeing?" Louis whispered, eyes wide.

  The group halted as one. Cassian squinted, incredulous. The guy wore a masculine version of the uniform—pants and blazer instead of a skirt—but it was definitely Saint Catherine's.

  "What the fuck?" Marcus growled. "Since when do they let guys in there?"

  Cassian pulled out his phone, zooming to snap a photo of the guy—brown hair, average height, easy smile. Too easy. He quickly sent the pic with a message: Find everything on this guy. Name, address, weaknesses. 24 hours.

  "Damn, that's so unfair," Louis muttered, watching the guy laugh with three girls around him. "We struggle for a smile, and this dude's literally inside."

  "It's straight-up unnatural," another group member added. "An all-girls school is supposed to stay all-girls, right?"

  Cassian pocketed his phone, jaw tight. "Soon as I get info on him, I'm making him regret ever stepping foot there. No one gets that kind of advantage."

  Marcus was typing on his screen. "Oh shit, guys." He held up his phone. "I looked it up. Apparently Saint Catherine's went co-ed... like three months ago. It's new."

  "WHAT?!"

  "Why the hell didn't anyone tell us?!"

  "Can we transfer?"

  "My mom would've never paid tuition there..."

  The group erupted into excited chatter, fantasizing about scenarios where they'd ended up in that dream school. Cassian stayed quiet, eyes still fixed on the guy in the courtyard.

  You're going to regret it, he promised silently.

  ---

  The sun was setting when they reached their usual spot—a vacant lot behind an old industrial building where cops never came. Their unofficial territory.

  Except someone was already there.

  "Isn't that..." Marcus frowned. "That's Jake."

  Jake—a known senior brawler—lay on the dusty ground, face battered, body twisted awkwardly. Standing over him was a stranger.

  Tall. Easily 6'1". Perfectly styled black hair. Handsome in that cold, almost unreal way. He wore their school uniform—navy blazer, red tie—but like a model, impeccable despite the fight marks.

  He turned at their approach and smiled.

  "Ah. You're here."

  His voice was calm. Too calm.

  "Dude." Cassian stepped forward, his crew naturally fanning out to surround the stranger. "You have no idea the shit you just stepped in."

  "I think I do." The stranger—he looked their age, maybe a year older—scanned each of them with clinical detachment. "You're Cassian Dermont and his crew. Rich family, local influence, reputation for violence. Jake here" —he gestured to the unconscious body— "provided that information before he... lost consciousness."

  "Who the hell are you?"

  "Lucien. Lucien Ashford. New at school." He inclined his head slightly, almost polite. "I thought it would be... efficient to handle certain things from the start."

  Cassian exchanged a look with Marcus. Then he burst out laughing.

  "You're serious? You think beating up a guy who can't even fight impresses us?"

  "No." Lucien smiled wider. "But beating all of you should do the trick."

  No verbal signal was needed. They rushed him all at once.

  ---

  Darkness.

  Pain.

  Confusion.

  Cassian came to in waves, like surfacing from an ocean of mud. His eyelids weighed tons. When he finally forced them open, his blurry vision took seconds to focus.

  He was lying on his back. The twilight sky stretched above. And all around...

  Bodies.

  Marcus. Louis. All the others. Sprawled like broken dolls.

  In the center of the macabre circle stood Lucien, not a scratch on him, calmly brushing off his jacket.

  We... we all got wrecked?

  Reality hit Cassian like a truck. Him. The school's best fighter. The guy who'd K.O.'d twenty dudes single-handedly last year. Defeated.

  Lucien met his gaze and smiled. "Ah, you're awake. Good. I wanted you conscious for the lesson."

  He crouched down, and Cassian tried to move, strike, anything—but his body wouldn't respond.

  "Next time," Lucien murmured, "think before you pick on someone. The world's bigger than your little privileged bubble."

  He stood, pulled out his phone. "Hello? Yeah, Mom, I'm on my way. Sorry, I had... something to handle."

  Cassian heard a woman's voice yelling through the speaker. Lucien winced.

  "Yes, yes, I'm coming! The food's getting cold, I know!"

  And he left. Just like that. As if nothing had happened.

  Cassian lay there, staring at the darkening sky, unable to process what had just occurred. Then darkness claimed him again.

  ---

  Lucien hurried through the bustling downtown streets, his mother still yelling in his ear via the phone. He passed a crowded café, a clothing store, turned a corner...

  And stopped dead.

  Ahead, the main street was blocked. Abandoned cars. People running in every direction. And in the middle of the chaos...

  A portal.

  A tear in space itself, swirling with impossible colors—deep purple, sickly green, absolute black. It pulsed like a diseased heart, casting light that hurt to look at.

  "What the..." someone next to Lucien started.

  A shape emerged from the portal. Massive. Twisted. A creature with too many limbs, too many teeth, eyes glowing with malevolent intelligence. Its scream froze everyone in place.

  The creature scanned the crowd with its multiple eyes. Then, panicked by the numbers, it retreated hastily into the portal.

  Silence. A few seconds of fragile hope.

  The portal widened. Four creatures emerged this time, even larger, even more terrifying.

  Their collective howl shattered the silence like glass.

  People started running, screaming, shoving. Lucien was swept up in the human tide, his phone dropping and getting trampled, his mother's voice cut off abruptly.

  ---

  Elsewhere. Elsewhere in time, elsewhere in space, elsewhere in reality itself.

  The sound of wood splintering.

  CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

  Cassian surfaced from unconsciousness feeling buried alive. Dark. Confined. Damp. And that horrible sound, the cracking getting inexorably closer...

  His eyes adjusted to the gloom. He was in... a tree? No, inside a tree trunk. A natural hollow, just big enough for him to curl up in.

  CRACK.

  Light filtered through a new fissure. And Cassian saw.

  A centipede. But not any centipede. This thing was easily ten feet long, its segmented body covered in chitin that gleamed a sickly green. Its mandibles—each the size of a human forearm—methodically gnawed the wood, digging toward him.

  Toward its prey.

  "No no no NO NO!" Cassian frantically pushed back into the hollow, hands clawing at the bark. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

  His voice echoed strangely in the confined space. No. Not strangely. Differently.

  Higher. Softer. Not his voice.

  Cassian froze, the centipede momentarily forgotten. He looked around, searching for the other person trapped with him. No one. He was alone.

  But that voice...

  Trembling, he looked down at his own body.

  And saw.

  Breasts. Breasts. Pressed against his folded knees, undeniably real beneath what felt like a large black robe he didn't recognize.

  CRACK.

  The centipede was almost through. Cassian could see its multiple eyes glowing in the dark, its maw opening to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  Cassian looked up at the creature. Then back at his chest. His hands—smaller, finer. That voice.

  His mind simply refused to process it. The connections snapped.

  He stared at the centipede with blank eyes, utterly devoid of comprehension, and in a soft, confused voice that was absolutely not his own, whispered:

  "...Can someone explain this to me?"