MOONWATCH

Kaesea

TW: panic attack, mental confusion

"Trystan Ambrose," he said, eyes looking fully into mine for the first time. They are a clear black, indistinguishable from his pupils and almost glowing with the light they reflect. He's pale; his skin is almost translucently clear, his hair ice blond.

There's something about his strange appearance, the way his hands sit limp in his lap like he doesn't know what to do with them, the way that he's only really looking at me for the first time, that gives me the distinct feeling that something has erased parts of him. He's . . . he's not complete.

I turn my head slightly to the side, watching him. Since I don't know what else to say, I try another smile. "Kaesea. Kaesea Archer."

Trystin smiles for the first time, the corners of his mouth turning up hesitantly. "Thanks for . . . getting me out of there, I guess. You didn't have to do that."

It's easier to react more naturally now. "It's not a big deal. I know what it's like to feel like the center of attention, and not just for being awkward. Often for the worst reasons, really. I don't have a lot of friends, and this one time—"

It hurts less than I expect, but I still cut off, trying to blame my sudden silence on the way I talk fast when I get nervous. Just not about whatever I was going to say initially.

"Like I said. Thanks."

The bell rings, but it sounds distant and neither of us move. It's sunnier now, the heat warming the roots of my dark hair and making my face hot. Trystin doesn't seem bothered at all, but his gray nondescript sweatshirt also doesn't look as warm as what I'm wearing.

"You said you didn't have many friends." Trystin starts. I stare out across the grass, not wanting to go back to whatever class I have next. Probably English.

"Maybe . . . we could try being friends."

I give him my first real smile. "I'd like that."

Before I can register his slow smile, a cold rush comes over me. A lunalisk, perhaps many lunalisks, has entered the school. I need to get to them.

Trystin sits up, looking suddenly worried. "Hey—uh, we should get back to class. It's been a few minutes since the bell rang, it's not good to be late." He puts on his backpack and hands me mine.

"Right. We should go." My eyes are up at the sky, but I try to act naturally around Trystin. My new associate doesn't need to know that his new "friend" is killing butterfly demons in an effort to reduce humanity's horrors.

"See you later," Trystin mutters, his expression darkening—although I don't know what warrants it. He wouldn't be able to sense them anyways, so he's probably just annoyed by the actuality that he has to go back to school. I wish my reality was as simple as the life he has.

In any case, I can't wait another second.

As soon as Trystin is down the hall, I break into a run. This can really mess with a girl's schedule: first the attack this morning, then another this afternoon. Strange. They usually aren't this frequent.

I run up the stairs to the second story of the main building, gloved hands gripping the railing. A few left turns, then a right. My fingers spark in anticipation.

Connor Allen. Senior, tall, athletic, intimidating—sitting on the ground with his head in his hands, mumbling to himself. His eyes are shut tightly and he doesn't move. I think he's shaking. The lunalisk mark is visible over the collar of his uniform.