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Cass jerked awake at his desk, pen still gripped in his fist like a knife.
The first bell was ringing.
Again.
He dropped the pen. It clattered on the exam paper, the same blank exam paper he'd stared at yesterday—or today—or whatever the hell this was. His heart kicked against his ribs. The morning light coming through the tall windows hadn't changed. Same angle. Same dust motes. Same bitter taste of last night's wine in his mouth.
Across the hall, someone coughed. Lebowski. Same cough, same wheeze, same guy who'd die screaming in about six hours.
"No," Cass said out loud. A few heads turned. He didn't care. He shoved his chair back and stood, legs shaking. The proctor at the front—Instructor Greaves, with his gray mustache and his love of silent judgment—looked up from his book.
"Mr. Veyr. Sit."
"I need to leave."
"You need to finish your exam."
"There's something under the arena. It's going to kill people."
The room went quiet. Greaves set his book down slowly, the way you'd move around a dog that might bite. "Mr. Veyr, if this is another one of your theatrics—"
"It's not." Cass's voice cracked. He hated how he sounded. Desperate. Scared. Rich boys weren't supposed to sound like that. "I'm telling you. Don't let anyone go down there. Cancel the duels. Lock the damn doors."
Greaves stood. His hand went to the summoning charm on his belt. "Sit down, or I will have you removed."
Cass looked around the room. Thirty faces staring at him. Some confused. Some smirking. Mara Flint, three rows over, wasn't smiling. She was watching him the way you'd watch a door you thought might open on its own.
He sat.
Greaves waited another five seconds, then returned to his book. The room filled back up with the scratch of pens and the occasional sigh. Cass pressed his palms flat on the desk. His father's ring—old gold, three ravens stamped into the band—felt heavier than it should.
He'd died yesterday.
He remembered it. The thing with too many teeth. The cold. The way his ribs had cracked when it pulled him under. Mara had been there. She'd tried to haul him back, her hand locked around his wrist, her face twisted in effort and fury. Then the bells had started ringing at midnight and everything had gone white.
Now he was here.
Same morning. Same exam. Same chance to do it differently.
Or same chance to die again.
Cass grabbed his pen and started writing. Not answers—he didn't remember half the theory questions anyway—but names. Locations. Timing. Everything he could pull out of yesterday's nightmare. The thing had come up through the arena floor during the third duel. Lebowski had been commentating. Seraphina Quill had been in the box seats with her entourage, looking bored until the screaming started.
Mara had been on deck. Warming up. She'd been the first one to move when it all went wrong.
He needed to talk to her.
The bell rang for end of exam. Cass was the first one out the door.
---
He caught up with Mara on the east lawn, where the morning combat drills were just wrapping up. She was alone, running blade forms under one of the old oaks, her jacket slung over a bench. Cass stopped at the tree line and watched for a second. She moved like water. No wasted motion. Every strike clean.
He stepped forward. "Mara."
She spun, blade up, point stopping an inch from his throat.
Cass froze. His hands came up slow. "It's me."
"I know who you are." Her voice was flat. The blade didn't move. "What do you want, Veyr?"
"I need to talk to you."
"So talk."
"Not here." He glanced over his shoulder. A few other students were still lingering near the drill yard. "Somewhere private."
Mara's eyes narrowed. The blade lowered an inch. "You're sweating."
"Yeah."
"You look like you haven't slept."
"I haven't."
"Exam was an hour. You wrote for maybe five minutes, then you just sat there."
Cass blinked. "You were watching me?"
"You stood up and started yelling about monsters. Everyone was watching you." She flipped the practice blade and slid it into the loop on her belt. "What's going on?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. How the hell did you explain this? *Hi, I died yesterday, and now I'm back, and by the way, you're going to die too unless we figure this out.*
Mara stepped closer. She smelled like sweat and steel oil. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black in the shade, and they didn't blink. "Cass. Talk."
"Something's going to happen today. In the arena. During the duels."
"What kind of something?"
"Something that kills people."
Her expression didn't change. "You have a vision? A tip? Someone threaten you?"
"I lived it."
That got a reaction. Her head tilted. "You lived it."
"Yeah."
"You're saying you saw the future."
"I'm saying I already died once today, and I don't want to do it again."
Mara stared at him. Then she laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. "You're high."
"I'm not."
"Drunk?"
"Mara—"
"Then you're lying." She turned and grabbed her jacket off the bench. "Go sleep it off, Veyr. I've got real work to do."
"Your sister needs treatment tonight."
Mara stopped.
Cass kept talking, his voice low and fast. "Instructor Hallin's office. Seven o'clock. You're supposed to sign the payment waiver and confirm her slot for the Restorative wing. You told me yesterday. Right before everything went to hell."
Mara turned around slowly. Her hand was on her belt. Not the practice blade. The real one.
"How do you know that?"
"Because you told me. After you pulled me out of the arena. After the thing with the teeth killed Lebowski and three others. After the midnight bells started and we both figured out we were trapped."
She crossed the space between them in two strides. Her hand shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him forward. "If you're threatening my sister—"
"I'm not." Cass didn't fight her grip. "I'm trying to keep her alive. And you. And me. And everyone else who's going to die if we don't stop it."
Mara's knuckles were white. Her face was inches from his. He could feel the heat coming off her, the tension in every line of her body. Her breath brushed his mouth.
"Prove it," she said.
"How?"
"Tell me something no one else knows."
Cass thought fast. Yesterday—last time—she'd told him things. Small things. Things you didn't say unless you were scared and tired and thought you might not make it to morning.
"Your mother disappeared five years ago," he said quietly. "You think it was a banned ritual. You've been looking into it. That's why you're top of the combat board. You need the scholarship and the access it gives you to the archives."
Mara's grip loosened.
"Your sister's name is Lina. She's eight. The sickness is in her lungs. The treatment costs more than you make in six months, but the school covers it as long as you keep your ranking."
Mara let go. She stepped back, her hand dropping to her side.
"You didn't tell anyone that," she said.
"You told me."
"When?"
"Tonight. Or last night. Or—" Cass dragged a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to explain the timing. But you told me. We were trying to find the thing that started the curse. You said if we didn't stop it, your sister wouldn't get her treatment because the school would be locked down."
Mara's jaw worked. She looked at him like he was a puzzle missing half its pieces. "If you're lying to me—"
"I'm not."
"If you're trying to scam me, or scare me, or play some rich-boy game—"
"Mara." Cass met her eyes. "I died yesterday. I felt it. I remember it. And when I woke up this morning, I thought I'd lost my mind. But I haven't. This is real. And if we don't figure it out, it's going to happen again."
She didn't say anything for a long moment. Then she glanced past him, toward the arena. The old stone structure sat at the edge of campus, its entrance already open for the afternoon duels.
"What do you need?" she asked.
Cass exhaled. "I need you to trust me. Just for today. If I'm wrong, you can stab me tomorrow."
Mara snorted. "Deal."
---
They went to the archives.
Mara had access—top combat ranking came with perks—but Cass's family name opened doors she couldn't touch. The restricted section was down two flights of stairs and behind a ward that recognized his father's ring. The lock clicked open when he pressed the band to the seal.
Mara gave him a look. "Your family built this place?"
"Funded it. Same thing."
They stepped inside. The air smelled like old leather and dust and something bitter Cass couldn't name. Shelves stretched up into the dark. No windows. Just witchlight globes that flickered on as they walked.
"What are we looking for?" Mara asked.
"Anything about the arena. Or midnight bells. Or things with too many teeth."
Mara pulled a book off the nearest shelf and flipped it open. "That's not a lot to go on."
"I know."
They searched for an hour. Cass found a ledger of old duels, a contract for arena maintenance, and a very boring essay on warding theory. Mara found a ritual log. She brought it over to the table and set it down between them.
"Look at this."
Cass leaned in. The log was old, the ink faded, but the handwriting was still legible. A list of names. A list of dates. And at the bottom, a single line in red:
*The tower rite requires a living anchor. The bells will call. The anchor will answer.*
"What's a living anchor?" Cass asked.
Mara pointed to the margin. Someone had written a note there, small and cramped: *Veyr family ring. Do not remove.*
Cass looked down at his hand. The three ravens stared back.
"Oh," he said.
Mara didn't move. "You're the anchor."
"I didn't know."
"Doesn't matter. If this is real—if someone's trying to restart the tower rite—they need you alive until midnight."
"And then?"
"Then they don't."
Cass swore.
Mara closed the book. "We need to find out who's running this. And we need to do it before the second bell."
"The second bell?"
"It's in the ritual. First bell starts the day. Second bell opens the gate. Midnight bell closes it."
Cass stood. "Then we don't let the second bell ring."
Mara stood too. "How?"
"I don't know yet. But—"
The archive door slammed open.
Seraphina Quill stood in the doorway, two council guards behind her. She looked perfect. Hair pinned. Uniform pressed. Smile sharp.
"Cass Veyr," she said pleasantly. "You're wanted for questioning."
Cass's stomach dropped. "For what?"
"Disrupting an exam. Threatening an instructor. Accessing restricted materials without authorization." Her smile didn't waver. "Oh, and conspiracy to sabotage the dueling exhibition."
Mara's hand went to her blade.
Seraphina's eyes flicked to her. "Miss Flint. I'd think very carefully before drawing that."
Cass stepped forward, putting himself between them. "I'll go. Just leave her out of it."
"Of course." Seraphina gestured to the guards. "Take him."
They did.
As they hauled him out, Cass looked back. Mara was still standing by the table, the ritual log open in front of her. Her face was locked down, unreadable.
But her hand was still on her blade.
---
They locked him in a hearing room on the third floor of the council hall. No windows. One door. A single chair bolted to the floor.
Cass sat. His wrists were bound with a suppression cuff. The ring on his finger felt like it was burning.
Seraphina came in alone an hour later. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, arms crossed.
"You've had a busy morning," she said.
"Let me go."
"Not yet."
"I didn't do anything."
"You accessed the restricted archives. You involved Miss Flint. You've been making wild claims about danger and disasters." Seraphina tilted her head. "People are starting to talk, Cass. They think you're trying to cause a panic."
"I'm trying to stop one."
"By telling everyone a monster is going to kill them?"
Cass clenched his fists. The cuff bit into his wrists. "You know what's happening. Don't you?"
Seraphina smiled. "I know you're scared. I know you think something terrible is coming. And I know—" She pushed off the door and walked over to him, crouching down so they were eye level. "—that you're going to stay right here until it's over."
Cass stared at her. "You're part of it."
"I'm protecting the school."
"By killing people?"
"By making sure the right people survive." She stood and walked to the door. "The second bell rings in twenty minutes, Cass. Try not to do anything stupid."
She left.
Cass yanked at the cuffs. They didn't budge. He looked down at the ring. The ravens seemed to move in the dim light.
Outside, somewhere across campus, a bell began to ring.
Not the first bell.
The second.
And under the floor, under the stone, something shifted.
Cass felt it in his bones. A pull. A cold, creeping pull that wrapped around his chest and squeezed.
Then the ice started forming on the walls.
Slow at first. Just frost. Then thicker. Spreading.
And inside the ice, letters began to form. Scratched from the inside. Raw and jagged.
*Keep Cass Veyr from hearing the second bell.*
Cass stopped breathing.
The door handle rattled.
He looked up.
Mara kicked it open, blade in hand, her face set and furious.
"Move," she said.
Cass moved.