Danny's dorm room was smaller than he remembered.
Or it just felt that way now that his world had narrowed down to essentials.
A duffel bag lay open on the bed, half-empty. He pulled out the last shirt with deliberate care, smoothing the wrinkles out as the act itself mattered. Clothes. Toothbrush. Phone charger. The notebook he never let anyone read. The rest of the books, trophies, and half-forgotten keepsakes had stayed here while he was slowly dying in the nearest hospital bed.
Danny hadn't argued when they asked if he was sure he wanted to come back.
He'd just said that he had to return.
What he didn't say was that it felt like there was business left unresolved.
So despite the fresh air, the around-the-clock care, and concern from his moms…
He needed to come back.
Danny folded the shirt and set it into the dresser drawer next to his bed, then paused, hand resting on the fabric. His breath came easier than it had in weeks. Not painless; it was never painless, but it was much more manageable. The constant ache beneath his ribs had dulled into something quieter, like background static instead of a scream.
The scars along his side itched faintly.
He lifted the hem of his shirt and glanced down. The jagged lines that had once looked like something clawed him open were thinner now. Faded at the edges. Still there, but retreating, slowly, like a tide being pulled back.
"Don't get used to it," he muttered to himself.
A knock came at the door.
Danny froze.
No one knocked on his door unless they meant trouble since it was usually Thorn asking him to break another rule.
"…Yeah?" he called.
The door opened a crack.
Xavier stood there, taller than Danny had realized. The last time he had seen him was when Danny was lying in the inirmary bed. Xavier's hair fell into his eyes like he'd run his hands through it one too many times. There was charcoal smudged faintly along his sleeve, and he held a lantern in one hand like he wasn't quite sure whether he was supposed to.
"Uh, Hey." Xavier muttered nervously, "Sorry. I was looking for you."
Danny blinked. "Well, I'm here."
The boy exhaled, like he'd been bracing for something worse. "Okay. Good. I mean, it's good that you're here. Not—" He stopped himself, then shook his head. "I don't know if you remember me, I'm uh,"
Danny frowned faintly. "You're… Thorn's friend. Xavier."
Xavier paused for a moment, but he figured that was the best way to describe their relationship.
He nodded. "And Pippa's. I, uh—" He lifted the lantern slightly, then lowered it again, clearly unsure what to do with his hands. "I know we don't really know each other. But I heard you were back, and I thought maybe I should check on you."
Danny studied him for a long second.
He didn't look like someone here to gawk. Or interrogate. Or poke at him like a mystery to be solved. Xavier looked… tired. Focused. Like someone who had learned recently that things could go very wrong very fast.
"Come in," Danny said finally.
Xavier stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. His gaze flicked around the room. Taking note, like he wanted to understand the space before he spoke again.
"You don't have to do this," Danny said, gesturing vaguely. "Whatever this is."
"I know," Xavier replied. "But I wanted to."
That earned him a snort. "You and Thorn sound alike."
Xavier huffed. "I've been getting that a lot lately."
They stood there for a beat, neither sure how to start.
Danny broke first. "So. You're here because…?"
Xavier hesitated. Then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded scrap of paper. He crossed the room and set it carefully on the desk.
"I've been working with Thorn on stabilizing some of the anchors," he said. "We figured out a few things about how they behave when they're damaged."
Danny's shoulders tensed immediately. "You mean that song?"
Xavier nodded. "Yeah."
Danny leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms. "Figures."
"The scars," Xavier continued, choosing his words carefully. "They didn't just hurt because of the attack. They were tied to something bigger. When your parents took you away, you were pulled farther from the source."
Danny's jaw clenched. "The pain got worse the farther we drove, until it just… snapped."
Xavier met his eyes. "Because you were being dragged out of alignment, once you were out of its reach, it stopped hurting you."
Silence stretched between them, thick but not hostile.
Danny looked down at his side again, fingers brushing the edge of a scar. "I tried to explain that to my moms. They didn't get it at first."
"But they listened," Xavier said.
"Eventually." Danny exhaled slowly. "They've lived in this world long enough to know when magic doesn't behave like it's supposed to."
Xavier nodded once, relief flickering across his face. "Good."
He unfolded the paper on the desk. A rough sketch of a rune, completely unfinished, exploratory, but precise.
"We've been working to stabilize the anchors, but they might try to hurt you again now that you're back." Xavier started.
"This helped Thorn," he continued. "Not permanently. But enough to take the edge off while we work."
Danny studied it, eyes sharp. "You drew this?"
"Yeah."
"You're not a ritualist."
"No," Xavier agreed. "But I'm good at seeing patterns. And Thorn's… good at filling in the gaps."
Danny huffed a weak laugh. "Yeah, that tracks."
He reached out, touching the paper lightly. The air shifted subtly, but real.
The ache in his side eased another fraction.
"Oh," Danny breathed.
Xavier relaxed visibly. "Yeah. That."
Danny looked up at him, something like gratitude flickering through the pain. "You didn't have to come all this way."
"I know," Xavier said again. "But you're part of this. Whether you wanted to be or not."
Danny considered that. Then nodded. "Guess I don't get much choice."
"No," Xavier said gently. "But you do get allies."
Danny snorted. "You are always this dramatic?"
Xavier grimaced. "Only when people are bleeding, or the school's about to implode."
A pause.
Then Danny held out his hand. "Thanks. For not pretending I'm fragile."
Xavier shook it. "Thanks for not pretending you're fine."
Something settled between them then. Not friendship, not yet. But understanding. A shared awareness that neither of them had asked for this, and that both were still standing anyway.
Danny glanced toward the window, where the campus lights glimmered faintly. "You think Thorn knows I'm back?"
Xavier's mouth curved slightly. "Oh. She definitely will."
Danny smiled, small but real.
"Good," he said. "I owe her."
As if summoned by the thought, there was a knock at the door—quick, familiar—and then it swung open without waiting for an answer.
"Danny!"
Pippa's voice cut through the room, bright and sharp with relief. She stopped short the moment she took in the scene: Danny upright, color in his face, Xavier standing near the desk with a lantern still in hand.
Then Thorn appeared behind her, two steps slower, eyes already scanning.
"Xavier?" Thorn said, brow cocked. Not suspicious. Just… surprised.
Xavier offered a small, awkward smile and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey."
Pippa blinked between them. "Why are you in Danny's room?"
Thorn didn't wait for an answer. She crossed the space immediately, drawn to the desk like gravity, fingers brushing over the loose pages scattered there. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the familiar shapes.
"You drew runes on him," she murmured.
Xavier winced slightly. "I—"
"Did it work?" Thorn cut in, already looking up at Danny. "Does it hurt less?"
Pippa was at Danny's side now, hands warm and insistent as she took one of his. Her brows knit together as she searched his face. "Xavier drew runes on you?"
Danny let out a soft huff, something like a laugh. "Yeah. He did."
"And?" Thorn pressed.
Danny shifted, then rolled his shoulder experimentally, like he was testing a joint that had betrayed him too many times. "It's not gone. But it's quieter. Like someone turned the volume down instead of ripping the speakers out."
Thorn exhaled, sharp and relieved. "Good."
Her gaze flicked back to the papers, then, slowly, up to Xavier.
"You didn't tell me you were doing this," she said.
"I didn't want to disappoint you if it didn't work," he replied softly.
That stopped her.
Thorn's eyes flicked to Pippa and Dann, two sets of expectant, wary gazes, before returning to Xavier. For a moment, she didn't speak at all.
What was she supposed to say?
That nothing he did could disappoint her?
That he couldn't disappoint her?
The thought lodged somewhere dangerous.
She swallowed thickly and turned back toward Danny instead, retreating into something safer.
"As long as you're feeling better," she said quietly, "that's all that matters."
Danny shook his head, a sharp motion despite the pain. "No. What matters is you two explaining what the hell is going on."
Pippa nodded immediately. "Yeah. Come on." She gestured between Thorn and Xavier. "I've been trying to be part of this whole save-the-school situation, but you're not telling me anything. What is the song? Why do the runes help? What does the Choir even want?"
Thorn sighed, rubbing her thumb against the edge of the desk. Then she nodded once.
"Fine," she said. "You're right. You both should know."
Danny blinked. "Know what?"
"The Choir isn't just some rogue club," Thorn said. "They're called The Minstrels of Mercury. They were part of an old secret society that existed here long before us."
Xavier picked it up seamlessly. "They were resonance practitioners. The Resonance taps directly into the wards that protect the Academy. Those wards run on frequency."
"Each frequency is tied to an anchor," Thorn continued. "There are seven in total. If they destabilize all of them…" She trailed off. "We don't actually know how bad it gets. Just that it won't be survivable."
Pippa frowned. "Okay, but—Danny was the first one hurt. Why?"
Thorn hesitated.
"I think," she said slowly, "that someone in the Choir wanted to hurt Danny specifically."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to press down on all of them.
Xavier felt something cold settle in his chest. Malrick's voice echoed unhelpfully in his memory—Marcellus has had the biggest crush on Thorn since freshman year.
If that obsession had curdled into resentment…
Thorn turned toward him. "You think Danny was targeted?"
Xavier nodded once. "I do."
"Why?"
"I have theories," he said carefully. "But I need proof before I accuse anyone."
The room went quiet again.
Danny broke it first. "So," he said, trying for light and failing. "How do we stop them?"
Thorn straightened. "I've been using my violin to stabilize the anchors. The Resonance from my violin can interact with the right frequency that keeps things from collapsing." She hesitated. "But to actually take the Choir down? That might require something… more physical."
"Thorn," Pippa warned.
"I know."
"You almost died the first time."
"The first time?" Danny echoed, alarm flaring.
Thorn grimaced. "Details we'll circle back to."
She turned to Pippa, frustration flashing across her face. "I know what you're going to say, but with the real blood you and Xavier stole for me, I can handle it this time."
"You don't even know the full extent of your powers," Pippa shot back. "That's not reassuring."
"Pip—"
"No," Pippa snapped. "I am not losing you." She turned on Xavier, desperation sharp in her eyes. "Back me up here."
Xavier looked between them. Between Pippa's fear and Thorn's resolve.
"I have faith in her," he said carefully. "And we won't let her do it alone."
Pippa laughed, sharp and humorless. "Great. So when she dies, you can draw me a new Thorn."
"Pippa!" Thorn snapped. "Please. Just—trust me."
The word hung there.
Trust.
Pippa's jaw clenched. She didn't look convinced, but she didn't look away either.
"I can't watch you get hurt again," Pippa said softly.
That did it.
Thorn bit the inside of her cheek, her throat tightening despite herself. "I won't get hurt again," she whispered, the promise fragile but earnest.
Her gaze flickered upward just as Danny stepped in, closing the space between him and Pippa. He reached out, warm and careful, and rested his hand on her arm, guiding her to face him.
"Come on, Pip," he said gently. "It's Thorn. You know she's too stubborn to die."
That earned the barest ghost of a smile.
"And," Danny added, glancing briefly toward Thorn before nodding once, "we'll be right there with her."
He hesitated, then looked back to Pippa. "If it's cool with you… I want a moment alone. I think we've got a lot to catch up on."
Thorn's smirk returned instantly, like armor snapping back into place. "Don't have to tell me twice to give the lovebirds some privacy."
"Thorn!" Pippa yelped, cheeks flushing a deep, betrayed pink.
"Relax," Thorn said breezily as she turned toward the door, resting her hand on the knob. "I'm joking."
She paused.
"Mostly."
"That's rich coming from you," Pippa shot back, her gaze flicking—very deliberately—toward Xavier.
Xavier went rigid.
"I'm just gonna… go," he muttered, already following Thorn out as she pulled the door open wider.
The door shut softly behind them.
For a few steps, neither of them spoke.
"So, uh…" Xavier finally started, then stopped, clearly having no idea where that sentence was supposed to go.
"I need to head back to my dorm," Thorn said, descending the Furnace steps. "Clean up a bit. My parents should be here soon."
Xavier blinked. "Your parents are coming?"
"Yeah." She didn't look back. "I called my mom. Told her what's been happening. She and my dad are probably going to tear Maren apart limb by limb."
Xavier huffed a quiet laugh. "Not like she doesn't deserve it."
He hesitated, then added lightly, "So… I guess that means I get to meet the mysterious Mr. and Mrs. Rosales."
Thorn stopped short on the last few steps.
Xavier nearly walked straight into her.
"You want to meet my parents?" she asked, still not looking at him.
Xavier hesitated. The pause betrayed him more than any confession could have.
"I mean," he said, carefully casual, "it's not weird to meet your friend's parents. Is it?"
That finally got her to turn.
"Friends?" she repeated.
The word wasn't sharp, and if anything, that was worse. It was neutral and almost observational, as if she were testing its weight in her mouth.
Xavier shifted, suddenly aware of how badly he'd misjudged the ground. "That's—" He stopped himself. Tried again. "That's what this is. Right?"
Thorn watched him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Not guarded. Not amused. Just… quiet. Like she was listening to something he couldn't hear.
"Yeah," she said finally. "Friends."
She turned and continued down the rest of the stairs without waiting to see if he followed.
"Valarie and Rafael are… interesting people," she added, like the conversation hadn't snagged on anything sharp.
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Xavier said, and meant it.
They walked side by side through the corridor that opened toward the Observatory, the glass above them catching the early light. Thorn's steps were steady now—better than last night—but he still matched her pace without thinking.
"Valarie asks a lot of questions," Thorn went on. "Too many. Like she's trying to trap you with your own words." A pause. "And she's good at it."
"Are you warning me?" he asked.
She glanced at him, one brow lifting. "Do you need warning?"
Xavier exhaled through his nose, then slipped his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He looked out across the quad, anywhere but at her, before saying the thing that had been pressing at him since she said friends.
"It just feels like," he said carefully, "you're trying to hide something from your parents."
Thorn didn't slow. Didn't stiffen. She didn't even look surprised.
"There's nothing to hide," she replied easily.
The ease of it hurt more than denial.
"Okay," Xavier said, but his voice didn't quite buy it. "Because it sounded like you were… setting boundaries."
She stopped walking then, just long enough to turn and face him.
Her expression was calm. Too calm. Like she had practiced in the mirror too many times.
"I am," she said.
Xavier blinked. "With them?"
"With everyone," Thorn said, shrugging one shoulder. "It's healthier that way."
"That's not—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "That's not what I meant."
"I know," she said quietly.
That was the problem.
She stepped closer, just enough that he could see the faint shadows under her eyes. The steadiness of her now didn't erase what he'd seen before, what he knew.
"My parents don't need to know about every person who helps me," she said. "Or every mistake I make. Or every…" Her voice dipped, just barely. "…complication."
His chest tightened.
"And what am I?" he asked, before he could stop himself.
She held his gaze for a second too long.
Then she looked away.
"You're Xavier Thorpe," she said. "You help when you shouldn't. You worry more than you admit. And you ask questions that don't always have answers."
That wasn't what he'd asked.
"I just don't want you," he said, quieter now, "to feel like you have to erase things to make them easier for other people."
Her eyes flickered.
Just once.
"I'm not erasing anything," Thorn said. "I'm choosing what survives."
She stepped back, reclaiming the distance.
"And right now," she added, turning away again, "this survives better if it stays simple."
She resumed walking toward the Observatory, leaving him standing there with the word simple echoing in his head.
Xavier watched her go, the familiar ache settling in his chest.
"Things haven't been simple since I met you," he said under his breath, the confession sinking uselessly into the stone.
Thorn kept walking.
And that, somehow, hurt worse than if she'd heard him.