The bell echoed through the hallways, signaling the end of class, but Caelum barely heard it. He stared at his desk, the weight of the Titan’s words pressing down on him like a vice. His heart still hadn’t slowed, and his skin prickled with the memory of the vision—the cold, heavy atmosphere, the Titan’s eyes burning into his soul. He shuddered involuntarily.

The journal with the half-finished sketch lay closed in front of him, the lines still etched in his mind. How long had he been sitting there, staring blankly into space? His fingers absently traced the edge of the desk as he blinked himself back to the present. The noise of students shuffling out of the classroom slowly filtered back into his awareness.

“You good, man?” a familiar voice asked, cutting through the haze.

Caelum looked up, blinking as Nolan dropped into the seat across from him. His friend’s trademark grin was plastered across his face, his messy dark blonde hair falling into his blue eyes as he leaned back in the chair. Nolan, with his usual air of casual confidence, looked as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” Caelum muttered, forcing a smile. “Just… thinking.”

Nolan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Thinking, huh? You sure that’s safe? Don’t want you to strain something.” He reached out, flicking Caelum’s closed journal with a lazy finger. “You were zoning out pretty hard there. What’s up? Another one of your weird dreams?”

Caelum hesitated, feeling the weight of the vision again. He could still see the Titan, the way its cracked obsidian skin had glistened in the darkness, the slow drip of razor-sharp shards falling from its hollow eyes. He shook his head. “No, nothing like that,” he lied, avoiding Nolan’s gaze. “Just… you know. School stuff.”

“School stuff?” Nolan let out a bark of laughter. “Come on, man. You’re killing me. You know we’re both going to procrastinate until the last minute anyway.” He stretched, his lanky, athletic frame nearly spilling out of the desk. “Besides, Aira’s the only one who actually cares about homework. We’ve still got time before she starts lecturing us.”

Caelum couldn’t help but smile at that. It was true—Aira had always been the responsible one, the glue that kept their trio from completely falling apart under the weight of impending deadlines. She’d probably already finished half of whatever project they had due next week, knowing her.

As if on cue, Aira appeared in the doorway, scanning the classroom for them. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back in its usual low ponytail, though a few loose strands framed her face. She spotted them and strode over, her green eyes sharp with that familiar look of determination. Caelum could already sense the impending scolding.

“I knew I’d find you two here,” she said, standing in front of Nolan’s desk with her arms crossed. “You realize we have a project due next week, right?”

Nolan grinned up at her, unfazed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it. I’ve been thinking about it.”

Aira narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Right. Thinking.” She turned her gaze to Caelum, softening slightly. “What about you, Cael? You okay?”

Caelum nodded, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions still swirling inside him. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… tired, I guess.” He wasn’t lying this time. Whatever that vision had been, it had drained him—left him feeling hollow and stretched thin.

Aira studied him for a moment, her piercing green eyes flicking between him and Nolan, as though she could sense there was more to the story. But she didn’t press. Instead, she sighed, reaching into her bag and pulling out a thick textbook. “Fine. But we’re meeting this weekend to work on the project. No excuses.”

Nolan groaned, but there was a playful gleam in his eyes. “You’re killing me, Aira. One of these days, you’re going to realize that life’s too short to spend all your time studying.”

She shot him a dry look, raising an eyebrow. “And one of these days, you’re going to realize that not everyone can coast by on charm and last-minute cramming.”

Caelum chuckled under his breath as Nolan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty as charged.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing some great secret. “But let me tell you something, Aira. Life’s all about balance. A little fun, a little work. Keeps things interesting.”

Aira rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Right. Balance. You mean putting everything off until the last possible second and then panicking the night before?”

Nolan grinned wider, clearly proud of himself. “Exactly. You’re catching on.”

Caelum smiled at their familiar banter, grateful for the brief distraction from the weight of his thoughts. Nolan and Aira had always been like this—a study in contrasts. Nolan, with his carefree attitude, always skating by just enough to get things done, while Aira drove herself relentlessly, never satisfied until she’d achieved perfection. They were as different as night and day, but somehow it worked.

Maybe that’s why he needed them.

He leaned back in his chair, watching as Nolan and Aira continued to bicker playfully. Nolan’s easy confidence, the way he carried himself as if the world was one big game to be played, was something Caelum had always envied. His friend made everything look so effortless—like nothing could ever really go wrong. No pressure, no fear, just living in the moment.

Aira, on the other hand, was grounded. Rational. She had her entire life mapped out in front of her, every step carefully planned. Her drive was something Caelum admired, even if he could never quite match it. She was the one who always had the answers, who made sense of things when they felt overwhelming.

But they didn’t know what was really going on. They didn’t know about the vision, about the Titan, about the strange feeling gnawing at the edges of his mind that something was wrong. Caelum didn’t know how to tell them—how to even begin explaining what had just happened. Would they believe him? Or would they laugh it off, dismiss it as just another one of his “weird dreams”?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

The sound of Nolan’s voice snapped him back to the present. “So, what’s the plan for this weekend, Cael? You down for some gaming, or is Aira gonna make us do actual work?”

Caelum forced a smile, his mind still heavy with the weight of the Titan’s words. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll… let you know.”

Nolan’s grin faltered for a moment, his blue eyes flicking over to Aira, who gave him a small shake of her head, as if to say let it go. Nolan shrugged, leaning back in his chair with a casual stretch. “No worries, man. We’ll figure it out.”

Aira gathered her things, slipping her textbook back into her bag with a sigh. “Well, I’ve got to get to the library before my next class. Don’t forget—this weekend. No excuses.” She gave Nolan a pointed look before turning back to Caelum, her voice softening. “Take care, okay?”

Caelum nodded, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. “Yeah. You too, Aira.”

As she left, Nolan stood and stretched, running a hand through his messy hair. “I should probably head out too. You good, man? You seem… off.”

Caelum opened his mouth to respond, but the words stuck in his throat. He wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been okay since the moment the Titan had spoken to him. But what could he say? That he’d seen something—something ancient and terrifying—and that it had offered him a power he didn’t want?

He shook his head, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just… tired.”

Nolan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. “Alright, man. Just remember—if you ever need to talk or, you know, not talk, I’m here.” He gave Caelum a playful shove on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

Caelum nodded again, though he wasn’t so sure. As Nolan walked away, disappearing into the crowd of students, Caelum sat in the silence of the empty classroom, his heart still racing, his mind still haunted by the Titan’s offer.

He stared down at his closed journal, the faint sound of a distant drumbeat echoing in his ears.

Caelum gathered his things slowly, slipping the journal into his bag as he stood from his desk. The room had emptied quickly, and the lingering scent of chalk and faint perfume from the other students clung to the still air. His eyes flicked briefly to the window. The sky outside was a dull gray, overcast but dry. A soft breeze rattled the glass, the air outside hinting at the bite of autumn creeping in.

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He felt like a ghost moving through the halls. Everything felt muted—voices blending into the background, lockers slamming shut without any real sound, shoes squeaking on linoleum. The world around him was distant, just out of reach. As though it didn’t matter.

The cafeteria was its usual crowded chaos by the time he got there. Tables packed with students, some chatting animatedly while others scrolled through their phones, faces lit up by the glow of the screens. The clatter of trays and the dull hum of conversation filled the space, though it all felt like white noise to Caelum.

The cafeteria itself was large, sterile, and functional. The white-tiled floors were slightly scuffed from years of students filing in and out. Long rectangular tables filled the center of the room, flanked by high windows that overlooked the outdoor seating area and, beyond that, the track and field. A few rows of vending machines hummed in the corner, their contents bathed in harsh fluorescent light, and a series of lunch stations lined the far wall, offering the typical choices of uninspired school food.

Caelum moved toward the lunch line, grabbing a tray and shuffling forward with the rest of the students. His mind was still buzzing with the remnants of the vision—the sight of the Titan towering over him, the weight of the obsidian shards crashing around its feet. Every now and then, his hand twitched, as though it still remembered the feel of his pencil sketching those same shapes on paper.

When he reached the front of the line, the server ladled a thick, brownish-gray soup into a plastic bowl on his tray. Beef porridge, they called it, though it looked more like something scraped off the floor. The smell, however, was oddly comforting—rich and savory, a warm scent that rose with the steam. Caelum couldn’t help but take in a deep breath. His stomach, which had felt like a stone earlier, gave a soft rumble of hunger.

Porridge it is, then.

He grabbed a spoon and moved toward the exit, pushing through the heavy double doors that led to the outdoor seating area. The air outside hit him immediately, crisp and cool, but refreshing. A small group of students sat scattered across the concrete picnic tables, most of them huddled in their jackets or hoodies, braving the chill. Caelum didn’t mind the cold. If anything, it helped clear his head. The cafeteria had felt too stuffy, too loud. Here, the air was sharp and clear, and there was space to breathe.

The outdoor seating area overlooked the school’s track and field, which stretched out below in an expansive oval of green. The field was still damp from the morning dew, and the crispness of the air carried the faint scent of wet grass. The athletic teams usually came out around this time—midday practice before they finished their classes in the evening. He could already see a few of them jogging lazily around the track, their breath rising in soft clouds of mist as they warmed up.

Caelum found his usual spot—a picnic table set slightly apart from the others, near the edge of the field. It wasn’t that he avoided people, but this spot gave him a view of everything without being too close to the noise. He liked the distance. It gave him time to think.

He set his tray down and slid onto the bench, his breath visible in the chilly air. The porridge steamed in front of him, its scent mixing with the earthy smell of the damp ground. He dipped his spoon into the bowl and took a cautious bite. The taste was simple, but not bad. Warm broth, soft chunks of meat, a faint saltiness. It was the kind of meal that filled you up without much effort, no expectations. He swallowed, letting the warmth spread through his chest.

Everything felt… dull. As though the world had been painted in grays and browns, the color drained from the sky, the ground, even the people. Maybe that’s why the vision of the Titan had shaken him so much—it had been real. Too real. The cold obsidian of the Titan’s skin, the sharpness of the shards falling from its eyes, the overwhelming presence of something ancient and terrible. It had been the only thing in a long time that had felt alive.

And now he was back here. With the cold wind and the sound of distant footsteps on the track. With a bowl of warm, bland porridge and the soft hum of voices drifting from the cafeteria behind him.

He took another bite, trying to push the vision from his mind, but it clung to him, wrapping itself around his thoughts like a vine. Every time he blinked, he saw the Titan’s face—the hollow eyes, the jagged smile. He heard the words again.

"You are here to inherit…"

Caelum clenched his spoon, the metal handle digging into his palm. What was he supposed to do with that? Inherit what? And why him?

He wasn’t anyone special. He wasn’t like Aira, with her perfect grades and her meticulously planned future. He wasn’t like Nolan, who floated through life effortlessly, as if the world bent to his will. Caelum was just… here. Drifting. Waiting for something to happen, though he wasn’t sure what.

He shook his head and dropped the spoon back into the bowl. The wind had picked up, and the cold air bit at his cheeks. The athletes on the field had started their drills, their shouts and calls carried on the breeze. Caelum watched them for a while, his gaze distant, unfocused. His mind kept circling back to the same question—why him?

The shrill buzz of his phone broke the silence.

Caelum jumped slightly, startled, and reached into his pocket. The screen lit up with a message. His brow furrowed. No name. Just an unknown number.

"Hello, Titan’s Acolyte."

He froze. His fingers tightened around the phone as his eyes scanned the words again. Titan’s Acolyte. The words seemed to leap off the screen, punching him in the gut. How—?

Another buzz.

"I see you. I know what you’ve been offered."

His heart pounded in his chest. His eyes darted around the courtyard, scanning the students, the tables, the windows of the cafeteria. Who could have sent this? Was someone watching him?

Another buzz.

"You’re not safe. Meet me."

The air felt colder suddenly, the wind biting through his jacket. Caelum stared at the screen, his mind reeling. He could feel his pulse thudding in his temples, the echo of the Titan’s heartbeat still lingering in his thoughts. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

His hand trembled as he typed a response, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Who are you?"

The reply came instantly.

"Someone who knows what’s coming."

Caelum’s hands felt numb as he stared at the message. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. The world around him—the cold, the noise of the athletes, the smell of the porridge—it all faded into the background as the words on the screen seemed to swallow everything else.

He wasn’t safe.

The Titan’s voice echoed in his head, a dark and foreboding reminder of the burden he hadn’t asked for. "You will inherit..."

Caelum took a shaky breath, his fingers hovering over the screen. What was happening to him? Breath caught in his throat as he stared at the message. His hands were cold, almost numb from both the brisk air and the weight of the words on the screen. The world around him seemed to narrow—sound fading into the background, the cold air biting at his skin, though he barely noticed it.

Another buzz.

"I’m arranging the meeting. Be ready."

The words sent a jolt through him, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. His heart raced as he looked up, scanning the courtyard again, his eyes darting from face to face. Students were still lounging at the picnic tables, heads bent over their phones or laughing with friends. No one seemed to be watching him. No one seemed aware of the message that had just upended his entire reality.

Arranging the meeting.

What did that mean? Where? When? And why?

He felt a sharp pang of dread in his chest. The Titan’s voice echoed in his mind again—deep, ancient, impossible to ignore. "You are here to inherit."

The phone buzzed again, and Caelum nearly dropped it, his fingers trembling as he glanced at the screen.

"Don't trust anyone else. Only me."

Caelum swallowed hard, his throat tight. His pulse thudded in his ears as he reread the message. His mind spun with questions, each one piling on top of the other, none of them making sense. He didn’t even know who this was, or what they wanted, yet here he was, sitting in the cold, staring at his phone like it held the answers to everything.

But it didn’t. It only raised more questions.

He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen. What was he supposed to do? Was this a prank? Some kind of sick joke? Or… was it real?

His mind raced, trying to make sense of the messages. The Titan’s words. The strange, awful feeling that had settled deep in his gut since the vision. It all felt connected, like pieces of a puzzle he didn’t want to solve.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Something bigger than he could understand. And whoever was texting him—whether they were friend or foe—knew more about it than he did.

His fingers moved before he could stop himself, typing out a response.

"Where? When?"

The seconds dragged on. Caelum’s heart pounded, every beat a sharp reminder that the world around him hadn’t stopped, even if it felt like it had. He watched the screen, waiting for the three little dots that indicated a response.

Buzz.

"Soon. You’ll know."

That was it. No details. No explanation. Just those three ominous words.

Caelum’s stomach churned as he locked the phone and slid it back into his pocket, feeling the weight of it against his leg. The cold air swirled around him, carrying the faint sound of the track team’s whistles and shouts. But the world felt distant, as if it had tilted slightly off balance, leaving him in the center of something he didn’t understand.

He stared out across the field, his breath visible in the chilly air. His thoughts were racing too fast for him to catch hold of any one of them. What had he gotten himself into? And who was this person—this shadow in the background of his life, watching, waiting?

Nolan and Aira’s laughter echoed in his mind, distant and muffled, as if they belonged to a different world. A world where everything made sense, where the biggest problem was whether or not they’d finish their homework on time. A world that felt far away now.

What would they say if they knew? Would they even believe him?

The phone buzzed again, but this time Caelum didn’t reach for it. He didn’t want to know. Not yet. The weight in his chest pressed harder, making it difficult to breathe. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the fear gnawing at the edges of his mind.

He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want it. "You will inherit."

The Titan’s voice was louder now, clearer, as though it was standing right behind him. Watching. Waiting for him to make a choice.

Caelum opened his eyes and stared out at the field, his gaze distant, unfocused. He had no idea what was coming, but he knew—deep down—that it wouldn’t be anything he could prepare for.

And the worst part was, he was completely alone in this.

The world around him felt too dull, too distant, too incomplete compared to the shadowy vision of the Titan that still clung to his thoughts. The cold breeze stung his cheeks, and for the first time, he felt small—like a single, insignificant piece of something far larger than himself.

The phone buzzed again in his pocket. Caelum still didn’t reach for it. He wasn’t sure he could handle what it said.

Instead, he stood slowly, feeling the cold air bite at his skin as he grabbed his tray, barely noticing the now-cold porridge. The weight of the unknown sat heavy in his chest as he walked away from the table, away from the courtyard, his steps slow and deliberate.

He wasn’t ready for whatever was coming.

But he had a feeling it was already too late.