Mistake
Saint Icarus is different at night. Noise of the day fades into a stillness that almost feels deliberate — as the entire campus rested. The courtyard lights cast golden halos onto the cobblestones, their soft glow bending around every curve and corner with care. Leaves dance quietly across the path, brushing against each other like they were afraid to be heard. In the distance the wind moves lazily through the hedges, brushing past leaves like it has nowhere to be. Somewhere, a window hums — faintly, like it might sigh. The air is cool, easy. It settles into my collar without making a scene. Even the old stone buildings look softer at night — not warm, just less sharp. Everything’s still. Held in place. Then a figure turns the corner up ahead. She moves quietly, but not cautiously — like the path belongs to her. Her hair catches the lamplight as she passes beneath it, the strands glowing pale gold for just a second before vanishing into shadow again. Emily. I don’t need to see her face...