Nepenthe • Something that can make you forget grief or suffering.
Never feeling like they belonged was a feeling that Lissa Dragomir lived with, even with her family and life long best friend, although they aided in that feeling not being so strong...
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St. Vladimir's Academy slept during the day.
It always had. The campus was built for creatures of the night, and even those who were not Moroi fell into the same rhythm by necessity. During daylight hours, the stone pathways were mostly empty, classrooms dark, windows shuttered. The wind moved through the trees without interruption, stirring fallen leaves and carrying the distant scent of pine and cold iron.
The Academy-owned SUV rolled through the outer gates of St. Vladimir's with quiet efficiency, tires crunching softly over snow-covered gravel before easing onto the paved drive that led toward the main complex. The wards recognized the vehicle instantly, the subtle shimmer of magic rippling once through the air before settling back into stillness.
Dimitri Belikov sat in the drivers seat, hands grabbing the steering wheel carefully, posture straight despite the hours of travel. He had declined conversation for most of the drive, using the time instead to recalibrate—to step mentally back into the rhythm of the Academy after a week away.
No one knew where he had gone.
Not the students. Not most of the staff. The official story had been vague and intentionally dull: off-campus assignment, extended patrol, nothing worth speculating about. Only three people within these walls knew the truth of it—Kate, Headmistress Kirova, and Dimitri himself.
And that was how it needed to remain, Dimitri didn't want the rumour mill to start spinning
The SUV slowed near the security building and came to a smooth stop. Dimitri stepped out before the driver could open his door, boots hitting the pavement with practiced ease. The day was bright, the sun already high, casting long shadows across an Academy that appeared almost deserted.
Alberta Petrov stood waiting near the entrance, arms crossed, her stance solid and unmistakably hers. She wore her usual expression of professional composure, but her eyes sharpened slightly when Dimitri approached. Beside her stood Stan Alto, a distinguished Guardian in his own right, who now taught the next generation of Guardians
Stan looked grim. Not tired, not irritated. Grim in the way someone looked when they had already replayed a conversation too many times in their head and disliked every possible version of it.
Dimitri took that in immediately.
"Welcome back," Alberta said, stepping forward. Her tone carried professional warmth, the kind she reserved for guardians she trusted. "I assume your trip was uneventful."
"As much as any trip can be," Dimitri replied, half smirking teasingly, his Russian accent was soft but firm, his voice steady. There was camraderie between him and the other Guardians at the Academy, and it showed. He inclined his head to her, then turned his attention fully to Stan. "Professor Alto."
