Jase had never paid much attention to the Mortalis at school. They were always there, just in the background—noticed but not really seen. They kept their distance, just like everyone expected. Some spoke of him and the other Luminaries in hushed tones, reverent and cautious, their words laced with admiration or quiet jealousy. Others avoided even mentioning them, as if saying a Luminary's name aloud might invite misfortune. It was an unspoken rule, an invisible barrier that had existed long before any of them were born—Luminaries and Mortalis did not mix. And yet, the moment he saw her, something shifted.
It wasn't just that she caught his eye—it felt like time slowed for a moment. In a crowd of faces he usually ignored, hers stood out. Jase had seen plenty of Mortalis before, and walked past them without care. They were just passing figures in a world that didn't matter to him. But none of them had ever made him feel this way.
None had ever shaken him.
And yet, this girl—Celeste—had, without even trying.
At first, he tried to brush it off. She was just another student, another face in the crowd, another Mortalis who didn't matter. But that morning, when he nearly ran into her, something in her eyes hit him hard. It wasn't the usual fear he'd seen in Mortalis when faced with the unknown. It was something different—something deeper, hiding just beneath her expression.
Shock. Panic. And then—awareness.
She had known. Not just that he was a Luminary, but something deeper, something unspoken. She had recognized what he was, and yet, unlike the others, she had not stood frozen in awe, nor had she sought to linger in his presence like so many Mortalis did. Instead, she had fled. As if merely being near him was a danger, as if looking at him for too long might unravel something she wasn't ready to face. That reaction—that instinctual need to run—had latched onto him like a thorn, refusing to let go.
And now, for reasons he couldn't quite explain, his mind refused to let go of her name.
Celeste.
It was unfamiliar to him, yet it settled into his thoughts as if it had always been there, waiting for recognition. He found himself repeating it in his head, rolling it over like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit yet refused to be discarded. It was a name that should have meant nothing to him, but now, he couldn't stop himself from noticing her.
During lunch, while the cafeteria buzzed with noise—the clatter of trays, the bursts of laughter, the mingling voices of students caught in easy conversation—Celeste sat alone beneath the shade of a large tree, a quiet presence amidst the chaos. She didn't seem to mind being alone—or maybe she'd just gotten used to it. Her food sat mostly untouched in her lap, her fingers absently picking at it as she stared into the distance, lost in thought.
Jase frowned, watching her from where he stood near the cafeteria entrance. It wasn't unusual for some Mortalis to keep to themselves, but there was something about the way she sat alone, the way no one even considered joining her, that gnawed at him. Why did she eat alone? It wasn't just that Mortalis weren't particularly welcoming to their own—he had seen how they interacted, how they formed cliques and social circles just as Luminaries did. But Celeste… she existed outside of all of it.
And he had noticed the way the other students looked at her.
The way their whispers followed her in the hallways, just low enough that she might not always catch them, but loud enough that the weight of their words would be impossible to ignore. He had seen the way some turned their backs as she passed, how others laughed under their breath as if she were a joke they all shared, one she wasn't allowed to be in on. Even now, as she sat beneath that tree, a few students cast glances her way—amusement twisting in their expressions, quiet disdain flickering across their faces before they returned to their own conversations, dismissing her entirely.
Was she an outcast?
Why?
A past scandal? Or was it something else—something more? Did they sense something about her, just as he had? That thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
By the time the final bell rang, Jase was restless. He didn't like feeling curious about anyone—especially a Mortalis. His interest in her was irrational, misplaced, and yet no matter how much he tried to shake it, his mind kept circling back to the same questions. He told himself it was just lingering curiosity from their earlier encounter, that once he had his answers, he would lose interest. But deep down, he knew that wasn't entirely true.
"Thinking about something? Or maybe someone?"
Jase turned sharply, finding Lucas leaning casually against the wall beside him, arms crossed, his usual smirk plastered across his face. There was something infuriatingly knowing about his expression, like he had already drawn his own conclusions and was simply waiting for Jase to confirm them.
Jase frowned. "No."
Lucas chuckled, clearly unconvinced. "Oh, come on. You've been staring in the same direction all day. Who is it?"
Jase rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. "No one important."
Lucas's smirk widened. "You're serious? Don't tell me a Mortalis actually caught your attention."
Jase stiffened before he could stop himself, a flicker of something betraying him in the brief second he hesitated. Lucas caught it immediately.
That was all the confirmation he needed.
His grin stretched into something even more amused as he let out a low whistle. "Amy's going to have a vision about this soon."
Jase exhaled sharply, irritation flickering in his eyes. That was the last thing he needed—Amy foreseeing something he didn't even understand yet, reading into things that weren't there.
"I'll see you later," Jase muttered, pushing off the wall and striding toward the exit, hoping to escape the conversation before it spiraled any further.
Lucas's amused voice followed him down the hall. "Don't fall too deep, Jase. You know the law."
Jase's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.
He already knew the law.
He already knew the consequences.
That's why this feeling made no sense.
*****
The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, wrapping around Celeste like a familiar hug as she stood behind the counter of Granny's flower shop. The lilies she was arranging felt soft under her fingers, their beauty a quiet contrast to the storm inside her. Normally, making bouquets calmed her—it was something she'd done a hundred times. But today, her thoughts weren't on flowers or ribbons. They were stuck on someone she'd been trying all day to forget.
Jase.
No matter how hard she tried to forget, his presence stayed with her like a shadow she couldn't shake. The way he had looked at her in the hallway—steady, unreadable—unsettled her. It felt like he could see right through her, past all the walls she'd built to protect herself. And the worst part? Every time their eyes met, something inside her twisted. Her stomach tightened, her heart raced, Then the soft chime of the shop's bell broke the silence. It was a sound she'd heard a thousand times, but this time, it felt sharp, out of place.
Celeste froze. Her heart jumped, and for a moment, she thought about pretending she hadn't heard it. But she didn't need to look up. She already knew.
Even before she turned toward the door, she felt it—that subtle shift in the air. Faint at first, but it spread quickly, like a current running through the shop. The same quiet tension that had followed her all day was suddenly here, filling the space around her.
Still, she forced herself to speak, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Welcome! How can I help—"
The words died in her throat as her eyes met his.
Jase.
He stood in the doorway and instantly, the room felt different—fuller, heavier. For a moment, everything slowed. Celeste couldn't move, couldn't breathe, as if any small motion might shatter the fragile stillness between them.
Her heart stopped, then slammed against her chest. She gripped the bouquet in her hands tighter, the stems pressing into her palms like an anchor. The shop, usually her calm, familiar space, suddenly felt too small, too warm—like the air itself had shifted.
Why was he here? Why now, in the one place where she felt in control, where everything made sense?
Jase's eyes moved slowly across the room, taking in the flowers, the soft colors, the quiet charm of the shop. Then his gaze found her—and held. His golden eyes locked with hers, steady and unreadable. Maybe there was curiosity there. Maybe amusement. She couldn't tell. But whatever it was, it unsettled her in a way she couldn't explain.
"You work here?" His voice was calm and smooth, but there was something beneath it—too casual, too curious for it to be just a simple question.
Celeste swallowed, the words feeling stuck in her throat. She forced herself to reply, her voice surprisingly steady. "Yes."
Jase took a slow step forward, his gaze flicking down to the bouquet she was holding. Before she could react, his fingers brushed lightly against the soft petals, a movement that was so casual, so effortless, yet it sent an inexplicable shiver down her spine. The warmth of his touch lingered for a moment, and Celeste quickly pulled the bouquet closer to her chest, as if she could hide the sudden flutter of heat spreading through her.
"You like flowers?" he asked, his tone still casual, but there was something in it—something that made her feel strangely exposed.
Celeste hesitated, suddenly aware of how close he was. The little shop she knew so well now felt too small, too personal with him in it. She'd spent the whole day trying to avoid him—and the thoughts that came with him—but now he was here, quietly shattering the distance she'd tried to keep.
She looked down at the bouquet in her hands, clinging to it like it might keep her steady.
"They're peaceful," she said softly, hoping the simple words would make things feel normal again.
Jase's lips curved slightly, just enough to make her heart skip a beat. "Unlike people?"
Her breath caught. The question was simple, but it hit something deep, making her skin tingle with unease. He was standing too close, too aware. She quickly looked away, focusing on tying the ribbon around the bouquet—anything to keep her hands and mind busy.
"People are complicated. Flowers aren't," she said, her voice steady even as her heart pounded in her chest.
Jase gave a soft chuckle, low and unexpectedly warm. "Fair enough"
Jase gave a soft chuckle, low and unexpectedly warm. "Fair enough."
Silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Celeste could feel his eyes on her, watching too closely, making her skin prickle. Heat crept up her neck, and she felt exposed in a way she hated.
Then he spoke again—his voice softer this time, laced with something almost like concern.
"About this morning… you fell pretty hard. I didn't get the chance to check if you were okay. Are you hurt?"
Celeste blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, her fingers paused on the ribbon. She hadn't expected him to bring it up—let alone care.
"It's just a scrape," she said quickly, looking down. "Nothing serious."
She forced a small smile, keeping her tone light. "You don't have to take it to heart."
"If there's nothing else, I should get back to work," Celeste added.
Jase didn't move immediately, his eyes lingering on her, unreadable. For a long moment, she thought he might say something else, but instead, he nodded.
"Right."
Just as he reached the doorway, he hesitated, then turned back toward her.
Without looking back, he said softly, "See you tomorrow, Celeste."
Her chest tightened painfully.
For the first time in her life, a Luminary had spoken her name.
And she wasn't sure whether she should feel thrilled or terrified.