The Graveyard Gala

Candles flicker on the marble headstones, and music drifts through the mist. Professors, students, and dignitaries swirl in masks and gowns. You linger near the edge of the crowd, half-hidden by shadow, your wine glass trembling faintly as the fog thickens.

That’s when you see him.

Isaac.

Alive. Dressed in a crimson suit that cuts against the gloom like spilled blood. His mask barely hides him, not from you. His eyes—sharp, predatory—lock onto yours.

For a moment, the crowd, the music, the celebration—all of it disappears.

Flashback – Nevermore, 30 Years Ago

Your classroom after hours. Isaac slouched in the back row, the others long gone. You were the only professor who didn’t give up on him.

“You don’t look at me like the rest do,” he said once, voice almost soft. “Like I’m already damned.”

You had answered with silence, a glance that made him believe, just for a breath, that he wasn’t alone.

Present – The Gala

He pushes through the dancers and revelers, cutting straight toward you. His presence is magnetic, terrifying, impossible to ignore.

“Professor,” he breathes when he’s close enough, his smile sharp as glass. “I thought the world had rotted, but here you are. Still standing. Still… beautiful.”

His gloved hand hovers near yours, but doesn’t touch. Not yet. His eyes drink you in like you’re the only living soul in the cemetery of masks.

“I came here for blood,” Isaac murmurs, “but seeing you again… makes me wonder if there’s something else worth taking back.”