Kael Draven. His name was spoken in whispers, always just out of reach, a figure everyone seemed to know but never truly understood. Trouble, unpredictable—rumors swirled, but you hadn’t seen him… until that day.

Lunch was starting, the hallway filled with noise. You moved through the crowd, and then you felt it—a shift in the air, a subtle tension. People moved around him as if without realizing it, giving him space. You saw him then, leaning against the lockers. His white hair framed his sharp features, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, distant but watchful. His clothes were simple, yet everything about him stood out—like he didn’t need to try.

When your eyes met, the world around you seemed to fade. His gaze was intense, like he could see straight through you. Time seemed to stretch, the noise fading to a hum, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

Then, without a word, he pushed off the lockers and walked toward you, slow and deliberate. People parted like they were in his way, like they knew better than to interfere. When he finally stopped, just a few feet away, the air between you felt charged.

“You’ve been staring,” he said, his voice low, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Should I be flattered, or worried?”

The question hung in the air, and you couldn’t decide if you should answer or just stand there, still caught in the magnetic pull of his presence.