Chapter 67: The Eye That Follows
The Soul Academy had many watchful eyes—monitors, instructors, sentinels of spirit. But none more persistent than Mira Hawthorne's.
Cassandra Ikemba knew it.
She had known it since the night Mira forced herself into her room, since the moment that stolen kiss had crossed the line. Since then, Mira had not stopped watching her. Not once.
In training halls, during lectures, even through the flickering glass of reflection panels in the dining court—always watching.
She didn't bother to hide it.
Walking through the East Courtyard one afternoon, Cassandra's steps slowed. She turned her head slightly.
Mira stood across the walkway, arms folded, leaning casually against the tiled wall as if she had every right to be there.
Their eyes met.
Cassandra didn't blink.
Neither did Mira.
Then she smiled—sweet, sinister, far too patient.
Cassandra walked on.
—
"She's still watching you?" Karen asked later that evening as the group ate dinner.
"Yes," Cassandra replied coolly, sipping her tea.
Jim leaned forward. "Okay, that's messed up. Can't you report her?"
"To who?" Cassandra asked without emotion. "The Soul Board? She's on it."
Marie frowned. "What does she even want now? You made it clear you weren't interested—in anything."
"She wants control," Cassandra said plainly. "She didn't get it. Now she's obsessed."
Leslie shivered. "That's… not normal."
"She's a Hawthorne," Joshua said, approaching from behind their table. His voice was level, but his eyes were serious. "You think obsession is rare among those born in power?"
Karen looked up. "You knew?"
"I know everything that involves my students. Especially when it involves another Grand Council family."
"So what do we do?" Marie asked.
"You do nothing," Cassandra answered, gaze cold. "This is my problem."
"No," Karen said flatly. "It stopped being just your problem the moment she crossed a line."
Cassandra didn't argue, but she didn't agree either.
Joshua exhaled slowly. "If she pushes again… I'll handle it through the formal channels. But until then, watch your boundaries. And Cassandra—don't provoke her."
"I don't need to," Cassandra said. "She's already unraveled. She just doesn't know it yet."
—
That night, Cassandra returned to her dorm, her wards raised higher, her senses sharper. She stood at her window, watching the garden below.
And there she was again.
Mira.
Standing beneath the moonlight.
Looking up.
Cassandra didn't move. Didn't blink.
The moon was full.
And the eye that followed would not close.
But neither would Cassandra's.