[Third Person’s PoV]

Lucian sat slumped in one of the last rows of the classroom, his body tense, his fingers digging into his sleeves as he silently fought back the overwhelming urge to break down into frustrated, soul-crushing sobs. He kept his head low, hoping no one would notice the war he was waging within himself. In front of him sat Annabeth, calm and radiant as ever, while behind him Bianca idly tapped her pencil, looking both amused and slightly concerned.

‘This… this is torture of the highest order,’ Lucian thought bitterly, his eyes fixed on the uninspiring wooden desk. He paused for a moment before another, darker thought slipped into his mind. ‘I should make someone I hate go through this. Trap them in an illusion and make them experience every excruciating second… then they’ll truly understand what suffering means.’

Just then, Annabeth leaned back slightly, her head tilting enough so she could glance at him. A warm, affectionate smile spread across her face, the kind that reached her eyes and made his frustration waver.

Lucian sighed, his fingers brushing against the side of her head as he held her gently. “What?” he asked, his voice tired but not unkind.

“Nothing,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m just happy I get to experience this with you.”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard, and his shoulders dropped slightly as a reluctant smile threatened to pull at the corner of his lips. Maybe—just maybe—Annabeth’s presence was the one thing making this miserable experience tolerable.

More students gradually poured into the classroom, filling the remaining seats. They were all dressed in the same standard uniform: a black blazer over a crisp white button-down shirt with a red tie. Lucian wore matching black slacks, while Annabeth and Bianca wore pleated skirts with high-knee socks. Despite their differing styles, the uniform gave them a strange, unified identity.

Once the final students had taken their seats and the classroom was buzzing with soft chatter, their homeroom teacher entered. She strode toward the blackboard at the front of the class with the kind of purposeful confidence that made everyone instinctively sit up a little straighter.

“Good morning, boys and girls,” she began, her voice clear and commanding. “You can all refer to me as Mrs. Ferguson. I will be your homeroom teacher for the year, as well as your History and Social Studies instructor.”

Mrs. Ferguson was a woman in her late thirties, with shoulder-length ginger hair, smart glasses perched on her nose. She made her way to the desk positioned on the left side of the classroom—coincidentally, the same side where Lucian’s row was—and glanced at the sea of faces before her.

“I’m sure some of you are already acquainted,” she said, picking up the attendance sheet, “but I’ve been informed that for others, today marks your first day at this institution. So, to break the ice, I’d like to go through attendance. When I call your name, please stand, share one interesting fact about yourself, and tell us something you did over the summer.”

Lucian let his head fall forward onto the desk, folding his arms beneath it and pretending to sob. His shoulders shook dramatically as he faked his emotional breakdown.

Behind him, Bianca couldn’t contain herself. She clamped a hand over her mouth and stifled her laughter, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Mrs. Ferguson began, calling out the first name: “Mason Ardon?”

A boy in the front row stood up promptly and gave a quick fact about his rock collection. Another name was called, another answer shared.

Then came the inevitable: “Lucian Blackheart?”

“Here,” Lucian muttered as he rose sluggishly to his feet. He leaned back against his desk, arms folded lazily, eyes half-lidded in boredom.

Several girls turned to look at him. Some stared wide-eyed, their curiosity piqued. Lucian had that rare combination of sharp features and detached coolness that made him stand out without trying.

“One interesting fact…” he said with disdain dripping from every syllable. “I hate it here. And if this place ever becomes too much of an annoyance, I’ll have no problem setting it on fire.”

The class burst into laughter—half-amused, half-weirded out. Some thought he was joking. Others weren’t so sure. Bianca groaned and buried her face in her arms, while Mrs. Ferguson slowly brought a hand to her forehead, already regretting this icebreaker.

Annabeth, on the other hand, laughed knowingly. She knew Lucian meant every word.

Lucian wasn’t done. “And for what I did over the summer… I fought a god and knocked out one of his teeth. I keep it with me as a memento.”

Bianca dropped her head onto the table with a loud thud. The room fell into stunned silence before another ripple of laughter rolled through.

Mrs. Ferguson exhaled deeply and waved a hand to calm the class. “Alright, settle down. Mr. Blackheart, if you don’t have anything appropriate to share, it’s better to just be honest.”

Lucian shrugged nonchalantly. “I was honest,” he said, sitting back down with a thud.

Mrs. Ferguson pinched the bridge of her nose and marked something on the sheet. She already knew Lucian would be a handful this year, and they hadn’t even made it through the first hour.

“Annabeth Chase?” she called next.

“Here,” Annabeth said as she rose gracefully. A few boys stole glances at her, visibly impressed by her presence.

“One interesting fact about me…” she began with a mischievous glint in her eye, “is that I’m a mother of four.”

Lucian snorted and barely managed to hold back a laugh. The rest of the class stared at her in bewildered silence, their expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief. Even Mrs. Ferguson tilted her head slightly, eyebrows raised.

“And over the summer,” Annabeth continued, “I became a mother of four.”

Bianca leaned forward, hands in her hair, dragging it back in pure exasperation. She looked like she was silently pleading for mercy.

Mrs. Ferguson, ever the professional, smiled warmly and nodded. “I see. So you must’ve adopted some pets over the summer. Congratulations.”

Annabeth simply smiled and sat back down, choosing not to clarify the truth.

Mrs. Ferguson nodded politely and glanced back at her attendance sheet. “Very good. Next… Bianca Di Angelo.”

Bianca sighed audibly and pushed herself up from her seat. “Here. One interesting thing about myself is that I’m part Italian, and one thing I did over the summer was… learn I had a brother.”

“Boring…” Lucian muttered under his breath.

Smack!

Bianca’s hand came down swiftly on the top of his head. The slap echoed slightly, but Lucian didn’t even flinch. Thanks to his enhanced durability, the hit felt more like a light tap than anything else.

Mrs. Ferguson raised an eyebrow, but her smile remained polite. “That’s lovely,” she said, clearly choosing to ignore the interaction.

Lucian leaned back toward Bianca, smirking as the teacher moved on with roll call.

“Wow,” he teased in a low voice, “you must really love me if you mentioned me in your little intro.”

“The only thing I’d love,” Bianca hissed through clenched teeth, “is if you suddenly lost the ability to talk. Permanently.”

Lucian winked, undeterred. “Love ya too, sis.”

As the roll call continued, Lucian’s attention span finally gave out. He zoned out completely, uninterested in the summer escapades of people he barely knew or cared about. His mind drifted elsewhere—until he heard a voice.

“Chloe Raimoi?”

“Here!” chirped a cheerful voice next to Annabeth.

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. That voice—it was too familiar.

“One interesting fact about me,” said Chloe, a bubbly girl with glossy blonde hair and an innocent smile, “is that I love starting new things… but I’m terrible at finishing them! And, um, over the summer, I didn’t do much. Just binge-watched my favorite show.”

‘Where have I heard that voice before…?’ Lucian thought, his brows furrowing as he studied her. He couldn’t place it, but something about her tone—it clung to the back of his mind like an unfinished puzzle.

“Thank you for sharing, Ms. Raimoi,” Mrs. Ferguson said kindly. “Next is… Lasis Raimoi?”

Just behind Chloe, the girl seated beside Lucian stood up timidly. She had chestnut-brown hair tied into two low pigtails, glasses perched on her nose, and a face that bore a clear resemblance to Chloe’s—same eyes, same bone structure, but where Chloe was bubbly, Lasis looked nervous and withdrawn.

“Um… I-I’m here,” she stammered softly. “One interesting thing about me is… I like to read, my favorite genre is romance. And, uh, that’s mostly what I did this summer.”

Lucian blinked again. Her voice… it was familiar too. But softer. Shyer. Almost distorted from how he remembered it, like hearing a recording.

Mrs. Ferguson nodded, already moving down the list. “Sors Raimoi?”

The final girl stood up slowly from behind Lasis and beside Bianca. She wore the standard school uniform, but everything else about her screamed goth. Her lips were painted black, her dark hair hung loose like a curtain of shadow, and her entire presence radiated stillness—cold, calculated, unnervingly composed.

“Here,” she said in a flat, monotone voice. “One interesting fact about me is that I’m the oldest of the triplets. Over the summer… I did a bit of knitting.”

Lucian froze.

His mouth hung open slightly as his eyes darted between the three girls. Chloe’s sparkling innocence. Lasis’ anxious stammer. Sors’ emotionless stare. The puzzle pieces in his brain finally clicked into place like thunder cracking through silence.

‘No… no no no no no… Wait wait wait wait’

All three girls turned to look at him in unison. Their expressions remained calm, but they each smiled faintly—and winked.

Lucian’s blood ran cold.

‘Son of a bitch… WHAT THE FUCK ARE THE THREE SISTERS OF FATE DOING IN SCHOOL?!’

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