Like Moths to a Flame // Sebastian Sallow [Book One]

Sebastian never expected to see the Great Hall decked out in mourning. Black banners, somber and imposing, hung from the high ceiling. A place once vibrant, now solemn.

Professor Fig was dead, killed in the final battle against Ranrok and his Loyalists. The goblins had been defeated, the castle was safe once more, but, most importantly, Damien was safe.

Yet, Sebastian felt far from relieved.

The details of the battle were sparse. Scattered rumors, really. From what he could gather, a small group of professors had fought valiantly to stop the goblins from reaching the upper levels. Some said Damien had been taken - others, that he had been rescued at the last possible moment by Fig himself. No one seemed certain why Damien had been targeted, chalking it up to chance, being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But Sebastian knew better. Damien wasn't some damsel in distress. He had to have been at the heart of it. Perhaps even leading the charge.

Sebastian just hadn't had the chance to ask him why. Because, to his immense frustration, he hadn't been able to find Damien anywhere since the night of the attack.

Damien had seemingly vanished from the castle's halls, and with every passing day, Sebastian's frustration grew.

And the more time that slipped by, the more Sebastian feared he'd lose the nerve - the momentum - to make things right with Damien. They needed to talk, and soon. What that conversation would look like, he had no idea.

He let out a sigh, only then noticing how violently he was bouncing his knee beneath the table. In fact, he was even jostling the first-year sitting beside him, who gave him a puzzled glance. Sebastian stilled his leg and folded his hands in his lap.

Professor Sharp had come back for him once it was over. To Sebastian's surprise, he hadn't told anyone about Sebastian's attempt to join the fight. No reprimands, no mentions of detention. Just a sharp look and a curt nod. Sebastian didn't know why Sharp had kept it quiet, but he wasn't about to question it.

Natty and Poppy hadn't been caught. According to Poppy, once they realized neither Damien nor Sebastian was in the library, they'd returned to the Great Hall, hoping Sebastian had succeeded. When neither of them showed, and Poppy and Natty realized that perhaps they were wrong, it was too late to search again. They had been spotted by Madam Scribner, who'd joined Professor Black in the Great Hall, forcing them to return to their places at their respective tables. Although it seemed like Poppy had wanted to ask him, she didn't pry for more information about Sebastian's whereabouts that night. Neither did Natty.

Sebastian was thankful for that. Explaining it all would've been humiliating.

Ominis hadn't needed to cover for him either; no one had noticed Sebastian was missing. Oddly, Ominis hadn't asked any questions either, not even a pointed remark about him ditching Natty and Poppy. That silence was uncharacteristic, but Sebastian appreciated it. There would be a time for explanations. Just... not yet.

Two days had passed since that terrible night.

Sebastian was still unsettled by everything that had happened, of course, but at least Damien was alive. Safe. Unharmed. Physically, at least.

Sebastian observed Damien now, seated alone at the Ravenclaw table. He appeared utterly exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat hair was a tousled mess. He was still alarmingly beautiful.

But it hurt him to see Damien like this. Sebastian forced himself to look away, letting his eyes wander to the frosted windows. The wintry night added to the somber atmosphere. All the professors had assembled, occupying their positions at the front of the hall.