Chapter Text
HISTORY 372: RELIGION IN HISTORY
You sigh as you slide into your usual spot near the middle of the lecture hall, tossing your bag to the floor with a dull thud before digging out your textbook and battered Dell Inspiron. The room buzzes with idle chatter, chairs scraping loudly against the linoleum as everyone settles in.
It's your junior year at Princeton. You're minoring in both history and sociology, and this course is one of the last hurdles standing between you and completing the former.
You've heard good things about the instructor—Professor Braxton. You've never had him before, but he's got decent reviews on Rate My Professor and a reputation for being "chill, if a little long-winded." Honestly? You'll take it.
Your laptop groans as it boots up, the fan wheezing like it’s trying to lift off. You keep meaning to replace it, but between work-study shifts and actual studying, it just hasn’t happened yet.
The noise starts to die down. A sharp click echoes through the space—heels on linoleum—and the energy in the room shifts.
"Who the fuck is that?" the guy next to you murmurs under his breath. "That’s not Braxton."
You glance up—and nearly drop your pen.
It's not Braxton. It's a woman. Tall. Dressed in a long, black dress that swishes as she walks. She moves like she owns the place—or doesn't care who does.
"Hello everyone," she says, her voice smooth, warm, and somehow impossible to ignore. "I know you were expecting Alan, but an urgent matter demanded his attention. He won’t be teaching this course."
She turns her back to the room, pulling a whiteboard marker from her satchel with fluid ease. Her handwriting is neat, slanted, and almost too elegant for a lecture hall.
"I'll be assuming his position," she continues, still writing. "My name is Professor Charlotte Matthews. You may call me Professor Matthews." She caps the marker, turns back toward the room, and offers the kind of smile that feels both inviting and dangerous.
"Welcome to History 372: Ecclesiastes and the Antichrist."