Chapter Text
Snow Saint
Chapter 1
Cass looked like a withering tree, slumped sluggishly on the stone steps outside the church, bored out of his mind.
Neve had told him to wait there, but that wasn’t why he was outside. He didn’t take orders from Neve. He just didn’t like churches.
He’d much rather study the moss growing between the cracks in the stone path and the reflections of trees in the small puddles left behind by last night’s rain.
Impatient, he tapped his fingers against the textbooks he had brought along because he didn’t feel like going back to the dorm afterward, waiting for Neve to finish reporting his life story to God.
He must have been delivering an entire essay—there was no way a simple prayer took forty minutes.
Cass got up and peeked through the window to check on him for the fourth time, only to find him in the same place, in the same position.
It would’ve been unsettling how still he had been for the past hour, if not for the ethereal glow of light passing through the tinted glass and casting itself over him.
He almost looked like one of those marble angels hanging above the altar.
The faint, wordless movement of his lips was the only indication that he was human.
Cass’s eyes wandered across the church: gray stone walls, an absurdly high ceiling, stained-glass windows, and a woman standing in the middle, draped in fabric the same color as her skin, arms spread as if trying to embrace everyone who entered.
Cass wasn’t religious. Not for any particular reason—he just never saw God as a big deal and didn’t think about Him often.
He used to think the same of Neve.
But things changed after he turned sixteen.
He came back to the academy distant and quiet. Cass didn’t know what that summer had done to him, but he did know that coming to church at an obnoxiously early hour every Sunday seemed to help.
His train of thought was cut off by the soft creak of a chair and sudden movement.
Turning his head toward the window, Neve looked utterly exasperated.
“What?” Cass mouthed through the glass, a hint of defensiveness painting his expression.
Neve only shook his head and turned away, already standing.
Cass made his way to the church doors to meet him.
“What the hell was that about?” Cass asked the moment the door opened.
Neve casually walked past him, though there was still a hint of exasperation lingering in his expression.
“Language, Cassie,” he reprimanded.
“Or what? Are you gonna tell on me to God?”
Cass’s retort came quickly, but it cracked into a grin halfway through. He found himself funny more often than he should.
Neve had once told him his smile was infectious.
And despite himself, Neve’s expression softened for a moment before he forced it back into something more composed.
“Are you going to class?” Cass asked as he caught up, falling into step beside him while they descended the church stairs.
“Yeah. We both are.”
Cass grimaced and yawned for emphasis.
Neve always woke them up too early for them to function properly afterward.
Well—technically, Neve didn’t make him wake up. But Cass was a light sleeper, and once he was awake, there was no falling back asleep. So he might as well stay up.
“Have you no soul? I’m too tired. I’ll sleep through the whole thing,” Cass muttered.
Neve would’ve been annoyed, if not for the sight of the boy beside him—nearly twice his size, with rough hands and sharp features—whining like a child.
They walked along the garden path toward the academy gates, trees looming above them.
The Gothic architecture of the school rose ahead, its somber presence clashing beautifully with the softness of the early winter light.
As they passed beneath the academy gates, the distant sound of bells echoed through the courtyard, low and hollow against the winter air. Students drifted across the stone paths in scattered groups, their voices hushed beneath the looming presence of the cathedral-like buildings.
Cass shoved his hands into his pockets, watching Neve from the corner of his eye.
He looked exhausted—yawning and walking with a posture Neve would probably call atrocious.
By the time they reached the academy building and stepped into its long halls, Neve kept throwing Cass concerned, annoyed glances.
“I’ll tell them you’re sick.”
“What?”
Cassian shot him a confused look. He would’ve raised an eyebrow if he knew how.
“You can go back to the dormitory and get some sleep. I’ll just tell Mrs. Mallet you’re sick,” Neve said, as if he were doing something deeply shameful and entirely beneath him.
Cass stared at him for a moment before letting out a short laugh.
“You say that like you’re agreeing to murder.”
Neve adjusted the strap of his bag higher onto his shoulder, pointedly avoiding eye contact.
“It’s lying, and it’s wrong.”
“Oh, the scandal.” Cass pressed the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically and clutched at the fabric over his chest. “The devout angel is about to sacrifice his wings just to tell Mrs. Mallet I have a fever.”
Neve sighed, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward for the briefest second, torn between amusement and offense.
“You’re trying to make me change my mind.”
“No, I’m just expressing my gratitude through excellent comedy.”
A group of students passed them, their chatter echoing through the tall corridors before fading into the distance. Cass noticed the way Neve immediately straightened at the sound, his shoulders pulling tight again like invisible strings had yanked him upright.
That was strange. They didn’t try to talk to him. They didn’t even smile at him.
Neve was the picture-perfect student: smart and handsome, although most girls thought him more pretty than handsome. He was only lacking a little in the height department, standing at five foot five, but otherwise he was technically perfect, and everyone looked at him as such.
So again, that was kind of weird.
They were nearing the stairs, and if Cass really wanted to get his sleep, they were going to have to go their separate ways.
“Thank you, no take-backs. Go lie for me babe ,” he said too quickly on his way up the stairs back to the dormitory, afraid Neve would change his mind about letting him skip class.
He only snuck one glance back to see Neve pinch the bridge of his nose before turning left.
Cass continued up the stairs at a slower pace, looking through the windows — or at least he tried to. As soon as he took his eyes off what was in front of him, a heavy thud followed by the sound of papers sliding across the floor echoed through the stairwell.
“Yo— fu— ugh!”
A high, snobby voice sounded out.
It took sleep-deprived Cass an extra second to realize he was on the ground — and that someone else had gone down with him.
“Nora,” he spat out the name.
“Idiot,” she snapped back. “Has all the bleach finally gotten through your thick skull and blinded you?”
Okay, that was unfair. He had only bleached it once last year, and it wasn’t even his whole head, just the tips of his hair. Honestly, the light blond ends had looked good against his walnut-brown hair.
“Oh, look who’s talking,” he said as he got to his feet, his voice dripping with mockery. “Mrs. Nose Job.”
And for everyone’s information, he didn’t think it was a low blow at all. She was the one who had decided to go for looks.
And speaking of looks, she was staring up at him from the floor, her face red as a tomato — flustered and absolutely livid.
“I’m telling—”
“Yeah, go cry to your mummy.”
So what if the principal was her mom? She was the one who started it. Technically. Maybe. He didn’t really know who had bumped into who.
She sprang to her feet, and for a girl, she was freakishly tall. They were the exact same height.
“Why aren’t you in class?” she questioned with a smug expression, clearly delighted to have found something new to tattle about to her mother.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m sick,” he said, slipping easily into the story Neve had created for him. “How do you even know my class isn’t this way anyway? Memorizing my schedule now?”
He lifted his chin higher to look down at her more easily, leaning against the wall beside him because the more unbothered he acted, the more annoyed she would get.
“No,” she said sharply, her eyebrows knitting into a frown. She pushed her hair back and continued in an obnoxiously formal tone, “As the good student president—”
There was no way in hell he was listening to that charade again.
“But really, memorizing my schedule? Don’t tell me you have a crush on me or something.”
“And oh, the look on her face once she registered that was priceless.”
Her face gradually turned scarlet as he watched her fingers curl around what remained of her papers, her hand freezing midair because she was far too well-behaved to actually hit him with them.
“Oh, come on, Nose Job. If you wanna do something, do it.”
And just like that, he killed the last of her patience.
A paper-filled folder smacked against his jaw.
Partially startled and kind of weirdly proud, Cass snatched a good portion of her papers and took off running.
“Cass—” she squeaked, caught off guard, before bolting after him. “GET YOUR FERAL ASS BACK HERE!”
Too bad he couldn’t hear her over his own laughter because, really, it had been a long time since he’d gotten her to swear.
“Catch me if you can, Blackwood!”
Finally catching up to him, Nora slowed down, breathing like a dehydrated dog.
“Caught— you,” she managed between breaths.
But Cassie had stopped walking.
He stood by the window, staring outside.
Which annoyed her.
She had been chasing him for the past three minutes. Her hair was a mess, her clothes slightly disheveled, and before she could walk up to him, get in his face, and reprimand him properly—
“That’s Neve, right?”
The sudden question caught her off guard.
Cassie didn’t even look at her as he spoke, his attention still fixed outside the window.
Confused, Nora stepped beside him and looked out as well.
Beyond the academy courtyard stood an overgrown garden. In its center was a statue rising from a fountain half-submerged in murky green water.
And sitting at the edge of it
A boy.
“Huh.”
Nora glanced at Cassie
“Royce, what are you on about?”
But he didn’t seem to hear her.
He kept staring at the boy with growing confusion.
“It is Neve,” he said quietly.
Nora looked again, more carefully this time.
Maybe he had noticed something she hadn’t.
“Yeah,” she said slowly. “So?”
“He’s not in class.”
Cass finally looked at her before brushing past her and heading back down the hall.
“How the hell did he even get there that quick?”
Was he even talking to her at this point?
Nora watched him leave before her eyes dropped to the folder still trapped in his grasp.
“Hey!”
She called after him, cursing under her breath.
Goddammit. She had just caught her breath. The last thing she wanted to do was to chase him again.
“My folder,” she whined.
With an exhausted huff, Nora followed after him.
Relief briefly washed over her when she saw Cass stop beside another window, already staring out of it again.
What’s with this guy and windows today?
The second she caught up to him, she snatched her folder back and stepped between him and the glass.
“Is this some kind of elaborate prank? Because I swear—”
“He disappeared.”
The words cut straight through her complaint.
Cass sounded genuinely confused now.
Concerned, too.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t even reacted when she took the folder back.
He gently shoved past her and pressed both hands against the cold glass.
“What the actual hell,” he muttered. “He’s really just gone.”The sincerity woven into his concern was starting to get to her now.
Nora turned, trying to see whatever he was seeing.
“What do you mean? He’s still there.”
“What? Where?”
Cass pressed his forehead against the glass, trying to see better.
God, he looked ridiculous.
Nora snorted and pointed toward the courtyard.
“Next to the willow tree. Look. The redhead just walked past him.”
Cass followed the direction of her manicured finger before frowning, looking deeply underwhelmed.
“That’s not him.”
“It’s not?”
And now Nora had her forehead pressed against the glass too.
“ he wasn’t in the courtyard. He was by the fountain”
“ are you sure, it looks like him.”
“Yeah. I think I know what my friend of three years looks like,” he said flatly.
Some of the concern finally dissolved back into sarcasm.
Honestly, this guy couldn’t take anything seriously for more than three minutes.
“Well, he’s blond.”
“Not every blond dude is Neve,” Cass replied. “How would you feel if I mistook every strawberry blonde girl for you?”
Nora gasped dramatically, straightening up.
“Honey, it takes more than blonde hair to be Nora Blackwood.”
She ran a hand through her strawberry blonde hair like she’d personally invented the color instead of inheriting it.
“Yeah,” Cass muttered. “Probably takes a nose job too.”