The Immortal’s Vow

Echoes of Normalcy

The autumn chill wrapped itself around the Evervale campus, crisp and biting, as Lyra Donovan walked alongside her friends. Ivy’s laughter rang out in the cool air, echoing off the brick buildings that had stood the test of time. Though familiar, the atmosphere carried an energy, a charge, as if the start of their final year was heralding something new, something about to shift.

Clusters of students buzzed around them, engaged in animated conversations about summer adventures or already lamenting the workload ahead. Skateboarders zipped by, expertly dodging a group of wide-eyed first-years who huddled together, trying to make sense of the campus map clenched in their hands.

Lyra glanced sideways at Ivy and Harrison. Ivy’s arm was looped around his, her auburn hair bouncing with every step, while Harrison looked at her the way only someone madly in love could—like she was the center of his universe. They were that couple. The ones everyone admired, sometimes envied. High school sweethearts who had somehow managed to make it all work. Their affection was nauseating at times, but genuine. Lyra couldn’t help but be happy for them, even if she occasionally felt like the third wheel.

They walked as Ivy bumped her hip against Harrison’s, eliciting a soft laugh from him. Lyra rolled her eyes, amused but inwardly resigned. She’d known them both for so long, but moments like these often reminded her of how alone she felt sometimes, even among her closest friends.

Rhett sauntered behind, his attention absorbed by his phone. Lyra suspected he was checking stock prices or reading about some investment trend, given his penchant for business. He exuded a kind of effortless cool, his black leather jacket flaring out slightly as he moved, the Latin tattoo on his neck just visible. “Greatness from small beginnings.” A fitting motto for someone set to inherit a family empire, she mused. Unlike Harrison, whose academic future was grounded in the past with his love of history, Rhett’s path was already paved with wealth, whether he earned his degree or not.

The campus bell rang out, signaling the start of lectures, and the crowds began to thin as students hurried to their classes. Ivy turned to Harrison, her eyes bright with excitement. 

“Do you believe we will make it through the year?” she inquired, partly in jest although there was unmistakable concern in the tone. 

Lyra merely shrugged. “We’ve made it this far. What’s one more year?”

Rhett’s voice broke through the moment as he strode toward them. “We’re late enough as it is. Can’t you two move any faster?”

Ivy smirked, not missing a beat. “You’re the one who had to stop for coffee, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think we’d be crawling afterward,” Rhett shot back, his tone as dry as ever. 

His eyes flicked over to Harrison, who was too wrapped up in Ivy to care about the jabs.

“Some of us have real work to do,” Rhett added, throwing a glance at Lyra. “Business doesn’t run itself.”

“Yeah, poor Rhett,” Ivy chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Slumming it with us peasants while preparing to take over Daddy’s empire.”

Rhett rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Ivy.”

“Neither does humility, but I’m not holding my breath,” Lyra quipped, earning a snort from Ivy.

Harrison, ever the mediator, sighed dramatically. “Alright, enough. Don’t you all have classes to get to?”

Ivy leaned in closer to Harrison, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Think you’ll survive without me?”

“Barely,” he replied, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

Lyra groaned, throwing her hands up in mock horror. “Gross. Can you two keep the PDA to a minimum when I’m around?”

Ivy grinned at her mischievously. “You’re just jealous.”

Lyra smirked, playing along. “Obviously.”

With a final parting kiss, Harrison broke away, adjusting his bag. His eyes gleamed with excitement. “Time to enlighten some minds,” he declared, already heading toward the history building with purpose in his step.

The rest of them groaned in unison. History had always been Harrison’s passion, and even though they had all signed up for the same class to humor him, none of them were particularly looking forward to it.

Rhett grumbled, “The only reason I’m in that class is to shut him up about ‘extra credit.’”

Harrison shot back a dimpled grin. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Highly unlikely,” Lyra muttered, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

Harrison disappeared into the crowd, Rhett veered off toward his business lecture with a wave, and Ivy darted away toward her tourism class, leaving Lyra to head to her sociology course alone.

She glanced down at her schedule. 

Sociology 401. 

Professor McBride. 

Not exactly the class she was most excited about, but it was part of the program.

By the time Lyra reached the classroom, it was already bustling. She found a seat at the back, pulling out her notebook as Professor McBride, a large man with a bald head and an ever-present brown tweed jacket, took his place at the front. He continued to speak for an interminable period of time and Lyra’s attention was completely diverted to other things as the lecture went on. 

Her hand, which had held a pen, was over her notebook for quite some time but her eyes were lost looking at the window. There was a quad which was quite lively, full of whirling leaves, students scurrying about and everything else. It was as if anything happening outside was far more captivating than any class proceedings.

“Miss Donovan?” 

The piercing voice of Professor McBride brought her back to the moment. She blinked, realizing that the Professor had asked something of her way too late. 

Everyone was looking at her now.

“Erm, sorry, could you please repeat yourself,” she asked ashamed and blushing. 

Just when the professor was preparing to answer her the bell rang to signify the end of the class.

Lyra had no qualms in scrambling for her things and dashing out of the classroom. But the moment she stepped out of the room into the corridor, that feeling inside her returned, the one she’d experienced for weeks – that sense of anticipation. A feeling as if some disturbance lay in wait for her somewhere just out of reach. 

Even in the midst of laughter and comfort, her chest was laden with an unshakable tension; as if everything she understood, knew, was on the brink of something unfathomably huge.