By the next morning, Ravenshade had decided what Alaric was.
It didn't happen loudly.
No one confronted him. No one insulted him to his face. No threats were made.
It was worse than that.
The first sign was the seat beside him.
Alaric arrived early for his second lecture and took a place near the middle again careful this time, checking for names, markings, anything that might mark it as forbidden. There was nothing.
He sat.
Students filtered in slowly, filling the hall row by row. The seat beside him remained empty.
At first, he thought nothing of it.
Then the seats around him filled one by one, deliberately skipping the space next to him. A girl paused there, hesitated, then glanced past him and chose a different row entirely.
Alaric stared at his notebook, pretending not to notice.
Coincidence, he told himself.
It wasn't.
By the time the lecture began, there was a visible gap around him. Not dramatic enough to draw attention but clear if you were looking.
He kept his head down.
The professor didn't call on him. Not once. When Alaric raised his hand, the professor's gaze slid past him, landing on someone else instead.
Again.
And again.
After class, Alaric walked toward the student commons, stomach tight with hunger. He spotted a group from his orientation session people who had laughed with him just days ago, who had exchanged numbers and vague promises to meet up again.
He lifted a hand in greeting.
They saw him.
Then one of them said something quietly, and the group shifted turning away as a unit, conversation resuming without him.
Alaric lowered his hand slowly.
By afternoon, his inbox was emptier than it had been the night before.
A study group invite vanished.
A club confirmation email never arrived.
A campus event reminder he remembered clearly… simply wasn't there.
He checked the details twice.
Nothing.
At the administrative office, the woman behind the desk smiled politely when he asked about a resource access issue.
"That's odd," she said. "Your request should've been approved."
"When will it be?" Alaric asked.
She hesitated. Just a fraction.
"I'll look into it."
She never followed up.
By evening, Alaric understood.
This wasn't about Silveren humiliating him in a lecture hall.
This was the aftermath.
Ravenshade wasn't punishing him because he had been rude.
It was punishing him because he had stepped out of line.
This isn't personal, he realized, walking alone across the courtyard as the sun dipped low.
This is systemic.
Silveren didn't need to chase him. Didn't need to threaten him again.
The institution itself was doing the work.
The realization settled heavy in his chest.
If he wanted this to stop, all he had to do was apologize. Bow his head. Learn the rules.
Submit.
Alaric stopped walking.
He looked around the courtyard at the pristine buildings, the carefully curated calm, the students laughing easily among themselves.
If I submit, he thought, I survive.
But survive wasn't the same as living.
He exhaled slowly and kept walking.
As he passed the open doors of the library, he caught fragments of a conversation drifting out.
"…should've known better."
"He challenged Silveren on the first day."
A pause. Then a laugh quiet, dismissive.
"He won't last a month."
Alaric didn't turn around.
He didn't slow down.
But something inside him hardened.
If Ravenshade wanted him gone, it would have to do better than silence and whispers.
Because he wasn't leaving.
Not like this.