Seraphina didn't dream that night.
She remembered.
Flashes of silver light. A crown of shadows. Screams. Hers. Someone else's.
Blood on marble.
She woke gasping, fingers clenched in her bedsheets, soaked with sweat and something darker magic that hummed beneath her skin, alive and wild.
The mark on her palm burned faintly in the dark.
Someone was trying to unlock her. And it wasn't just her.
The academy buzzed the next morning.
Her fight with Delara was all over the student spellfeeds. Memes. Magical voice loops. Gossip spreading faster than curses.
But no one approached her directly. Not yet.
Not even the three boys.
Lucian remained distant, like a guardian who refused to admit he cared. Watching from shadows, never too far, never close enough.
Damian avoided her entirely. Of course. Probably regretting every word he'd said.
But Jasper?
Oh, Jasper made it worse.
He waved at her in the middle of Spell Theory class. Winked across the dueling yard. Threw her a wrapped box of enchanted sweets in the cafeteria with a sticky note: "For the girl who almost let me taste her soul."
She rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out of her head but didn't throw them away.
Trouble came during her alchemy lab.
The assignment was simple: pair off and brew a minor elixir of clarity. Easy enough—if you weren't sabotaged.
Her cauldron cracked mid-brew. Green fumes exploded. Her robe caught fire.
Laughter echoed around the room.
Delara stood with her new bestie squad petty nobility with matching sneers. "Oops. Must've overmeasured your essence, Seraphina."
Professor Ovelyn did nothing. Just sighed and waved the fumes away with a flick of her wand.
Seraphina didn't explode. Didn't attack. Didn't cry.
She smiled.
That scared them more.
She slipped into the forbidden stacks in the library after dark.
Yes, she was breaking rules.
But some questions demanded forbidden answers.
Like why her name appeared in an ancient prophecy inked in blood.
Like why her dreams kept showing her that man—the violet-eyed stranger—and why her magic trembled at the thought of him.
She found the book. Bound in black leather, sealed with a magic so old it made her teeth ache.
She touched it anyway.
And the voice came again.
"You're getting closer, little heir."
She spun.
He was behind her. Not a vision. Not a dream.
Here. Now.
The man with the violet eyes.
He leaned against the shelf, looking like sin incarnate in a dark coat that shimmered like mist.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"And yet," she breathed, "here you are too."
His smile was slow. "I was invited."
Her heartbeat kicked.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who knew your mother."
That stopped her.
"My mother's dead."
"Not entirely," he said. "Not yet."
Before she could ask what that meant, he stepped close.
Too close.
The magic between them crackled. Her skin buzzed. Her breath caught.
He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. Cold. Burning.
"I came to taste her power again," he said. "But you… you burn different."
His lips hovered above hers.
"Should I find out how different?"
She didn't pull away.
But she didn't kiss him either.
"Try it," she whispered. "I dare you."
He blinked slowly.
Then vanished into smoke.
...
That night, she walked back into her dorm and found Damian waiting.
Sitting on her bed. Staring at his hands like they held something broken.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
He didn't look up. "No."
She shut the door.
"I remember you now," he said softly. "From before."
"Before what?"
"Before the academy. Before they wiped you."
She went still. "What are you talking about?"
He stood. Walked toward her. Hesitant. Almost… afraid.
"They made us forget. But I remembered. You saved me once."
Seraphina's heart pounded. "When?"
He shook his head. "You looked different. But your magic... it's the same. Wild. Untouched."
Her throat felt tight. "Why tell me now?"
His eyes locked with hers. "Because they'll come for you. All of them. And when they do I won't be able to protect you if you don't let me."
She stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully.
"What do you want from me, Damian?"
He swallowed.
"Everything I'm not allowed to."
And then.,. he kissed her.
Slow. Gentle at first. A question. A warning.
She kissed him back.
Harder
But it wasn't soft. It was confusion. Fear. Need.
When they pulled apart, she whispered, "This changes nothing."
"I know."
But he didn't leave.
He stayed with her, back against her door, as she drifted into dreams full of fire and eyes that saw too much.