Sylas didn't usually get stared at like a lab experiment. At least not this often. But as he walked through the corridors after the duel incident, every passing student looked at him like he was either a suspect or a sideshow.
Whispers followed him.
"Did you hear? He provoked Cassian."
"No way, he probably paid someone to fake the attack."
"I bet he's working with the headmaster—"
Sylas sighed and kept walking. The walls of the Academy had ears, and unfortunately, mouths that gossiped like nobles at a tea party.
He ducked into an empty classroom, only to find he wasn't alone.
Vivienne was there.
Of course she was.
She was leaning against a windowsill, arms crossed, her hair catching the late afternoon light like a halo of fire. Unfortunately, the expression on her face said she was here to kill someone—and odds were, it might be him.
"You've become quite the center of attention," she said flatly.
"I'm told I'm dazzling," Sylas said, closing the door behind him.
"I'd say more like radioactive."
He gave her a grin. "That explains the headaches."
Vivienne didn't smile. She just stared at him.
"I know you didn't orchestrate the duel," she said eventually, her voice low. "But someone's testing you. Watching how you'll react. Maybe hoping you'll crack."
"I don't crack," Sylas said. "I elegantly fracture."
"Be serious."
"I am serious. I'm so serious, it's medically concerning."
Vivienne stepped closer, her eyes narrowed. "You're walking a line that's getting thinner by the day. One more incident, and the Committee might not care whether you're guilty or not."
Sylas's face finally sobered.
"I'm aware."
She studied him, her tone quieter now. "Then why do you keep poking the bear?"
"Because the bear already decided I look like lunch. Might as well jab it in the eye while I still have a stick."
Vivienne's lips twitched. Just for a second. Then she looked away.
"Cassian's family won't let this slide," she warned. "They'll try to pin it on you."
"Let them," Sylas said. "They'll just waste time chasing shadows. I've got more important things to worry about."
"Like what?"
He hesitated.
"Like not dying."
That earned him a glance.
Vivienne's gaze softened. Not much. Just enough to say maybe she didn't entirely hate him today.
Sylas changed the subject before it could get too sincere.
"You never answered. What were you doing at the training yard?"
"Passing through," she said. "I heard the shouting."
Sylas tilted his head. "And decided to casually supervise a near-murder? How responsible of you."
She rolled her eyes and headed for the door. "Try not to die, Vermund. I'd hate to have to give your eulogy."
"Would you?" he called after her. "Because I have some ideas for a dramatic speech. Maybe a few tragic violin solos—"
She slammed the door on the way out.
Sylas stood there, listening to the silence settle again.
He knew Vivienne was right.
Someone was pulling strings, and he was clearly the bait—or the target.
The real question was: why?
He wasn't the main villain in this world. He wasn't even a villain, not really. Just a convenient body in the wrong story.
But that meant whoever was behind this didn't care about canon or character roles.
They cared about results.
He turned toward the chalkboard and stared at the words left over from a previous lesson: Elements bend to will, but never to fear.
Sylas murmured, "Let's see how well that applies to people."