The first time Elira felt the arcane stir beneath her skin, it was not during a spell or a lesson—it was during a kiss.
Not just any kiss.
This one was laced with fire.
His name was Kaelen. A stranger draped in shadow and charm, eyes like storm glass and a voice that wrapped around her thoughts like silk dipped in sin. He wasn't meant to be in the Academy of the Ardent Flame. Outsiders didn't cross the thresholds of the Warded Isles. And yet, here he stood in the Moonlit Archive, lips barely a breath from hers, whispering a spell she had never heard but instantly felt.
Elira should've screamed. Should've called for the Sentinels. But instead, her lips parted, not in fear—but in invitation.
The kiss wasn't just heat—it was hunger. Ancient. Reckless. It tasted like secrets and starlight, like a forgotten promise that burned along the edge of her soul. And when their mouths finally parted, something had changed.
Beneath her collarbone, a symbol now pulsed faintly—an arcane sigil, glowing with crimson light. A binding mark.
"You shouldn't have come here," Elira said, breathless, touching the mark through her silken uniform. "You've cursed me."
Kaelen smirked. "Or freed you."
That night, the Highmistress summoned her.
"Elira Veyr," the robed woman said, eyes ancient and full of cold fire. "You've been marked by Lustborn Magic—magic outlawed for a thousand years. You know what that means?"
"I'm aware," Elira replied, jaw clenched. Her heart still thundered with Kaelen's kiss. "I'm to face the Trial."
"No," the Highmistress said darkly. "You are the Trial.