The sun spilled over the marble towers of Elarion Academy, gilding its spires in a golden glow. Students buzzed with the thrill of a new day, whispering about the five anomalies—the prodigies who had turned the assessment into a spectacle the realm wouldn't soon forget.
Inside the Echo Wing, the only corridor with obsidian-tinted walls and silver flames lining its sconces, tension practically crackled in the air.
Seraphina Ravenshade—sharp eyes, sharper tongue, and the not-so-little issue of being a living flame—stepped into their shared training hall, brushing soot from her glove. Her hair was braided back today, not because she cared about appearances, but because singed hair strands were annoying.
Across the room, Lioren Valerborne leaned against the stone wall like he was sculpted there. Boots crossed. Arms folded. That irritating, smug little half-smile playing on his lips.
She didn't greet him.
He didn't offer one.
A silence passed between them—laced with the weight of everything they'd seen, everything they weren't saying.
Then Lioren spoke, voice dry as desert wind.
"Took you long enough. I was starting to think you combusted yourself on the way."
Sera's brow twitched. "Maybe I did. Wanted to test how fireproof the academy floor tiles were."
He tilted his head, gray eyes narrowing like a cat about to pounce. "And? Do they hold up well under emotional instability?"
"I wouldn't know," she shot back. "You seem to be the expert on emotional instability."
"Ouch." He held a hand to his chest, mock-offended. "Careful, little phoenix. I might cry into my pillow tonight."
Before she could fire back, the doors swung open. The rest of the elite group strolled in—Kael Aurelius with that boyish grin and too-bright optimism, Ivan Virellia trailing behind with the air of a ghost, and Celeste Nairoveth, dripping in entitlement and perfume.
Kael clapped his hands. "Ah, the firestarter and the shadow prince already at each other's throats. Morning feels normal again."
Celeste scoffed and tossed her silver curls. "Normal? I call it juvenile." Her gaze flicked to Seraphina with a sneer. "Then again, I suppose back-alley nobility comes with back-alley manners."
Sera's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
Lioren's smile dropped.
Completely.
He stepped forward so casually it sent a shiver down Kael's spine.
"Careful, Nairoveth. You're standing awfully tall for someone whose magical potential barely tickled the assessment crystal."
Celeste flushed, a dangerous edge creeping into her eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Oh no, I said it quite clearly."
Kael moved to stand between them like a peacekeeper caught in the middle of a brewing storm. "Guys. Maybe let's not cause another structural collapse. You know, for the first week's sake?"
Ivan finally spoke, his voice flat and detached. "Let them fight. It's more interesting than the syllabus."
Sera smirked despite herself.
That's when Master Elrin walked in, robes fluttering like he owned the wind itself. "Form pairs," he commanded, not even glancing up from his scroll. "Practice elemental focus. Let's see if your combat instincts match the fuss."
Without hesitation, Sera turned to Kael. He looked stunned.
"What?" she asked.
"You didn't pick shadow boy?" he whispered.
"Too easy."
Lioren's chuckle echoed from behind her. "Avoiding me already? Afraid I'll steal your thunder?"
She turned her head slightly, flames dancing along her glove. "Please. I am the thunder."
As they paired off, the energy in the room felt electric. Celeste swirled water into sharp whips, Ivan turned the air cold enough to bite skin, and Kael's lightning cracked like a storm begging to be let loose.
Sera watched them all, calculating. Reading movements. Judging form. Her mind worked like a weapon—precise, ruthless, curious.
"Ivan uses minimal movement—efficiency over flourish. But something's… off. He's holding back. Celeste? All flair, no intent. Overcompensating. And Kael... well. He's not fighting for power. He's fighting for people."
Her eyes darted to Lioren, who now stood at the edge of the room, sparring with an upper-year. His movements were clean—too clean. There was no hesitation, no wasted breath. Just shadows clinging to his limbs, bending to his will like loyal pets.
He wasn't just powerful. He was trained.
And dangerous.
Something dark and sad twisted inside Sera.
"He doesn't fight like he's trying to win. He fights like it's the only thing keeping him from falling apart."
Their eyes met across the room.
Just for a second.
Lioren raised a brow, lips curling in a lazy smirk.
Sera looked away first.
But her heart, traitor that it was, didn't stop racing.