登入Chapter 55 - The Witch and the Mentor 1Moments later,[Rina P.O.V]The ash was still warm on my fingers.I walked the corridor with my hand in my pocket, the residual heat of the incinerated rose pressing against my palm like a brand. The sulfur smell clung to my sleeve, a reminder of my miscalculation. I had been so certain the roses were Riven's doing. The dramatic rescues, the theatrical pouting, the way he appeared at precisely the moment I needed saving—it had all pointed to one obsessed vampire prince with too much time and too many resources.The ash proved me wrong.And being wrong about a stalker was the kind of mistake that got girls killed in stories like mine.I turned the corner toward the Potion Alchemy wing, my boots clicking a rhythm against the stone that sounded too loud in the empty hallway. The corridors were deserted, the other students still in their lectures, and the solitude should have been comforting. Instead, the silence felt weighted, observed, as if the w
Chapter 55 - The Witch and the Mentor 1Moments later,[Rina P.O.V]The ash was still warm on my fingers.I walked the corridor with my hand in my pocket, the residual heat of the incinerated rose pressing against my palm like a brand. The sulfur smell clung to my sleeve, a reminder of my miscalculation. I had been so certain the roses were Riven's doing. The dramatic rescues, the theatrical pouting, the way he appeared at precisely the moment I needed saving—it had all pointed to one obsessed vampire prince with too much time and too many resources.The ash proved me wrong.And being wrong about a stalker was the kind of mistake that got girls killed in stories like mine.I turned the corner toward the Potion Alchemy wing, my boots clicking a rhythm against the stone that sounded too loud in the empty hallway. The corridors were deserted, the other students still in their lectures, and the solitude should have been comforting. Instead, the silence felt weighted, observed, as if the w
Chapter 36 - The Trash Prince’s VisitThe Next Day,Author The heavy wrought-iron gates of the Blackwood estate did not groan as they usually did; they slid open with a smooth, oiled precision that set Prince Julian’s teeth on edge.He sat astride his white stallion, his velvet coat immaculate, his silver-gray eyes scanning the outer perimeter of the villa. Beside him, Silas rode with a tense, rigid posture, while four elite palace guards trailed behind, their gold-plated armor gleaming under the pale Northern sun. Julian had expected to see the usual signs of a crumbling, isolated border territory—cracked masonry, sluggish guards, and the pervasive scent of despair.Instead, he was looking at an active construction site of terrifying efficiency.The main path had been widened and paved with reinforced granite slabs, engineered to withstand heavy military transport. In the distance, the lower sectors—once a collection of rotting wooden huts—were now lined with stone-walled barracks a
Chapter 36 - The Trash Prince’s VisitThe Next Day,Author The heavy wrought-iron gates of the Blackwood estate did not groan as they usually did; they slid open with a smooth, oiled precision that set Prince Julian’s teeth on edge.He sat astride his white stallion, his velvet coat immaculate, his silver-gray eyes scanning the outer perimeter of the villa. Beside him, Silas rode with a tense, rigid posture, while four elite palace guards trailed behind, their gold-plated armor gleaming under the pale Northern sun. Julian had expected to see the usual signs of a crumbling, isolated border territory—cracked masonry, sluggish guards, and the pervasive scent of despair.Instead, he was looking at an active construction site of terrifying efficiency.The main path had been widened and paved with reinforced granite slabs, engineered to withstand heavy military transport. In the distance, the lower sectors—once a collection of rotting wooden huts—were now lined with stone-walled barracks a
Moments later, Rina The smell of ozone and scorched stone lingered in the back of my throat, a sharp, metallic reminder of the silver-void light that had just erased three enchanted oak dummies from existence. It was a dry, hollow taste, like breathing in the dust of a star that had died a thousand years ago. I stood in the center of the combat arena, my breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches that felt like glass against my ribs. Around me, the arena was a tableau of fractured power. The werewolves were still down, their rugged frames twitching as they clawed at the stone, their internal wolves howling in a frequency only I could truly hear. Jaxon was the worst—he was slumped against a pillar, his amber eyes blown wide, his scent of pine and woodsmoke curdled into something sour and defeated. They think I did this to them. They think I reached out and crushed their spirits with a flick of my wrist. "Everyone out! Clear the floor! Medical teams to the arena, now!" The voice of
Moments later, Rina The smell of ozone and scorched stone lingered in the back of my throat, a sharp, metallic reminder of the silver-void light that had just erased three enchanted oak dummies from existence. It was a dry, hollow taste, like breathing in the dust of a star that had died a thousand years ago. I stood in the center of the combat arena, my breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches that felt like glass against my ribs. Around me, the arena was a tableau of fractured power. The werewolves were still down, their rugged frames twitching as they clawed at the stone, their internal wolves howling in a frequency only I could truly hear. Jaxon was the worst—he was slumped against a pillar, his amber eyes blown wide, his scent of pine and woodsmoke curdled into something sour and defeated. They think I did this to them. They think I reached out and crushed their spirits with a flick of my wrist. "Everyone out! Clear the floor! Medical teams to the arena, now!" The voice of
Rina’s POVThe sky had bruised into a deep regal violet by the time the bells tolled for the late afternoon session. While the sun was still technically visible, the Faculty of Arcane Arts & Mysticism always seemed to exist in a state of perpetual twilight. I adjusted the strap
Meanwhile, In the Great Refectory, Jaxon’s POV The feast tasted like ash. I sat at the center of the Terra table, surrounded by the familiar scent of my pack - damp earth, pine, and woodsmoke - but for the first time in my life, I felt like an outsider in m
Moments later,The Grand Hall of Fethor Aetherium,Rhea’s POVThe President’s speech didn't just end; it dissolved into a shimmering haze of arcane energy that hung in the air like a physical weight, tasting of ozone, dried roses, and the metallic tang of old parchment. The Grand Hall of Aetherion
Administrative Manor, Provost's Office.Rina’s POVThe silence was a void. It stretched across the mahogany, insulating Jaxon and Caleb’s shock from the predatory fascination of the eighteen other scions. Jaxon’s massive frame remained folded over his chair. He lo







