Elias, bookworm and tease? Apparently, he's the type who is attracted to danger and a mystery. And Nora is both.
I told myself I was here for research. It wasn’t a lie, not really. I had a half-finished report on elemental-channeling relics due next week and no intention of turning in another half-assed paper. But that wasn’t why I sat at this table by the restricted section, why I let the hours drag while I pretended to study a book I hadn’t cracked open for twenty minutes. I was listening. Watching. Eavesdropping. But unlike those brooding bastards of Nerezza and Hawthorne, I wasn’t above using my brain to fight instead of my fists.It had been two days since Nora Carver turned the training arena into a raging inferno of fire and magic, and the entire school still hadn’t stopped buzzing. Whispers flickered through every hallway. Dragon. Monster. Threat. I had even heard one Everley girl whisper that she might be a vessel for Seraphine herself. The last one almost made me snort out loud. Almost. I wasn’t that stupid. Not when so many interesting things were coming undone.Caelum had barely
I ran until I was winded and my legs were screaming at me, then I skidded across the ground in front of the only place that felt like home since I got here.Aurelian House.Everyone called it cursed, dangerous, off-limits. But the second I pushed past that threshold, the utterly weird atmosphere smacked me like a “hey, I know you”. That oddly shaped stuff creaked like the magic in them still lingered.It just called to me, this low thrum under my skin, rhythmic and steady like a second heartbeat. I dumped myself down on what was once a marble step, but was now all cracked and mossy. Silence was thick, but not lonely. Not here. Not where the whispering walls spoke in a language I hadn’t understood but somehow knew. Here, I didn’t have to pretend like I wasn’t unraveling.I brought my trembling hands to my mouth. I still felt the contact of his hands. Lucien. Cold. Sharp. Intense. He had no business all up in my face like this. No business interrupting my shit and treating me like he c
Smoke still rose from the shattered threshold of the arena, drifting lazily up into the washed-out sky like an injured breath. I stood at the very spot where she had been when the magic exploded from her, boot soles scuffed with ash and the detritus of spells burned too hot to take solid form. Even the Everley-stitched wards, designed over the centuries to handle a wide breadth of Arcanum, had not held against her power. The latticework of glyphs meant to contain and dampen her raw magic still sputtered along the stone like charred embers. It would take weeks to reset them. Maybe longer. All from one girl. One explosion of power.One dragon.I knelt, fingers skimming the edge of the ashen fissure that stretched from the arena’s center to its far reaches. The residual energy singed at my fingertips, not cold like Nerezza enchantments or crackling like Everley spells. It was heat, ancient and inherited, threaded through with something savage. Raw. Untamed. It wasn’t just power. It was le
Sleep didn’t come. Not really. Instead, I lay there on the giant Aurelian House bed, stiff as a board, the soft sheets pulled up to my chin like some worthless shield I didn’t believe in. Above me, the ceiling shimmered with faded sigils that blinked slowly to the beat of my heart. I ignored them. Tried to breathe slowly. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw teeth. I heard Briar’s snarl. I could feel their presence. The heat of them. Their hate. The tension of a fight I was already losing before it even began.And then he showed up. Caelum. His voice, low and edged with something primal and unshakable, cut through my memory like a knife. “Back Off”. He hadn’t screamed. He hadn’t raised a hand. But the girls had scurried like whipped dogs, and I still didn’t know why. Or maybe I did. Because that dominance. That dominance wasn’t normal. Not really. It wasn’t just pack politics. It was older. It was primal. And it had been directed at them because of me.That should have made me feel
The magic surrounding Aurelian House was wrong. Not broken, not cursed, but just… wrong. Wrong in the way that made my hair stand on end every time I stepped over its threshold. The leyline currents that fed Hawthorne’s protective wards stuttered there like water pausing over an outcropping.It used to be still. Quiet. The kind of dead zone that fades on the edge of your vision, a space you forgot existed until you found yourself on patrol, glancing in its direction. But ever since the girl had shown up, it had started to hum. Low, first. Not quietly, though. Aurelian’s wards pulsed in jagged beats, old magic roaring in your veins. The kind of magic that didn’t ask permission. The kind that remembered blood.I hadn’t said anything at first. Hawthorne leadership didn’t need more whispers milling around than we already had. The last thing I wanted was Dominic or Mykala questioning me on patrol, asking why I’d taken an extra lap near the Everley crop fields, why I’d come so close to the
Once class had been dismissed, I returned to Aurelian House. The others dispersed in pairs and small groups, their voices fading after them like ribbons I could never reach. But the moment I crossed Aurelian’s threshold, I was met with silence. Silence that wasn’t cold. Silence that wasn’t empty. Intentional. Like the house had been waiting for my return, and only now felt safe enough to breathe.My boots clicked softly on the obsidian floor, and sigils danced to life beneath the stones. Faint emberlight pulsed in their veins, like they were recognizing me. I reached out and ran my fingers across the edge of the wall. Magic beneath my touch hummed. I wasn’t surprised. It calmed something in my chest that I hadn’t realized was clenched. This wasn’t the deafening silence of empty houses and abandoned shelters. This was the silence of memory. And it was waiting for me to know it.The tapestries along the corridor had been dull when I first walked past them, but the colors in them bloomed