CHAPTER SEVEN

Blaze moved toward the door.

I got there first.

My hand closed around the handle before he could stop me. The metal was still warm from the heat that seemed to live in this room now.

I pulled it open.

The man standing in the corridor didn’t move.

Arms crossed. Shoulders straight. Dark coat falling in a clean line to his knees. He looked like someone who had been standing exactly where he was for a very long time without shifting a single inch.

His eyes found mine.

Steel gray.

Flat and unreadable.

They dropped briefly to the side, past my shoulder.

Blaze stood behind me, shirt half buttoned, hair still a mess from sleep.

The man looked back at me.

One muscle moved in his jaw.

That was the only reaction he gave.

“Morning,” I said.

Behind me, Blaze leaned against the wall like he had nowhere else to be.

“She’s fine,” he said calmly. “She was safe.”

The man’s gaze slid back to him.

“She was unregistered.”

Every word came out clipped and exact.

“This academy tracks Prime energy signatures overnight for containment purposes. When the signature disappears from the registered room, it triggers a flag.”

His eyes returned to me.

“I had to come.”

The corridor went quiet again.

I leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.

“So you were doing your job.”

“Yes.”

That was it.

No apology. No irritation. Just a statement.

For the first time, he held my gaze without shifting.

Up close, his eyes weren’t just gray. They were almost colorless. Like storm clouds before the rain actually started.

“That’s what I do.”

Behind me, Blaze pushed away from the wall.

“Congratulations,” he muttered. “You found her.”

The gray eyes flicked toward him once.

Then back to me.

“Miss Winter,” he said evenly, “if you’re finished here.”

He began, but it wasn't a question. I glanced back at Blaze, but he shrugged once, completely unbothered.

“Go,” he said.

I stepped into the corridor.

Raven Blackwood turned immediately and started walking.

Three steps ahead.

Exactly like he had the first time I saw him.

I had to jog slightly just to match his pace.

“You always walk like someone’s chasing you?” I asked.

He didn’t slow.

“No.”

“Good talk.”

The hallway curved along the mountain’s inner wall, narrow windows cut into the stone at regular intervals. Pale morning light slipped through them, turning the floor silver.

Raven’s boots barely made a sound.

Mine echoed.

“You’re not angry,” I said after a minute.

He didn’t look back.

“I didn’t say I was.”

“Most people would be.”

“Most people don’t manage containment protocols for unstable elemental signatures.”

“Wow,” I muttered. “You really know how to charm a girl.” I murmured aloud sarcastically 

He stopped walking so abruptly I nearly walked straight into his back. When he turned, his expression was still perfectly controlled, but something in his gaze sharpened.

“You are a Prime,” he said.

“Your power profile includes atmospheric manipulation, tectonic disturbance, hydromantic displacement, and fire resonance.”

I blinked.

“…You memorized that?”

“It’s on your intake form.”

“You’re fun at parties.” another sarcastic remark 

He didn’t answer, instead, he resumed walking, and I followed. 

The rest of the trip passed in silence.

When we reached the door to my room, he stopped and pulled a folded sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his coat, he handed it to me.

“Your timetable.”

I raised an eyebrow as I unfolded it. It was a rows of neat printed text filled the page. “Control Dynamics,” I read. “Two hours.”

“I’d recommend eating something before you go.” His voice had shifted slightly. Still controlled. But quieter.

“Your blood sugar affects elemental output. It’s documented in Prime physiology.”

He said it like he was reading from a report.

I looked up.

“You memorize everything?”

“Only things that matter.”

I waited for more, but nothing came. He stepped back once.

“Good morning, Miss Winter.”

Then he turned and walked down the corridor.

He disappeared around the corner without looking back.

I stood there for a second staring at the empty hallway. Something about him lingered in the air after he left. Not attraction. Not exactly.

More like the feeling when pressure drops before a storm hits.

Something was coming with that one.

I just didn’t know what yet.

---

Breakfast happened in a hall twice the size of the one I’d seen the night before.

Long tables filled the center of the room. Windows stretched along the walls, spilling early sunlight across polished stone floors.

The noise hit me first.

Students talking. Chairs scraping. Silverware clinking.

Normal. Almost.

Except someone floated past me carrying three plates and arguing loudly with the girl beside him about lightning density.

I grabbed a tray.

Food appeared on it the moment I stepped forward.

I blinked.

“Convenient,” I muttered.

I sat at the end of one of the tables and started eating.

Two minutes later someone dropped into the seat across from me.

Blaze, with no dramatic entrance.

He just sat down, picked up his fork, and started eating like he’d been doing it here his entire life.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

He didn’t look up.

“You planning to make that a habit?” I asked.

“What.”

“Appearing out of nowhere.”

He shrugged.

“You picked a visible table.”

“That sounds suspiciously like blame.”

He stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork.

“Observation.”

I watched him for a moment, he looked exactly like he had last night. Relaxed. Comfortable.

Like nothing between us required explanation, the air around him still carried that quiet heat. It wasn’t overwhelming anymore.

Just…there.

“You’re very calm about this,” I said.

“About what?”

“Last night.”

He finally looked up.

Amber eyes steady.

“You regret it?”

“No.”

“Then we’re calm.”

I huffed a small laugh.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He went back to eating.

Across the hall, the far doors opened.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

Lucian stepped inside.

Tall. Pale. Dark coat falling cleanly over his shoulders.

He moved through the hall without looking at anyone.

No tray. No food.

He never even glanced toward the tables.

Students parted slightly as he passed. Not dramatically. Just enough. Like water moving around a stone.

He reached the far corridor.

Stopped.

For one brief moment, his head turned.

Ice-blue eyes locked on mine across the entire room.

The noise of the hall faded for half a second.

The look wasn’t warm. It wasn’t hostile either. It was…assessing. Like cold water sliding down the back of my neck.

Then he turned and walked away.

The door closed behind him.

The noise returned.

Blaze’s voice cut through it.

“He’s been watching you since you arrived.”

I looked back at him.

“You’re not worried about that?”

He took a sip from his cup.

“I’m aware of it.”

“That sounds diplomatic.”

“It’s accurate.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“Should I be worried?”

His hand tightened a little around the cup.

“Lucian doesn’t do anything without a reason.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It’s informative.”

I groaned.

“You and Raven should start a club.”

 Blaze smirked faintly.

“We’d hate each other.”

“That tracks.”

I checked the folded timetable again.

“Control Dynamics.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Already?”

“Apparently I’m special.”

“You are.”

The way he said it wasn’t teasing.

Just factual.

I cleared my throat and stood up.

“Well. Time to try not to break the school.”

“Good plan.”

He stood too.

“Walk you there?”

“You going to walk three steps ahead like Raven?”

“No.”

“Then sure.”

Control Dynamics was not in a classroom. Of course it wasn’t.

Blaze led me through another corridor and out onto an open platform carved straight into the mountainside.

My stomach dropped the moment I stepped onto it. There was nothing beneath the platform.

Just air.

A sheer drop stretched down the entire mountain face into a valley far below.

Wind tugged at my hair.

Twelve students stood scattered across the stone.

At the center of the platform stood a short woman with iron-gray hair pulled into a tight knot.

Her coat sleeves were rolled to her elbows.

The skin on her hands was covered in tiny scars.

When she wrote something on the clipboard in her hands, I noticed thick calluses along her fingers.

The kind people got from holding tools for decades.

Her eyes lifted when we approached.

Sharp.

Assessing.

She looked at my form.

Then at me.

“Elemental Prime,” she said.

Her voice was flat.

“All four elements. Uncontrolled. Emotionally triggered.”

A few of the other students shifted uncomfortably.

She set the clipboard down.

“We’re going to start with something simple.”

I stepped forward.

“What kind of simple?”

“Hold one flame in your palm for ten minutes without it changing size.”

“Oh,” I said.

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

I took a breath and lifted my hand.

The air above my palm warmed.

A small flame flickered to life.

The professor nodded once.

“Good.”

Then another flame appeared beside the first.

Then another.

And another.

My eyes widened.

“I didn’t—”

The fourth flame flared.

The wind around the platform suddenly surged.

The stone beneath our feet trembled.

Someone behind me cursed.

“Prime,” the professor said sharply.

“I’m trying!”

The flames grew higher.

The entire platform shuddered violently.

Far below us, something cracked.

A deep, echoing sound rolled up the mountain face like ice splitting across a frozen lake.

Every student on the platform froze.

The professor stared at my hand.

Then at the valley below.

“Interesting,” she murmured.