The bench under the lilacs — and shadows from the past
They didn't say much on the way. After all that had happened — the noisy assembly, Olivia's tears, Luke's brazen approach — there was an exhausted quiet between them.
Only the gentle crunch of gravel underfoot marked their passage. The academy grounds were settling into that late afternoon calm, where long shadows stretched across trimmed lawns and birds seemed to chirp with a kind of sleepy satisfaction.
Esme was just about to break the silence with something silly — anything to lighten the air — when Vivien spoke.
"Let's sit there."
She pointed to a polished marble bench tucked under a sweep of lilac trees. Pale purple petals lay scattered around it like confetti. They settled onto it, and for a moment simply watched the gentle swaying of branches overhead.
A hesitant question — and a door slowly opening
Then Esme couldn't hold it in any longer.
"So… earlier, when you said you'd met Luke before — where did you meet him?"
Vivien was silent for so long Esme thought maybe she wouldn't answer. Then, slowly, Vivien's silver eyes lifted to the middle distance, her breath drawing out in a soft sigh.
"It was here," she began, voice quiet — so soft that Esme had to lean in, every little laugh and shriek from distant students suddenly too loud. "In this academy. When he was still in Year Three."
A lonely little girl visiting power — and catching the eye of danger
She paused again, eyes narrowing faintly as memories unwound.
"I used to come here once or twice a year, whenever the Dean was staying on campus. My parents thought it was important I see her — even if she rarely came home. You know how it is… she's busy. Important matters. Sometimes she didn't return for months."
Esme nodded mutely. She'd known Vivien's grandmother was the Dean, of course, but never quite pictured what it was like to have that figure looming so close and yet so distant.
Vivien continued, her tone even flatter now. "Anyway. One of those visits, while I was in her office… Luke walked in. He came to speak with her about some chosen team matter. At first, it was nothing. Just normal — polite even."
But then Vivien's hands, resting in her lap, clenched ever so slightly.
"Except every time our eyes met… there was something in his. A look. As if he was claiming me — without saying a single word. His eyes practically whispered: 'You are mine.' All while he smiled. That smile made it worse."
A faint shiver traced her spine, her shoulder twitching almost imperceptibly. Esme's breath caught.
A year of silent dread — and retreat into isolation
"And it didn't stop there," Vivien said, her voice tightening. "Every time I came to the academy that year, somehow he'd appear. Always with some excuse to visit the Dean. It was too neat — too well-timed."
Esme's eyes widened. "So he… he might've been keeping track of you all along?"
Vivien didn't answer directly. Her stare was icy now, almost distant. "Eventually, I stopped visiting altogether. Even if Grandmother was staying on campus. I didn't want to see him lurking around that office door. Back then… he never approached me directly. I don't know why he held back. But it seems… whatever was restraining him is gone now."
A small voice — and a promise in ice
Esme found she was holding her breath. Then, very softly, she asked, "Are you… scared?"
Vivien didn't answer right away. Her eyes flicked up to meet Esme's — and in them was no fear. Only a cold, fierce gleam.
"No," Vivien said finally, her words dropping like frost on leaves. "Not anymore. If anything… I want to crush him myself."
For a heartbeat, Esme simply stared. Then a crooked grin broke across her face. "That's my girl."
Across campus, in the cafeteria, Aether thwacked Morgan's head with a spoon. "Oi, I'm a boy, you know!" he squawked.
"Hehe, sorry~!" Aether laughed, grabbing the last slice of cake.
Why not tell the Dean? — a burden chosen
Their laughter rang distant as Esme turned serious again. "But Vivien… you could've told your grandmother, right? The Dean could solve this instantly."
Vivien's eyes drifted to the ground. Her thumb absently traced a scratch on the marble bench.
"No. Even if he's twisted… Luke is still one of the strongest assets this academy has. Our school is ranked only second among the Four Great Academies. We can't afford to cripple our strength on a scandal — not when rival schools would seize on any weakness. I won't be the reason for that."
Esme blew out a breath, cheeks puffing. "That bastard. To think he hides all that behind that princely grin. Most people wouldn't believe it without seeing it."
Vivien just nodded. "I don't expect them to. I'm only telling you what I know."
A cruel generalization — and a hopeful protest
Then, after a long pause, Vivien added in a voice almost too calm:
"But truthfully, all boys are the same. Handsome, cute, well-mannered — it doesn't matter. Underneath, they're all cut from the same cloth."
The bitterness was unmistakable, sharp as glass.
Esme's lips parted. She looked like she wanted to argue. Then she sighed and muttered under her breath, "Vivien, I won't say you're completely wrong. But… I believe you'll change that opinion once you really meet Aether. I'm sure of it. Since… well, I know him."
Vivien tilted her head, curiosity flickering just a little. But she didn't press. They simply sat there a while longer, watching a line of birds hop through the lilac petals, until the sun slipped lower and painted everything in sleepy gold.
✦✦✦
The Blazed Colluminium Ballroom — a palace for tomorrow's spectacle
Soon, the academy's attention shifted fully. The Familiar Choosing Ceremony loomed — an event that would set countless hearts racing and forge the next stage of every chosen team's future.
Preparations overtook every corridor. Banners were hung, elegant enchanted lanterns tested, the floor of the great Blazed Colluminium Ballroom buffed to a perfect mirrored sheen.
That ballroom was a marvel by itself. Designed to host everything from auctions to duels to the grand graduation ball for the fifth-years, it was a cavernous hall with gilded arches and velvet draperies so fine they seemed woven of moonlight.
Servants bustled about, polishing marble columns until you could see your face. Jewel-toned flowers floated in air-filled crystal bowls, and delicate threads of mana kept the whole chamber precisely cool. Even the most jaded fourth-year students paused to admire the preparations.
The Dean's office — and an ominous little errand
While all that unfolded, Aether trudged up the sweeping staircase that led to the Dean's office. His shoulders slumped like he carried invisible weights.
"The Dean called me out of nowhere. Haish… why though!" he grumbled, scuffing a foot on the carpet.
He reached her door, gave three sharp knocks, and heard that calm, imperious voice float through.
"Come in."
He cracked the door, peeked inside — and shivered. The Dean sat at her broad desk, her fountain pen stilled mid-signature. Her sharp eyes fixed right on him.
"Please. Sit."
Something about the polite way she said it made sweat bead on Aether's neck. Why is she being so formal? That's never a good sign…
He awkwardly took a seat across from her, murmuring under his breath, "Wah… what's this? Not feeling good already…"
A polite smile — and a mischievous plot
"So!" he blurted louder, trying to cut through his own nerves. "Why did you call me here, Dean?"
She folded her hands together, her lips curving into a small, sly smile that instantly made his stomach drop.
"Hehe. You see… I have something I would like you to do for me."
Aether's eyes went huge. "What?!" His heart jumped right into his throat. Oh gods, please don't say I have to give a speech. Or represent the academy to the royal envoy. Or—
The Dean's smile only deepened.
✦✦✦
A world spinning toward the ceremony — and secrets waiting to burst
Outside, the campus pulsed with anticipation.
• Fourth-years discussed strategies for choosing the strongest familiars to boost their final rankings.
• Merchants set up temporary stalls with rare beast crystals, hoping eager first-years would spend every hard-earned point.
• Even non-mage students found excuses to hover around the ballroom doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the legendary rituals.
Meanwhile, somewhere deeper in the academy, Luke planned. His pride still ached from Vivien's cold dismissal. And if there was one truth about Luke — he did not accept humiliation.
Far off under a stone archway, Shanny leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. Her eyes, sharp as cut glass, swept the walkways. If Luke made a move… she would be ready.
Back on the bench — dreams, doubts, and a vow
That evening, long after the lilacs dimmed to shadows, Vivien and Esme passed that same marble bench again. They slowed without meaning to.
Vivien glanced sideways, her expression unreadable.
"Esme," she said suddenly. "Thank you. For listening. And… for not dismissing it outright."
Esme smiled. Not her usual mischievous grin — something softer, almost protective. "Of course. I'll always listen. And I'll be right there if he tries anything."
Vivien's cold silver eyes glimmered faintly. Then she looked away. "I can handle him."
"I know you can. Doesn't mean you have to alone."
They stood there a second longer, then headed inside as the first lanterns were being lit, painting golden puddles on the flagstones.
✦✦✦
What tomorrow holds…
Soon the ballroom doors would open.
The familiars would be called.
And the web of power — fragile, gleaming, waiting to be plucked — would tremble with new threads.
Some tied by choice.
Some by fate.
And some by obsession dark enough to swallow the light whole.
But for now, in this gentle quiet before the storm, Vivien walked beside Esme — head held high, steps sure, her mind already sharpening for whatever came next.