By morning, the world had changed.
The air in Eryndale was heavier. Not with weather but with something less nameable. Like the magic in the soil had been stirred. Like something old had turned over in its sleep.
Seraphina felt it first in her chest. A slow, spreading hum under her ribs. Like a second heartbeat. Like something answering a call she hadn't made.
Her fingertips sparked when she brushed against the iron doorknob. No witnesses. No proof. But she felt it.
She wasn't the same girl who'd walked through the gates of this cursed academy a few days ago.
And maybe that was the point.
She wasn't five steps into the corridor before trouble found her.
Not Jasper. Not Damian. This time it was someone else.
A tall girl with violet-tinted hair and eyes that glowed like diluted poison stepped into her path, flanked by two lesser shadows. Her uniform was worn tight, proudly tailored, the crest of her elite dorm shimmering silver.
"Caldwell," the girl purred, dragging her name like silk over glass. "The famous little pet project."
Seraphina stopped.
"I don't believe we've met," she said coolly.
The girl smiled with all her teeth. "Ariana Vale. Class president. Head of the Spellbound Society. Keeper of Eryndale traditions. And someone who doesn't appreciate mutts sneaking into my territory."
"Mutts?" Seraphina blinked. "Is that your favorite insult, or is your vocabulary just that limited?"
The girls behind Ariana gasped. Ariana's smile didn't falter but something sharp flickered in her gaze.
"Cute," she said. "But cute doesn't last long here. Especially not when you're climbing over bodies that belong to better girls."
Seraphina's face remained passive, but inside, her pulse kicked.
"You feel threatened," she said softly.
Ariana's jaw twitched.
"I feel annoyed," she corrected. "The Headmaster's little charity case strutting around with boys who shouldn't even glance your way? It's embarrassing for all of us."
Seraphina leaned in slightly, voice low.
"I didn't ask for anyone's attention. But I won't apologize for it either."
Ariana's smile vanished. "You'll regret it. This school breaks girls like you."
"No," Seraphina said, stepping past her. "This school creates girls like me. That's what scares you."
And she didn't look back.
Her body didn't stop buzzing for hours.
It wasn't just Ariana. It was all of it. The stares. The whispers. The sense that the academy itself was watching her like it couldn't decide whether to swallow her or crown her.
That evening, she slipped into the training grounds normally reserved for upperclassmen, but she'd stopped caring about rules. The arena was carved from stone and shadow, runes burned into every wall, dummies standing like corpses in waiting.
Seraphina picked up a staff.
It felt natural. Too natural.
She spun it, and her muscles remembered things her mind didn't. Her body moved in ways no expelled human girl should. Each strike echoed, each breath sharper. Magic bloomed under her skin like heat rising from coals.
"Impressive."
She turned. Of course.
Damian.
Standing just outside the circle, arms crossed, black-on-black uniform catching the dying light.
"How long have you been there?" she asked, panting.
"Long enough."
He stepped into the arena.
The air changed.
Again.
"I told you," he said, stopping inches away. "You're not normal."
"You keep saying that," she said, tossing the staff aside. "But you never explain what you do know."
"I don't know everything. But I feel it. Just like you do."
She tilted her head. "Then tell me something useful. Why am I glowing in the dark? Why do my dreams feel like memories? Why does this place make my blood hum like a curse?"
He reached for her. Not to grab but to touch. Just her wrist, where the skin pulsed hot. Their eyes locked.
"I don't have answers," he said lowly. "But I have instincts. And they're telling me that when you break, this entire place will shatter with you."
Silence.
And then—
"Are you afraid of me, Damian?"
He didn't blink. "I'm afraid for you."
She didn't know how to respond to that.
So she didn't.
Instead, she stepped closer. One inch. Then another. Until there was no space, no breath, between them.
And said, "I think you're lying."
His jaw tensed.
And then she did something reckless.
She rose on her toes and kissed him.
Hard.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was everything they'd been swallowing rage, fear, heat and it crashed into his mouth like a war drum.
For a second, he froze.
Then he kissed her back like he wanted to consume her soul.
His hands found her hips. Her fingers tangled in his shirt. Their bodies moved like they'd done this in another life, a hundred times, always ending in fire.
But when his lips reached her neck, when she gasped his name—
He pulled away.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
Breathing hard.
"This is a mistake," he muttered.
She blinked, stunned.
But before she could reply—
He was gone.
Later that night, she stared at the ceiling of her room, pulse still wild, skin still burning.
She hadn't meant to kiss him.
But she had wanted to.
And maybe that was worse.
The knock came again.
Not Damian.
Lucian.
She opened the door. Said nothing.
He looked her over. Then stepped inside. Calm. Composed. And completely unreadable.
"I felt something earlier," he said. "Your magic. It's growing stronger."
"I noticed."
He turned to her, eyes searching.
"Have you felt anything else? Visions? Pulls? Things out of place?"
She hesitated.
"Sometimes... I dream of fire. Always the same. I'm standing in the middle of it, but I'm not afraid."
He nodded.
"And there's a voice," she added. "Not mine. But familiar."
"What does it say?"
She swallowed. "It says... 'I'm waking up.'"
Lucian was silent for a long time.
Then he stepped closer.
"You're running out of time," he said.
"Until what?"
He didn't answer.
He only raised his hand and pressed his fingers to the space just above her heart.
The room tilted.
A rush of sensation—heat, power, hunger—flooded her body like lightning.
When it stopped, she staggered.
Lucian caught her.
"Don't fight it," he whispered against her ear. "Let it burn."
Then he was gone.
Again.
Leaving her trembling, breathless, and more alive than she had ever felt in her life.