Eryndale didn't sleep.
It whispered.
It shifted.
It waited.
And tonight, it waited for her.
Seraphina stood at the edge of the Spellbound Courtyard, barefoot, arms crossed, staring up at the crescent moon. Her robe was loose, brushing her thighs in the night air, her long hair twisted up messily as if even it didn't want to behave.
The dreams hadn't stopped.
Worse..... they were getting clearer.
A woman made of smoke. A throne of bone and blood. A voice in her ear that didn't whisper anymore, but commanded:
"You are not theirs. You never were. You were forged in something deeper."
She was losing track of what was real.
Or maybe she was finally seeing what was.
The soft crunch of boots behind her pulled her back to earth.
"I should've known I'd find you here," Jasper drawled, strolling out of the shadows, lollipop in mouth and laziness in his bones.
She didn't turn around. "You stalking me now?"
"Sweetheart, if I were stalking you, you wouldn't know it." He stopped beside her. "But no. I just have excellent instincts when it comes to lonely girls standing in dark places with murder in their eyes."
She smirked. "What gave it away? My charming personality?"
He chuckled. "That. And the fact that you've been glowing again. Not figuratively. Literally."
Seraphina looked down at her hands. Sure enough, a faint shimmer coiled around her fingertips like stardust, or embers.
"I'm not doing it on purpose."
"Magic doesn't care about purpose. Only truth."
She turned to face him then. "And what's my truth, Jasper?"
He leaned in, licking his lollipop like it was a lazy secret. "That you're starting to enjoy this."
She blinked. "Enjoy what?"
"The power. The danger. The pull. You're not just surviving Eryndale anymore, Seraphina." His eyes dropped to her lips. "You're owning it."
Her breath caught.
"You think you know me?"
He stepped closer. "I don't think. I feel."
Then, without asking, without warning, he kissed her.
But not like Damian had.
Jasper kissed her like he was tasting forbidden fruit. His hand curled into her hair, tilting her head just right, his mouth hot and slow and maddening. He tasted like sin and sugar, like smoke and rainstorms. Like trouble she wanted.
When she gasped against his mouth, he smiled.
"Gods," he murmured, "you taste like war."
She pushed him back—barely—but the damage was done.
Her pulse thundered. Her skin tingled. Her mind was a mess of want and why the hell did I like that so much?
"I don't belong to you," she said, breathless.
"Didn't say you did." He winked. "But that didn't stop you from kissing me back."
"Goodnight sweetheart" he whispered
And with that he was gone vanishing into the dark like a dare.
---
Later, when she finally returned to her room, her window was open.
Which was strange.
She never opened it.
And the candle on her desk was still lit.
Stranger still.
She stepped inside cautiously, hand trailing along her dresser for the knife she kept hidden there now. Just in case.
Then a voice from the shadows stopped her cold.
"You shouldn't trust the walls here."
She turned.
Lucian sat in her reading chair, legs crossed, arms resting lightly, like he'd been waiting forever and wasn't in a rush.
She exhaled. "Gods, do you people know what doors are?"
He didn't smile.
"There's been another breach."
She froze.
"Where?"
"The Vaults."
Her stomach flipped. "That's... below the library, right?"
He nodded.
"You think it's connected to me?"
"I think everything is connected to you."
There it was again. That certainty in his voice. Like he knew something she didn't about her, about this school, about the world itself.
"You're not just a girl anymore, Seraphina," he said softly. "And Eryndale is not just a school. It's a cage. A cradle. A battlefield."
"And what am I?" she whispered.
He stood.
Stepped close.
Touched her cheek with his thumb like he'd done it a hundred times in dreams she couldn't remember.
"You're a key."
Her lips parted. "To what?"
He looked at her like she was breaking his heart just by asking.
"To everything."
Then his hand dropped, and he stepped away like touching her hurt more than not touching her.
"I'll show you tomorrow. Be ready."
And just like that he disappeared into the night again, a ghost with too many answers.
Seraphina lay awake long into the night.
Thinking about the kiss she shouldn't have shared.
The prophecy she didn't understand.
The power in her blood she couldn't control.
Three boys.
One academy.
Too many lies.
And somewhere deep beneath the surface of it all...
Something was calling her.
Not in words.
Not even in dreams.
But in blood.
In bone.
In magic.
She would find it.
And she would face it—
Even if it shattered her completely.