She should have walked away the moment he smiled.
That half-tilted grin, too honest for a place like this, too dangerous for a girl like her. Seraphine had watched him from across the marble terrace, shadows coiled around her like a second skin, uninvited but not unwelcome. She wasn't supposed to be here. Not in this part of the Academy. Not watching him.
But she stayed.
And every time Kaelen laughed—quiet and unaware she was there—it carved another hairline fracture across the walls she'd built around herself.
He made it look so easy. Trusting people. Trusting Selene.
She wasn't jealous, not exactly. Seraphine wasn't the kind of girl who bit her tongue and bled bitterness. She'd bled enough already.
But when Kaelen walked beside Selene beneath the arching fireglass trees and murmured something that made Selene smile—truly, without calculation—something twisted in Seraphine's chest.
She hated that it hurt.
That night, the stars felt colder than usual.Seraphine sat alone in the eastern observatory wing, legs curled beneath her, journal open but blank. No ink, no glyphs. Just her. Just silence. Just the memory of Kaelen's voice echoing too loudly in her head.
"You don't have to keep pretending you're fine."He'd said that once. Carelessly. To someone else.But somehow, she'd taken it personally.
Her fingers hovered above the paper. She should've been drafting spell diagrams or mapping sigil decay rates. Instead, she was sketching the angle of his jaw. The way his coat folded when he leaned against the balcony. How the Veritas mark shimmered faintly when he thought no one was looking.
It wasn't fair.
He didn't even know she was watching.
Footsteps echoed near the northern stairwell.
She closed the journal instantly and stepped behind the columns, a shimmer of illusion magic wrapping around her like a whisper. Not enough to disappear, just enough to blur. Old habits.
Two students passed, laughing about something shallow. Their voices vanished, and the hall returned to its usual hush.
Seraphine didn't move. She just breathed. Quietly. Carefully.
I'm not the kind of girl who gets chosen.Not the noble lady with sun-kissed hair. Not the survivor of some tragic rebellion.I'm the girl people use, then forget.
But Kaelen hadn't forgotten her. Not really.
He'd noticed when her spell faltered during Combat Theory. He'd asked—casually—if she was sleeping well. He'd defended her once, when Lorien made some cutting remark. He hadn't needed to.
Those things mattered. More than they should.
Later, when she returned to her dorm, she found a small note slipped under her door.
"I saw you leave the east wing.""If you're still chasing ghosts, be careful." —M
Her fingers clenched around the parchment. Mira. Of course.
Seraphine bit her lip, frustration flashing behind her eyes.
You don't know what I'm chasing, Mira.You've never looked at someone and thought: if I just reached out… maybe they wouldn't leave.
She let the note burn between her fingers. No ash left behind.
The next day brought storms.
Lightning shimmered over the Academy's dome, casting long shadows across the training fields. Classes were shortened. Some were canceled altogether.
Kaelen didn't show up to Channeling Theory.
Seraphine felt the absence like an ache.
She sat through the lecture anyway, hand still and page untouched, and when the professor finally dismissed them, she moved without thinking—toward the dueling hall.
She found him there. Alone.
His coat was soaked through. Magic danced across his palms—raw, unformed, flickering like a heartbeat without rhythm.
He didn't see her at first. Not until she stepped inside the room and let her glamour fall.
Kaelen turned, eyes tired but alert.
"Seraphine?"
She didn't know what she'd meant to say.
Not I missed you.Not Why does it hurt when you're near someone else?Not Please, just see me once.
Instead: "You're going to burn yourself out if you keep channeling like that."
His smile was faint. "It's better than not feeling anything."
She walked closer, something brittle in her chest threatening to shatter. "You feel plenty."
"I'm trying not to."
He said it too quickly. Like a secret slipping free.
Seraphine stopped two paces from him, the storm outside rumbling like a second heartbeat. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was weighted.
She reached out, then hesitated.
But Kaelen didn't step away.
Her fingers brushed his wrist. Just lightly. A test.
He flinched—but not from her. From the warmth.
And when he looked at her, really looked at her, it wasn't confusion in his eyes. It was something sadder.
"Why are you really here?" he asked.
She swallowed.
Because I wanted you to look at me like you look at her.Because I'm tired of pretending I don't care.Because I do care—and it's killing me.
"…To remind you that even stars burn out when they're alone," she whispered.
He stared at her for a moment, long and unreadable.
Then, softly: "You're not alone."
And for the first time in weeks, she believed it.
Even if it was only for tonight.
Far above, unnoticed by either of them, a glyph shimmered into life against the Observatory dome—etched in ink that remembered, watched… and waited.