The training grounds had emptied, save for the sound of wind slipping through broken marble arches and the echo of Kaelen's breath. His skin still tingled from the duel—not from wounds, but from the sheer resonance left behind by the glyphwork. He'd barely controlled the last strike.
"Your heart's not in it," a voice said.
Kaelen turned. Seraphine stood at the edge of the sandpit, arms crossed, her long coat fluttering in the chill dusk. She looked less like a noble and more like someone hunting for answers.
He hadn't expected her. Not here. Not after everything.
"I'm fine," he said, brushing dust off his sleeves.
"You're lying," she replied softly. She stepped forward, gaze never leaving his. "You're burning out."
The words struck harder than the spell earlier that afternoon.
Seraphine lowered her voice, stepping inside the dueling ring. "You've been flaring your glyph more than you should. That last match? You nearly broke the protective ward. Again."
Kaelen didn't respond. He just looked at her—really looked. Her hair was tied back, revealing a small scar near her temple. A mark he hadn't noticed before. She followed his gaze but said nothing.
"You're not afraid of me," he said suddenly.
"No," she admitted, brushing her hair behind her ear. "But I'm starting to worry about you."
It wasn't the words that caught him off guard. It was the softness in her voice—the rare sliver of honesty that she so often kept hidden beneath layers of cold logic and cutting remarks.
"You always watch. From the shadows. Why?" he asked.
Seraphine paused. "Because I understand what it's like to not trust your own magic."
That stopped him.
"You think I just learned to control the bindings overnight?" she said. "My first awakening nearly killed my brother. I was ten."
He stared at her, caught between disbelief and something else. Respect. Maybe even… recognition.
She continued, more quietly, "I don't talk about it. I don't share. But watching you reminds me of what I once was."
The silence stretched, deep and strange.
Kaelen's voice cracked through it. "And now?"
"Now I'm scared you'll break before you become what you're meant to."
There it was again. That strange pull between them. Neither enemy, nor quite friend. Somewhere in the unspoken.
He looked away, heart racing for reasons he couldn't explain.
"I'm not ready," he said, not sure what he meant—about his power, or something else entirely.
Seraphine took a step closer. "None of us are."
Then she did something unexpected.
She reached out—lightly, almost hesitantly—and brushed the back of her fingers across his wrist. The touch was brief, but deliberate. A tether. A spark.
"If you lose control again," she whispered, "call me. I'll anchor you."
Kaelen swallowed. The air shifted. There was too much between them now. Her fingers lingered a second longer before falling away.
She turned to leave.
"Seraphine," he called.
She paused in the archway.
He didn't know what he was going to say until it was already out of his mouth.
"I don't hate you."
She smiled—small, tired, and real. "That's the most honest thing you've said all week."
Then she vanished into the twilight.
Kaelen stood in the ring, alone, but no longer untethered.