The storm broke fully over Empire High that night, sheets of rain slashing against the ancient walls. Thunder growled in the distance like a restless beast, and the wind rattled the glass panes so violently it felt as though the school itself were shuddering.
Seraphina tossed in her bed, wide awake. Sleep was a luxury she couldn't afford — not with her mind still replaying the fight in the East Wing, not with Elijah's coat still draped over the chair by her desk like some quiet accusation.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him standing in the fractured moonlight, blade in hand, body taut with purpose. She felt again the almost-touch of his fingers against her skin, the crackling silence that had stretched between them.
Her shadow magic stirred, restless, feeding on her agitation. The room darkened unnaturally as the corners deepened into pools of black. She took a sharp breath and forced it down, unwilling to let her emotions unravel the fragile control she had worked so hard to maintain.
A knock broke the silence.
Three sharp raps on her door.
Seraphina froze, her shadows snapping back into the corners as if they too were startled. Who would come to her room at this hour?
She slid from her bed and padded across the floor, every instinct on edge. When she opened the door, Elijah stood there — dripping rain, hair plastered to his forehead, his storm-grey eyes more turbulent than the skies outside.
"Elijah?" Her voice was a whisper, almost swallowed by the roar of the storm. "What are you doing—"
"We need to talk." His tone brooked no refusal.
He stepped past her into the room, water dripping onto the wooden floorboards. The space suddenly felt smaller, crowded by his presence. She closed the door behind him, her pulse hammering.
"What happened?" she asked.
He raked a hand through his wet hair, droplets scattering. "That thing we fought in the East Wing? It wasn't alone. I tracked the residue — there are more. At least three."
Her blood ran cold. "Here? Inside the school?"
He nodded grimly. "They're hiding in the wards. Feeding. If we don't stop them, they'll grow strong enough to tear through the protections."
Seraphina's shadows rippled uneasily, mirroring her fear. "Why come to me?"
His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unyielding. "Because I can't do this alone. And because…" His voice dipped lower, softer. "You've proven you can handle yourself."
Her heart stuttered at the admission. But there was something else in his eyes, something that wasn't strategy or necessity.
The storm outside cracked with lightning, casting fleeting white light across his face. He was beautiful in that dangerous, untouchable way — all edges and shadows, a storm contained in human form.
Seraphina turned quickly, pretending to busy herself with her cloak. "Fine. Where do we start?"
They moved through the halls together, cloaked in silence and shadow. The storm masked their footsteps, thunder rolling like a war drum. Seraphina couldn't shake the awareness of Elijah's nearness — the brush of his arm when they turned a corner, the heat radiating from him even in the chill draft.
They reached the old library. The doors groaned as Elijah pushed them open, revealing rows of towering shelves lost in shadow. Candles flickered weakly against the storm, their flames trembling.
"This is where the wards converge," Elijah murmured, his hand brushing along the carved archway. "If they're feeding, they'll be here."
Seraphina closed her eyes, reaching with her magic. Shadows answered eagerly, coiling outward like smoke. She felt the tug almost instantly — a hollow ache, a sucking void hidden between the shelves.
"There," she whispered, pointing.
They moved together, Elijah's dagger already in hand, her shadows slithering ahead like scouts. The air thickened as they drew closer, the void growing stronger. And then—
A hiss split the silence.
The creature lunged from the darkness, taller and sharper than the last, its limbs like jagged blades. Seraphina reacted instantly, shadows coiling around its torso, but it thrashed with terrifying strength, dragging her forward.
Elijah caught her, pulling her back against him. His arm locked around her waist, steadying her as his dagger flashed, carving through one of the creature's limbs. Black ichor sprayed, sizzling as it hit the floor.
"Hold it steady!" he barked.
Her magic tightened, shadows binding tighter despite the strain. She could feel the creature fighting her, clawing at her mind, trying to tear into the deepest parts of her power. Her breath caught, her knees buckling—
"Breathe," Elijah's voice cut through the chaos, low and steady against her ear. "I've got you. Just breathe."
His words anchored her. She gasped and pulled harder, shadows constricting like a vice. Elijah surged forward, his blade plunging into the creature's chest. With a shriek, it exploded into ash.
Silence fell, broken only by their ragged breathing.
Seraphina realized she was still pressed against Elijah, her back to his chest, his arm still wrapped tightly around her waist. His breath was hot against her neck, far too close.
"You can let go now," she whispered, though her voice betrayed a tremor.
He didn't move for a heartbeat too long. Then, slowly, his arm loosened, though his hand brushed against her hip as he pulled away. The touch seared through the layers of her clothing, leaving her skin tingling.
Their eyes met.
For one dangerous moment, the storm, the school, the creatures — it all disappeared. There was only him, only her, only the fire between them that neither dared name.
Elijah's hand lifted again, almost of its own accord, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. His thumb lingered near her lips, and she felt her breath hitch.
"Seraphina…" His voice was a whisper, raw with something unspoken.
She should have stepped back. She didn't.
Instead, she leaned closer, the distance between them shrinking until—
The floor creaked.
They both jerked apart, shadows swirling defensively around her, Elijah's dagger snapping back into his hand.
But it wasn't another creature. It was Darian, stepping from the shadows, his green eyes sharp and calculating.
"Well," Darian drawled, his smirk cutting like a blade. "Isn't this cozy?"
Seraphina's stomach dropped.
The confrontation with Darian exploded into bitter words — accusations, half-truths, threats disguised as warnings. But beneath it all, the fragile tension between her and Elijah burned brighter, hotter, a fire that had only just begun to ignite.
When Darian finally left, his parting smirk still stinging, Seraphina and Elijah stood in silence once more. Neither spoke of what almost happened, of the kiss that lingered unkissed between them.
But as they walked back through the storm, his hand brushed against hers, just for a moment.
And this time, neither pulled away.