Morning at Empire High carried none of the calm it should have. The storm hadn't lifted. Dark clouds still bruised the sky, and the wards shimmered faintly like spider silk pulled taut. Every student felt it. The halls were hushed, laughter rare, eyes darting too often toward the windows as though afraid of what might be watching back.
Seraphina hadn't slept. She lay awake in her narrow bed until dawn, shadows restless under her skin, replaying every heartbeat of the night before.
The weight of Elijah's arm steadying her waist.
The warmth of his breath brushing her temple.
The unbearable nearness, the almost-kiss—
And then Mistress Soren's boots breaking it apart.
Seraphina pressed her palms into her eyes and forced herself upright. Thinking about it too long was dangerous. Dangerous in ways she couldn't afford.
Her shadows curled around her ankles anyway, whispering what she wouldn't admit aloud: that they wanted his fire again.
By mid-morning, Mistress Soren had assembled the senior students in the central hall. Her sharp eyes swept the crowd like a blade.
"The wards falter," she said, voice echoing. "The storm feeds on weakness, and weakness is what it hunts. You will train harder. You will patrol longer. And you will not," her gaze lingered for the briefest instant on Seraphina and Elijah, "let distraction endanger this school."
Heat rose up Seraphina's neck. She didn't have to look at Elijah to feel the weight of his silence beside her.
Soren raised her staff, the runes glowing faintly. "Pairs," she ordered. "Today you train in pairs. Your life will depend on the strength beside you. Choose wisely—or suffer the consequences."
Students shifted uneasily, whispering, pairing off quickly. Seraphina didn't move. She already knew how this would end.
When the murmurs died, Mistress Soren's gaze found her again. "Cole. With Veylor."
Elijah stepped forward without hesitation, his expression unreadable. Seraphina's pulse hammered, but she forced herself to nod, her shadows drawing tight as a cloak around her shoulders.
Of course. Soren would bind them together deliberately. To test them—or to break them.
The training grounds had been transformed into a jagged field of illusions. Spires of black stone jutted upward, shadows moving unnaturally. The air was thick, charged with false malice, crafted to test both reflexes and control.
"Hold the line together," Mistress Soren instructed from the edge, her eyes never leaving them. "If one of you falters, you both fall."
And with that, she sent the illusions forward.
Seraphina reacted instantly, her shadows lashing outward to block the first wave. Elijah's fire burst beside hers, brilliant and scorching, burning through phantoms that shrieked and dissolved. Their powers clashed for a breath—shadow and flame pushing against one another—but then, as though by instinct, they fell into rhythm.
When her shadows ensnared an enemy, his fire seared it out of existence. When his flames drove them back, her shadows wrapped around the gaps, shielding their flanks.
It was seamless, terrifyingly so.
Too seamless.
Seraphina could feel Mistress Soren's eyes like needles in her skin.
As the battle thickened, the illusions pressed harder, more vicious. One broke past their line, lunging for Elijah's blind side.
She didn't think—her shadows snapped forward, wrapping around his arm and yanking him out of harm's way. His body collided with hers, solid, burning-hot, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs.
For a heartbeat, they stood pressed together in the chaos, his fire licking dangerously close to her shadows.
His hand clamped on her waist. "Don't—" His voice was raw, ragged. "Don't pull me like that."
"Then watch your blind side," she shot back, though her voice wavered.
Another illusion attacked, breaking the moment. They tore apart, shadows and flame striking in opposite directions.
The ground scorched, the air turned cold, but together they held.
By the time Mistress Soren ended the exercise, the training field was a wasteland of ash and curling shadow-smoke. Seraphina's chest heaved with exhaustion, her hands trembling from the strain of holding so much darkness. Elijah wasn't much better—sweat glistened along his jaw, his flames guttering low.
But the illusions hadn't broken them. Not once.
Mistress Soren's face was unreadable. She tapped her staff once against the stones, and the illusions dissolved entirely.
"Again," she ordered.
Hours passed like that.
Again. Again. Again.
Every time, Seraphina and Elijah fought side by side. Every time, their powers fused in terrifying harmony. And every time, Soren's sharp eyes cut deeper, searching for something neither of them dared to show.
By dusk, Seraphina's muscles ached and her shadows felt frayed at the edges. Elijah looked carved from stone, his jaw tight, his movements more strained. Still, they didn't falter. They couldn't.
When Mistress Soren finally dismissed them, her tone was flat, but her gaze lingered. "You two are… effective," she said slowly. "But dangerous. Be careful that what binds you does not also destroy you."
The words weren't a warning. They were a threat.
Silence stretched between them as they left the training grounds.
The corridors were nearly empty, the storm outside rattling the windows. Seraphina's shadows curled tightly around her, defensive. Elijah walked beside her, his fire dimmed, but she could feel the storm inside him just as fiercely as her own.
At last, he spoke. "She knows."
Her heart clenched. "Knows what?"
His eyes cut to hers, sharp and piercing. "That this—" his hand twitched slightly between them, not touching, but close enough that the space burned— "isn't normal."
She swallowed hard, shadows flickering with restless energy. "Then we stop. Whatever this is. We stop before—"
"You think we can just stop?" His voice was low, harsh. "That I can turn it off like it's nothing?"
Her chest tightened painfully. "We don't have a choice."
He stopped walking, forcing her to stop too. The corridor was dim, lit only by sputtering torches. His face was shadowed, but his eyes burned.
"You don't get it," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trained my whole life to control everything. To burn only when told. To obey. But with you—" He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration roughening every word. "With you I can't control it. And I don't know if that terrifies me or…"
His words died in the silence.
Seraphina's heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Her shadows curled toward him, unbidden, reaching.
She forced them back. "Then we're both doomed," she whispered.
For a moment, it seemed like he might step closer, like he might shatter the fragile wall between them completely.
But thunder cracked overhead, shaking the stones, and the wards along the corridor flickered visibly.
Elijah's gaze snapped upward. "The wards."
The tension broke, replaced instantly by urgency.
They ran.
The eastern wing was worse than before. Cracks spiderwebbed faintly across the glowing barrier that lined the walls, like ice under too much weight. Energy leaked through, foul and cold, raising goosebumps along Seraphina's arms.
Her shadows hissed, retreating. Elijah's fire flared instinctively, pushing back against the seep of darkness.
"It's spreading," she breathed. "It's not just the Vault anymore."
He grimaced. "If the wards collapse—"
The thought didn't need finishing.
Seraphina pressed her hand to the barrier, shadows weaving desperately into the cracks. "We can hold it," she said, though her voice shook.
Elijah stepped beside her, his palm against the same spot. His fire spilled into the fractures, bright and fierce, intertwining with her shadows.
For a moment, they held it together. Their magic fused, shadow and flame entwined, sealing the cracks with raw force.
The barrier steadied—just barely.
But the effort nearly knocked Seraphina to her knees. Elijah caught her again, steadying her, his arm like iron around her waist.
Their faces were close. Too close. His eyes searched hers, storm-grey and burning, and for a heartbeat the world narrowed to nothing but him.
"Seraphina," he whispered, her name carrying all the things he couldn't say.
Her breath shuddered. Her shadows trembled, desperate. Her lips parted—
A shattering crack split the air.
They both jerked around. At the far end of the corridor, a fissure tore through the ward, black mist spilling into the hall like smoke from a wound.
Elijah's jaw tightened. "This isn't over."
No, Seraphina thought, staring at the spreading darkness. It was only beginning.