The stadium was hushed, but not for long.
By the time Lucian stepped out of the sand, the cacophony slapped him across the face—cheers, boos, wild guesses.
"Did you see his eyes? They were glowing."
"No, it was the shadows—moving as if they were alive."
"Rylan never stood a chance. He might have been killed."
Lucian marched through it all without blinking. Every sentence a blade, but none sliced. Not anymore. He had seen worse in the life before, where men spat monster in his face as they genuflected at his feet.
But Seraphine's voice—soft, shaking—that reached him.
"Lucian."
She had pushed herself through the crowd, amber eyes flashing onto him with fury more unyielding than any blade. She caught at his wrist before he vanished down the academy's corridors.
"Stop running away from me." Her voice shattered, aching, weight-borne in a way only he could see. "Those shadows… you nearly killed him.".
Lucian's jaw tightened. He looked down at her, at the girl who had been his only ray of sunshine in a world so darkened by betrayal and blood. He wished to reveal it all. He wished to lie. He did neither.
He merely spoke softly, "If I had wanted him dead, Seraphine, he would be."
Her breathing hitched.
For an instant, neither of them breathed. The corridor narrowed, the distant booming submerging until only they were left, suspended between terror and something much more profound.
But before she could speak another sentence, a brutal voice interrupted.
"Lucian Vale."
Rylan.
Bruised, bloody, but whole, he stood trembling with his sword in his hand, silver eyes blazing with rage. The crowd gasped as he held the blade to Lucian's chest.
"This isn't over," Rylan growled. "You humiliated me in front of the academy. I swear on my honor—I will kill you."
Shadows danced at Lucian's back, angry and famished. His eyes were icy as winter when he looked at Rylan.
"Try.".
And in that single word, was forged the promise of a storm.