The Arcane Aurora Academy uniform was a masterpiece of imposing elegance. A long, tailored coat of deepest black, reminiscent of a starless night sky, was adorned with sharp, blood-red labels on the collar and cuffs. The fabric was imbued with faint protective enchantments, a whisper of power that Yuzar's Void-Forged body instinctively nullified, leaving it feeling like simple, high-quality cloth against his skin.
Dressed and ready, he left the Blackthorne quarters. The transformation was, once again, startling. The severe black and red accentuated his pale, flawless skin and the intense violet of his eyes. His jet-black hair seemed to merge with the coat, making his gaze the sole, captivating focus of his appearance.
As he walked the grand hallways towards the elemental theory lecture hall, a hushed silence followed by frantic whispering trailed in his wake.
"...is that the one from the trials?" "The one Matriarch Natasha kissed?!" "By the elements,he's even more handsome up close…" "I heard he shattered a earth-mage's fist without casting a spell…"
He ignored it all. The whispers were meaningless noise, the blushes of the female students were irrelevant data points. His mind was a fortress, its gates sealed shut.
He entered the large, amphitheater-style classroom and, without hesitation, moved to the very back row, claiming a seat in the corner. It offered a strategic vantage point to observe everyone without being the immediate center of attention. He sat perfectly still, his posture erect, waiting for the lecture to begin, a statue of calm indifference.
He did not hear the soft footsteps approaching. He did not sense the shift in the air, the subtle magic she used to mask her presence—a trick undoubtedly taught by her mother.
It was only when she sat down in the seat directly beside him that he registered her. His head turned a fraction, his violet eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.
Mia.
She was wearing the same academy uniform, though on her it looked less severe and more like a costume. Her golden twin tails were perfectly arranged, and her emerald eyes were fixed forward, a faint, stubborn blush on her cheeks. She pointedly did not look at him, acting as if her choice of seat was the most natural thing in the world.
Yuzar's analytical mind whirred. How? His senses, honed by the Black Dragon, were preternaturally sharp. He should have sensed her approach. Natasha had clearly taught her daughter advanced stealth techniques. This was a test. A provocation. Or something else entirely. He said nothing, turning his gaze back to the front of the empty classroom.
Unbeknownst to them, from her seat near the middle of the hall, Selene watched. Her blood ran cold, then hot.
She had been stealing glances at Yuzar since he entered, her heart a tangled knot of regret and a possessive, burning need she couldn't explain. Seeing him, so devastatingly handsome and cold, sent pangs of the old warmth mixed with fresh agony.
And then she sat next to him. The Blackthorne heiress. That golden-haired girl who had no right to be near him.
Selene's hands clenched under the desk. She knew his trauma intimately. She had been there. She knew the deep, festering wound left by his mother's abandonment—a rejection so absolute it made him flinch from casual touch, never mind the proximity of another woman. He never let anyone sit that close. He always needed an escape route, a buffer.
Yet, there he was. Letting that girl invade his space. Letting her sit beside him as if it were nothing.
The image of Natasha kissing him in the arena flashed in her mind, vivid and painful. She stole his first kiss, Selene thought, the jealousy a physical ache in her chest. He should be mine. I was the one who was there for him. I was the one who held him when he cried. That… that should have been my right!
She wanted to march up there and pull the golden-haired girl out of the seat. She wanted to scream that she didn't understand him, that she didn't know the broken boy he used to be.
Yuzar felt the weight of a intense gaze, sharp and familiar. His eyes, without moving his head, flickered towards the source. He saw Selene, her expression a tumultuous storm of anger, jealousy, and pain. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.
A memory, ice-cold and sharp: "I'm sorry. But it's true. You're weak."
The vault within his soul remained sealed. There was no anger, no pain. Only a profound and absolute indifference. He held her gaze for a moment longer, then looked away as if she were a stranger, a piece of the furniture, utterly beneath his notice. He focused instead on the empty lecturer's podium, dismissing her from his world completely.
The act was a dagger through Selene's heart. His indifference was far worse than his hatred. She looked away, her face pale, the heat of her jealousy doused by the cold reality of his dismissal.
Meanwhile, Mia, who had seen the entire silent exchange from the corner of her eye, allowed a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk to touch her lips. The game at Arcane Aurora was far more interesting than she had anticipated.