Ren woke to the smell of herbs and polished wood.
A soft ceiling swam into focus above him, lined with hanging charms that tinkled in the breeze from an open window. He sat up slowly, muscles aching as though he'd run for miles. Afternoon light poured across the infirmary bed.
Auri was perched backwards on a chair beside him, chin resting on the top rail. Her silver hair caught the sun, scattering glints across her amber eyes.
"Morning, sleeping beauty," she said. "Or, well… late afternoon."
Ren groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "What happened?"
"You fried a demon and ripped a hole in the Veil," she replied cheerfully. "Ten out of ten for drama, zero for self-preservation."
At the far wall, Seraphine stood with arms folded, expression cool but eyes faintly concerned. "You lost control."
"I didn't even know what I was doing," Ren muttered.
"Exactly." Seraphine's gaze sharpened. "If you keep drawing on that power without grounding, it will claim you."
Auri leaned closer, lips curving in a grin. "Translation: You're lucky you're cute, or she'd have smacked you unconscious."
Seraphine's ears went slightly pink. "That is not what I said."
Ren sighed, sinking back onto the pillow. The whisper from the throne room lingered at the edge of his thoughts, heavy and regal. Mine, it had said. Even now, a faint pulse throbbed behind his ribs, steady as a war drum.
"Headmaster wants you in his office after classes tomorrow," Auri said. "But first… you've been assigned community service."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Community service?"
"Standard punishment for making the ward team panic," Auri explained. "You're to help the stables master with beast care until further notice."
Seraphine added, "It will keep you grounded. And out of trouble."
Ren wasn't sure shoveling after magical animals counted as out of trouble, but arguing seemed pointless.
The next morning he reported to the stables behind the east training grounds. Rows of pens stretched under a wide roof, housing everything from sleek fox spirits to hulking, horned war-beasts. A scent like hay mixed with ozone hung in the air.
The stables master a burly man with a beard streaked silver handed Ren a pitchfork. "You're the new helper? Good. Pens six through ten need clearing. Watch the salamanders; they bite."
Ren sighed and rolled up his sleeves. The beasts eyed him with varying curiosity. A tiny, feathered drake hopped to the edge of its pen and chirped.
He scratched its chin cautiously. Warmth flickered in his chest, subtle but commanding. The drake froze, then lowered its head as if bowing.
Ren blinked. That… wasn't normal.
The sensation faded as quickly as it came, leaving a faint echo of horns and fire. He shook himself and returned to work, careful not to meet any creature's gaze for too long.
By midday, sweat clung to Ren's collar. He dumped the last forkful of straw into a cart and leaned on the handle. Auri strolled in, balancing a tray of drinks.
"Figured you'd need hydration," she said, handing him a bottle. "Also, stables duty is a great look for you."
Ren scowled good-naturedly. "You came just to make fun of me?"
"Maybe." She perched on the fence, swinging her legs. "So, how does it feel? Being the academy's newest gossip headline?"
Ren paused mid-sip. "Headline?"
"Mm-hm. Half the girls think you're secretly a prodigy. The other half say you're cursed and doomed to combust." Her grin widened. "Either way, they're talking."
He groaned. "Fantastic."
Auri leaned closer, eyes gleaming. "Rumor also says you faint if someone gets too close." She slid an inch nearer, testing.
Heat climbed Ren's neck not from the sun. "Seriously?"
"Just testing theories." Her smile turned wicked. "Relax, I'm kidding… mostly."
Seraphine's voice cut across the yard. "Auri."
The fallen angel hopped off the fence as Seraphine approached, blade at her hip. "Training resumes after chores," she informed Ren. "And you may want to change first."
Ren looked down at his straw-flecked clothes. "Yeah, probably."
Training that afternoon was in a shaded clearing. Seraphine ran drills with quiet precision while Auri watched from a rock, tossing pebbles at Ren whenever he lost focus.
"Your stance is sloppy," Seraphine said, adjusting his grip. Her fingers were cool against his wrist. "Anchor through your core. The power answers posture as much as intent."
Ren tried again, channeling just enough warmth to sharpen his senses. The crimson flame stirred but stayed contained this time, wrapping around his muscles like a second skin.
Better.
"Good," Seraphine murmured. "Remember, authority isn't only about destruction. It's control."
Auri clapped mockingly. "Our baby king is learning."
"Not a king," Ren muttered, though part of him bristled at the denial as if something inside resented being dismissed.
That evening, Ren headed back to the dorms, pleasantly sore. Students were gathered near the fountain for what looked like a club recruitment fair. Colorful banners waved, music drifted, and tables offered everything from dueling society sign-ups to potion-brewing lessons.
Auri darted off to harass the alchemy booth. Ren lingered near the edge, scanning stalls.
"Ren-kun!" a voice called.
He turned to see a girl with short brown hair hurrying over. She wore the same uniform but with a green sash. "I'm Kasumi from the Gardening Circle," she said breathlessly. "We're short on hands for tonight's moon-bloom harvest. Could you help?"
"Uh, sure?"
Her smile brightened. "Great! Meet me in the greenhouse after curfew."
Ren blinked as she hurried away. Auri reappeared, eyes narrowing. "Greenhouse after curfew, huh? Careful moon-blooms aren't the only thing that lure prey."
Ren frowned. "Prey?"
"She's sweet," Auri admitted, "but some clubs have… initiations. And some girls like to test rookies."
Ren shook his head, amused. "I'll be fine."
Still, when night fell and he slipped toward the greenhouse, a faint unease curled in his gut.
The greenhouse was warm and fragrant, lit by soft blue lanterns. Rows of silver-petaled flowers glimmered under the glass roof. Kasumi knelt among them, waving him over.
"Thanks for coming," she said, handing him a basket. "We need to pick the blossoms before midnight they're used in charms."
They worked in companionable silence for a while. The moonlight streaming through the glass painted Kasumi's cheeks pale gold.
At one point she brushed a stray leaf from Ren's collar, fingers lingering a heartbeat too long. "You're different from the rumors," she said softly.
Ren looked up, caught off guard by her closeness. "Rumors?"
"That you're dangerous." Her gaze searched his. "Are you?"
Before he could answer, a shiver raced through the air. The lanterns flickered. From somewhere beyond the glass came a low growl.
Kasumi stiffened. "That's… not part of the garden."
A crack appeared in the greenhouse wall, seeping shadow. Ren felt heat surge through him, sharper than before. The whisper from his blood rolled like distant thunder.
Protect. Rule.
Kasumi backed away as a creature forced itself through the crack sleek, dark, eyes like burning coins. It sniffed the air, then fixed on her.
Ren stepped between them instinctively. Crimson light bled from the corners of his vision.
The beast lunged.
Ren's body moved faster than thought. He caught its snout with one hand, flames spiraling from his palm. The thing screeched, twisting, but his grip tightened effortless, commanding.
A faint outline of a crown shimmered above his head.
Kasumi gasped. "Ren…?"
He released the beast with a push. It tumbled back, yelping, before darting through the crack, which sealed behind it.
For a moment only Ren's harsh breathing filled the greenhouse. Then the crown faded, leaving him shaky but unburned.
Kasumi stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're… not just a student, are you?"
Ren swallowed hard, forcing a crooked smile. "Just good with animals."
Somewhere deep inside, the throne-room whisper purred approval.
Back in his room later, Ren sat by the window, moonlight silvering his hands. The academy buzzed quietly in the distance.
He couldn't stay invisible forever. Tasks, rumors, hidden monsters everything kept dragging him toward something larger. And each time, the fire inside grew surer of itself.
The question wasn't if people would notice.
It was whether he'd still be himself when they did.