Revlis sat alone in her office, the soft scratching of her quill interrupted by the splatter of ink across the page. She tapped the quill absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the clock resting on the corner of her desk. Its ticking seemed louder than usual, like an impatient drum echoing through her thoughts.
Her brows drew together in frustration.
First of all, Iuhence Hazelrink had been a menace back at the Halcyon Tower. A relentless bully who had made her life, and the lives of other mages like her—utterly miserable. Second, he despised anyone without a pure magical lineage, especially those like her, born with no ties to any known bloodline. His family, obsessed with blood purity, had raised him to look down on anyone deemed lesser.
And third, most importantly, she hated him.
And he hated her back.
"You've been staring at that clock for a solid hour," a voice remarked.
Revlis blinked and looked up, finally breaking away from her thoughts. Standing by the bookshelf, arms loosely crossed, was her old friend, Hecate Acheflow Harfetehsallow.
A Purosangue, yes, but never one to flaunt it. Hecate had been her closest friend since their first year at the Tower, a brilliant mage in her own right and one of the few purebloods who had never judged Revlis for her Vulgus origins or her hybrid status.
"You won't believe who I saw this morning," Revlis muttered with disbelief.
Hecate raised a brow, intrigued. "Go on."
Revlis leaned forward, whispering harshly as if even the walls might eavesdrop. "I saw Iuhence Hazelrink. Hazelrink, Hecate! I can't believe it!"
Hecate brushed a strand of her cream-colored hair behind her ear, her blue eyes drifting toward the ceiling with a roll, as though the topic bored her already.
"I heard he returned from Romania. What of it?"
Revlis leaned forward, her voice rising slightly. "I saw him yesterday at a café. In the mortal world, no less! He hates Vulgus-borns!"
Hecate, unfazed, reached over to the nearest shelf, pulled out a book, and casually flipped it open in her lap. "Didn't you once say that the war changed people? That we were too young to experience it, and that it left marks on all of us… him included?"
Revlis let out a sharp scoff, leaning back into her chair with a loud exhale.
"Besides," Hecate continued, not looking up, "Zelva said he's grown to be extremely attractive. Apparently, he's considered one of the finest bachelors of our time. Women line up just to be in his presence. And, this may interest you, but Zelva claimed he was very respectful when they last spoke. He even apologized for what he did to her back at the Halcyon Tower."
Revlis gave a sharp laugh, nearly a scoff. "Pfft. Hazelrink? He nearly killed her before."
"Revlis," Hecate said flatly, her eyes finally lifting from the pages to give her friend a pointed look.
"You can't change my mind, Hecate," Revlis snapped, arms crossing tightly. "He's worse than any creatures I fought during the war… and I faced plenty."
There was a long pause between them, filled only by the ticking of the enchanted clock and the faint hum of magical wards vibrating against the glass-paneled window.
Hecate sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "I'm not saying you have to forgive him, Rev. I just think… maybe people do change. Maybe he is trying."
Revlis didn't answer. Her eyes drifted back to the parchment, ink still blotched from her earlier distraction. She picked up her glasses and set them beside her again.
"He gave these back to me," she murmured after a beat, almost as if she hated admitting it.
"Oh?" Hecate's brow lifted.
"I left them in the café. He followed me out. Handed them back without a word. Just… looked at me."
"And?"
Revlis stared ahead, voice low. "And I didn't know what to say. Because for the first time… he didn't look like the Hazelrink I remembered. He looked—"
"Guilty?"
"No. Worse," she said bitterly. "Like he pitied me."
Hecate snapped her book shut with a soft thud and crossed the room, placing it on Revlis's desk.
"He recognized you?" she asked, brow lifting with mild curiosity.
Revlis nodded stiffly. "He did call my name."
"Well then," Hecate said, brushing a strand of hair back with a light flick of her fingers, "I suppose he truly is making an effort. Miracles do happen after all."
She reached for her sling bag and slung it across her shoulder. At the door, she paused and glanced back at Revlis with a knowing look.
"You ought to try as well," she added lightly. "Resentment is so last century."
Revlis blinked. "You're going?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Hecate replied with a sigh, as if she were being asked to tidy up after a reckless younger sibling. "I need to retrieve Theresia. She's been arrested again. This time by the Imperialis. She's currently being held at the Insurgent Division."
Revlis stared. "You're kidding."
"I wish I were," Hecate said dryly, already turning to leave. "She sent a pigeon about an hour ago. I knew I came here for something beyond moral support and your pitiful grievances."
With a slight wave of her hand, Hecate stepped out of the office without waiting for a reply.
Revlis rolled her eyes. Her gaze dropped to the book Hecate had left behind. Curious, she picked it up, and her mouth flattened into a grim line as she read the title.
"A Guide to Welcoming Old Enemies and Finding Peace."
Her jaw clenched. She let out a breath that was half a sigh, half a scoff.
"That woman… really knows how to push me."
Work had been relentless lately. Revlis found herself buried in documents, reports, and correspondence that never seemed to end. On top of that, Quill's Gazette had taken a keen interest in disrupting her mornings. Without fail, a fresh copy would arrive at her desk each day. Headline sprawled in ink; Hazelrink Spotted In Front of Therese Maison, Hazelrink Speaking To Minister's Niece, or perhaps they could have just made a headline; Hazelrink Breathes, the Magical World Reacts.
It was absurd. It felt as though his every move was being recorded. She often wondered if he ever got a moment's peace—or perhaps he enjoyed the attention.
Even though his family had once aligned themselves with the Cleric during the war, Iuhence Hazelrink was never truly treated as an enemy. Influence protected him. Wealth shielded him. And worse—he had played both sides. While his family swore loyalty to the Cleric, Iuhence had secretly acted as a liaison to Luschariel, feeding him information under a concealed agreement.
It didn't matter to Revlis. She still hated him.
Back at the Halcyon Tower, he had made her life a storm of torment. Perfect grades. Perfect speech. Perfect posture. He was brilliant—yes. But he knew it. And his arrogance had always led him to believe he stood above others. Especially her.
Obviously, they both fought for first place when it came to academics. And somehow, despite her sleepless nights, they always ended up on the same damn spot—the first spot.
A knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts.
Her eyes flicked toward it, and she quickly straightened her posture, brushing invisible creases from her coat.
"Come in," she called.
The door opened, and a snake made entirely of smoke slithered into the room, hovering midair. It curled itself into a ball, then burst into a silent puff of dark mist in front of her.
Revlis rolled her eyes. Of course, it was Luschariel.
Muttering under her breath, she gathered the documents from her desk, tucked them under her arm, and stepped onto the floating platform just outside her office. The wind brushed her coat gently as she glided toward the main office.
She pushed open the door to the Eldritch's office.
"I told you to stop sending—"
Her voice caught as she froze mid-step.
Hazelrink.
He was standing near the bookshelves, a thick book resting in one hand, flipping a page with the other. He looked up at her voice, equally surprised.
For a moment, neither spoke.
His grey eyes lit up when they met hers so casually, as though they'd last seen each other yesterday. She straightened immediately, but her breath caught, as though the air had been knocked from her lungs.
Old memories surged like wildfire—sparring matches, bitter insults, forced group tasks, and the silence of the war corridors. She inhaled sharply to suppress the emotion rising to her throat.
He was still unfairly composed. Taller than she remembered.
"Good day," she said, keeping her tone level. "Have you seen the Eldritch?"
Hazelrink raised a brow, his voice as calm and even as she remembered. "He went to the Nefarious Division. He said he'll be back shortly."
She nodded stiffly. "Right."
There was a pause. Neither of them moved. The silence settled, tense and oddly familiar.
Revlis wanted to leave almost immediately. Damn it.
She placed the documents down with a quiet thud, flipping through the topmost pages. They hadn't been touched since she left them here this morning. Her eyes twitched. Did Luschariel not do a single thing today?
With a resigned sigh, she dropped onto the chair and began reading through the documents herself. The silence was a blessing—until it wasn't.
Some of the papers didn't meet the proper standard, so she pushed them aside, her pen scratching away signatures on the ones that passed.
"You sign them yourself?"
She didn't bother looking up, but she could hear the soft creak of leather as he made himself comfortable in the armchair opposite her desk.
"When Luschariel's busy, I sign them. I know his signature. He knows I do this sometimes." She kept her voice composed. "He'll thank me for handling his work before the deadline eats him alive."
A beat.
"You can copy his signature?"
She glanced up. "Perfectly."
He let out a short scoff. "So, you're a cheat."
Her hand stopped mid-stroke. The line she had been writing cut off with a sharp flick. Her lips parted slightly, and she raised her gaze to him.
"I prefer the term efficient," she said coldly. "But I suppose someone who used to copy answers off the back of his exam sheet wouldn't understand the difference."
Hazelrink leaned back, his smirk barely hidden behind the cover of his hand.
"You still remember that?"
She gave him a look. "Unfortunately, I remember everything."
"That's unfortunate," he said, voice lined with feigned sympathy. "But it was one time, wasn't it? Besides, you had the top spot in our examination results after I was caught."
Revlis raised a brow, eyes cool. "You were pitiful."
His lips curled into a sarcastic smile. "At least you could have finally experienced being the only one on top."
She set her pen down, laced her fingers together, and gave him the kind of stare that could wilt flowers.
"And yet somehow," she said evenly, "even with your absence, I still had to work twice as hard to erase the stain of being compared to you."
He let out a quiet laugh. "You're still dramatic, I see."
"And you're still infuriatingly self-assured."
Hazelrink tilted his head slightly, almost pleased. "Is that your way of saying you missed me?"
"If I missed anything, it was the silence that came with your suspension."
He rolled his eyes with exaggerated sarcasm just as the door creaked open. Luschariel stepped inside, pausing mid-step when he saw them together.
"Ah, so you've already seen each other. Good day, Revlis. Oh, you're signing the documents? I appreciate it."
Revlis rose from the chair, brushing down her coat before tilting her head slightly. "Only for a while. You may continue with the rest."
Luschariel let out a long groan, clearly displeased. "Would it trouble you to be a bit more generous—?"
"No."
He sighed and slumped forward, lowering himself to sit at the edge of the desk.
"So, what did you call me here for?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
Luschariel retrieved his fountain pen from the desk, glancing at her briefly before shifting his gaze to Hazelrink, who remained seated on the armchair, appearing unbothered and thoroughly uninterested.
"Right. About that," he said, tapping the pen against his chin. "I wanted you to find a Division that could take Hazelrink in."
She raised an eyebrow. "And why should I handle that? He's free to apply to any Division himself."
Hazelrink cut in smoothly, his tone laced with amusement. "The issue is, I'm too exceptional across all fields that I require a direct recommendation from your Sanctum."
Revlis clenched her jaw. That smug expression on his face—she had to resist the urge to wipe it off with a slap.
"That smirk on your face," Revlis said, voice clipped, "is enough reason for me not to recommend you at all."
Hazelrink leaned back in the chair, utterly unbothered. "Yet you will."
She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you sound so sure?"
"Because you're not petty enough to let personal feelings get in the way," he said, lifting a brow mockingly. "will you?"
Revlis turned to Luschariel with a tight-lipped smile. "He's insufferable. I'm not dealing with this."
"Please," Luschariel pleaded mildly, already rubbing his temples. "Just pick a Division that won't burn down if he breathes near it."
Hazelrink stretched his arms lazily. "I'd rather not be put somewhere I'll die of boredom."
"Then maybe a cell?"
"Tempting," he said, eyes gleaming with mischief, "if you're the one locking it."
Luschariel blinked. "Right. I'm ignoring that."
Revlis finally exhaled sharply and grabbed a folder from the desk. "Fine. He can be placed in the Investigative Subdivision. They're short on people and love a know-it-all."
Hazelrink grinned. "So you do think I'm useful."
"I think you're annoying. But annoying with a decent record."
"Charmed."
She turned to Luschariel. "If he dies, I'm not responsible."
"I never said you would be," Luschariel mumbled, already regretting this arrangement.
Revlis could hardly believe it. She didn't want to see that man's face again. At least not anytime soon. Letting out a weary sigh, she arrived at her flat, unfastened her heels, and stepped inside. The space was almost cramped, but she had chosen it. It was close to the Sanctum, which meant she didn't have to use magic to commute. That alone made it worth the limited space.
She sighed again as she moved further inside, her thoughts growing heavier. Her parents had died during the war. Both were vulgus-born, ordinary citizens with no significant ties to magic.
Their deaths had been her fault. When they sought shelter in her home, she had forgotten to remove their traces. That mistake led the Sentinels straight to them, creatures under the Cleric during the war. They were gone before she could even attempt a rescue.
It was something she would carry with her forever, a guilt that did not fade.
She was not alone in the flat. Kcalb also lived there. He was a boy she had encountered during a joint mission between the Magus Division, the Warlock Division, and the Alchemist Division, an assignment at Halcyon Tower that had changed everything.
The Halcyon Tower housed three student Divisions: the Magus Division for females, the Warlock Division for males, and the Alchemy Division, reserved for particularly skilled mages and warlocks focused on the art of creation.
Kcalb was now in his fifth year at the Tower. He had grown considerably over the years. He was also, quite noticeably, close to Hazelrink. Every holiday, without fail, he would ask about him.
Because they both saved Kcalb before.
Revlis moved quietly into the kitchen, tying her hair back with a lazy twist and rolling up the sleeves of her blouse. She wasn't particularly skilled at cooking, but she found some comfort in the simple motions. Washing vegetables, boiling water, stirring a modest stew over low flame.
When the food was ready, she sat at the small dining table and ate alone, the soft ticking of the wall clock accompanying her in place of conversation.
Once finished, she cleaned the dishes and moved to the living room, where a stack of books waited. Her fingers brushed over the spines until she found the one she hadn't finished, boring to most, but oddly soothing to her. If she hadn't taken the role of Secretary of the Eldritch, she imagined she'd spend her days holed up in some forgotten archive, happily buried in dusty pages.
She curled up on the couch and began to read. But her eyes kept drifting to the side, where a folded copy of The Quill's Gazette peeked from the table.
"No," she muttered to herself, forcing her eyes back to the page. "Ignore it."
It didn't work.
With a sigh, she snapped her book shut and snatched the paper. Her brows furrowed the moment she caught the headline.
"Headline… Hazelrink, the finest bachelor in the magical world, spotted in the Solenyx Sanctum? Seriously?"
She scoffed, her voice dry with disbelief. The moving image above the article captured him mid-conversation with a man in his fifties, one of the known healers from the Sanare Division, if memory serves. Fedele Taegan Gomez was his name. She stared for a moment, then gave a half-shrug and tossed the paper back onto the table.
Her evening ended with a cup of black tea, barely sweetened, and a long stare out the window at the flickering city lights.
"Finest bachelor in town," she muttered with a dry chuckle. "They clearly haven't met his ego."