Returning to Virel Academy was more awkward than anyone expected.
Not because of the ash still clinging to their uniforms.
Not even because of the Stellar Core fragment now glowing in the Hall of Honor.
But because no one knew how to act around Aria and Irish anymore.
They'd come back as rivals.
But something had shifted.
And though neither would admit it, everyone noticed.
"Did you see how Irish dimmed her flames the moment Aria walked into the dining hall?" a Pyra girl whispered.
"And how Aria dropped her glass when Irish laughed with Kael?" a Thalassa student replied.
But it was Liam who shattered the fragile balance.
Liam was from Terra—tall, quiet, with hands that coaxed flowers to bloom with a single touch.
And, unfortunately for everyone, he liked Irish.
He'd shown it in small ways:
Leaving fresh fruit on her desk.
Covering her during duels when her fire spiraled out of control.
Even taking a burn on his arm to save her notes during the Ashen Realm storm.
But that day, after Elemental Strategy class, he made it official.
"Irish," he said, stopping her in the Pyra Wing corridor. "I need to tell you something."
She turned, impatient.
"If it's about the group assignment, I already finished it."
"It's not that." Liam took a breath. "It's… I like you. A lot. Since the day you arrived. And I need to know… could you ever feel something for me?"
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
Behind a Thalassa column, Aria pretended to read a scroll.
But her fingers were crushing the parchment.
Irish stared at Liam. Not with warmth. Not with interest.
With annoyance.
"Liam, no."
"Why not?" he pressed, voice gentle. "I know you're tough, but you're not alone. I could—"
"I'm not alone," Irish cut in, sharper than she meant to. "And I don't need anyone to 'save' me from anything."
"I don't want to save you. I just want to be with you."
"Well, you can't." Irish stepped back. "I'm not interested in guys. Never have been."
Liam paled.
"Oh."
"Yeah. 'Oh.'" Irish crossed her arms. "So please don't say that to me again."
She turned and walked away, heart pounding harder than usual.
Not because of Liam.
But because, as she passed the column, she saw Aria's eyes.
And in them, there was no mockery.
There was something worse: indifference.
That night, in the dining hall, Mira couldn't hold back.
"You really told Liam you're not into guys?"
"It's the truth," Irish muttered, stabbing her food with her fork.
"So… you like girls?"
Irish choked.
"That's none of your business!"
"Of course it isn't," Mira said, grinning. "But Aria looked… relieved when you said it."
"Aria was there?" Irish asked too quickly.
"Oh, you didn't know?" Mira feigned surprise. "She was right behind that column. I saw her shoulders relax."
"She wasn't listening to me."
"Sure she wasn't. Just like you didn't stare at her all through dinner."
Irish clenched her jaw.
"Shut up, Mira."
"I'm just saying—if you hate Aria so much… why do you care so much what she thinks of you?"
Irish didn't answer.
But that night, while training alone in the courtyard, she let her flames burn red.
Furious.
Painful.
As if trying to burn something she couldn't reach.
Across campus, Aria sat in the library, reviewing runes from the Mirror Realm—their next trial.
Lien sat across from her.
"I heard about Liam."
"I don't care," Aria said, not looking up.
"But you did care that Irish told him she's not into guys."
Aria froze, her quill snapping in her hand.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"Of course it doesn't. Just like it doesn't mean anything that you've been reading the same paragraph for twenty minutes."
Aria slammed the book shut.
"Irish can do whatever she wants. With whoever she wants."
"Then why today, when Kael offered to walk her back to Pyra Wing, did you grip your water glass so hard it cracked?"
Aria stayed silent.
But that night, as she passed the training courtyard, she saw Irish's red flames.
And for the first time, she didn't feel rivalry.
She felt jealousy.
And that angered her more than any duel ever had.
The next day, in Advanced Combat, Professor Orin announced the new pairing.
"Aria… versus Irish."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Both stood at once.
They locked eyes.
Not with their usual disdain.
With something sharper. More dangerous.
"Ready," Orin said.
"Always," Aria replied.
"Never," Irish shot back.
The match began.
Red fire against icy water.
Harder strikes. Faster movements.
This wasn't a duel. It was a fight.
At one point, Irish sent a fireball that grazed Aria's cheek.
Aria retaliated with a whip of water that slammed Irish to the ground.
Both were panting.
Both bruised.
Both furious.
"Was that because of Liam?" Irish asked, pushing herself up.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Aria said, voice trembling.
"You're lying. You were happy when I said I'm not into guys."
"I wasn't happy!" Aria snapped, louder than she intended. "I don't care who you date!"
Silence.
The entire room held its breath.
Irish stared at her.
"Then why are you fighting like you hate me for not choosing someone else?"
Aria had no answer.
Because the truth was worse than hatred.
And neither of them was ready to say it.
The professor called the match.
"Poor control. Both of you."
"Of course," Irish said, wiping blood from her lip. "How could it not be, when I'm stuck fighting someone who hates what she can't have?"
Aria met her gaze, eyes blazing—not with tears, but with fury… and something deeper.
"And you fight like you're afraid someone might finally see you for who you really are."
They turned their backs.
But that night, neither could sleep.
Because for the first time,
their insults had sounded too much like truths.