Arven woke with a sharp inhale, the remnants of uneasy dreams dissolving into the dim light of his dorm room. His head throbbed faintly, but his body moved out of habit. He washed his face, straightened his uniform, and tightened the bandages that concealed the mark on his arm. Even through the cloth, he felt a faint, persistent warmth—the creature within never fully sleeping.
He finally opened the door.
And stopped.
Arelia stood in the hallway.
Motionless. Arms crossed. Her presence sharp enough to cut through the morning silence. Even blindfolded, she turned her head toward him with the precision of someone who saw far more than sight alone provided.
"You took long," she said.
Arven blinked. "I didn't know you were—"
"Well, I'm here."
She turned away. "Let's go."
Not a suggestion. A command forged in habit.
Arven followed her down the stairs, more out of instinct than choice. Her presence hovered at the edge of his skin—protective, but intense, like standing beside a blade drawn for battle.
"Twenty minutes," she said, not looking at him. "That's how long I waited."
"You didn't have to."
"If you keep exposing yourself like ontem, alguém precisa compensar."
Her voice was low. "Você sumiu depois da confusão no baile. E não finja que ninguém percebeu."
Arven clenched his jaw. "I handled it."
"Handled?" She almost laughed. "If that was you handling it, então eu preciso redobrar minha vigilância."
He exhaled, frustrated. "You're not my bodyguard."
Arelia stopped abruptly.
Turned her head just enough for him to feel the weight of her stare through the blindfold.
"No," she said. "But someone has to keep you alive."
Before he could respond, she resumed walking—fast, steady, unyielding. Arven followed, irritation mixing with a strange comfort he refused to acknowledge.
They exited the dorm building. Morning sunlight stretched across the paved path toward the Academy. Arelia walked close beside him, every step purposeful, tension clinging to her like a second skin.
Then—
"ARVEN!"
Lyra waved from ahead, Kael beside her. Their pace slowed when they noticed Arelia walking with him.
Their expressions shifted instantly.
Lyra smirked. "Well, well. Good morning to both of you."
Kael tilted his head. "Since when do you walk around with someone from the third year?"
Lyra leaned in closer, squinting. "Actually—since when do you even know someone from the third year?"
Arven opened his mouth, but Lyra hit him with the second question before he could answer:
"Also—where were you yesterday? You vanished with Elara. We thought you were dead, kidnapped, or both."
Arven scratched his neck. "I just… had to deal with some things after the chaos at the ball."
"What things?" Kael pressed.
Arven looked away. "Complicated ones."
His tone was evasive on purpose. And they both noticed.
Arelia didn't even flinch, but he felt her presence sharpen beside him—ready to shut down any question that went too far.
Lyra crossed her arms. "Fine. Then explain this."
She pointed at Arelia. "Why is the famous Arelia from the third year glued to your side like she owns you?"
Arven opened his mouth—
but Arelia answered first.
"Coincidence."
Lyra almost choked on her own laugh. "Coincidence? You two look like you've been walking together for months."
Arven lifted both hands. "We just met on the way here. Nothing special."
"Hmmm."
Kael did not believe him.
At all.
They kept walking, tension bouncing between curiosity and suspicion—until a student sprinted toward them, panting.
"Arven! Arven Shisui?"
Arven tensed. "Yes?"
"The headmaster wants to see you. Immediately."
Lyra and Kael exchanged worried glances.
Arelia stepped forward, her voice a blade.
"He doesn't go alone."
The student swallowed. "I—I'm not sure if—"
"He. Doesn't. Go. Alone."
Each word landed heavy and absolute.
The boy stiffened. "R-right. She can come."
Arven sighed. "Arelia, you don't need to—"
"I do," she said flatly. "And I will."
There was no room for debate.
They followed the student through the Academy's inner corridors until they reached a large wooden door marked with the headmaster's crest.
Arelia stopped next to Arven.
"Whatever this is," she said quietly, "I'm going in with you."
Arven looked at her.
Despite her cold tone, the protective tension in her stance told another story—one she'd never admit out loud.
He nodded.
"Okay. Let's go."
Reluctant.
Resolved.
He knocked on the door.
The headmaster's voice responded from inside:
"Enter."
And the chapter ends there—on the edge of what waits for Arven inside.