The cold night air wrapped around Blackthorn Academy like a shroud, the towers casting long shadows under the crescent moon. Selene stood at the edge of the training grounds, arms wrapped around herself, the frost-bitten wind biting through her cloak. The echo of Lord Aric's voice still haunted her ears—Power demands a price.
She tilted her face toward the sky. A pale silver mist swirled above the academy's spires, the stars barely visible behind a curtain of clouds. She couldn't sleep—not with the way Aurelian's words clung to her skin like a bruise.
Allies are fickle. Be careful who you choose.
"You're distracted," came a low voice behind her.
Selene didn't need to turn to know it was Matthew. His presence was distinct—quiet, steady, like a blade kept sheathed but never far from reach. She glanced sideways, finding him watching her, his dark coat rustling slightly in the wind.
"That's dangerous," he added.
She gave a short laugh, one without humor. "Everything here is dangerous."
Matthew stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "The trials begin in three days. You can't afford to be caught off guard."
"I'm not," she said flatly.
He didn't press her. For a moment, the only sounds between them were the wind sweeping through the trees and the faint rustle of wings from the nightwatch gargoyles high above.
But Selene could feel it—the unspoken weight between them. It wasn't just about the trials or even Aurelian. It was about trust. About whatever fragile thing had begun to form between them in the quiet moments during their magic lessons, in the way he'd silently stood beside her when no one else had.
"You don't trust him," she said finally, eyes fixed on the moon.
Matthew's jaw tightened. "No. I don't trust Vex. He's not just dangerous—he's calculated. Charming enough to lure, smart enough to kill without lifting a blade."
"I know that."
"Then why do you keep circling him?"
"Because he knows things," she said. "Things about the council. About my family. About me."
Matthew exhaled sharply, turning away as if the words physically struck him. "So that's it then. You'll risk everything for scraps of truth?"
Selene took a step toward him. "You think I want to? That I enjoy walking on a knife's edge every day? I didn't choose this."
"No," he said, voice quieter. "But you are choosing who you become."
His words lingered, but before Selene could answer, the sky cracked.
A ripple of magic surged across the horizon, the academy wards flickering like a dying heartbeat. Selene's breath caught. From the western tower came a dull roar—followed by the unmistakable scent of smoke.
Flames shot skyward a moment later, illuminating the night in hues of orange and red.
Matthew's head snapped up. "The archives," he muttered.
Selene didn't hesitate. "We need to go. Now."
They ran—through the gravel courtyard, past students pouring from the dormitories, their expressions a mix of awe and terror. Professors shouted commands, but the chaos drowned them out. The fire roared louder, greedy and fast, eating its way up the west wing like a living beast.
The west tower was ancient, a part of Blackthorn few were allowed to enter. It held knowledge long buried—forbidden magic, sealed records. Selene's heart pounded as they neared it. If someone had set this fire, it wasn't random.
"Someone's trying to erase something," she gasped.
Matthew reached for her arm, steadying her as they came to a halt outside the burning door. "Or send a message."
Flames licked the frame, and the heat forced them back. Selene's instincts screamed—go in, find it, whatever it was. But the door was caving in, the ceiling above groaning with the threat of collapse.
From the smoke, a figure emerged—staggering, coughing, but unmistakable.
"Aurelian!" Selene called.
He looked up, ash coating his face and hair, eyes wild but still holding that calculating gleam. "Raventhorn," he rasped, dragging a heavy leather tome clutched to his chest.
Matthew moved forward, but Selene stopped him with a hand. "Let me," she said, and stepped into the smoke.
She reached Aurelian just as he dropped to one knee. Blood stained his sleeve, and the book was half-burnt. "You should've stayed out," he muttered, offering her a half-smile. "Always rushing into danger."
"What the hell were you doing in there?"
"Saving what I could," he coughed. "There were truths in there that someone doesn't want you to see."
Matthew appeared beside them, helping Selene lift Aurelian to his feet. "He's not hurt bad," he said tightly. "Just drained."
They made their way back to the courtyard, where students gathered like moths to flame, wide-eyed and whispering. The professors began erecting magical barriers to contain the fire. Aurelian leaned against a column, eyes on Selene.
"I'll give you this book," he said quietly, "but it'll cost you."
Matthew's hand clenched at his side. "She owes you nothing."
"Don't speak for her," Aurelian said with a grin. "You might be surprised what she's willing to trade for truth."
Selene took the book, eyes never leaving his. "I trade nothing tonight. But I'll read it. And if you're lying—"
"I never lie," he said. "I just choose which truths to share."
As the flames died and the academy buzzed with whispers of sabotage, Selene knew something had changed. The trials were no longer just tests of skill. They were a battlefield.
And she was no longer just a student.