The lecture hall gleamed like a blade. Cold stone, darker than onyx, stretched up in wide crescents of tiered seats. The kind of place built to remind you that even among nobles, someone would always sit higher than you.
Blair sat near the lower rows, not hidden — just ignored. Her uniform was too pristine, the sigil of her House too bright against her throat. It made her stand out in the worst way.
Second day, and already the rumors swirled like crows.
A voice sliced through the quiet, lilting and cruel.
"Careful not to burn yourself, Blair. You're sitting awfully close to royalty."
Blair didn't turn. She knew the voice. Cassia of House Solthorn — flame-touched, flame-blooded, and utterly convinced the world owed her affection because of the fire in her veins.
Cassia's laughter came next, low and poisonous. "I suppose if you can't have magic, you might as well throw yourself at someone who does."
A few others chuckled, eyes flicking between Cassia and the boy stepping down the stairs.
Vain.
He didn't glance at Cassia. Didn't even pause. He strode past her like she were no more than dust on the wind and settled into the empty seat beside Blair.
Blair blinked. "Really, Vain?"
He gave her a sideways look, amused. "What? I can't sit beside my fiancée?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it hit like a hammer. Whispers surged across the rows.
"You're joking," Cassia snapped, rising from her seat.
"I wish I was." He leaned back in his chair, lounging like a wolf in the sun. "But until one of our Houses cancels the contract, she's mine. So forgive me for wanting to know who I'm supposed to marry."
His tone was razor-sharp under the lazy smile.
Cassia's eyes flared — literally. Flames danced in her irises, thin veins of orange and red threading through gold.
"You're wasting your time on her."
"No," Vain said, his voice gone cold. "I'm wasting my time on you."
Laughter cracked through the tension — cruel, bright, from the upper tiers.
Cassia's hands twitched. A flicker of fire singed her sleeve before she controlled it, though her jaw was clenched tight.
Blair sat still, spine stiff, face unreadable. She said nothing — not in defense, not in thanks. She didn't need Vain's protection, even if she didn't hate having it just then.
The door groaned open.
Professor Thorne entered. Robes trailing like smoke, eyes like molten glass, too old and too powerful to pretend at kindness.
His gaze swept the room once — and landed on Blair.
"Ah. The Starlight girl."
Whispers turned to ripples of expectation.
Professor Thorne stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Since some of you are so eager to speak, let us begin today's lesson with a demonstration." His smile was thin and sharp. "Miss Blair. Step forward."
Silence spread like frost.
Blair rose, her legs steady, her face calm. Only her heartbeat betrayed her.
Cassia's smirk returned. Vain's expression darkened.
The flames in Cassia's eyes were nothing compared to the quiet pressure building in the room — because no one believed the Starlight girl would survive what was coming next.
Professor Thorne gestured to the rune-etched dais at the center of the hall.
"Up," he said. "Let's see what you're made of, Miss Starlight."
Blair walked, each step heavier than the last. The silence was suffocating. She could feel every stare digging into her skin like hooks.
As she climbed the low stone steps, her breath caught. The runes beneath her boots glimmered faintly — not from her, never from her — but from the residual magic of those who came before.
She stood there, hands at her sides, the too-bright sigil of her disgraced House gleaming at her throat.
Thorne circled her like a vulture. "We'll begin with a standard invocation. Just the basics — if you can manage that."
A flick of his fingers, and a small flame hovered in the air before her. It danced, waiting.
"Focus," Thorne said. "Channel your bloodline. If you have anything in you — even a flicker — now would be the time to prove it."
Blair stared at the flame. Nothing stirred in her chest. Not warmth. Not power. Just a hollowness that ached like an old bruise.
Laughter, muffled at first, rippled from the students behind her.
Cassia's voice again. "Try harder, Starlight. Maybe your magic's just shy — like you."
Blair's lips parted — to speak, to scream, she didn't know — but something else came instead.
A memory.
Her mother's study. Cold and glass-walled. The scent of lilac and iron.
"You are nothing without magic," Lady Elaris had said, fingers digging into Blair's shoulder. "Your brother commands light. Your sister will master shadow. And you? You stain our bloodline."
"I'm trying," Blair had whispered, shame burning her throat.
"Try harder." Her mother's eyes were sharp, her voice colder than the stone beneath her feet. "Because your father has already given up. I won't defend a daughter who can't even spark."
Back in the hall, her breath hitched.
The flame before her flickered — not from her. Only from the breeze created by Thorne's amused sigh.
"Unfortunate," the professor said. "The House of Starlight and Shadows must be proud."
There was a moment — a cruel pause — where Blair thought it was over.
Then Thorne's voice rang out again. "Perhaps magic is too generous. Let's test your reflexes, then."
He flicked his hand.
A blast of kinetic force shot toward her.
Blair barely dodged. It grazed her shoulder, spinning her sideways on the platform. Laughter erupted in waves.
She stumbled, caught herself, straightened. The ache in her chest wasn't from the blow.
Thorne raised his hand again.
This time, she braced — but the pressure was crushing, like gravity had turned against her. Her knees trembled. Her breath was ragged.
"Enough!" someone barked.
Not Vain.
Riziel.
He stood, tall and silent as a shadow pulled from the void. His obsidian eyes were unreadable — but his wings, vast and black as the night sky, unfurled with a hiss of displaced air.
The room stilled.
Even Thorne froze.
Riziel moved to the stage in a blur — no flourish, no word — just presence. He stepped onto the dais beside her, gaze level with Thorne's.
"She can't breathe," he said simply.
"She's fine," Thorne replied, though his voice had lost some of its edge.
Riziel didn't argue. He turned to Blair, and she didn't realize she was shaking until his hand brushed her arm. Not a word passed between them.
His wings rose — slow and silent — and curled around her like a shelter.
Everything went dark.
And then…
Nothing.
Not the stone floor. Not the crowd. Not the cold.
Just shadow.
Then light again — filtered and soft — somewhere far from the hall.
They stood in a small courtyard outside the lecture building, ivy curling up white columns, moonlight pooling on stone. The air was cool and quiet.
Blair gasped. Her hands shook.
"You were going to let him hurt her." Riziel's voice wasn't directed at her.
Blair turned slightly.
Vain stood just inside the archway, jaw clenched.
"I wasn't—" he started, but didn't finish.
He hadn't moved. Not when she needed him.
Riziel's wing shielded her still, but he gave her space now, watching closely.
"You hesitated," Blair said, voice quiet.
"I wanted to," Vain muttered. "I— I just… didn't."
She nodded once. Just once.
But it said everything.
Blair's breath still hadn't evened out.
The courtyard was silent, the world distant under the veil of night. Ivy rustled on the columns, and the stars blinked high above like silent witnesses.
Riziel let his wings lower, feathers folding back with the crisp sound of shifting steel.
"You should have hit him," he said flatly, breaking the quiet.
Blair blinked, throat tight. "What?"
"In the hall. Thorne. You should have hit him." His jaw clenched. "You could have."
She turned, wary. "You don't know me."
"I fought you," Riziel snapped, stepping closer, voice low and hot with restrained anger. "This morning. Ring 2A. You moved like someone who's had their bones broken for training. The way you parried — the sidestep feint — that's not beginner's luck."
Blair flinched. "That was sparring. Not—"
"That was survival," Riziel cut in. "And today, you chose not to survive. You stood there like a lamb and let them tear you apart."
"I didn't want to make it worse—"
"You let them win," he growled, wings flaring slightly.
"I was trying to stay invisible," she hissed, something raw slipping free. "If I show teeth, they'll bury me."
"They'll bury you either way," Riziel said. "You think hiding will save you? Then you don't belong here."
"Enough," Vain said, stepping between them, voice tight. "She doesn't owe you anything."
Riziel gave him a look of cold disdain. "Didn't see you move until it was safe."
Vain's eyes narrowed. "You're not her guardian."
"No," Riziel said, turning from him to Blair. "But unlike you, I don't watch bloodsport and call it education."
Vain laughed — once, bitter. "You're still mad I got the prince's seat."
"And you're still pretending that means power," Riziel shot back.
Tension surged like lightning between them. Wing and flame, shadow and crown.
Blair stepped back, between them both, suddenly too tired for the weight of these legacies.
"I didn't ask either of you to care," she said, voice hoarse. "And I don't need you fighting over how disappointed you are in me."
They looked at her then — really looked — and for a moment, both went still.
Riziel's eyes narrowed. "You're stronger than you act."
"Then let me act how I want," she replied.
He didn't answer. Just gave a stiff nod and turned — vanishing in a whirl of black feathers, swallowed by the dark.
Vain exhaled slowly, watching the shadow vanish.
"I would've stepped in," he muttered.
"But you didn't," Blair said, turning away. "And he did."
Vain didn't argue.
The silence that followed was colder than the stone beneath their feet.
Blair's breath still hadn't evened out.
The courtyard was silent, the world distant under the veil of night. Ivy rustled on the columns, and the stars blinked high above like silent witnesses.
Riziel let his wings lower, feathers folding back with the crisp sound of shifting steel.
"You should have hit him," he said flatly, breaking the quiet.
Blair blinked, throat tight. "What?"
"In the hall. Thorne. You should have hit him." His jaw clenched. "You could have."
She turned, wary. "You don't know me."
"I fought you," Riziel snapped, stepping closer, voice low and hot with restrained anger. "This morning. Ring 2A. You moved like someone who's had their bones broken for training. The way you parried — the sidestep feint — that's not beginner's luck."
Blair flinched. "That was sparring. Not—"
"That was survival," Riziel cut in. "And today, you chose not to survive. You stood there like a lamb and let them tear you apart."
"I didn't want to make it worse—"
"You let them win," he growled, wings flaring slightly.
"I was trying to stay invisible," she hissed, something raw slipping free. "If I show teeth, they'll bury me."
"They'll bury you either way," Riziel said. "You think hiding will save you? Then you don't belong here."
"Enough," Vain said, stepping between them, voice tight. "She doesn't owe you anything."
Riziel gave him a look of cold disdain. "Didn't see you move until it was safe."
Vain's eyes narrowed. "You're not her guardian."
"No," Riziel said, turning from him to Blair. "But unlike you, I don't watch bloodsport and call it education."
Vain laughed — once, bitter. "You're still mad I got the prince's seat."
"And you're still pretending that means power," Riziel shot back.
Tension surged like lightning between them. Wing and flame, shadow and crown.
Blair stepped back, between them both, suddenly too tired for the weight of these legacies.
"I didn't ask either of you to care," she said, voice hoarse. "And I don't need you fighting over how disappointed you are in me."
They looked at her then — really looked — and for a moment, both went still.
Riziel's eyes narrowed. "You're stronger than you act."
"Then let me act how I want," she replied.
He didn't answer. Just gave a stiff nod and turned — vanishing in a whirl of black feathers, swallowed by the dark.
Vain exhaled slowly, watching the shadow vanish.
"I would've stepped in," he muttered.
"But you didn't," Blair said, turning away. "And he did."
Vain didn't argue.
The silence that followed was colder than the stone beneath their feet.