The first thing Elior noticed in his new dorm room was the way everything hummed.
The stone walls, the spell-inscribed ceiling, even the desk—everything here was soaked in magic. Not loud, showy magic like the demonstrations in the city square. This was subtler, older. Like the room had a memory of every student who had ever cried or laughed within it.
He traced a fingertip over the etchings on the wooden desk: ancient runes of protection, scratched initials, and one freshly scrawled message in charcoal:
"Welcome to the Tower of Trials. Hope you survive your first week."
Elior blinked.
"Charming," he murmured.
Then the door slammed open behind him.
Kael stood there, wind-tossed and slightly breathless, like he'd just jogged across the entire academy. His hair was a little damp with sweat, cheeks flushed.
"You're late," he said.
"I wasn't told we had anything scheduled—"
"Exactly. You're new. You don't know anything." Kael tossed him a rolled-up parchment. "First-year dueling trials. You're listed."
Elior's heart sank. "Dueling? But I—I specialize in emotional-based conjuration. I don't attack."
Kael tilted his head. "Yeah, I read your file. You're basically a human mood ring."
"That's… not inaccurate," Elior muttered.
Kael grinned. "Don't worry, Flower Boy. I'll show you the ropes."
Elior flinched as another bloom unfurled on his sleeve. A pale yellow daisy, soft and hopeful.
Kael stared at it. "Is that... because of me?"
Elior flushed. "Maybe."
"Is yellow good or bad?"
"It means I'm… cautiously optimistic."
Kael snorted. "Well, try not to sprout a forest when you see me shirtless in training."
Elior turned bright red. His magic trembled inside him like shaken petals.
---
The dueling arena was a carved amphitheater of stone and sky. Dozens of students were already lined up, some spinning fire in their palms, others sharpening daggers made of ice.
Elior shrank behind Kael.
"I'm going to die," he whispered.
"No, you're not." Kael shot him a sideways look. "You're with me."
"Is that supposed to be comforting?"
Kael grinned. "Yes."
They were paired for a training demonstration. Not against each other—thank the stars—but to show how elemental and emotional magic could be used in tandem. The professor, a stern woman with silver eyes and a floating clipboard, explained it like this:
> "The future of magic lies in harmony. Element and emotion. Flame and feeling. Control your instincts, and you control the outcome."
Elior barely heard a word. His heart was thudding too loudly.
As they stepped into the circle, Kael leaned close and whispered, "Breathe. Just feel. Let your magic respond to me."
Elior closed his eyes.
Kael raised his hands.
A spiral of flame danced in a ring around them. The crowd oohed. It was dazzling—graceful, like a waltz of fire.
Elior felt heat, then something else—Kael's emotion. Not just power. But restraint. Concentration. A flicker of pride.
And he responded.
A burst of flowerlight bloomed from his palms—tiny glowing petals that drifted through the flame, unharmed. The two magics mingled midair, fire warming the blossoms, not burning them.
The audience was silent. Then—applause.
Elior opened his eyes, stunned.
Kael looked over at him and said quietly, "You didn't cry."
"I didn't."
"You didn't set anything on fire either. That's my job."
Elior laughed.
And across his collar, a single pink camellia bloomed.
---
Later that night, Kael leaned against the windowsill of Elior's dorm, arms folded, watching the sky.
"You know," he said, "you're weird. But not in a bad way."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Kael smirked. "You should. Most people here are all ego and explosions. But you—you make magic out of feeling things. That's rare."
Elior looked at him for a moment. "And you hide yours so well."
Kael blinked. "What?"
"Your feelings. I don't need a spell to tell you're always tired. Always pretending you're fine."
Kael turned away slightly. "It's none of your business."
"Maybe. But I think you could be powerful and soft. It doesn't have to be one or the other."
For a long moment, there was only the sound of wind rustling the ivy outside the window.
Then Kael said quietly, "Don't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I might believe you."
Elior smiled.
And on his lap, a wildflower quietly bloomed between his fingers.