Lucien leaned against the tall window frame of his dorm, arms crossed, watching the campus courtyard disappear into night. His room was still — quiet flames flickering in the fireplace, casting shadows over the books and weapons lining his shelves. The space was clean, deliberate, expensive. Just like him.
But his mind wasn't calm.
He had watched her fight — Seraphina Nightborn.
She'd entered the ring barely keeping her balance. No form, no confidence, no edge. Everyone had expected her to be flattened within seconds. Even he had.
And then something shifted.
No magic. No glowing eyes. Just a girl who looked pissed off and suddenly started hitting like she'd been trained in secret. The way her body reacted — sharp reflexes, fast reads, brutal instinct. That wasn't luck. That was real.
Lucien narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched slightly.
She was supposed to be new. Quiet. Pretty, but not remarkable.
Now?
Now every student was talking about the girl from House Vale who shut down a ranked fighter in front of the entire academy. Clean. Fast. Unexpected.
He hadn't looked away the entire time.
Not just because of the fight — but because of her. The way her hair stuck to her cheeks with sweat. The calm anger in her eyes. That distracted look she had afterward, like she didn't even understand what she just did.
He rubbed his thumb along the rim of his glass.
That kind of confusion wasn't faked.
She hadn't planned that win — she reacted.
But to what?
And why did it bother him that he couldn't figure her out?
Lucien glanced toward his bed, sleek and untouched, then back at the flames.
He should've stopped watching after the match. But he didn't.
Because for the first time in a long time, someone surprised him.
And now he wanted to know more.
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