Elara's breath hitched. She checked her hip—her dagger was sheathed, the name *Elara* indeed engraved in the pommel, though it should have been obscured by her cloak. The fact that he had noticed such a detail while surrounded by chaos made her **toned stomach** flutter with a strange, nervous energy.
"You're dangerous," she whispered, stepping closer into the light. The glow from Caelum's gold Aether reflected in her **golden eyes**, making her look less like a soldier and more like a curious forest spirit. "The Headmaster thinks he's the one holding the leash, but you... you're something else entirely."
Caelum stood up, leaving the now-unconscious Kaelith slumped in the shadows. He took a step toward Elara. She was taller than the other girls, her **long, slender legs** giving her a statuesque presence.
"The Headmaster is looking for an Oracle," Caelum said, testing the information he found in the vault. "But he's looking in the wrong places. He's looking for a title. I'm looking for **potential**."
He reached out, his fingers stopping just an inch from Elara's **slender, exposed throat**. He could feel the Wood Aether pulsing beneath her skin, desperate for the "Sun" he provided.
"Tell me, Scout," he murmured. "Does the 'Ghost' of the Academy want to keep hiding in the rafters, or do you want to feel what it's like to finally... **bloom**?"
The air between Caelum and Elara thickened, turning heavy with the scent of ozone and forest floor. Elara's back pressed against the cold stone of the gargoyle's plinth, her **lithe, athletic frame** tensing as Caelum's shadow swallowed her. She was a Knight-Scout, trained to endure the harshest conditions of the frontier, but she had no training for the sheer, magnetic pull of the **Prismatic Aether** radiating from the man before her.
"You speak of blooming," Elara whispered, her voice cracking as her **golden-rimmed eyes** traced the lines of Caelum's face. "But flowers that bloom too fast under a false sun... they wither. I've seen what the Headmaster does to those who serve as his 'filters.' They become husks."
Caelum leaned in, his lips inches from the sensitive point of her **slender, pointed ear**. "I am not the Headmaster. He seeks to consume; I seek to **synthesize**. Look at Kaelith." He gestured vaguely to the unconscious girl behind him, whose breathing had finally transitioned from ragged gasps to a deep, rhythmic slumber. "She came to steal. I gave her something so much more potent that her body had to shut down just to process the 'gift.'"
His hand finally made contact, his fingertips grazing the **exposed skin of Elara's midriff**, just above the waistband of her leather trousers. The contact was electric. Elara's **toned stomach** rippled in a sharp, involuntary contraction. As a Wood-elemental, her body was a conductor for life energy; Caelum's Gold Aether poured into her like molten honey into a dry riverbed.
"Your Wood Aether is stagnant, Elara," Caelum observed, his **Violet Logic** dissecting her flow in real-time. "The Academy has taught you to suppress your growth to remain a 'Ghost.' You are starving your own potential just to stay hidden."
He didn't just touch her; he began a **Synchronous Calibration**. He allowed a tiny, refined thread of his Gold Aether to spiral into her naval, the primary gate for Wood-users.
Elara's head snapped back against the stone, a strangled moan vibrating in her **elegant throat**. Her **long, slender legs** felt suddenly weak, her knees knocking together as a wave of artificial vitality surged through her. For the first time in years, her Aether wasn't just a tool—it was a fire. Her **emerald-green hair** seemed to shimmer with a faint, bioluminescent light, and her **modest, firm breasts** rose and fell in a frantic rhythm.
"Stop..." she gasped, though her hands, instead of pushing him away, found purchase on his shoulders, her **slim fingers** digging into his cloak. "If you... if you change my signature, Varkas will know. He'll see the light in my eyes."
"Let him look," Caelum murmured, his eyes flashing with a cold, predatory ambition. "By the time he realizes the 'Ghost' has been claimed, you'll be the bridge to the **Oracle**."
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, his thumb tracing the line of her **high, elegant cheekbone**. "The Headmaster's ledger mentioned a sixth element. The Spirit. If you want to remain a pawn, report me now. But if you want to see the true shape of the world, you will tell me where the Academy hides the one they call the 'Silent Seer'."
Elara trembled, her **emerald eyes** wide and glazed with the same dependency that had claimed the others. The Trojan wasn't just a virus; it was a revelation. Her Wood-nature was already beginning to "anchor" itself to his Gold.
"The Seer... she isn't in the Academy towers," Elara confessed, her voice a mere breath. "She's kept in the **Deep Root Vault**, beneath the botanical gardens. But no one enters without the Headmaster's personal resonance."
Caelum smirked, a dark, triumphant expression. "Then it's fortunate I've already begun to master his 'frequencies'."
He left her there, leaning against the statue, her body still humming with the aftershocks of his infusion. As Caelum walked away, leaving the two compromised women in the shadows, he knew the "Harvest" was almost ready.