Retaliation came quietly.
It always did.
Seraphina felt it before she saw it—the way conversations stopped when she entered a room, the way eyes slid away too late, the way doors that were once open now closed just ahead of her. The academy had teeth. She was learning where they were.
By evening, the message was clear.
She was alone.
Her locker had been emptied. Books gone. Notes shredded and scattered like offerings at her feet. A black rose lay crushed at the bottom, its petals snapped, its stem bent beyond saving.
You don't get to win.
She stared at it for a long moment, then straightened and walked away.
Crying was a luxury for people who expected mercy.
The summons came just after dusk.
This one wasn't sealed in gold. No ceremony. No mask.
Just Lucien's name.
She found him in the lower archives—a place most students didn't know existed, buried beneath the academy like a second foundation. Dust hung in the air, illuminated by low lamps. Ancient shelves towered around them, packed with ledgers and bound histories that smelled of decay and secrets.
"You shouldn't be here," she said.
Lucien didn't look up from the open book before him. "Neither should you."
She crossed her arms. "Then why did you call me?"
He closed the book slowly. When he finally met her gaze, something had shifted. The cold precision was still there—but underneath it, tension coiled tight.
"They've started moving against you," he said.
"I noticed."
Cassian's doing," Lucien continued. "Marcus allowed it. Elijah observed."
"And you?" she asked.
A beat.
"I intervened."
Her pulse skipped. "By doing what?"
Lucien stepped aside, revealing the page he'd been reading. Her breath caught.
It was a list.
Names. Dates. Bloodlines.
Her mother's name stared back at her.
"You knew her," Seraphina whispered.
Lucien's jaw tightened. "I knew of her."
"You lied," she said sharply. "You told me I was chosen because I was inconvenient."
"You were," he replied. "But that wasn't all."
Her hands trembled as she stepped closer, scanning the page. Her mother's name was circled in ink so dark it looked burned into the paper.
"She was chosen once," Lucien said quietly. "Before you."
The room tilted.
"She escaped," Seraphina breathed. "She ran."
"No," Lucien corrected. "She was released."
Seraphina laughed bitterly. "The Circle doesn't release anyone."
"They did," he said. "And they never forgave her for it."
The truth slammed into place with brutal clarity. The warnings. The fear. The constant moving. Her mother's insistence on anonymity.
"You chose me because of her," Seraphina said.
Lucien didn't deny it.
"They want to finish what they started," he said. "You're leverage."
Rage burned through her, sharp and clean. "So I'm bait."
Lucien stepped closer, lowering his voice. "No. You're a liability they underestimated."
"Did you?" she asked.
For the first time, he hesitated.
"You don't fit the role," he admitted. "You don't bend."
"That makes me dangerous," she said.
"That makes you alive," he replied.
Their gazes locked—something unspoken passing between them. Recognition. Fear. Respect.
Lucien straightened abruptly, the moment fractured. "You're under my protection now."
She laughed softly. "I already was."
"No," he said. "Before, I was watching you. Now I'm choosing you."
Her chest tightened. "Why?"
"Because if the Circle decides to destroy you," Lucien said, voice low and certain, "they'll have to come through me."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with consequence.
Seraphina exhaled slowly. "Then you've made an enemy of your own blood."
Lucien's mouth curved into something dark. "I was born with enemies."
Footsteps echoed above them.
Lucien's expression hardened instantly. "Go. Say nothing about what you saw here."
She turned to leave, then paused. "Lucien."
"Yes?"
"They broke my locker," she said calmly. "And I won't let that stand."
A flicker of approval crossed his face.
"Good," he said. "Neither will I."
As Seraphina climbed the stairs back into the academy's polished halls, one truth settled deep and unshakable:
The Circle had chosen the wrong girl to threaten.
And Lucien Blackwood had just chosen the wrong side to stay neutral.
— End of Chapter Four