---
Chapter 2 – First Impressions
Seraphina blinked up at the sky. A tingle slid down her spine—not fear exactly, but awareness. The kind of awareness you get when someone's gaze lingers just a little too long. She glanced around, but the campus was quiet, windows glowing faintly in the dusk. Nothing seemed out of place.
Still, she hugged her cardigan a little closer.
"Get a grip," she murmured to herself, though she didn't move from the balcony.
Somewhere inside her, something stirred. A small flicker. Like a whisper she couldn't quite hear yet.
---
The next morning was colder. Mist blanketed the garden path as Seraphina made her way to the academy's conservatory—a glass building tucked behind the east wing, shimmering like a greenhouse in the morning light.
Her next class: Elemental Composition.
She wasn't even sure what that meant.
She tightened her grip on her bag as she stepped inside.
The scent of herbs and warm soil hit her immediately. Rows of arcane plants lined the room, some glowing softly in their pots, others twitching faintly like they were… breathing?
"Whoa," she whispered.
A laugh to her left made her jump.
"I had the same face my first day," said a girl with ink-black hair in twin braids. Her uniform was slightly wrinkled, but her grin was warm and honest. "You must be new. Let me guess—Seraphina Vale?"
"That obvious?"
"Only because you're the only first-year who made it in through that weird full-ride scholarship. I'm Kiera. Kiera Moss. Wanna sit together?"
Grateful, Seraphina nodded, and they found a spot near the middle. For once, Lucien Morvain wasn't in sight.
Small mercies.
"Is he always like that?" she asked, trying to sound casual as she scribbled her name on her notebook.
Kiera tilted her head. "Who?"
"Tall. Cold. Broody. Doesn't talk much?"
Kiera followed her description immediately and let out a low whistle. "Oh. Him. Lucien. Yeah, that's our local glacier prince. Morvain blood runs thick. The entire family line's practically royalty here."
"That explains the attitude."
"That and the fact he's supposedly cursed."
Seraphina blinked. "Wait, what?"
Kiera leaned in, clearly enjoying the gossip. "You didn't hear it from me, but they say the Morvain heirline's got this… thing. Tragedy follows them. Every generation loses something. Someone. It's like… fate doesn't let them be happy."
"That sounds like a bad script," Seraphina muttered.
"Maybe. But around here? Bad scripts come true."
---
Class passed in a blur of glowing herbs and whispering air currents. The professor—an older woman with sharp green eyes and vines twined through her braid—talked about elemental affinities and how they manifest. Some students demonstrated small spells: one caused the wind to shift, another lit her fingertips on fire.
Seraphina just watched.
She didn't feel anything. Not yet.
But she wanted to.
---
Later, she wandered through the library—tall arches, stained-glass windows, endless rows of books. A sanctuary, and strangely empty.
She ran her fingers across the spines of old tomes, her thoughts drifting to Lucien again.
Why was he always alone?
Why did he feel more like a ghost than a person?
She turned a corner—and there he was.
Of course.
Lucien stood at a window, sunlight casting golden lines across his face. He didn't look surprised to see her. Didn't move either.
"You again," he said without turning.
"You've got a real talent for popping up out of nowhere," she replied.
"It's the library," he said. "You're the one who walked into my space."
"Your space? Pretty sure books don't belong to you."
He glanced at her. Just a flicker. But something in his expression shifted. Like he was trying not to smile and failing by a fraction.
"Why are you always following me?"
Seraphina scoffed. "I'm not! You're just… always where I end up."
"That sounds like following."
"That sounds like coincidence."
Lucien turned away again, resting a hand on the windowsill. "Coincidence doesn't repeat itself this often."
There was something about the way he said it. Heavy. Like it meant more than just her bumping into him.
Silence stretched.
Seraphina stepped forward, then stopped. "Are you always this confusing, or do you save it for people you don't like?"
A long pause. Then: "I don't dislike you."
Her brows lifted. "That almost sounded like a compliment."
"It wasn't."
Now she did smile. "Right. Glacier prince."
Lucien sighed—so quietly she almost missed it—and walked away again. But this time, just before he turned the corner, he looked back.
And she saw it.
Just a hint.
A very small smile.
---
That night, back in her room, she opened her journal again.
> Day 2: Maybe he's not as icy as I thought. Or maybe I'm just losing it.
She closed the book and looked out at the stars.
Across campus, the window to the west tower remained dark.
But she felt it again.
That tingle. That awareness.
Like something—someone—was watching her story begin.
And maybe, just maybe, they were part of it
---
The next morning brought rain—soft, steady, and rhythmic against the old academy's stone walls. Seraphina stood by her dorm window, watching students with umbrellas navigate the cobbled walkways below. Her tea had gone cold in her hand, but she hadn't noticed.
She couldn't stop thinking about what Lucien had said.
"Coincidence doesn't repeat itself this often."
It echoed, looping in her mind like a thread she couldn't untangle.
She hadn't even known him for more than two days. Why did he already feel like a puzzle her heart wanted to solve?
With a sigh, she grabbed her bag and made her way to her next class—Historical Magic and Lineage Studies. More names, more dates, more confusing legacies. It was held in an old stone lecture hall, one that smelled of parchment, dust, and ancient secrets.
Lucien wasn't there.
Oddly, that made her feel, a little off? Damn!
---
The professor, a thin man with wild grey hair and silver spectacles, droned on about the founding families of the academy. Names she vaguely remembered from the scholarship pamphlet—Feyren, Thorne, Morvain.
When he spoke the last one, Seraphina sat a little straighter.
"The Morvain family were among the first elementalists to blend magic with celestial energy," he said, tapping the board. "But they paid a price. Legends speak of a pact, forged in desperation during a war lost to time. A pact that cursed their bloodline with… limitation."
Someone raised their hand. "Limitation?"
The professor nodded solemnly. "Power beyond comprehension. But always at a cost."
A strange weight got to her chest.
She remembered Kiera's words. Tragedy follows them.
What kind of pact would cost someone their happiness?
Her fingers tightened around her pen. She didn't know Lucien—really—but something about him made her chest ache. Like she was watching someone barely holding their pieces together.
And maybe she saw a little of herself in that.
---
Later that afternoon, while walking past the courtyard's edge, she heard voices ahead.
"Morvain, I'm talking to you."
She slowed.
Two upper-year students stood facing Lucien. One tall and smug, the other leaning against a marble column. Lucien stood between them, arms crossed, eyes flat.
"You've been skipping dueling practice," the smug one said. "What's the matter? Too good to spar with the rest of us now?"
Lucien didn't answer.
"You act like this place belongs to you," the other one sneered. "Your family's history doesn't mean a damn thing anymore. You're just a cursed name in a dusty book."
Still nothing.
Seraphina stepped closer before she could think better of it. "Hey! Maybe try bullying someone who actually cares what you think."
All three turned. Lucien's gaze flicked to her—briefly—but in it was a flash of something that looked almost like… annoyance? Surprise? Worry?
The taller boy laughed. "And who's this? His new watchdog?"
"New student," Seraphina said, stepping up beside Lucien. "And you look like you peaked in your first year."
The smirk on the boy's face vanished.
"You've got no idea what you're stepping into," he muttered, then turned away with a scoff. "Morvain can enjoy his little fan club."
As they walked off, Seraphina glanced up at Lucien. "You're welcome."
He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. "You shouldn't have done that."
"I can handle myself."
"I'm sure," he said dryly. "But now they'll watch you too."
The wind tugged at her hair, but she didn't look away. "Let them."
Lucien's expression changed again—just slightly. Enough to reveal something behind the ice. Not warmth, exactly. But recognition.
Like maybe—for the first time—he saw her.
Really saw her.
"You're strange," he said at last.
She grinned. "You're one to talk."
Then, without a word, Lucien turned and walked off.
But this time… he slowed his pace just enough for her to walk beside him.
And so she did.
---
That evening, rain still falling softly, Seraphina sat once more at her balcony table, the journal open before her, tea finally warm.
> Day 2 (continued): Officially insulted two arrogant upperclassmen. Accidentally defended Lucien. Again. Not sure if I'm brave or just tired of people acting like magic makes them special.
She paused, then added:
> Lucien let me walk beside him. Didn't say much. But I think that was the most he's said to anyone all day. Also… think I might be getting in over my head.
She leaned back, gazing out into the misty night. A candle burned beside her, its flame steady despite the breeze.
And across campus, the west tower window glowed once more.
This time, there was no silhouette in it.
But Seraphina still felt it—that quiet pull. That odd connection she didn't understand yet.
Something was beginning.
She could feel it in the air.
And she wasn't sure whether to be excited… or afraid.