The rain had stopped hours ago, but the scent lingered—wet stone, coppery leaves, and something faintly sweet in the air, like blooming veritros petals that hadn't blossomed in decades.
Kaelen walked slowly beneath the archway of the southern garden path, the hem of his uniform brushing damp grass, boots squelching slightly as he avoided the worst of the puddles. The glowstone lanterns above flickered. Not from wind—no breeze stirred—but from interference.
The kind that came when wards were being tested.
He didn't turn. Not right away. Whoever was tailing him was good—too good for a student. And yet… too hesitant to be a Circle agent. For now.
"Still pretending to take midnight walks, Kaelen?" came a voice behind him.
Selene.
She wasn't angry. Not exactly. Her tone held more amusement than anything else, but there was a coolness behind it. One that had started growing ever since Seraphine had become more… visible.
He stopped beside the carved marble bench, where a half-drowned mosaic of the goddess Etheira stared blankly up at the sky.
"I'm not pretending," he said, turning slightly. "I needed the silence."
She stepped out of the shadows, her cloak damp at the edges. She was dressed plainly, for once—no formal layers, no sigil rings or noble crests. Just Selene as she had been in the wilds. Watching him like he was something she hadn't quite decided how to feel about.
"That's not the only thing you needed tonight."
He looked at her, properly now. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I saw the glyph. Earlier. During your spar with the envoy. You hid it well, but… I've seen Veritas burn before. And it's never subtle."
Kaelen said nothing.
The silence grew heavier.
Selene's gaze softened. She moved to stand beside him, not too close, but closer than she had in days. "You're spiraling again. Trying to carry everything alone. You think if you get caught, if you burn too bright, the rest of us will survive without consequence."
"It's safer that way."
"For who?" she asked. "You? Us? Or your conscience?"
Kaelen clenched his jaw. The memory of the envoy's gaze—icy, measuring—still lingered. The Tower was circling. Closer now. Every step he took felt like it was being watched from a thousand mirrored eyes.
"I can't be the reason someone else dies," he said quietly.
"Then don't make yourself the reason we lose you." Selene touched his hand briefly. Her skin was cold from the rain, but the contact sent warmth spiraling up his arm.
He looked down. She didn't pull away this time.
"You know," she said after a beat, "Seraphine asked me today what you were hiding."
He tensed. "And what did you say?"
"I told her the truth. That I don't know."
A pause.
"But I want to."
Her voice was lower now, steadier. She was watching him like she was afraid to say more. Afraid it would tip things too far in one direction.
He took a breath. "I'm not ready to explain everything yet."
"I know," she whispered.
She didn't press further. Just stood there beside him in the rain-drenched garden, sharing the quiet.
And then, as if fate couldn't leave anything untouched tonight, the garden wards pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
A faint hum rippled through the ground beneath their feet. The sigil-laced roots of the Academy's protective circles responding to an outside force.
"Someone's testing the inner perimeter again," Kaelen muttered.
Selene was already moving, eyes narrowed. "Same direction as last time?"
He nodded. "The envoy's tower. I think they're narrowing it down."
They both knew what that meant.
Kaelen was no longer a rumor. No longer just a strange student with old magic.
He was a suspect.
—
Back in the east wing dorms, Seraphine was waiting.
The soft flicker of a single study lamp cast shadows across her room. She'd dismissed her usual attendants, even Mira, hours ago. The book in front of her was open, but her eyes hadn't moved across the page for a long while.
When the glyph tremor rippled through the walls—a barely-there flutter of static—she didn't flinch. She closed the book and stood, walking to the window.
Kaelen was still hiding something. That much was clear. But tonight, she hadn't needed a glyph to sense it.
She could feel it in the way his aura pulled. The way it wrapped around Selene when they were together. Not like a lover. Not quite. But not like a stranger either.
Something between history and a bond not yet understood.
Seraphine had never cared much for jealousy. But she wasn't immune to being overlooked.
She drew her own sigil slowly across the windowpane, just enough to shimmer against the moonlight. Her family crest appeared faintly—gold entwined with storm-gray sigils.
"I'll find out," she whispered.
Not as a rival.
But as someone who wanted to protect him too.
—
Later that night, in the Tower's envoy chambers, three cloaked figures stood over a map of the Academy.
"You're certain?" one asked.
"The resonance spike is consistent," another said. "Not high-tier. Yet. But something old. Something pre-patterned."
"And the student?"
The third figure tapped the east wing. "His glyph doesn't match any registered pattern. But we've confirmed multiple concealment flares. Someone—possibly two someones—are shielding him."
The room fell silent.
Then: "Send a shadow scribe into the classrooms. No direct action until we isolate the lineage. But keep him under surveillance."
A pause.
"And what of the girl? The noble's daughter?"
Another flick of the map.
"She's more dangerous than she looks."
"Keep watching."
—
And outside the walls of the Academy, far beyond the city's edge, the Tower itself stood tall.
Still sleeping.
Still waiting.
But not for long.
Something was stirring in the old lines of power. And it had finally begun to notice the noise.