Aveline walked through the corridors with indignation simring beneath her skin, each step sharp with restrained anger. She had known from the beginning that Aelion wanted sothing from her. The shadows around him had already told her that much.
But spreading rumors that she was his "marked" one? That crossed a line she had never given him permission to cross.
The whispers had followed her for days now, which she didn’t know, but now that she knew, she could hear them slithering through hallways and classrooms alike.
Lord Sylvarien’s girl.
His marked one.
Protected by him.
Claid by him.
Every word scraped against her nerves until she felt raw inside. She hated how people looked at her now, with curiosity sharpened by gossip, as though she had beco so entertaining little secret for them to pick apart.
Her chest burned with frustration as she turned a corner of the marble corridor, sunlight spilling through the tall arched windows beside her. Outside, the evening wind moved through the sprawling grounds of the Arcanum, stirring the oak trees into a restless murmur.
And then... She heard it.
A familiar voice.
The sound drifted through the wind like a whisper ant only for her ears, threading through her heart before she could even think.
Theron.
Everything inside her stopped. Her pulse stumbled so violently she nearly lost her footing.
Slowly, almost fearfully, she stepped toward the stone railing and looked down into the courtyard below.
And there he was... Standing beneath the towering oak trees.
Theron.
Talking to one of the professors with that sa composed expression he always wore whenever he spoke seriously. His dark cloak stirred gently in the wind, strands of black hair falling against his forehead as he listened to whatever the older man was saying.
Aveline forgot how to breathe.
Warmth flooded her body so suddenly it hurt. After days of uncertainty, fear, loneliness, and wondering whether he was alive or injured or suffering sowhere beyond her reach...
He was there. Alive. Whole. Beautiful.
The world around her faded into a blur of light and distant noise as she stared at him from above. The rustling trees, the chatter of students, the bells echoing from distant towers—everything beca distant and muffled compared to the overwhelming pounding of her heart.
More students began noticing him too. Whispers rose almost imdiately.
"The Crown Prince..."
"He’s even more handso up close..."
"Look at him..."
Girls gathered nearby with flushed cheeks and excited giggles, pretending not to stare while very obviously staring.
But Aveline heard none of it.
Her eyes remained fixed only on him. On the man who had held her so gently. On the man whose warmth she still rembered in her bones. On the man she had missed so desperately that seeing him now felt almost painful.
"Theron..." she whispered softly into her clasped hands near her chest, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the mont.
A gentle wind swept through the courtyard.
The fallen leaves beneath the oak trees spiraled upward into the air, circling in slow golden patterns.
And then...
As if he had heard her call across all that distance...
Theron turned. His gaze lifted straight toward her.
Aveline’s heart stopped.
For one suspended mont, the entire world disappeared. There was nothing else... Only him beneath the oak tree... And her standing high above in the corridor.
His dark cloak fluttered softly behind him as his eyes locked onto hers.
Just one look. Just one impossibly brief look.
But it struck her harder than anything else ever had. Her throat tightened painfully. Tears stung her eyes without warning.
And despite everything—despite the confusion, despite the hurt, despite the terrifying distance that now existed between them...
Aveline smiled; a real one, bright and trembling and filled with so much aching affection that it seed to bloom straight from her soul.
For a heartbeat longer, he held her gaze.
Then he turned away again. Back to the conversation. Back to his duties. Back to the world that stood between them.
And when he finally began walking away beneath the trees, Aveline remained frozen at the railing, watching his retreating figure as though her eyes alone could keep him there.
Please... Look at once more... Just once more, Theron.
The yearning rose silently inside her chest.
And perhaps the world pitied her for once. Because just before he disappeared beyond the path... He turned again.
Their eyes t one final ti.
Aveline only let herself breathe once Theron had vanished completely from sight.
Even then, she did not move right away. She stood at the corridor railing for a long ti, letting that single look from him settle sowhere deep inside her, as though if she held it carefully enough, it would be etched in her soul.
His glance was so brief, so ordinary to anyone else, and yet to her it felt like warmth pressed into a starving hand.
He was safe.
The thought brought an unexpected rush of relief so intense it almost made her laugh. He was here. Alive. Whole.
Maybe he had co to check on her. Maybe he had co to make sure she was still protected. Maybe the rumors about her and Aelion had reached him too, and he had co because of that.
The thought made a soft, foolish giggle slip from her mouth before she could stop it.
"He looked tired," she murmured under her breath, fondly.
And then, as though that small joy had given her more strength than a feast could, sothing bright and restless stirred inside her. Her feet felt lighter all at once.
She straightened, turned, and began to walk with a quickening step that soon beca a skip, heading for the narrow alleyway where Aelion usually lingered.
The passage between the two academy buildings was shaded by thick bushes and tall trees that bowed over the stone path like silent witnesses. It was one of the quieter corners of the Arcanum, hidden enough that students went there when they wanted to be unseen, and today Aveline had a strange, almost buoyant feeling that she was about to find sothing useful.
But when she reached the spot, she stopped short.
Aelion was not alone.
Four other boys stood with him, all of them silver-haired like him, though their hair was cropped short and neat in a way that made Aelion’s loose elegance seem almost careless. For one brief second, Aveline wondered if they were his brothers.
But the atmosphere was wrong.
They were not standing with him.
They were closing in around him.
Aveline’s steps slowed as her eyes narrowed. The tallest of the four stood at the front, his posture rigid and hostile. He raised his hands and began tracing a rune in the air, and the light that gathered there crackled with unmistakable threat.
Lightning.
Aveline’s eyes widened.
For an instant, she thought Aelion would move, that he would slip aside with the sa cool grace he always wore like armor. But before he could, two of the others seized him by the shoulders and forced him down to his knees.
Everything in Aveline went still.
And then the lightning was released.
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