I watched as Lillian's smile deepened—not the radiant one she gave to everyone else, but something gentler, something just for me. She raised our joined hands slowly, guiding mine until our palms met and fingers aligned. A soft pulse of light bloomed between us, delicate and shimmering, like the first rays of morning sun breaking through frost.
"Let's synchronize," she said, her voice low and warm, "not just magic—intention."
I swallowed, nodding once, feeling the familiar stir of magic beginning to thread through my veins. Ice shimmered beneath my skin like frost on glass, while her light gathered with quiet precision, glowing gold and white between our hands.
Around us, the classroom continued their exercises, but I didn't notice. Not really. My whole world narrowed to the warmth in Lillian's fingers, the steady pulse of our energies colliding, blending—not fighting, not competing. Just meeting.
I'd never… done this before. Not like this.
The synchronization of magic wasn't just about elemental compatibility—it required vulnerability. You couldn't fully connect with another person's spellwork without letting them in. Without trusting them with the parts of your magic that were tied to the deepest pieces of you.
"I can feel your hesitation," Lillian whispered, her eyes fixed on mine, the glow intensifying between us. "Let go. You're not alone."
It was terrifying.It was intimate.It was real.
I took a breath, closed my eyes—and let it happen.
Our magic surged.
Her light rushed into me as my ice flowed into her, not clashing but folding together like sunlight streaming over a frozen lake. It was beautiful—effortless and blinding. The space around us shimmered, the air humming softly, like we'd stepped into a moment outside of time.
Gasps echoed in the room. Even Professor Liora paused mid-step, her eyes widening slightly as the magic between Lillian and me bloomed into a radiant spiral—light and frost dancing like petals in the wind.
When I opened my eyes again, Lillian was still watching me. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, but her expression remained calm, composed. Only her thumb, brushing slightly against the back of my hand, betrayed the warmth she felt.
"You did it," she said softly.
"I didn't think I could," I murmured, stunned by the ease of it.
"You always could," she whispered. "You just needed someone to meet you halfway."
I stared at her, heart thudding, lips parted—and then I looked away quickly, too overwhelmed to hold her gaze.
"Your magic... it feels safe," I said before I could stop myself.
Lillian's voice was lower now, so soft I almost didn't hear it:"That's because it was made to protect someone like you."
The spell flickered and gently dissolved between our hands, fading like snow melting in sunlight. The warmth of her magic lingered in my chest long after.
Behind us, someone let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Well, that was disgustingly romantic."
I turned to find Diana with her arms crossed, watching us with a smirk that didn't quite hide the way her eyes narrowed with interest. Camille stood beside her, expression unreadable, fingers idly toying with a strand of her own hair. Claire, on the other hand, was openly pouting like she'd just lost a game she didn't realize she was playing.
Tessa gave nothing away. But she had paused her own spell, eyes fixed on mine like she was studying a new variable in a very complex equation.
I stepped back instinctively, aware of the attention, of the shifting tension rippling through the room.
Lillian didn't let go.
"Jealous?" she asked sweetly, her tone light, but her grip on my hand firm.
Camille's lips curved, slow and amused. "Not yet."
Diana tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "But we're keeping score now."
Claire groaned and flopped dramatically onto a nearby desk. "I am never going to survive the formal if this keeps up."
Professor Liora, who had returned to observing silently from the side of the room, finally cleared her throat. "Very well. That concludes the partner exercises for today. You're dismissed."
As the classroom slowly began to empty, I turned to Lillian and whispered, "You didn't have to make a scene."
"I didn't," she replied, calm as ever. "That was restraint."
I didn't know whether to laugh or panic.
But as she let go of my hand, her fingers dragged just a moment longer than necessary.
We filtered out of the classroom slowly, and the tension still clung to the air like the lingering aftershock of a spell. I could feel the ripple I'd caused—no, we had caused—trailing behind me like perfume, delicate and impossible to ignore.
Lillian walked just a half-step ahead, her posture relaxed but purposeful. Her earlier words echoed in my mind: That was restraint. The frightening part was—I believed her.
"I think I saw a few students faint during that display," Claire muttered as she fell into step beside me. "One girl actually dropped her wand."
"She'll recover," Diana said dryly from my other side. "Though she might need emotional counseling."
"Or a fan," Camille added. "A strong one."
Tessa said nothing, but she was watching me again. Not with judgment. Just careful observation, like she was cataloguing this new version of me and trying to decide how she felt about it.
"So," Claire nudged me lightly with her elbow, "how long have you two been—y'know—exploding magical chemistry into the air like you're writing a romance novel?"
I covered my face with both hands. "We weren't trying to make a scene."
"Then you failed spectacularly," Diana said, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. "If you wanted subtle, you should've just held hands in the back row and whispered sweet nothings behind your spell diagrams."
"You're all so dramatic," I groaned.
"And you're adorable when you're flustered," Camille said with a lazy grin, brushing her fingers through her hair. "Keep it up."
"I'm not flustered," I lied. Badly.
"You blush too easily to lie," Claire said.
"I'm going to revoke everyone's teasing privileges," I muttered.
"Too late," Diana said. "We're unionized."
Despite myself, I laughed—just a little. They knew how to push me, but none of it was cruel. There was something comforting in their relentless affection, like every word, every smirk, every jab was just another thread tying us closer.
We reached the hallway near the dormitory corridors, where our paths would finally split for the day.
Lillian paused at the junction and turned back to me. "I'll see you later, right?"
Her tone was light, but her eyes said more. I want to see you later. I want to be chosen again.
I nodded, still feeling the remnants of her magic in my chest. "Yeah. You will."
Her smile this time was softer. She didn't say anything else—just turned and walked gracefully down the hall, her pastel-pink hair swaying behind her like a ribbon in the wind.
As soon as she was out of sight, I let out a long, slow breath.
Camille tilted her head at me. "You know you just unofficially made your first move, right?"
"That wasn't—"
Diana raised a brow. "—a declaration of intent, public demonstration of magical intimacy, and physical synchronization with a known heroine?"
Claire gasped. "It was a declaration of intent!"
"I'm going back to bed," I muttered, turning around.
Tessa caught my sleeve before I could escape. Her red eyes held mine for a beat too long. Then, in a tone so quiet the others barely heard it, she said, "Just don't forget the rest of us are still waiting, too."
I swallowed.
There was no jealousy in her voice.
Just quiet honesty.
And maybe... hope.
I nodded once. "I won't."
She let go.
The others drifted off, one by one, to their afternoon classes or personal errands, leaving me standing there in the quiet hallway with the echo of too many emotions in my chest.
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes for a second.
How did things get this complicated?
And why—despite all the chaos, the teasing, the weight of it all—
Did it feel so good to be wanted?
I didn't have an answer yet. But maybe, just maybe, I didn't need one.
Not yet.
For now, I just had to keep walking forward.
Step by step.
Heart open.
And when I looked up again, I smiled.
Because the next step... felt lighter than the last.
The rest of the day passed in a blur—lectures, note-taking, polite nods in the hallway, whispers that chased me like shadows. I could hear it in the murmurs between students, the way eyes followed me just a little longer than usual. Not with suspicion this time. But with curiosity.
I wasn't just Sera Vandren anymore.
I was the girl who had sparked magic with Lillian Aurora in the middle of a classroom, who walked through the academy halls flanked by heroines and carried herself like she finally belonged there.
And somehow… it didn't scare me the way it used to.
When the last class ended, I returned to the dorms. My fingers brushed the doorknob to my room before I paused, hesitating for a moment as the golden afternoon light spilled through the windows of the corridor. I thought about heading inside, hiding beneath blankets, maybe journaling the chaos of the day. Instead, I turned.
And walked straight to the garden.
It wasn't a decision. It was instinct.
The moment I stepped past the archway, I knew I'd find someone there.
Tessa knelt quietly by a bed of flowering nocturnes, her hands moving with deliberate care. She didn't look up when I approached, but I knew she'd noticed me. She always did.
The soft wind stirred her long black hair, her red eyes half-lidded as she continued adjusting the soil around a small cluster of lavender-touched buds. She wasn't using magic—just her hands. Slowly. Gently. With intention.
I stopped beside her, kneeling too.
"You're not surprised I came here."
"I knew you would," she said simply.
Her voice always had that calmness to it. Quiet strength. No judgment.
"I just needed air," I said.
Tessa nodded once. "This place is good for that."
We worked in silence for a while. No pressure. No expectations. Just the soft sounds of leaves brushing and the rhythm of our breath.
Finally, I asked, "You were serious earlier, weren't you?"
She didn't look up. "About what?"
"That you're waiting, too."
She finally turned toward me, her red eyes steady and unreadable. "I don't speak unless I mean it."
My chest tightened. I knew she wasn't trying to make me feel guilty. It wasn't a competition to her. She wasn't rushing me.
But that truth—that unwavering honesty—hit harder than I expected.
"I don't know how to handle all of this," I whispered.
"I wouldn't want you to," she said. "I want you to handle you. The rest of us... we'll figure it out."
I blinked at her, heart stuttering again.
Tessa leaned in just a little, close enough that her shoulder brushed mine. "You don't need to be anyone but who you are, Sera. We didn't fall for who you're pretending to be."
I stared at the petals in front of me, unsure what to say.
"You're allowed to need time," she said, her voice softer now. "Just don't shut us out."
I turned to her, and this time, I reached for her hand. I didn't say anything. I just held it.
Her fingers tightened around mine in return.
And for a long while, we stayed like that, surrounded by blooming flowers, wrapped in quiet understanding.
Because not all love needed grand gestures or flashy declarations.
Sometimes, it just needed presence.
And right now, Tessa was here.
And so was I.
No masks. No fears.
Just two girls in a garden, holding onto something that neither of us had the words for—but somehow, already understood.