The next morning, the academy buzzed with post-breakfast chaos—spells flying too close to ceilings, werewolves arguing over territory in the courtyard, and a vampire girl floating upside down above the chandelier just because she could.
Hope moved through it all like a ghost. Calm. Quiet. Watching.
But not unnoticed.
From a bench under the silver-elm tree, Raphael was watching her. Not in a curious way—more like he was keeping track of her movements, like a predator evaluating another. But as Hope glanced his way, he wasn't looking at her anymore.
He was watching Jessa.
The younger of Richard's daughters was in the middle of the courtyard, helping a group of spellbinders practice their elemental focus. Her hands flared with magical light, her hair wild and brilliant in the sun, and laughter spilled from her lips as she playfully reversed a student's fire spell into a harmless rain of sparks.
"Nice work, sunshine," Raphael called out.
Jessa smirked over her shoulder. "Try that compliment again when I'm not the one who helped you with your potion grade."
"Didn't ask for help."
"And you didn't stop me either," she teased.
Hope saw it then—Raphael's cocky grin soften slightly as Jessa turned away, her magic swirling around her like a halo of fireflies. It wasn't flirtation.
It was interest. Real, dangerous, undeniable.
And someone else saw it too.Celeste.
Standing on the balcony above, the elder daughter's eyes narrowed. Where Jessa burned bright, Celeste was always in control—measured, graceful, composed. But at that moment, her hands curled into fists by her side.
She wasn't born with magic. No spell flowed through her blood. Everything she knew came from years of study and alchemy. Hard-earned. Painstaking. Fragile. While Jessa barely tried and sparks danced in her palms like it was natural.
Celeste had been the golden girl—until Jessa bloomed.
And now, even Raphael, the strongest, most respected werewolf in the school, was watching her younger sister like she was the moon itself.
Celeste turned away and walked back inside.Later that day, Hope found Jessa alone in the potion gardens, sitting cross-legged on a stone path, flowers swaying around her from a light breeze she hadn't summoned.
"You're avoiding your sister," Hope said, approaching slowly.
Jessa scoffed. "She's avoiding me. Classic."
"She's jealous," Hope said bluntly.
Jessa blinked. "What?"
"She watches you. You have magic. You have confidence. And now… Raphael's looking at you like you're something rare."
"Please," Jessa groaned. "He's just annoying."
"Annoying guys don't make you blush when they say your name."
"I do not blush—" Jessa started, then caught Hope's smirk. "Okay. Maybe a littleA moment passed between them. Then Jessa's voice softened.
"She used to be proud of me. Taught me to braid my hair. Covered for me when I skipped alchemy practice. But now... every time I cast a spell, she looks at me like I'm stealing something from her."
"She thinks the world only has space for one powerful sister," Hope said. "She's wrong."
"You're really wise for someone who nearly froze a professor's cloak this morning."
Hope shrugged. "I'm still debating whether he deserved it."
They laughed, and for the first time, Jessa saw the loneliness in Hope's eyes crack—just a little. A sliver of warmth.
But above, hidden behind a stained-glass wall, Celeste watched the two of them with a clenched jaw and a burning question:Why does the world keep choosing Jessa?