Chapter seven-Secrets in the Storm
The clouds over Spellforge Arena were still flickering with leftover magic as Elara left the field, her steps quick and uneven. She could still feel the echo of Lysander's gaze, sharp and searching, as if he saw something in her even she couldn't name.
"What's his problem?" she muttered under her breath, brushing frost from her fingertips.
Caelin fell into step beside her. "You mean beyond the ego, the chosen-one complex, and the tragic backstory rumors?"
Elara blinked. "He has a tragic backstory?"
"Allegedly." Caelin leaned in like it was forbidden knowledge. "Rumor says the stars marked him when he was born. Actual celestial convergence, sky split open, prophecy-style drama. One seer supposedly went mad just looking at him."
"Well, that's not disturbing at all."
"But here's the weird part." Caelin lowered her voice. "People say he's afraid of lightning."
Elara stopped. "He just walked through a lightning-charged arena like it was a runway."
"I said afraid, not allergic. You didn't notice how he flinched every time the dome sparked?"
Elara hadn't — but now that she thought about it, maybe…
Before she could dwell too long, a loud bell echoed across the sky, sending a ripple of magic through the academy's air. A second later, a scroll unraveled itself midair in front of them, ink scrawling in real time.
> MANDATORY ANNOUNCEMENT: All first-years are to report to the Starfire Observatory by sundown. Bring your spellbooks and a steady hand. Latecomers will be... noticed.
Elara groaned. "Great. More surprises."
Caelin groaned louder. "Starfire Observatory? That place gives me hives. Everything smells like old magic and burnt stars."
Still, as the sun dipped and twilight soaked into the sky, they climbed the winding crystal stairs toward the observatory — a tower suspended by invisible forces, pulsing with soft blue light.
Inside, silver rings rotated in midair, casting shadows across the floor like ancient runes. Professor Solen waited at the center, his eyes glowing faintly — a side effect of scrying too often.
"Tonight," he said, voice echoing unnaturally, "we peer into the storm behind the stars."
Lysander was already there, arms folded, jaw tight.
Elara tried not to look at him. Tried.
Professor Solen gestured to a basin at the center of the room. "The Celestia Pool. One by one, you will pour in a drop of your essence — a strand of hair, a drop of blood, something true. The pool will reveal a glimpse of the fate tethered to your soul."
A low murmur ran through the class. Even Lysander shifted uncomfortably.
One by one, students stepped forward. Visions rose in the water — fleeting, strange, private. Some wept. Some laughed. A few stumbled back like they'd seen something they shouldn't have.
Then Lysander stepped forward.
He pulled a ring from his finger — one Elara hadn't noticed before — and let it fall into the pool.
The water went black.
Stars flickered inside it. Then shadows. Then screaming.
The room fell silent.
When it cleared, Lysander's face was unreadable.
"Elara," Solen said. "You're next."
Heart pounding, she stepped forward. She thought of her mother, of the cold that lived inside her skin. She plucked a single hair from her head, hesitated, then dropped it into the pool.
The water rippled.
And in it, she saw herself — older, stronger, standing in a storm beside someone with silver eyes.
The storm was breaking around them.
But they weren't running.
They were leading it.
She staggered back.
Lysander caught her.
Just for a second.
"You saw it too," he whispered.
Then he let go and walked away.
And for the first time, Elara wasn't sure if she wanted answers…
Or if she was afraid of them.