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Everything about him screamed danger, yet some stubborn part of me believed there was more buried beneath the surface. I exhaled slowly, betrayed by the warmth blooming at my center.

Then—something shifted.

A flicker of motion caught at the edge of my vision, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. I stopped mid-step.

There, just a few feet ahead, the smooth wall of stone had changed. A narrow slit had appeared along its surface, subtle but unmistakable—like a seam between realities. The hallway remained silent, the air still and heavy, as if the castle itself was holding its breath.

I stepped closer, heart quickening, eyes fixed on the sliver of darkness now visible within the stone. It wasn’t a trick of the light. The passage was there—real, tangible, waiting. It pulsed with quiet possibility, like a heartbeat hidden beneath the walls.

I leaned in, transfixed, trying to decipher whether it had always been there or if I had somehow triggered it. The silence around me deepened, dense with something that felt ancient and watchful.

Then—

A sudden, sharp clearing of a throat cut through the stillness behind me like a blade.

I flinched and spun around, startled. The sound echoed loudly in the hush of the corridor.

And just like that, when I turned back—the passage was gone.

Nothing but smooth, cold stone stared back at me, blank and undisturbed.

I turned around, my heart skipping a beat, to find Samael leaning against a marble pillar just a few feet away.

“You really are a curious little raven, aren’t you?”

Samael’s voice curled through the corridor as he stepped away from the column, his movements unhurried, predatory.

I offered a cautious smile, the tension between us coiled tight beneath the banter. “I suppose I am,” I replied, keeping my tone light. “Though I can’t help wondering why you’re so interested in me.”

He chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just wondering why you’re standing alone in a hallway, staring at a blank wall like it insulted your ancestors.”

He moved closer—too close—and I instinctively took a step back, only to feel the cold stone at my spine. Still, I didn’t look away. I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze with a steadiness I didn’t fully feel.

“The wall,” I murmured, “I thought I saw something. It shimmered… then vanished.”

Samael’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flicked to the spot beside me with interest. “Drakestone’s always been full of ghosts and illusions. Sometimes, if you know where to look, the castle shows you more than it should.”

His tone was playful, but something underneath it—some flicker of knowing—made my skin prickle.

“And what does Samael know that the rest of us don’t?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in until the heat of him brushed against me, his breath warm at my ear.

“Please,” he said smoothly. “Call me Sam.”

The scent of mint and sandalwood wrapped around me like smoke, and I hated how my breath caught.

“Maybe I’ll tell you what I know…” he murmured, stepping back just enough to let me breathe again, “if you walk with me to Divination.”

His eyes sparkled with an invitation that was both enticing and unsettling.

He backed away from me, releasing me from my makeshift cage, and motioned for me to lead the way. We began to walk side by side, the corridor silent as classes had already begun.

Samael’s voice was soft, but threaded with that familiar edge—teasing, almost intimate. “Tell me, little raven… do you fear the unknown, or are you drawn to it?”

I let out a quiet laugh, though my heart stuttered beneath the surface. “Depends on the unknown,” I said, eyes flicking sideways to catch his. “Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it devours.”

“Mm.” His gaze lingered on me, darker now. “And here I thought you might be afraid of me .”

There was a playful curve to his mouth, but something deeper lurked in his voice—a curiosity too sharp to be harmless, as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be the danger or the warning.

I bit my lip, unsure whether to lean into the unease or step away from it. “Maybe I am,” I murmured. “Or maybe it’s not you I’m afraid of, but what you might represent.”

His laugh was low, unsettling in how easily it filled the corridor—like smoke curling into every shadow. “And what exactly do I represent, Elvana Vale?”

He spoke my name like a spell, each syllable deliberate, reverent, dangerous.

“Power,” I said. “Danger. Secrets no one’s meant to find.”

He smiled at that—slow, unreadable. “Everyone at Drakestone carries secrets,” he said. “Even you. Especially you, I’d wager.”

My fingers found my amulet without thinking, the cool metal biting into my skin like a quiet reminder.

“We’re going to be late,” I said, turning abruptly, the click of my boots echoing a little too fast down the hall.

His footsteps followed, deliberate and unhurried.

Samael easily matched my pace, falling in beside me with practiced ease. “No need to rush,” he said smoothly. “Professor King already knows we’ll be late. He probably saw it in his tea leaves three days ago.”

The spiral staircase to the Divination Tower curved ahead, stone steps worn smooth by time and footsteps. The air shifted as we climbed—thickening with incense and the faint metallic scent of old magic. Silence stretched for a few turns.

“You were impressive today,” Samael said suddenly, voice low and unexpected.

I hesitated mid-step, the memory of the orange glow at my fingertips still fresh. “Thank you,” I said carefully, unsure whether to feel flattered or wary. “But I think you’re giving me too much credit. I just followed the instructions.”

He made a quiet sound—half amusement, half disbelief. “Most people following instructions don’t radiate orange light. That isn’t basic magic, Elvana. It’s rare. And rare usually means inherited.”

I didn’t answer. My hand drifted toward the amulet at my throat, as if it could shield me from the weight of his words—or the way his eyes watched too closely.

“What about your magic?” I asked, needing the focus off me. “That paralysis spell in Incantations… it wasn’t subtle.”

His jaw tightened, just barely. “No. It wasn’t.”

He paused, then added, “My family’s affinity leans toward magic that… stops things. Holds them in place.”

His voice had changed—calmer still, but colder somehow. Like something in him had locked up mid-sentence.

“Just like yours seems to know how to heal what’s broken.”

We reached the landing of the Divination Tower, pausing before the ornate door adorned with celestial symbols that shifted and realigned with the movements of the stars. The scent of jasmine and sage wafted from beneath the doorframe.

“After you,” Samael said, gesturing toward the arched doorway. Whatever tension had been in his shoulders moments ago had melted into something smoother—more dangerous.

I hesitated. “Sam,” I began, the nickname slipping out before I could stop it. “Why are you being… nice to me?”

My voice was quieter than I intended. “Yesterday in the courtyard—”

“Today is a new day,” he interrupted, his gaze unreadable. “And today, I’m simply walking to class with a very intriguing classmate—one who sees things in walls and heals with a color most people only read about in footnotes.”

Something flickered in his expression—too quick to name, but it softened the sharp line of his mouth. Then, just as quickly, it vanished. He stepped closer, his presence wrapping around me like shadow pulled taut.

“Or,” he murmured, leaning in, voice dipping into a whisper that brushed against my skin like breath, “I’m just curious about the one person at Drakestone who feels like a riddle wrapped in fire.”