Page 24

Burning Blue

T he dining hall buzzed with the muted clatter of cutlery and hushed conversation as I slid into our usual corner table.

The morning air was thick with the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread, sweet cinnamon, and the sharp tang of citrus tea.

Hints of smoked bacon and roasted coffee beans drifted through the dining hall, curling into the senses like a warm embrace.

Leander, Lydia, and Bethany were already gathered—Leander casually plopping deviled eggs into his mouth, Lydia engrossed in a slender volume of campus lore, and Bethany idly stirring her tea with a thoughtful frown.

I couldn’t help but note, with a twinge of apprehension, that Samael hadn’t arrived yet. His absence was as palpable as the early morning chill that seeped through the hall.

Lydia raised her eyes to me in silent question, adjusting her glasses on her freckled nose.

“Good morning,” I said, though the words came out thinner than I intended. “I found something last night.”

Three sets of eyes turned to me at once, each reflecting a different kind of scrutiny.

Bethany’s gaze was wide and electric, barely contained excitement dancing behind her lashes.

Leander’s remained calm, thoughtful—watchful in the way he always was when he sensed something more beneath the surface.

And Lydia’s... Lydia’s sharpened. Her book snapped shut with a precise thud, her glasses flashing as she studied me.

“You look like the shadows followed you in,” she said dryly. “Or maybe something worse.”

I swallowed, the weight of it all pressing heavier now that I had to speak it aloud.

“I found information on the Umbra Gate,” I said. “A letter.”

I reached into my coat pocket and withdrew the folded parchment, its edges worn and soft. I passed it to Lydia, who took it with careful fingers, unfolding it like it might crumble under too much pressure.

“But I wasn’t alone,” I added, voice catching slightly. “Samael and Edric were there too.”

Bethany promptly choked on her tea. “ Both of them?” she gasped, eyes huge. “Did they see you?”

Her shock teetered dangerously close to amusement, as if the unfolding drama were a plot twist she hadn’t seen coming but loved.

I shook my head, though the memory was still vivid—too vivid. “Not exactly,” I said, my voice tight. “They were arguing. About me. About the amulets.”

My fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, more to hide the tremor in my hands than to tidy myself. “They know the artifacts exist, and they’re looking for them. It sounded like… like they want to use them. For power. Maybe even to open the gate.”

Leander and Lydia exchanged a glance—silent, loaded. Their expressions shifted almost in sync, thoughts passing between them without a word. Logic. Worry. Calculation.

“Edric left first,” I continued, the words coming slower now. “But Samael stayed. He found me… hiding between the shelves.”

I paused. My cheeks burned before I could stop them. The memory rushed back like a pulse—Samael’s voice low and curling around my name, his hand at my throat, the unbearable heat of his touch.

“He—”

“ Elvana Vale, ” Bethany cut in, leaning so far over the table her teacup nearly tipped. “Are you actually blushing?”

Her grin was wicked, infectious, and exactly what I didn’t need.

“Tell us everything.”

“He confronted me,” I said, the memory playing like a reel behind my eyes. Samael’s presence had been overwhelming—shadow and magnetism, consuming the space between us like smoke curling through glass.

I paused, adding cream and sugar to my coffee with slow, deliberate motions, focusing on the ritual to steady the churn in my chest.

“Quite physically, actually.” The words tasted bitter—part betrayal, part warning. “He tried to convince me to stop searching for the amulets. Tried to deter me. ” I glanced down. “He threatened me.”

Lydia’s hand found my knee—warm, steady, grounding. Her voice was gentle, but measured. “Did he admit to being behind the disappearances?”

“I don’t know.” I exhaled, frustration tightening my shoulders. “He never said it outright. But everything he said only deepened my suspicion. There was… a desperation in him. Urgency tangled with reluctance. Every sentence contradicted the last.”

I looked up, meeting their eyes.

“He said he wanted to protect the amulets. But the Raven’s Echo…” My hand drifted to the pendant at my throat, still pulsing faintly beneath my skin. “It told me he wasn’t telling the whole truth.”

Lydia’s brows drew together, already piecing threads together.

“The problem is,” I continued, voice low, “I don’t know which part was the truth. He spoke like someone torn between duty and desire. And the way he looked at me—”

I faltered.

“There was something in his eyes. Not malice. Not quite remorse either. I just—”I shook my head. “I can’t tell if he’s trying to destroy me or save me.”

The clocktower’s resonant chime cut through our conversation like a silver blade, its clear tone reverberating through the dining hall. Students began to gather their books and bags, the scraping of chairs against stone creating a chaotic symphony that matched my unsettled thoughts.

“That’s the warning bell,” Lydia said, sliding the letter back into my hands with practiced care. “We’ll pick this up later. You have Magical Combat first, right?”

I nodded, refolding the parchment and slipping it into my pocket. It felt heavier now—hot against my thigh, like it didn’t want to be forgotten. “Yeah. With Professor Coldwell.”

“Be careful,” Leander said, his voice lower than usual. The lightness in his expression had vanished, replaced by something grim.

“If Samael’s in your class…”

“I know,” I cut in gently, reaching for my satchel. The cool leather under my fingers grounded me, anchoring me to something solid.

“I’ll keep my distance.”

But even as I spoke the words, I knew they were a lie.

Something within me—curiosity, perhaps, or something more dangerous—yearned to understand the enigma that was Samael Norwood.

The contradictions in his warnings, the intensity in his gaze, the way his fingers had pressed against my throat with just enough pressure to frighten but not harm—all of it pulled at me like a tide I couldn't resist.

The courtyard sprawled before me as I stepped out of the dining hall, a tapestry of autumn colors beneath a sky the color of faded parchment.

Bronze and russet leaves skittered across the cobblestones, dancing in the chill breeze that carried the scent of impending rain.

My navy and silver robes billowed around me as I quickened my pace, the Sapphire House embroidery catching the wan sunlight in brief, melancholy flashes.

Students streamed from various directions, their voices a melodic cacophony of excitement and dread.

Magical Combat was notoriously unpredictable—a class where reputations were forged or shattered in the span of a single duel.

My stomach clenched at the thought, the morning’s revelations still churning within me like a tempest.

The Drakestone Arena gleamed in the distance, a massive structure carved from iridescent black stone that seemed to shift and ripple like liquid shadow.

Legend claimed the arena had been crafted from the petrified scales of the last great dragon of Mystral, its magic preserved in perpetuity through ancient enchantments.

I paused at the crest of the hill, momentarily breathless at the sight.

No matter how many times I approached the arena, its otherworldly beauty never failed to evoke a sense of reverent awe.

The arena rose from the valley floor like a dark crown, its curved walls embedded with thousands of tiny crystals that captured and refracted light in hypnotic patterns.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?”

The rich, melodic voice rolled in from behind me. I turned sharply as Edric stepped into view, his silver eyes glinting like polished steel—cool, watchful, amused.

He gestured ahead with a graceful flick of his fingers, every movement precise. “Come,” he said smoothly. “Allow me the honor of escorting you to the arena. These paths aren’t as safe as they once were.”

There was charm in his tone, yes—but beneath it, a subtle edge. Like a dare dressed as courtesy.

His presence was magnetic in the way firelight was—beautiful, flickering, and potentially dangerous. And yet, as I fell into step beside him, the echo of his conversation with Samael from the night before clung to me like smoke.

He gave no indication he knew what I’d heard.

Which made me all the more certain… he did.

I nodded, captivated not just by the arena’s hypnotic display of refracted light from embedded crystals, but by the enigma that was Edric himself.

His words carried a subtle tension, and every so often, his gaze would flicker to my face—an unspoken question hidden behind layers of charm and mystery.

We began our descent down the winding path that led to the Drakestone Arena. As we walked, his footsteps were measured and confident, echoing softly against the ancient stone.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his voice dipping into a husky murmur that slid beneath my skin like silk drawn over a blade. “Coldwell’s lessons are nothing if not… exhilarating .”

There was weight behind the word—too much to be innocent. A subtle shiver threaded down my spine. I met his gaze, searching for answers behind that polished, unreadable smile.

“What do you mean?”

His lips curved slowly, but the smile never touched his eyes. Those silver irises stayed cool, detached, watching me like a chess piece being moved across a board.

“Professor Coldwell has a taste for spectacle,” he said, almost lazily. “On the first day, he pits students against one another. Duels meant to entertain—but really?”

He glanced sideways at me, the corner of his mouth still lifted.

“They’re meant to reveal more than magical skill. They reveal who you really are. ”