The great hall was empty by dawn. Where hours ago it had thrummed with the roars of combat and the scent of burning magic, now only silence lingered, thick and heavy.
Selene stood at the edge of the arena floor, her boots scuffed and splattered with dust. The trial was over, but the echoes of what had happened still rang in her ears—the roar of the summoned firebeast, the way the wards had flickered, the tremor in the earth. And the way Matthew had thrown himself in front of her without hesitation.
Her chest tightened as she reached up to touch her collarbone where the searing heat of the trial had grazed her. She had won—they had survived—but it didn't feel like victory.
Footsteps approached behind her.
"You should be resting," Matthew said gently.
Selene turned. His jacket was slung over his shoulder, a gash still healing across his brow. His eyes, always sharp, looked tired but unwavering.
"I couldn't sleep."
He came to stand beside her, both of them staring at the ruined floor.
"You were incredible," he said after a long moment. "They couldn't ignore what you did. Even the Council looked rattled."
Selene shook her head. "Something was wrong with the trial. That creature… it wasn't supposed to be summoned. I saw Professor Lysandra's expression. She was shocked."
"It was meant to kill you," Matthew said flatly.
She looked at him, startled. "You think the trial was sabotaged?"
"I think someone wants you out of the way. And I think they're running out of patience."
Selene exhaled slowly. She had known, deep down, that she was walking a thin line. Her bloodline, the book, the whispers of the Forgotten—it all painted a target on her back.
"We need to find out who," she murmured. "And why now."
"We will," Matthew said, and she heard the quiet fury in his voice. He turned to her. "But you can't keep pushing yourself until you break. You're not alone in this."
She met his gaze, surprised at the intensity there.
"I saw the way you shielded me," she said, her voice low. "That wasn't strategy. That was instinct."
He looked away, a faint flush rising to his cheek. "Maybe I don't like the idea of losing you."
Her heart twisted. In another life, she might have let herself lean into that warmth. But here, every soft thing came with blades hidden beneath it.
Still, she reached out and took his hand.
"You didn't. Lose me."
Their fingers intertwined in the soft hush of the hall.
---
Later that morning, the Academy buzzed with unease. Word of the trial had spread faster than wildfire, students gathering in tight knots to whisper about the firebeast, about the Raventhorn girl who had stared it down.
Selene walked through it all with her head high, though her thoughts swirled.
In the library, she met Aurelian.
He leaned against a bookcase, his golden eyes assessing her with that unreadable calm.
"You made it through," he said. "Barely."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "You knew, didn't you? That the trial was going to be different."
"I suspected," Aurelian admitted. "The wards around the summoning circle were tampered with. Ancient symbols, almost forgotten. I only recognized them because they match some of the ones in your book."
Her breath hitched. "You think the book triggered it?"
"Not directly. But something in the academy knows you have it. And it's reacting."
She clenched her fists. "Why would anyone risk warping a trial? That could've killed half the students."
"Desperation," Aurelian said. "And fear. Of what your blood might awaken."
Selene swallowed hard. The weight of that sentence sank deep.
"I found a passage," she said slowly. "It spoke of the Forgotten. Said the heir would awaken them."
Aurelian looked sharply interested. "Then you understand why they want you silenced. The Forgotten aren't just myth, Selene. They're buried history—power sealed away during the last blood war. If you bring them back..."
"It changes everything," she finished.
He nodded. "And not everyone wants change."
---
That night, Selene sat with Matthew again in the dormitory common room. The fire crackled, casting long shadows. Neither spoke for a long while.
She turned to him finally. "When this all began, I thought surviving meant being alone. Being untouchable."
He watched her, waiting.
"But now... I'm starting to think I was wrong. That maybe surviving means having something to hold on to."
He smiled softly. "You have me."
She nodded. "And I won't run from that. Not anymore."
He leaned closer, not to kiss her, but simply to press his forehead to hers. A quiet promise.
And in the stillness, Selene knew: the war was coming. But she wouldn't face it alone.
Not this time.