It started with a note.
No signature. No seal. Just a folded scrap slipped between the pages of Seraphina's spellbook.
Come to the tower behind the east wing at midnight. I want to show you something.
She didn't recognize the handwriting, but she knew the quiet rhythm of the words.
Darian.
---
Midnight…
Seraphina crept through the Academy halls, her cloak swishing softly behind her. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, painting the marble floor with silver.
The east wing was old—abandoned by most students. Dusty, cold, and full of echoes. But as she turned a corner, she saw a light.
Darian stood beside an arched wooden door, holding a flickering orb of magic.
He looked up and gave her a shy smile. "You came."
"You said you wanted to show me something," she replied, stepping closer. "You've piqued my curiosity."
He opened the heavy door, and they slipped inside.
---
The Hidden Tower
The room was ancient. Circular walls lined with cracked tomes, forgotten scrolls, and star-maps stretched to the ceiling. A glass dome above revealed the sky, where stars blinked like secrets waiting to be told.
Seraphina gasped. "I've never seen this place."
"No one comes here anymore," Darian said quietly. "They say it holds the records of dead magic—spells too old, too dangerous, or too strange to be of use."
"And you study here?"
He nodded. "It's quiet. And I like forgotten things."
He walked to a desk littered with scrolls and pulled one out, holding it up.
"This," he said, "is what I wanted to show you."
Seraphina took the scroll, unrolling it slowly.
The parchment crackled with age. Symbols danced across it—familiar ones. A name written in old tongue. A prophecy. A golden sigil shaped like a flame devouring a crown.
Her hands trembled.
> "The one who wears beauty like armor and carries pride like a shield—
Shall either burn the empire to ash…
Or save it with a kiss of shadow."
Her name was etched faintly at the bottom.
Seraphina.
Her breath caught. "What… is this?"
"I found it last week," Darian said, watching her. "I didn't understand it until… I met you."
Seraphina stared at the parchment.
Her pride.
Her downfall.
Her second chance.
"Why show me this?" she whispered.
"Because," Darian said, voice low and sincere, "I think your story matters. And I don't want you to face it alone."
---
A Soft Silence
They sat in the corner of the tower. The candlelight flickered. Stars danced above them.
Seraphina was quiet, staring into the shadows.
Darian watched her from the side, his heart twisting.
He had never been brave. Never been loud. But something about Seraphina made him want to speak.
"People always said I was background noise," he said softly. "The kind of person you only notice when they're gone."
She turned to him slowly.
"Well, they were wrong," she whispered.
And before he could answer—her head rested gently against his shoulder.
Darian froze.
The weight of her.
The warmth of her.
And then—he smiled. Just a little. Just enough.
He didn't move.
He stayed still, afraid to break the moment, but also—afraid to hope.
---
Below the Tower…
A shadow moved through the Academy halls.
A figure cloaked in black, fingers stained with forbidden runes.
A whisper of Seraphina's name echoed against stone.
A curse was forming.
A trap was setting.
And the girl who thought she had escaped fate was walking straight into its jaws.