I step off the carriage, and the academy stretches before me like a fortress carved from obsidian and gold. Every spire glints under the early morning sun, every archway whispers promises of power and secrets I am not meant to understand. My fingers curl around the strap of my satchel, knuckles white. I try to keep my head down, my shoulders small, my presence invisible. This place is not built for someone like me.
Students are everywhere, laughing in clusters, robes swishing, voices dripping with confidence and entitlement. Their laughter bounces off the polished marble floors, sharp and cutting. I feel their eyes flick toward me as I walk past, curious, sneering. I know what they think. Scholarship girl. No pedigree. Weak. Not one of them.
I shrink slightly, stepping into the main hall, heels clicking softly against the floor. The ceilings are impossibly high, gilded with symbols I don't recognize, floating candles that shift lazily above heads. Everything feels alive, observing. I swallow, trying not to tremble, and keep walking.
From the corner of my eye, I see him. Kael Morvane. He moves through the hall with an effortless grace that draws attention even without trying. Students step aside as if he bends the space around him. He is tall, narrow, impossibly composed. His hair is black, almost absorbing light, and he moves with a stillness that seems unnatural, predatory. I notice him only for a heartbeat, then quickly look away. He does not acknowledge me, does not even glance in my direction, but something in the air around him prickles my skin.
A group of girls blocks my path near the fountain, robes perfect, gold pins catching the light.
"Well, look who it is," one says, a sharp smile curling her lips. "Scholar girl, trying to fit in?"
I try to sidestep them, but one of them bumps into me deliberately, and I stumble, nearly dropping my bag.
"Oh, careful," she says with exaggerated sweetness, voice dripping with mockery. "Wouldn't want to ruin your… cheap little things."
I bite my tongue, forcing a nod, pretending not to burn inside with humiliation. They laugh, trailing off down the hall, leaving me standing alone. My stomach twists, a dull ache settling there.
I glance back toward where Kael moved, hoping what? That he'll notice? That someone with power and presence might see me, one person, and somehow change everything? But he is already gone, swallowed by the flow of students, and I am invisible again.
Orientation begins in the grand lecture chamber. Marble steps echo under my careful tread as I take a seat at the back, hoping to vanish into shadows. The headmaster enters, robes glinting with sigils, aura of authority undeniable. His voice rolls over the room, speaking of rules, expectations, and the living wealth that flows through the academy. I take notes feverishly, trying to focus, but my mind drifts back to the glimpses I caught earlier, to the weight of a presence I cannot name.
Lunch is a test I am unprepared for. The dining hall is immense, long tables polished to a mirror sheen, floating silverware moving lazily above plates. Students chatter, laugh, and jostle for attention. I find a quiet corner, hoping no one notices the scholarship girl eating alone.
Of course, they notice.
"Is this the new charity case?" a boy sneers, knocking into my table. Bread rolls tumble to the floor, and laughter erupts around me. "Didn't know they let peasants eat here."
I drop my gaze to my plate, fingers clenching the edge. I mutter an apology, trying to ignore the stares and whispers, but every laugh is a pinprick, a reminder that I do not belong.
From the corner of my vision, I catch movement across the hall. He is there. Kael. Standing at the far balcony, silent, observing, letting the world bend around him. He does not step closer, does not speak to me, but I feel it. That awareness, that magnetic attention I cannot name. My skin prickles. I look away immediately, heart hammering, pretending I am not aware of it.
Afternoon classes are no easier. Magical theory, contracts, Aurum manipulation. I take careful notes, copying every detail, but the students around me whisper, snicker, and make subtle sabotage. A girl knocks over a vial of ink deliberately, spilling over my scroll. I flinch, apologizing automatically, forced to clean up the mess while others laugh.
Kael passes through the classroom corridors at one point. His aura is impossible to ignore, even from a distance. The floor seems to pulse under his presence. I catch his gaze fleetingly—not directly, not acknowledging me, just noticing, a shadow of interest. My heart stumbles, then I push it down. I am not important enough for him to care yet.
By evening, I am exhausted. My dorm is quiet, the candlelight flickering against the walls. I drop my bag and sink onto the edge of my bed. I replay the day over and over. Every laugh, every shove, every sharp glance. I am a nonentity here. I am invisible, laughed at, mocked, brushed aside. Yet, in my mind, a small, impossible thread of awareness coils tight—the memory of him noticing me, even from afar.
I should feel relief that he did not speak. I should feel safe in the fact that I am still unnoticed. But I don't. Instead, I feel the weight of being observed, the pulse of something alive following me even when I cannot see it.
A shadow shifts outside my window. I freeze. My breath catches. I tell myself it is nothing, the wind, the flicker of candlelight. But deep down, I know. Someone watched me today. Someone powerful. Someone who does not yet speak, does not yet acknowledge me.
And the thought leaves me restless, pulse high, anticipation curling like smoke around my chest.
I lie down, staring at the ceiling, and wonder how long it will be before the storm that noticed me finally decides to strike
I lie down, staring at the ceiling, and wonder how long it will be before the storm that noticed me finally decides to strike. The shadows in my dorm seem thicker tonight, stretching along the walls like hands reaching for me. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders, shivering despite the warmth. My satchel rests by the bed, untouched, and I keep thinking about the floating candles in the hall, the polished floors, the way the wealthy students move as if the world itself bends for them.
I hear faint noises from the corridor outside. Steps? Voices? I hold my breath, but nothing comes close. It is probably just another student returning late, or a servant moving quietly in the halls. Still, I cannot shake the feeling of being watched. My pulse quickens, fingers curling into the blanket.
I close my eyes and see him again—Kael. Not close, not speaking, not acknowledging me, yet somehow, impossibly, aware. My mind replays the glimpses I caught earlier, the way he glided through the hall like the air itself obeyed him, the subtle tilt of his head that made me feel like I existed for just a moment. I shake my head, telling myself it is impossible. He does not know me. He cannot care.
But my body does not agree. My chest tightens, a strange fluttering that I cannot name. I imagine him noticing me again, a shadow among the gilded halls, eyes sharp, calculating, observing without reaching. The thought sends warmth and tension coiling through me in equal measure.
I roll onto my side, hugging the blanket closer, but my mind refuses to rest. I think about the girls who shoved me in the hallway, about the boy who tripped me near the fountain, their laughter still echoing in my ears. I am small, invisible, and utterly alone. The scholarship girl who does not belong. The nonentity in a palace of wealth and power.
The candlelight flickers again, shadows dancing across the walls. I can almost hear whispers, soft and unintelligible, as if the room itself is breathing. My fingers brush against the edge of my desk, tracing the carvings etched there. They are faint, almost imperceptible, glowing slightly in the dim light. Symbols I do not recognize, but they hum against my skin, a vibration that makes my hair stand on end.
I sit up, curiosity and caution warring inside me. Slowly, carefully, I touch one of the carvings. It responds immediately, a warm pulse traveling up my arm, a faint shimmer in the air above it. I jerk back, heart hammering. My first instinct is fear. What did I just do? But beneath the fear is something else—a thrill, a pulse of power I have never felt before.
The room is still. I breathe in shallow, fast breaths, heart racing. My mind swirls with questions. What is this place? How does it bend around me, around my touch? And why, why can I not shake the feeling that I am being watched even here, alone in my dorm?
I glance toward the window, half-expecting to see him again. But of course, there is nothing. The moon glints faintly off the spires of Obsidian Crown, pale light spilling across the courtyard below. My eyes trace the shadows, the winding paths, the dormitories stacked like chess pieces. Somewhere, out there, he moves. I know it. I do not see him, yet I can feel it—an invisible pull, like the faint brush of a current beneath water, guiding attention, measuring, calculating.
I rise slowly, careful not to make noise. I move to the window, pressing my palm against the cool glass. The courtyard is quiet, empty of wandering students. Yet, the feeling persists. Someone is observing, always, silently. Not close enough to approach, not close enough to speak, but aware of me. I shiver, a thrill of fear and anticipation coiling in my stomach.
My gaze drifts to the distant towers, to the hallways I have only glimpsed, to the floating lights and enchanted doors that seem alive. I imagine him there, moving with ease through it all, untouchable, flawless. I imagine the way he could bend the space around him without speaking, without trying, a presence that commands without command.
And yet, he does not come. Not tonight. Not yet.
I exhale slowly, trying to steady my racing heart. I return to my bed, curling beneath the blanket, but sleep does not come easily. My mind keeps replaying the day, the humiliations, the laughter, the glances that passed over me like water over stone. I wonder how long I can endure this place, how long I can survive being the invisible one.
But the thought that he noticed me, even if only in passing, keeps me awake, keeps me alert. There is a strange comfort in it, dangerous and thrilling all at once. The knowledge that I am seen, if only faintly, is a tether I cannot quite resist.
I lie there, listening to the faint hum of magic in the walls, the soft rustle of curtains in the draft, and the distant, muffled footsteps of other students returning to their rooms. The shadows shift across my walls, and I feel the pulse of something ancient, patient, alive. My body thrums with anticipation. I am small. I am nothing. And yet, I am noticed.
The night stretches on, long and uneasy. I close my eyes, trying to sleep, but the image of him lingers, a shadow at the edge of my awareness. Kael Morvane, moving through the halls like a storm in still air, aware, untouchable, unacknowledging. And me, tiny, overlooked, humiliated, and already caught in a web I do not yet understand.
Eventually, exhaustion drags me under, my eyelids heavy, mind teetering between fear and fascination. The final thought that drifts through my consciousness before I slip into restless sleep is that he is there, somewhere, always watching.
And I am already waiting for him to move.