The days developed a new rhythm.
Nova still woke at 4 AM for cultivation. Still suffered through morning exercise under crushing gravity. Still dominated combat class and aced his academics. But now, woven between the hours of training and study, there were moments that had nothing to do with power.
Moments in the greenhouse.
Priscilla was there every afternoon, tending to her plants, studying her texts, muttering to herself in ways that made Nova smile when she wasn't looking. He found excuses to pass through. To check on specimens. To ask questions he already knew the answers to.
She knew what he was doing. He could see it in the way her eyes crinkled when he appeared, the way she saved him a seat on the bench near her favorite Moonlace vine.
Neither of them said anything.
Week 10, Day 3 — Afternoon
"I found something," Priscilla announced as Nova settled onto the bench.
She held out a weathered book—pre-Awakening, by the look of it, its pages yellowed and fragile. "The academy's restricted section has texts that aren't in the main library. I convinced a librarian to let me browse."
Nova took the book carefully. "What is it?"
"A journal. From a plant affinity user who lived two hundred years ago, before the Great Awakening." She leaned close, her shoulder brushing his. "She documented something incredible. Plants don't just respond to mana—they remember. Generations of memory, passed through seeds and roots and fungal networks."
Nova flipped through the pages. Handwritten notes, detailed sketches, observations that spanned decades. "This is valuable."
"Valuable enough that the academy keeps it hidden." Priscilla's voice dropped. "The woman who wrote this—her name was Elara Mosswood. She predicted the Great Awakening fifty years before it happened. Said the plants told her something was coming. Something that would change everything."
Nova looked up. "And they hid her work?"
"Buried it in the restricted section where no one would find it. Because if plants can remember, if they can warn us—" She met his eyes. "That changes everything we know about cultivation. About mana. About the System itself."
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other.
Then Nova smiled—a real smile, rare and warm. "You're dangerous, Priscilla."
"I know." She grinned back. "Isn't it wonderful?"
Week 10, Day 5 — Evening Training
The combat hall was empty except for two figures.
Nova and Priscilla faced each other on Platform Three, practice blades in hand. Around them, the observation arrays hummed, recording everything for later review.
"You're sure about this?" Nova asked.
"Teach me." Priscilla's voice was steady. "I'm tired of being weak. Tired of hiding in the greenhouse while everyone else gets stronger. You know how to fight. Teach me."
Nova studied her. In the weeks since they'd met, she'd changed—grown sharper, more confident, less afraid. The plant affinity was still her core, but she'd started attending extra training sessions, pushing her body harder, refusing to be left behind.
"Why me?"
"Because you're the best." She said it simply, without flattery. "Because you don't treat me like I'm fragile. Because when you look at me, you see potential, not pity."
Nova considered this. Then he raised his blade.
"First lesson: stance."
Two hours later, Priscilla lay on the training mat, gasping.
"I changed my mind," she wheezed. "You're a terrible teacher."
"See, you're learning." Nova sat beside her with a smile, not even breathing hard. "Your footwork's improved. Your guard's tighter. You lasted three minutes against me instead of thirty seconds."
"Three minutes of getting beaten."
"Three minutes of not dying." He looked down at her. "In a real fight, that's the difference between life and death."
Priscilla stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
"You're insane. You know that?"
"Often told."
She turned her head to look at him. Sweat plastered hair to her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion. But her eyes—her eyes were bright with something that had nothing to do with combat.
"Why do you help me?" she asked quietly. "You don't help anyone. Everyone in Class A says you're cold, distant, impossible to get close to. But you sit with me in the greenhouse. You teach me to fight. You—" She hesitated. "You look at me like I matter."
Nova didn't answer immediately.
The truth was complicated. He helped her because she reminded him of someone—Nora, perhaps, before the weight of ten thousand souls. Because her passion for plants mirrored his sister's passion for alchemy. Because in a world of ambition and betrayal, she was simply... genuine.
But also because when she smiled, something in his chest warmed.
"You matter," he said finally. "Whether you believe it or not."
Priscilla's breath caught.
For a long moment, neither moved. The observation arrays hummed. The lights dimmed automatically as evening deepened into night.
Then Priscilla sat up slowly, close enough that Nova could feel her warmth.
"Nova—"
Her hand found his.
Her fingers were callused from digging in soil, warm from exertion, trembling slightly. They intertwined with his like they belonged there.
Nova's heart—a heart that had been cold for two lifetimes—stuttered.
"I—" she started.
He kissed her.
It was gentle at first, tentative—a question rather than a demand. Priscilla's surprise lasted only a second before she responded, her free hand coming up to cup his face, her lips soft and warm and real.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she stared at him with wide eyes.
"Oh," she whispered.
Nova's voice was rough. "Oh?"
"That's—" She laughed, breathless. "I've wanted you to do that for weeks."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because you're Nova Almond. Rank 4. Class A. Future legend." She touched his face, tracing the line of his jaw. "And I'm just a plant girl from nowhere."
He caught her hand, pressed it to his chest where his heart still pounded.
"You're not just anything," he said. "You're Priscilla. You talk to extinct flowers and find hidden journals and make me feel things I thought I'd forgotten." He leaned closer. "You're everything."
This kiss was not gentle.
The training hall was empty. The lights were dim. And two people who had spent weeks circling each other finally stopped pretending.
Later—much later—they lay tangled together on the training mats, a borrowed blanket from the equipment locker covering their bare skin. Priscilla's head rested on Nova's chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.
"So," she murmured. "That happened."
"Yes."
"Was it—" She hesitated. "Was it good for you? I've never—I mean, I haven't—"
Nova's arms tightened around her. "It was perfect."
She relaxed against him, a contented sigh escaping her lips.
"I don't know what this means," she admitted. "Us. Whatever we are now."
Nova stared at the ceiling, thinking about his past life. About Nora. About the Shadows. About the revenge that waited at the end of this long road.
He should push her away. Should protect her from the danger that followed him. Should keep his distance like he'd kept distance from everyone.
But when he looked down at her—at the trust in her eyes, the warmth of her body, the way she fit against him like she'd always belonged—he couldn't.
"It means we figure it out together," he said. "Or not together. Whatever you want."
She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him. Moonlight from the high windows painted silver across her features.
"I want this," she said simply. "I want you. Even if it's complicated. Even if you have secrets. Even if—" She touched his chest, where his heart still beat. "Even if you're not sure you deserve to be happy."
Nova's throat tightened.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I see you, Nova. Not the fighter. Not the rank 4 genius. You. The boy who watches plants grow because a girl asked him to. The boy who teaches defense to someone who can't pay him back. The boy who—" She leaned down, kissed him softly. "The boy who kissed me like I was the only person in the world."
He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair.
"I don't deserve you."
"Not your choice to make."
They lay together as the night deepened, two people in the hollow of a great machine, finding warmth in each other while the world outside kept spinning.
Week 11, Day 1 — Morning Exercise
Valerius increased gravity to 2.75x.
Nova ran with the others, his body screaming, his mind elsewhere. Priscilla was in Class B's training ground on the other side of the academy, probably suffering through her own version of this torture.
He smiled.
Kaelen noticed. "What's with you? You're grinning like an idiot."
"Nothing."
"Nothing my ass." The larger student kept pace beside him. "You've been different lately. Less broody."
"Maybe I'm finally adjusting to the gravity."
"Sure." Kaelen didn't look convinced, but he let it drop. "Just don't let whatever it is distract you. Rankings don't care about your mood."
Nova nodded and kept running.
But the smile didn't fade.
That afternoon, he found Priscilla in the greenhouse.
She was covered in dirt as usual, her sleeves rolled up, her hair escaping its tie. When she saw him, her face lit up—a sunrise of joy that made his chest ache.
"You're early."
"Classes ended early."
"Liar." She crossed to him, rose on her toes, and kissed him soundly. "I saw your schedule. You skipped Magical Theory."
"Magical Theory is boring."
"Magical Theory is required." But she was laughing, pulling him toward her hidden clearing. "I found something else. Another journal. This one talks about—"
He stopped her with a kiss.
"The journals can wait."
"But—"
"The journals," he murmured against her lips, "can wait."
She melted into him, and for a while, nothing else existed.