Vyne snorted, the sound raw and bitter in the cooling air. "She's obsessed with Dante. Like, actually obsessed—the kind that makes your skin crawl when you catch her staring at him during meals."
His mismatched eyes rolled skyward as he kicked at the gravel beneath their feet. "You made him look weak in front of the entire academy. Of course her blood boiled hot enough to melt steel."
Blazar groaned, the sound torn from somewhere deep in her chest. "I didn't do anything! It was some stupid coincidence—or maybe someone framed me. Cast a spell when I stabbed him." Her voice cracked with frustration, hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I have no powers, Vyne. None. I'm about as magical as a soggy piece of bread."
The admission tasted like ash in her mouth.
Vyne shrugged, but there was something almost gentle in the gesture—a knowing glint flickering in his human eye while the other remained cold as winter stone. "Never say never," he murmured, and the words carried weight she couldn't quite decipher.
"And why would anyone be obsessed with that maniac?" Blazar scoffed, her boot connecting with a loose pebble that went skittering across the courtyard stones. The sharp crack echoed in the stillness. "He looks like the type to murder his wife for putting too much sugar in his coffee—hell, he'd probably incinerate the coffee shop just to make a point."
The image was so vivid it almost made her laugh, if it weren't for the very real possibility that Dante actually would do such a thing.
"Because," Vyne said dryly, though his voice carried undertones of something darker—pity, maybe, or disgust, "everyone thinks they'll be the one to 'tame the beast.' Like he's some wild animal that just needs the right touch."
He shook his head, his hair catching the last rays of dying sunlight. "Aria believes if Dante has a soft spot for her, she becomes the goddess who conquered the unstoppable force. The woman who made the thunderbeast kneel."
"How romantic," Blazar drawled, her voice thick with sarcasm that could've cut glass. The very thought made her stomach turn.
Then she frowned, curiosity getting the better of her despite everything. "Wait—why were you fighting him, anyway? You don't strike me as the type to pick fights with homicidal lycan kings."
Vyne led her out into the open courtyard, where the cool evening air should have been soothing but did little to untangle the knots of tension coiled in Blazar's shoulders.
The space felt too open, too exposed—especially when students and teachers kept glancing at her awkwardly.
"Wrong place, wrong time, doing the wrong thing," Vyne admitted with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. His shoulders slumped slightly.
"A new teacher—poor bastard probably doesn't even know what he stepped into—compared Dante to Xeari during tactics class. Said Dante's hotheadedness makes him reckless, while Xeari balances fury with patience like some kind of deadly art form." He winced at the memory, touching his ribs as if they still ached.
"Then some idiot in the back—and I mean complete moron—laughed at Dante's battle cry. You know, 'Roar of Thunder, Fury of Storm'—and, well..."
"He exploded," Blazar finished, her lips twitching despite herself. The mental image was almost too ridiculous to believe, except she'd seen Dante's temper firsthand.
"Literally," Vyne groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Tables went flying, students dove for cover, and the poor teacher looked like he was about to wet himself. And I was caught laughing—at something else entirely, mind you—but try explaining that to a Lycan king mid-rampage. Logic doesn't exactly penetrate that thick skull when he's seeing red."
Blazar barked a laugh that echoed off the stone walls. "Damn. You do have the worst luck in the known world. Almost as bad as mine—and that's saying something."
"All of them are trouble in their own ways," Vyne grumbled as they approached a cluster of towers that rose like ancient sentinels against the darkening sky. "These days, we just call them the Havoc Five. Seemed fitting, considering they leave destruction in their wake wherever they go."
"Should've gone with Demonic Five," Blazar mused, her eyes drawn upward despite herself as she took in the five towering spires that loomed ahead. Each one was a declaration of its ruler's will, a monument to power that made her feel smaller than an ant.
Fist of Flame dominated the skyline, its volcanic stone alive with ember-light, silver conductors crackling with lightning.
Across the abyss, Crown's Conclave loomed—a void-cut monolith where shadows slithered unnaturally against its obsidian skin.
To its left, Silent Moon rose in gleaming carnelian, its silver veins pulsing faintly, a silent clockwork of power.
The glacial sheen of Midnight Blade fractured sunlight into icy spears, while Rage Vow's marble façade spiraled with hypnotic silver.
And connecting them all, were the suspended sky bridges. binding the kings together in their brutal, uneasy rule.
The Bridges of Dominion, thrumming with the energy of their makers: storm-charged copper, dark onyx planks, heated crimson steel, diamond-frost, and mirrors that reflected.
Of course, she thought. Even their architecture has to scream how dangerous they are.
Vyne stopped before a smaller, plainer tower that looked positively humble compared to its towering neighbors.
Its door creaked like old bones as he pushed it open, the sound sharp in the evening stillness. "This is the Newbie Tower," he said, his voice gentle despite the harsh reality of his words.
"Where all undrafted students stay until their trial. Think of it as academic purgatory." He gestured inside with a mock bow. "Home sweet prison—for tonight, at least."
Blazar stared past him at the five majestic towers beyond, their silhouettes cutting into the twilight like blades waiting to fall.
The weight of tomorrow pressed down on her like a physical thing, making it hard to breathe.
Tomorrow, she thought, her heart hammering against her ribs, I either join them in their circles... or die trying. And honestly, she wasn't sure which prospect terrified her more.