The days following the duel passed in a blur. Elya drifted through them like a ghost, detached from the world around her, lost in the deafening echoes of her failure. The once-familiar training halls, filled with the hum of magic and the clatter of sparring apprentices, now seemed foreign, unreachable. She kept her head down as she moved through the corridors, though most of the time, she didn’t leave her room at all. The weight of Aldric’s words pressed on her like an anchor, dragging her deeper into an abyss of doubt and shame.

  She didn’t train. The thought of stepping back into the arena, of raising her hands only to watch her magic crumble again, made her stomach turn. She didn’t study. The books and scrolls that once fascinated her, that once held endless possibilities, now mocked her with their promises of power she could never grasp. She barely ate, the hollow ache of hunger barely registering against the deeper emptiness that gnawed at her spirit.

  For the first time in years, she questioned everything—every late night spent practicing, every moment sacrificed in pursuit of a dream that now seemed impossible. The certainty that had once driven her forward, the unshakable belief that she could carve her own path, had turned to dust. She had given everything she had, and still, it had not been enough.

  And if Aldric, a master of magic, someone who had trained the greatest spellcasters of their time, believed she was hopeless… maybe he was right. Maybe she had never belonged here at all.

  Jalen tried to rouse her, his usual cocky grin in place, though it wavered at the edges as he nudged her shoulder. His usual easy confidence was strained, concern flickering behind his eyes as he studied her slumped form.

  “Come on, Elya,” he said one evening, dropping into the seat beside her in the dining hall. “It was one fight. You’ve had worse.”

  He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table, his usual self-assured smirk faltering as he watched her. “I mean, remember that time you tried to summon a defensive shield and ended up setting your own robes on fire?” He chuckled, though it was hollow, an attempt to spark some reaction in her. “That was a disaster. But you laughed about it later. You always bounce back.”

  She didn’t answer. She barely heard him. The food on her plate remained untouched, her hands limp on the table as if the effort to move was too much. Jalen’s smile faded completely now, his fingers tapping anxiously against the wooden surface. “You can’t just shut down like this, Elya.” His voice dropped to something softer, more serious. “I know it hurts. But one loss doesn’t define you.”

  Still, she gave no reaction, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. He exhaled sharply, pushing away from the table. He hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand on her shoulder, brief and firm. “Don’t do this to yourself,” he murmured before standing and walking away, his footsteps slow, reluctant.

  She avoided everyone, even Lina. Facing her was unbearable. The memory of the duel burned too sharply, the knowledge that she had been utterly defeated still raw. The image of herself crumpled on the cold stone floor, helpless and humiliated, replayed over and over in her mind. She felt like a hollow shell, her failures echoing in every empty moment.

  She spent most of her time in her room, the candle on her desk burning low as she stared at the empty surface before her, willing herself to find a reason to continue. But she found nothing. She thought of the long hours she had spent training, of the sleepless nights spent perfecting spells that had ultimately crumbled beneath the force of Lina’s attack. It was as if every moment of effort, every drop of sweat, had been meaningless. If she couldn’t even last a minute in a duel, what was the point? Her magic wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.

  Doubt sank its claws into her mind, whispering that Aldric had been right all along—she had no place here, no right to stand among those stronger than her. The tower had been a dream, but dreams were fragile things, easily shattered. Perhaps she had been foolish to believe she could ever be more than an afterthought.

  Then, one evening, a soft knock echoed at her door. She didn’t move. She told herself she wouldn’t answer, but the hesitation in the silence that followed made her pulse quicken. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a familiar presence stepped inside.

  Lina.

  Elya sat stiffly on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped together as Lina stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The candle on Elya’s desk flickered, casting their shadows against the walls, stretching long and uncertain.

  "You’ve been avoiding me," Lina said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

  Elya exhaled, the weight in her chest making it difficult to meet Lina’s gaze. "I wasn’t sure what to say."

  Lina shifted, uncrossing her arms as she stepped forward. "Then don’t start with words. Just tell me how you feel."

  Elya blinked, caught off guard by the softness in her voice. Her fingers clenched in her lap. "I feel... like I failed. Like I wasn’t good enough. Like everything I worked for led me to that moment, and I was crushed under it."

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  Lina sighed and sat beside her, their shoulders barely touching. "You didn’t fail, Elya. Losing a fight isn’t failure. Giving up is. And I don’t see you giving up."

  Elya let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "It doesn’t feel that way."

  Lina tilted her head, studying her. "I know you. You’re stubborn. You push through. You find another way. That’s what makes you different."

  Elya hesitated, then finally turned to face her. "You were incredible. I barely stood a chance."

  Lina’s expression softened. "You will. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but you will. If you stop punishing yourself long enough to see it."

  Silence stretched between them, not heavy, but charged with something unspoken. Then Lina reached out, hesitating before her fingers brushed against Elya’s.

  "I don’t think you realize how much you matter," Lina murmured.

  Elya’s breath caught. She looked down at their hands, then back up to Lina’s face, reading something there she had been too lost to see before.

  Lina stood, moving toward the door. Elya followed, lingering just inside her room as Lina paused just outside in the hallway. The air felt different, thick with something both thrilling and terrifying.

  Elya swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming in her ears, a steady drumbeat of uncertainty and longing. Every nerve in her body felt charged, her breath hitching as she searched Lina’s face, reading every flicker of hesitation, every unspoken word. Her skin tingled, heat pooling just below her stomach and spiraling outward, climbing up her chest, tightening around her ribs. And then, without thinking, without questioning, she leaned in, the world narrowing to the space between them, to the breath they shared, to the inevitable pull drawing her forward.

  The kiss was hesitant at first—soft, questioning, the barest press of lips. But then something shifted, a pull, a heat spreading from deep within her, rising through her chest, making her entire body tingle with an unfamiliar yet undeniable sensation.

  Lina responded in kind, pressing closer, her hands finding Elya’s arms, then sliding up to cup her face. The kiss deepened, no longer hesitant but hungry, as if both of them had been waiting for this, unsure but desperate.

  When they finally parted, Elya was breathless, her head spinning, her entire body alight with sensation. Her lips still tingled where Lina’s had pressed against them, an intoxicating heat curling through her veins, leaving her dizzy and weightless. She swayed slightly, her breath coming in shallow gasps as if she had been running, her heart hammering in her chest so hard she was sure Lina could hear it. Every inch of her skin felt alive, sensitive to the space between them, the electricity still humming in the air.

  Lina’s gaze was locked onto hers, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes, something just as intense, just as consuming. Elya felt like she was burning, melting from the inside out, a slow, aching warmth flooding through her limbs. She didn’t know what this feeling was, only that she never wanted it to stop.

  Then, without a word, Lina pulled her into a firm hug, her arms wrapping around her tightly, grounding her in the moment even as Elya felt like she might float away.

  "I have to go," Lina whispered, her lips brushing against Elya’s ear.

  Elya could only nod, unable to stop the smile stretching across her face. She had never felt like this before, light, electrified, alive. Not even the layers of magic had made her feel this way.

  Lina lingered for a moment longer, then pulled back, her fingers tracing briefly over Elya’s wrist before she stepped away and disappeared down the corridor.

  Elya stood frozen, her heart pounding, her body still thrumming with sensation. And then, finally, she let out a quiet, breathless laugh.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt invincible.

  A shadow lingered near the entrance to the courtyard, concealed by the evening gloom. Callen stood there, his breath slow and measured, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. He had only meant to pass through, to escape the oppressive weight of another grueling day of training, to still the restless frustration gnawing at his mind. But now, all that frustration had coalesced into something sharper, something colder. He felt his breath hitch, his entire body locking into rigid tension as the sight before him rooted him to the ground, rendering him utterly still, yet seething beneath the surface.

  Lina. Kissing that pathetic, talentless wretch, Elya.

  His stomach twisted into knots, a deep, burning sensation curling through his gut. He had always admired Lina, always sought her attention. He had trained harder, pushed himself further, all in the hope that she would see him, not just as another apprentice, but as someone worth noticing. And yet, she had never looked at him the way she looked at Elya tonight.

  His jaw tightened, his breath coming faster, shallower. It was a look of warmth, of understanding, of something more than just fleeting interest. He had spent years trying to earn even a fraction of that from her. And now, she had given it freely to Elya, Elya, that insipid, weak fraud who had stumbled her way through training, scraping by on sheer luck rather than skill. A pathetic parasite leeching off the patience of their instructors, undeserving of the magic she barely controlled. A useless, fumbling wretch who had somehow stolen the one thing he wanted most.

  His nails dug into his palms, the pain grounding him, keeping his anger from boiling over into something reckless. He turned away, his mind racing. This couldn’t be allowed to stand. He wouldn’t let it.

  Elya had already taken enough from him. That useless, fumbling disgrace had no right to stand among them, no right to even breathe the same air as real apprentices. She had stumbled through training like a blind fool, failing where others had bled, where he had bled, yet still she remained, coddled, protected, allowed to exist where she did not belong. And now, she had taken Lina, too? That sniveling, pathetic waste of space had stolen something from him, and he would not let it stand.

  No.

  His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the distant murmurs of the courtyard. He had to act. He had to remind everyone, including Lina, who truly belonged here. And if that sniveling, talentless worm wouldn’t leave on her own, if that feeble, insufferable disgrace thought she could continue leeching off what she never earned, then he would make sure she had no choice. He would rip her from this place, expose her for the weak, pathetic fraud she was. He would make her suffer, break her down until there was nothing left but the hollow shell of her own inadequacy. If she thought she could steal from him and walk away unscathed, she was more deluded than he had ever imagined.

  Callen turned sharply, disappearing into the darkness, his thoughts sharpening into a singular, unwavering goal.

  It was time to take something from her.