For the first time in weeks, Blackmoor felt still. Not silent, not safe—but still. Like a breath between storms. The halls echoed with quieter voices, hushed laughter, and stolen glances.
Hope had been the center of so much lately—battles, leadership, power—but now, for once, she chose to step back. Let the others have their moment. Tonight wasn't about prophecy or war. It was about hearts finding rhythm again.
And so, the story turned.
---
Jessa & Raphael: A Moment of Truth
The greenhouse was alive with the scent of blooming moonblossoms—flowers that only opened under starlight. Jessa walked along the aisle, her fingers trailing the glowing petals. She wasn't looking for potions or ingredients tonight. She needed quiet.
But the universe had other plans.
Raphael was already there.
"Seriously?" Jessa said with a groan. "Do you follow me now?"
He chuckled, leaning against the moss-covered pillar. "This used to be my favorite place before the school got wrecked. You're the one following me."
She raised a brow but didn't argue. "I needed fresh air."
"Then we've got something in common."
A soft silence stretched between them. Jessa stepped closer to the orchids, then whispered, "I didn't think I'd make it out alive last time."
"You did." Raphael's voice was low now. Sincere. "You were incredible, Jess."
The way he said her name—it tugged at her. No teasing. No arrogance. Just awe.
She turned to him, eyes shimmering. "Why do you care so much?"
He hesitated. Then took a step closer. "Because I'm in love with you."
Jessa's breath caught. No jokes. No flirtation. Just truth.
He continued. "I tried to play it cool. Pretend it was just fun. But every time you roll your eyes, or save someone without even thinking, or call me an idiot in three languages… it gets worse. I'm wild for you."
She let out a soft laugh—half choked, half emotional. "You're such a dork."
"But I'm your dork, if you'll have me."
She stepped into him, heart pounding. "Say it again."
"What?"
"That you love me."
Raphael smiled. "I love you, Jess."
And she kissed him. Finally. The kind of kiss that makes time stall. The kind that says: We've survived.
Across campus, in the spell-forging room, Celeste stood beside Daemon, helping him rearrange fallen bookshelves. Her sleeves were rolled up, her long hair pinned back, and she was humming a song from her childhood—a lullaby no one else seemed to know.
"I've never heard that," Daemon said, pausing mid-spell.
"My mother used to sing it when I was sick," she replied, smiling softly.
He nodded but didn't respond.
Celeste inhaled slowly. "Daemon?"
He glanced up. "Hmm?"
"I was wondering… maybe we could walk the lake trail tomorrow morning. Just the two of us."
He opened his mouth, then stopped. "Celeste… I can't. I promised Stephen I'd help reinforce the west barrier at dawn."
She nodded quickly, backing away a little. "Right. Of course. Priorities."
"I'm not avoiding you," he said suddenly, sensing her withdrawal. "I just… I don't know how to do this. Feelings. Flirting. All that."
Celeste bit her lip, holding back the ache. "Then let me teach you."
But he was already turning back to the spellbook, unaware that her heart had cracked—just a little.
Later that night, the training courtyard was dimly lit by floating orbs. Hope practiced quietly, throwing illusion spells at a moving target. She was improving. Controlling her power better. Stronger than ever.
But it wasn't Hope that London was watching from the shadows.
It was Eve.
She stood at the edge of the field, guiding a small sphere of phoenix fire between her fingers, her face illuminated in soft golden hues. She didn't know he was there.
"You're getting better," he said, walking up.
Eve turned, smiling. "Thanks. I still can't make it last more than thirty seconds, but—"
"You've already done more than anyone expected."
She looked at him then, really looked. "You were dead."
"I got better," he grinned.
She didn't laugh. Instead, her eyes searched his. "When I thought I lost you… I felt like a part of me broke. And I didn't even know I liked you that much until then."
London's teasing faded.
He stepped closer, taking her hand carefully, watching the way the fire danced on her palm.
"You're not broken," he said softly. "You're just waking up."
Eve swallowed. "Does this mean you like me too?"
London smiled faintly, then looked toward the training dummies. "Let's just say I'm curious."
Hope, from across the yard, had paused to watch them. She didn't feel jealousy—not exactly. More like a strange ache. But she turned away. Let them have this moment.
She had her own fire to tend.
---
Closing Scene: Under the Moonlight
By the lake, later that night, the couples came in pairs or alone. Raphael and Jessa lay in the grass, hands entwined. Daemon sat beneath a tree, unaware that Celeste had followed him only to turn back before he saw her.
London walked with Eve, their hands brushing, not quite linked.
And Hope… watched them all. A leader. A friend. A girl still learning where her heart truly belonged.
In the quiet of the night, the school seemed peaceful.
But something in the wind whispered otherwise.