*"Some shadows aren't cast by light, but by the fire we bury inside ourselves. When it finally burns through the silence, you'll know. You won't be able to look away."*
— Seris
**Entry One: After the Showcase**
Even hours after the Second Year showcase, my skin still prickled with the aftershocks of power in the air — firestorms, sound distortion, weapons conjured from thin air. Their mastery was dazzling. Intimidating.
But nothing struck me as deep as the way Kael's blue flames danced — alive, ancient, unyielding. The flames didn't obey him. They *followed* him, like they were waiting for something.
Or someone.
He didn't look at me. Not this time.
---
**Entry Two: Joren's Invitation**
The courtyard was nearly empty when I slipped outside. Just moonlight, wind, and the sound of water trickling from the old lion-head fountain near the east wall.
I didn't expect to find Joren leaning there, arms folded, half-shadowed.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asked.
"Something like that."
He studied me for a beat, then pushed off the wall. "Come on. You need a distraction."
His voice was lower than usual — quieter, deliberate. Not like a captain giving orders. Like a man offering something more.
I followed without a word.
---
**Entry Three: Training Ground After Dark**
We ended up at the auxiliary training field. Deserted. Lit only by the shimmer of starlight and the occasional flickering torch.
"Everyone's scared of this place at night," Joren said with a crooked smile, dropping his bag. "The silence gets inside your head."
"Maybe that's why I like it."
He raised an eyebrow. "You like silence?"
"I like not pretending I'm someone I'm not."
Joren nodded slowly, eyes on me in a way that made my breath catch.
"You don't pretend, Elara. That's what makes you dangerous — they just don't know it yet."
---
**Entry Four: Closer**
We didn't train.
We talked. Sat on the ground, knees brushing, and shared things we hadn't dared say to anyone else.
He told me about his older brother, a Third Year who'd vanished during a mission beyond the academy walls. About the pressure he felt every day to fill a shadow that didn't belong to him.
I told him about my mother — the legend who barely looked at me anymore — and Seris, the sister I could still hear in my dreams.
"I thought I'd come here and find answers," I said. "Instead, I'm just more lost."
Joren turned to me, his eyes softer now. "You're not lost."
His hand brushed mine. Not by accident.
---
**Entry Five: The Spark**
We sat in the moonlight, closer now. His thigh pressed against mine. His fingers grazed my wrist — slow, careful, like he was reading a language there I didn't speak yet.
I didn't pull away.
"Elara," he murmured, voice husky. "There's something about you…"
His hand moved to my cheek, tilting my face toward his.
"I know you're not supposed to stand out. Not yet. But I see it. You're… burning under the surface."
My breath caught.
So did his.
And then — finally — he kissed me.
---
**Entry Six: The Kiss**
It wasn't innocent.
His lips found mine with heat, not hesitation. A kiss that said *you're not alone*, and also *I've wanted this for a long time.*
I gasped against him as his hand slid to my waist, drawing me into him. His body was warm, solid, and mine responded without thinking — aching, trembling, awakening.
We didn't speak.
Words would've broken the spell.
The night curled around us like a shield as the kiss deepened — soft becoming urgent, slow becoming desperate.
When we broke apart, he leaned his forehead against mine, both of us breathless.
"Elara," he whispered. "Tell me to stop if—"
"Don't."
Just one word.
Enough.
---
**Entry Seven: Between the Lines**
We didn't rush.
We explored — fingers tracing necks, backs, arms. Breath shared between kisses, hearts thundering under skin.
Every move was slow, reverent — like we were mapping something sacred.
When he pulled me into his lap, his hands trembled slightly against my hips. Mine tangled in his hair. His lips moved from my mouth to my collarbone, to the hollow of my throat, and I shivered.
The fire in me — the *something* I couldn't name — flickered to life.
But just before I crossed the line, I saw it.
A shadow curling against the ground, as if responding to my heartbeat.
I blinked. It was gone.
But I felt it watching.
*Waiting.*
---
**Entry Eight: Fade to Black**
We did go further. That night.
Joren held me against his chest, my legs curled beside his, as we laid back beneath the stars.
No promises. No labels.
Just warmth.
Connection.
And something inside me that whispered: *This is only the beginning.*
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