Mirial’s POV

Valeria stepped inside first, her boots gliding over the stone floor like she owned the entire dormitory. Silas followed her, eyes flicking immediately to my wrist as if he expected to see the sigil glowing like a lantern. The others filed in behind them, forming a loose semicircle that cut off the exit entirely.

The room tightened around me. Every movement, every breath, sounded too loud.

Lira stood at my side, her posture deceptively calm. But her jaw was set, and there was something in her eyes now—something I hadn’t seen before. Not politeness. Not concern. Something sharper.

“Let’s be efficient,” Valeria said, examining her nails with lazy disinterest. “We’re here to make sure nothing dangerous is being hidden. Protocol, of course.”

Her voice wrapped itself around the word protocol like she found it amusing.

Silas stepped forward. “It’ll only take a moment.”

He didn’t ask permission to search. He moved straight to my desk, fingers gliding over the surface, opening the small drawers one by one. His touch was deliberate, careful, practiced. Like someone who had invaded many rooms before mine.

“You were in the courtyard today,” he said, not looking up. “You saw the spell. You stood in the blast radius.”

“I didn’t choose to,” I said.

“That’s not how it looked.”

My breath caught.

Valeria turned toward my bed, brushing her hand across the blankets as if inspecting their texture. “Fenrir Zade rarely interferes in duels. And yet he intervened for you. Odd, isn’t it?”

“Coincidence,” I said.

She smiled. “There are no coincidences at Arcanamir.”

Two of her followers drifted toward my satchel. One reached for it.

Lira’s voice snapped across the room like a string pulled too tight.

“Do not touch her things.”

The girl froze.

Lira’s smile was small, almost pretty, but her tone could have cracked glass. “Inspections don’t include rummaging through personal belongings. Even the Headmaster clarified that last year.”

Silas didn’t look bothered. “Rules flex when safety is concerned.”

“No,” Lira said. “Rules flex when people don’t know what they’re looking for.”

Silas finally turned toward her. “Is that what this is? You defending her?”

“I’m defending the rules,” she replied. “If you break them, you owe the consequences.”

Valeria rolled her eyes. “Lira, please. Your moral compass is adorable, but unnecessary.”

Lira didn’t blink. “You don’t want Headmaster Aralon hearing that you conducted unsanctioned searches.”

“Headmaster Aralon approves any search that protects the school,” Silas said.

“Then call him,” Lira countered. “Ask him to come watch you search a girl’s underwear drawer.”

Valeria’s jaw twitched.

Silas hesitated.

And for a moment, the room shifted in Lira’s favor. Her control wasn’t aggressive. It didn’t roar. It was quiet, steady, rooted. A kind of strength that didn’t raise its voice yet made others step back without noticing they had.

But the moment didn’t last.

Valeria moved toward me slowly, stopping just close enough that her perfume touched the air between us.

“Mirial Ashwyn,” she said softly. “Are you hiding something?”

The room went silent.

My heart pounded against my ribs.

“No,” I said. “I’m not.”

Her gaze flicked again to my wrist.

And she smiled—not kindly. Not cruelly. Just knowingly.

“I saw light near you today,” she whispered.

My blood ran cold.

She leaned in closer, the line of her body blocking Lira from stepping between us.

“It wasn’t mage-light,” she continued. “And it definitely wasn’t fae-glow.” She tilted her head. “So what was it?”

The sigil pulsed under my sleeve—an instinctive, terrified flicker.

Her eyes widened a fraction.

Lira stepped forward before Valeria could reach for my arm. “That’s enough.”

Valeria didn’t move. “If she’s hiding something dangerous, we must know.”

“Or maybe you simply want to prove a point,” Lira said. “You lost the duel. You lost the attention. Now you want to reclaim it by targeting her.”

Silas stepped in again, voice gentler but more unsettling. “We’re not here to attack her. We just want to understand what happened.” He glanced at me. “The flare today was not normal. And if you keep pretending it was, you’ll only make yourself look more suspicious.”

My lungs felt tight.

They weren’t guessing.

They were circling.

And if anyone saw the sigil shine again—

The door creaked open behind Valeria.

Everyone turned.

A prefect stepped inside—the tall boy from the dining hall I’d seen earlier, wearing the silver badge of House regulation. He looked tired and irritated, as if someone had pulled him from paperwork he didn’t want to be doing.

“What’s going on here,” the prefect asked.

Valeria smiled instantly, flawless and sweet. “Just conducting a room check.”

The prefect raised a brow. “A room check requires prefect supervision. You didn’t request any.”

Silas stiffened.

“We didn’t want to distract anyone,” Valeria said lightly.

“You’ll distract the Headmaster when he hears about it,” the prefect replied, his voice flat. “Everyone out.”

Valeria opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Now.”

It wasn’t a threat.

It wasn’t a shout.

Just a command.

The kind people obeyed without understanding why.

Valeria’s followers left first, confused and annoyed. Silas followed, jaw tight. Valeria remained in the doorway a second longer than the rest.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t smile.

She simply looked at me with a cold, slow calculation that made the hairs on my arms rise.

Then she turned and stepped out, the prefect closing the door behind all of them.

Lira waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before speaking.

“That was not about safety,” she said.

My voice came out thin. “No.”

“They were looking for confirmation.”

I nodded once. “The glow.”

Lira’s face tightened, her composure cracking in a way I hadn’t expected. “Keep your sleeves long tomorrow. Do not let anyone near your wrists.”

The sigil pulsed again, responding to my fear.

I pressed my hand over it to quiet it.

Lira’s eyes followed the movement.

Her voice lowered.

“Mirial,” she whispered, “whatever you are… you need to hide it better.”

Before I could answer, footsteps echoed again in the hallway—this time slower, heavier, more deliberate.

Lira’s attention snapped toward the door.

Someone had returned.

But it was only one person.

The handle turned.

And when the door creaked open an inch, a familiar voice slipped through the narrow gap.

“Mirial.”

Fenrir’s voice.

Quiet.

Steady.

Too calm for the tension burning through the hall.

He didn’t open the door fully.

He didn’t step inside.

He just held it ajar, his eyes catching mine through the thin slice of shadow.

“You need to come with me,” he said.

Lira’s breath hitched.

I stood frozen.

Fenrir’s fingers curled around the edge of the door.

“It’s important,” he added.

Then he stepped back just enough for the lantern light to reach him…

revealing blood smeared across his knuckles.