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Chapter Text

The Omega Dimension was a world of silence and suffering.

A prison of endless ice, where the winds howled like vengeful spirits and the very air could freeze the soul. Towers of jagged ice rose from the abysses, their sharp edges reflecting the ghostly blue glow of the enchanted ice that kept the prisoners locked away. Within these frozen tombs, the most dangerous beings in the Magic Dimension were left to wither, their powers smothered by the relentless cold.

In the very heart of this wasteland, trapped within a crystalline cell, was Valtor.

Once a feared sorcerer, a conqueror of worlds, he now sat in the shadows of his own exile. His arms, bound in shackles of enchanted ice, lay motionless at his sides, and his normally flowing mane of blonde hair was dulled by the cold. His grey eyes, however, burned with the same intensity as ever, smoldering embers beneath a layer of frost.

He had been patient. He had endured. And now, after what felt like an eternity, the moment of his rebirth had come.

A flicker of energy pulsed beneath his skin. The chains that bound him rattled, reacting to the stirring of his immense power. For centuries, the Omega Dimension had fed on magic, draining it from those imprisoned within its walls. But Valtor was not like the others. He had not been broken - only dormant, waiting for the right moment to strike. And that moment had arrived.

With a deep breath, Valtor closed his eyes and reached inward. He could feel it - the tiniest spark of his dark flame, buried beneath layers of ice and suppression spells. It was weak, but it was enough. He focused, letting his rage kindle the embers of his power. The cold glowed with a furious blue light, trying to suppress him, but cracks began to form in the ice around his cell.

Then, with a whisper of a spell, he shattered them.

A pulse of darkness erupted from his body, an explosion of raw magic that sent shards flying in all directions. The enchanted chains disintegrated into dust, unable to withstand the sheer force of his will. The walls trembled, cracks webbing out like the veins of a dying beast.

Valtor stood, stretching his limbs for the first time in years. He flexed his fingers, feeling the tingling rush of power returning to him. His breath no longer came in ragged gasps. It was strong, steady, like the winds of a coming storm.

But his escape had not gone unnoticed.

The prison guards - massive serpents of ice and magic - slithered toward him, their eyes glowing with an eerie blue light. Their scales shimmered like frozen glass, and from their gaping maws, beams of cold energy surged forth, seeking to trap him once more. Valtor barely dodged the first blast, rolling across the icy ground as another shot past his shoulder, freezing the wall behind him in a thick sheet of frost.

He knew exactly where he was on this planet of ice. He had studied it long ago, memorized every detail of its cruel landscape. He sprinted forward, weaving between frozen stalagmites as the snakes pursued him, their massive bodies crashing through the brittle formations with terrifying force. He could not afford to fight them, not now. His break-out had drained much of his power, and he was not strong enough to both defend himself and open the portal at the same time.

The portal to Andros - his only way out - loomed ahead, shimmering faintly beneath layers of protective ice. He could see the swirling energy inside, a gateway to the vast, water-covered world beyond. But it was still sealed.

Valtor clenched his fists. He needed time to cast the unlocking spell, but the giant snakes were closing in, their relentless attacks pushing him closer to a corner. He ducked as another blast nearly grazed him, the icy energy freezing the very air around him. His mind raced - he had to act now.

Then, an idea struck him.

Ducking beneath another blast, he positioned himself directly in front of the portal's frozen barrier. The snakes reared back, preparing to strike again. As the beams of energy erupted toward him, he summoned a flicker of dark magic - not to fight, but to redirect. He twisted his long fingers in a precise motion, guiding the energy blasts toward the frozen shield over the portal.

The impact was immediate. The ice cracked, then shattered completely under the force of the snakes' own power. The portal flickered, struggling to stabilize, but it was open just enough.

Without hesitation, Valtor leapt forward. The cold tendrils of the Omega Dimension reached for him, the shrieks of the snakes echoing behind him, but it was too late. He passed through the swirling vortex, feeling the rush of magic envelop him.

The world around him shifted. The frigid winds disappeared, replaced by the humid air of another realm. He landed hard on a stone platform, his boots echoing against the ancient surface. He was no longer in the Omega Dimension. Before him stretched the endless waters of Andros, their waves crashing gently against the gateway.

The ground was solid beneath him, the scent of brine and saltwater filling his lungs. His pale eyes flickered open, taking in the dark sky above, the swirling blues and greens of Andros' atmosphere reflecting on the endless waves.

The Omega portal stood behind him, flickering erratically, struggling to repair itself. He could hear the distant roar of the ice serpents, their fury trapped on the other side of the sealed gateway. He smirked, brushing frost from his cloak. They had been formidable, but they had failed to keep him contained.

For the first time in two decades, Valtor inhaled deeply, tasting freedom on his tongue.

Chapter Text

The sun's rays bathed Alfea in a warm, golden glow, causing the delicate spires of the fairy school's towers to shimmer like crystals. The ancient stone walls, covered in ivy, seemed to come alive as the light kissed them, highlighting intricate carvings of mythical creatures and floral patterns. A gentle breeze swept through the campus, rustling the leaves of towering trees that dotted the grounds, their branches swaying in rhythm with the chatter that filled the air.

In the grand courtyard, the vibrant colors of flowerbeds added to the enchantment, blooming in shades of purple, pink, and gold. Students dressed in their various uniforms – some in the sparkling hues of the newer classes, others wearing the proud symbols of graduates – scattered across the cobblestone paths. Small clusters gathered in animated groups, catching up on old times, while others excitedly discussed their hopes for the year ahead.

Above them, birds with iridescent feathers flitted across the sky, their songs blending with the hum of magic and the energy that was beginning to pulse from within the school.

Bloom took a deep breath as she stepped through the grand, arched gates of Alfea. It was the start of her third and final year, a moment she had been both anticipating and dreading. She had come so far since the day she had met Stella on Earth, but there was still so much she didn't know - most importantly, who she truly was.

"Ahh, home sweet home," Stella declared dramatically, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder. "Another year to perfect my fashion sense, break a few hearts, and, oh yes, learn more magic." She winked at Bloom, who laughed, grateful for her best friend's familiar energy.

"I can't believe this is our last year," Bloom said as they walked towards the main entrance. "It feels like just yesterday you were being chased by that ogre."

Stella groaned. "Ugh, don't remind me. That was not my finest moment. But it did lead to us meeting, so I suppose I'll allow it."

Other students were arriving in carriages pulled by winged horses, or stepping through teleportation portals. The courtyard buzzed with excited chatter. Flora, Tecna, and Musa waved from a distance, making their way over. Layla, who had joined them during their second year, was close behind.

"Bloom! Stella!" Flora called, her warm smile as bright as ever. She had a small vine wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet.

"Finally, we're back!" Musa grinned, adjusting the strap of her bag. Layla nodded, "I have to admit, I missed this place."

Tecna nodded. "It'll be good to get back to structured learning. I have a few theories I want to test in magical programming."

As the students made their way through the grand corridors of Alfea, the anticipation in the air was palpable. The stone floors echoed under their feet, polished by years of students walking these halls.

Stella, as usual, was leading the group into the assembly hall, a room so vast it seemed to stretch forever. Tall pillars lined the edges, each engraved with runes that glimmered faintly, and tapestries depicting the history of the magical dimension adorned the walls.

The enormous stained-glass windows filtered the sunlight into the hall in brilliant patterns, casting colorful reflections that danced across the floor. The ceiling soared high above, with enchanted chandeliers that shimmered like constellations.

At the far end of the room, the large wooden stage stood, and there, waiting for them, was Headmistress Faragonda. Her presence was commanding, but warm, as she stood with her hands clasped in front of her, greeting the students with a gentle smile. Her robes were simple but elegant, and her silvery hair framed her kind face.

As the students filed into the hall, the air filled with excitement. Bloom glanced around at her friends, her heart swelling with pride at the sheer scale of the place. There was something truly magical about Alfea - its beauty, its power, and the feeling that, for some reason, it was all leading them somewhere extraordinary.

As the last murmurs of conversation faded, Miss Faragonda's voice rang out, carrying across the room.

"Welcome, dear students," she began, her tone filled with warmth. "Welcome to another year at Alfea. A year of growth, of learning, and of discovering your true potential."

The students sat in rapt attention, some leaning forward eagerly, while others exchanged excited glances. For many, this was a return to a familiar home, a place where friendships flourished and skills were honed. But for others - the fresh-faced first-years - it was the beginning of an entirely new journey, one filled with possibilities and wonder.

"As fairies, you each possess extraordinary gifts," Faragonda continued, her expression thoughtful. "But talent alone is not enough. It is through hard work, dedication, and courage that true magic is forged. Here at Alfea, you will not only refine your abilities but also learn the values of friendship, wisdom, and responsibility."

"And now," she continued, "I would like to speak directly to our third-year students. This year marks a crucial milestone in your journey at Alfea. You have all grown tremendously since your first day here, developing your magic, your wisdom, and your understanding of what it means to be a fairy. But now, you stand at the threshold of your greatest challenge yet - the path to Enchantix."

A murmur spread through the third-years as excitement, curiosity, and a hint of nervousness rippled across their ranks.

"Enchantix," Faragonda went on, "is the final stage of a fairy's transformation. It is the embodiment of your strength, your selflessness, and your unwavering dedication to your people. It is not something that can simply be taught in a classroom or unlocked through practice alone." Her gaze softened. "It is earned."

She raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, golden sparks formed in the air, swirling into an elegant, glowing silhouette of a fully transformed Enchantix fairy. The figure shimmered, its wings large and radiant, its form exuding grace and immense power.

"Enchantix fairies who graduate from Alfea go on to become the Guardian Fairies of their homeworlds, sworn to protect their people from evil and destruction."

Gasps and whispers broke out among the third-years. Some students exchanged excited glances, already dreaming of their own Enchantix transformation.

Bloom, however, felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. She swallowed hard as she glanced at her friends, who all seemed energized by the news.

Guardian Fairies of their homeworlds, sworn to protect their people. But Bloom didn't know where she was from, or who her people were.

A cold pit settled in her chest. The others had their families, their planets, their people - but she had nothing. No memories, no origins, just unanswered questions that haunted her.

She tried to shake the feeling, but doubt crept in. Would she ever become a full-fledged fairy? Would she ever find out where she belonged?

Faragonda's voice brought her back to the present. "This year will not be easy, but I have faith in all of you. Each of you has the potential to reach Enchantix and become the fairy you are meant to be. Trust in your journey, and you will find your way."

Bloom forced a small smile, but inside, doubt lingered.

A gentle nudge pulled her out of her thoughts. Flora, sitting beside her, raised an eyebrow. "You okay, Bloom?"

Bloom hesitated, then nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just... taking it all in."

Flora gave her a knowing look but didn't press further.

Bloom barely registered Headmistress Faragonda's words as she began introducing the professors. She already knew them - Professor Palladium for Potions, Professor Wizgiz for Natural Morphix and Disguise, Miss DuFour for Etiquette and Aesthetics. Their names and titles drifted past her like echoes in a fog, her mind too tangled in uncertainty to pay attention.

Can I even earn the Enchantix transformation if I have no homeworld? Or am I destined to remain incomplete, forever unable to take that final step?

She clenched her fists, frustration mixing with doubt. It was a familiar feeling—
- this uncertainty about her place in the magical universe. It had followed her since the day she arrived at Alfea, and no matter how much she had learned or how far she had come, the answers she sought remained just out of reach.

What if I never find my place? What if I can't?

Her thoughts were spiraling again, sinking into that dark place where all her insecurities lurked - until a single name snapped her back into reality.

"And finally," Faragonda announced, "I am pleased to introduce a new professor to our faculty. Taking over the Magiphilosophy course in place of Professor Avalon, who has chosen to return to Malacoy Paladion Academy, we welcome Professor Valen."

Bloom's head snapped up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

A hush fell over the assembly hall as a tall figure stepped forward, his presence immediately commanding attention. His long, dark cloak flowed behind him as he walked with a measured grace, his piercing grey eyes scanning the students with an unreadable expression.

His handsome, angular face seemed almost too perfect, as if carved from stone, sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline. Long, blond hair cascaded down his shoulders in sleek waves, shifting into a reddish hue when the sunlight cought it in just the right way, like a glimmer of fire dancing through the gold. It made her heart skip.

He moved with a grace that feels deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey - always in control, always aware of his surroundings.

As Bloom watched him, a chill ran down her spine. He didn't just stand in the room - he dominated it, his every movement calculated. Something about him seemed achingly familiar, but at the same time, foreign, as though he was from a world apart.

Something about him felt... right.

Murmurs spread through the students. A new professor was always a curiosity, but this one? His aura was different. He didn't have the warmth of Professor Palladium, the eccentric charm of Wizgiz, or the refined grace of DuFour. No, his presence was sharp, refined, and strangely unsettling.

There was polite applause, but Bloom barely noticed.

It was... a quiet pull. An undeniable connection. A feeling as if she had known him for lifetimes, and yet, knew him not at all. Something in her was reaching out, some unspoken part of her recognizing the other half she hadn't known she was missing.

A whisper within her soul urged her forward, as if the universe had placed a piece of the puzzle into her hands, and now, with him standing before her, everything seemed to fall into place.

The fire raged all around her, licking at her skin, but it didn't burn.

It moved like something alive, shifting and twisting, coiling into shapes that flickered and melted away as soon as they formed. It wasn't just fire. It was memories, feelings, something ancient and powerful that pulsed in time with the frantic beat of her heart.

Bloom tried to move, but her feet were locked in place, the ground beneath her molten and shifting. The world stretched and warped, suffocating heat pressing against her, but she wasn't afraid. There was something familiar about the inferno, that made her pulse quicken - not with terror, but with anticipation.

And then, a voice.

"Bloom."

A whisper, soft and distant, carried by the flames. It shouldn't have been audible over the roaring fire, but it cut through everything, reaching her like a thread woven through the very air. It curled around her name, pulling at something deep inside her chest, something she couldn't name.

"Bloom, please."

A shiver ran through her despite the heat.

The desperation in that voice was sharp enough to wound. It clawed at her, aching, as if whoever it belonged to was fighting against something unseen, struggling to reach her.

She turned, scanning the flames, searching for the source. But there was nothing - only fire, only destruction, only the searing heat pressing in on her from all sides.

"You have to remember."

The voice was stronger now, filled with something raw and urgent.

Remember what?

Bloom's heart pounded. She took a step forward, her breath catching in her throat.

"Who are you?" she called, though her voice felt too small in the vastness of the firestorm.

The flames swirled violently, twisting upward into a blazing cyclone. The heat became unbearable, light flaring so brightly that Bloom had to shield her eyes. And then, from within the inferno, a figure emerged.

A woman.

She stood tall, her very existence radiating light, her body a silhouette against the brilliance that poured from her like a second sun. The glow surrounded her, spilling outward in golden waves, illuminating everything yet revealing nothing.

Bloom squinted, struggling to see her face, but it was like trying to look directly at the sun. The light obscured her, but Bloom could feel her presence, her power, pressing against the air itself.

It was overwhelming.

The woman stepped forward, the fire bending around her like a living thing, as if it knew her.

"Bloom, please."

This time, the voice wasn't just sound - it was a feeling. It sank into Bloom's skin, settled into her bones, filled her heart with something she couldn't describe.

A connection. A pull.

The woman reached for her, an elegant, radiant hand extending through the fire, her glowing fingers outstretched as if begging Bloom to take them.

Something inside Bloom snapped.

She knew this woman.

She didn't know how, she didn't know why, but she knew - knew her the way she knew the fire that lived inside her soul, the way she knew how to breathe.

The realization struck her like a lightning bolt, burning through her with the force of a memory that was just out of reach.

She had to reach back.

Bloom lifted her arm, fingers trembling, every nerve in her body screaming at her to take that hand, to hold on and never let go.

She stretched out, pushing through the fire, reaching.

Closer.

The woman's light wrapped around her, warm and familiar, like a forgotten embrace.

Almost.

And then-

Darkness.

A heavy force slammed into her, like a tidal wave crashing against a fragile shore.

The flames were snuffed out in an instant, swallowed whole by a suffocating blackness so vast, so cold, it felt like it had been waiting for this moment.

Bloom gasped, the warmth vanishing as if it had never been there at all. The glowing figure flickered - her golden light fighting against the encroaching void, struggling to stay.

"NO!"

Bloom lunged forward, desperation clawing at her, her heart screaming as the woman's outstretched hand began to fade.

"Don't go!"

But the light was flickering. Dying.

And Bloom's fingers - just inches from touching the woman's hand - closed around empty air.

The figure's presence vanished into the abyss.

The ground beneath Bloom's feet gave way. And she fell.

Bloom woke up with a scream.

She bolted upright, gasping for air, her hands clutching at the sheets as if she could hold herself to reality.

She was safe. But her heart didn't feel safe.

It thundered in her chest, fast and frantic, her pulse wild beneath her skin. Sweat clung to her, dampening the fabric of her nightshirt, and her hands trembled as she pressed them against her forehead.

"Bloom, please."

The voice still echoed inside her, lingering, wrapping around her like invisible threads that refused to let go.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold onto the dream, to remember.

The fire. The woman bathed in light.

That unbearable desperation to reach her.

To remember.

But the details were slipping through her fingers like grains of sand, fading into the fog of waking reality.

Bloom exhaled, the breath shaky, uneven.

She had dreamed of fire before. But this? This wasn't just a dream. She knew it wasn't.

Was it a memory? Or a warning?

Bloom sat motionless, the weight of the dream pressing down on her chest like a stone. The fire, the voice, the feeling of being so close to something - someone - only to have it ripped away. It wasn't just fear that had her trembling. It was loss. A deep, aching loss that made no sense, but it sat heavy in her bones as if she had felt it before.

The woman in her dream... she had felt familiar. Not in the way a stranger with a kind smile might, but in the way a lullaby half-remembered from childhood lingers in the back of the mind. Bloom had no name for her, no clear memory to attach to her face - she couldn't even see her face - but something inside her was certain.

She had met her before.

Maybe in another dream. Maybe long ago, in a time she couldn't reach.

Her room suddenly felt too small, too stifling, as though the air itself was pressing against her. She kicked off the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed, bare feet touching the cool floor. She moved on instinct, drawn by an unspoken need for fresh air, for space to breathe, to think.

The balcony doors creaked softly as she pushed them open. A gentle breeze met her, carrying the crisp scent of dewdrops and the distant fragrance of blooming flowers from the Alfea gardens below. The early morning air kissed her skin, cooling the sweat that clung to her from the nightmare.

The sky stretched before her, a vast canvas shifting from deep indigo to the softest hues of lavender and gold. The first traces of dawn painted the horizon, and for a moment, she simply watched.

Watched as the night melted away, as the stars faded one by one, retreating into the endless expanse of the sky. Watched as the world slowly awakened, bathed in the quiet promise of a new day.

But she felt untethered, as if she were floating just outside of time, trapped between two worlds - one waking, one lost in fire and light.

Bloom hugged herself, arms wrapped tightly around her torso, seeking comfort in the embrace. But there was no chill on her skin.

There never was. The wind could howl through the trees, ice could lace the windows, snow could pile high on the streets of Gardenia, and she would stand among it all, untouched.

Her earth parents had always found it curious.

As a child, she had never shivered in winter, never sought warmth the way others did. Vanessa would bundle her up anyway, pressing warm mittens into her hands, fussing over scarves and jackets. Mike would shake his head with an amused chuckle, calling her his little summer girl.

Back then, they hadn't known.

Back then, neither had she. It was only after the truth of her magic had been revealed that everything started making sense.

As a fire fairy she didn't feel the cold.

Because if she never felt cold - if she had never felt that chill her whole life - then what had she felt in her dream?

That wave of darkness. That emptiness swallowing her whole.

It had stolen the warmth from her bones, suffocating and vast, a void where fire should have been. And for the first time in her life, she had been truly, terrifyingly cold.

"Bloom, please."

She closed her eyes, trying to summon the dream, trying to hold on to the pieces before they slipped away entirely. But like mist in the morning sun, the details blurred the harder she reached for them.

Who was she?

Why did it feel so important?

The fire hadn't burned her. It had embraced her, surrounded her like something familiar, something safe. The woman had felt like someone she should know, someone who belonged to her past, and yet...

The emptiness in her chest ached.

Her whole life, she had been searching for answers. Searching for where she belonged, for where she came from. But no matter how much she had learned, there were still pieces missing.

Was this another piece? Another thread in the tangled mystery of who she truly was?

She let out a slow breath, watching as the golden light of dawn crept higher, illuminating the treetops and the grand towers of Alfea beyond.

"Bloom?" A gentle rustling behind her pulled Bloom from her thoughts.

She turned just as Flora stepped onto the balcony, stretching her arms over her head, her long honey-colored hair tumbling over her shoulders. The early morning light cast a soft glow around her, and there was a peacefulness in the way she moved - unhurried, content.

Flora was always one of the first to wake, slipping quietly from bed before the others, giving herself enough time to tend to her plants before the school day began.

But as her gaze settled on Bloom, concern flickered across her face.

"You're up early," Flora said softly. She tilted her head, studying Bloom with eyes as warm and knowing as the earth itself. "Couldn't sleep?"

Bloom hesitated for only a second before offering a small, practiced smile. "I guess I'm just excited for the new school year."

It wasn't a lie - just not the whole truth.

Flora didn't seem entirely convinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she leaned against the railing beside Bloom, looking out over the golden horizon.

"It's going to be an important one," she mused, her voice light, but thoughtful. "Especially now that we know about Enchantix."

Bloom stiffened.

Flora must have noticed, because after a pause, she added gently, "You seemed a little... off yesterday. When Headmistress Faragonda told us about it."

Bloom's fingers tightened around the railing. Of course Flora had noticed. She was the most intuitive of all of them - always attuned to the unspoken things, the quiet shifts in emotions that others might overlook.

For a moment, Bloom considered brushing it off, saying she had just been surprised.

But the weight of yesterday's announcement still lingered in her chest, tangled with the remnants of her dream. The idea of Enchantix - of the final step in their journey to becoming full-fledged fairies - should have filled her with excitement. But instead, it had left her with an unsettling hollowness.

She let out a breath, pushing those thoughts away before they could take root again. "I guess it's just... a lot to take in," she admitted carefully.

Flora nodded, her gaze gentle. "It is," she agreed. "But whatever happens, we'll face it together. Like we always do."

Something in those words, in the quiet certainty of them, settled the restlessness in Bloom's chest just a little.

Together.

She wasn't ready to talk about her dream. Not yet. But Flora's presence, her unwavering kindness, was a promise that when she was ready, she wouldn't have to face it alone.

She forced herself to smile. "Yeah," she said, turning back toward the sunrise. "Like we always do."

Flora smiled, seemingly satisfied for now, and nudged Bloom gently with her elbow. "Since we're both up, do you want to help me with my plants while we wait for the others?"

Bloom hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I'd like that."

She wasn't sure if tending to flowers would do much to clear her mind, but she welcomed the distraction. Anything to push aside the lingering unease from her dream.

Flora led her back inside, moving gracefully through the dimly lit common room toward the her dorm, where an assortment of plants sat in neat rows, their leaves still glistening with the faint remnants of morning dew.

Some were small and delicate, with petals that shifted colors depending on the light, while others had long, curling vines that twitched slightly as Flora passed, as if they recognized her presence.

Bloom had always admired how effortlessly Flora cared for them. She didn't just grow plants - she understood them, as if they were old friends who spoke a language only she could hear.

Flora handed Bloom a small watering can before picking up her own. "Just a little water for the Starblossoms," she instructed. "They're sensitive to overwatering, but they love the morning light."

Bloom nodded, carefully tilting the spout over the nearest pot. The petals shivered slightly as the water trickled onto the soil, unfurling ever so slightly in response.

Flora, meanwhile, worked with practiced ease, checking each plant as she spoke. "I spent most of the break on Linphea with my family," she said, her voice taking on a light, fond tone. "It was nice to be home for a while. Everything was so green and peaceful, as always."

Bloom listened, welcoming the warmth in Flora's words.

"And Mielle," Flora continued with a soft laugh, "she wouldn't stop talking about Alfea. She's already counting the years until she can start. Every time I told her a story about something we did last year, she'd say, 'I wish I was there too!'"

Bloom smiled at the thought. She had met Mielle once before - Flora's little sister was sweet, wide-eyed, and endlessly curious about everything. "She's going to love it here when she comes," Bloom said.

"I think so too," Flora agreed. "She's always asking me to teach her spells, but I told her she has to wait for school." She sighed playfully. "Not that it stops her from trying anyway."

Bloom chuckled, focusing on the task at hand, carefully tending to each flower. The simple act of watering, of feeling the cool droplets against her fingertips, was grounding in a way she hadn't expected.

Flora's stories were a welcome distraction, and for a little while, Bloom let herself be pulled into them - into the image of Linphea's endless forests, of a little sister eager to follow in Flora's footsteps, of a home so unlike her own, yet filled with love.

And for now, that was enough.

The quiet hum of the morning didn't last long. As Flora and Bloom continued their work, the dorm slowly began to stir with life.

The first to emerge was Tecna. She shuffled out of her room with the groggy movements of someone who had stayed up far too late - again. Her short magenta hair was slightly mussed, and she blinked at them like she was still processing the fact that morning had arrived.

"You're both awake early," she noted, rubbing her eyes as she made her way to the small kitchenette to prepare a cup of tea.

"Flora's usual routine," Bloom said with a small smile. "I just couldn't sleep."

Tecna hummed, clearly still half-asleep herself, and didn't push the subject. Instead, she focused on making her drink, the faint hum of boiling water filling the room.

Next came Musa, stretching her arms over her head as she sauntered into the common room. Her long dark hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and she let out a loud yawn before flopping onto the couch.

"Morning, guys," she mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "What's with all the early-bird energy?"

Flora chuckled, passing her a small potted plant. "We're just getting a head start on the day. Want to help?"

Musa groaned but took the plant anyway. "You're lucky I like you," she muttered, half-joking, as she carefully inspected the leaves.

A few minutes later, Stella appeared, looking far more put-together than someone who had just woken up had any right to be. She wore a silky robe over her pajamas, and her golden hair cascaded perfectly down her back despite having just climbed out of bed. She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before her.

"You guys seriously woke up early to play with plants?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Flora gave her a patient smile. "They're not just plants, Stella. They're living beings that need care and attention."

Stella sighed dramatically, walking over and flopping onto the couch next to Musa. "I prefer my living beings to be less... leafy," she teased. "Like, say, adorable boys."

That earned a snort from Musa, who nudged her with her elbow. "We know, Stell."

By the time Layla finally joined them, the common room was fully awake with chatter and laughter. She was dressed in workout clothes, her hair tied back in a high ponytail, and she looked far more energized than the rest of them.

"Morning, everyone," she greeted, stretching out her arms. "What's going on?"

"Flora roped us all into plant duty," Musa said, smirking.

Layla arched an amused brow. "And you're actually doing it?"

"She bribed us with good vibes," Tecna said, sipping her tea.

Bloom had remained mostly quiet, content to listen to the easy flow of conversation. Being surrounded by her friends, their presence grounding and familiar, helped ease the tightness in her chest.

She wasn't ready to tell them yet.

But at least she wasn't alone.

Chapter Text

The hallways of Alfea were pristine, bathed in the soft golden glow of the morning sun filtering through the high, arched windows. The warmth of the light danced across the polished marble floors, casting long, delicate shadows that swayed with the rustling of the trees outside.

The scent of old parchment and blooming flowers drifted through the air - faint traces of lavender and honeysuckle mixing with the aged ink of ancient spellbooks. Everything about the school exuded peace, knowledge, and an almost sacred devotion to the magic it housed.

It was a stark contrast to the Omega Dimension.

There, silence reigned - not the peaceful kind, but the kind that suffocated, heavy with the weight of endless ice and bitter winds. There was no warmth, no scent of life - only the relentless cold, a prison of frozen time. It was a place designed to break even the strongest of beings, to crush hope beneath the weight of eternity.

Yet, here Valtor was. Walking freely.

It had been three weeks since he had shattered the chains of his imprisonment, and in those weeks, he had been careful. Every move had been calculated, every step meticulously placed.

He had not expected panic or immediate outcry over his disappearance. The magical community had long been blinded by their own arrogance, their false sense of security. He knew their complacency well.

The Omega Dimension was believed to be unescapable - a frozen graveyard for those deemed too dangerous to roam free. Once locked away, prisoners were forgotten, buried beneath layers of ice, never to be thought of again. Even the wardens of that cursed realm rarely checked on their captives, content in their belief that no one could survive, let alone break free.

And so, no one checked.

No one suspected.

No one even considered the possibility.

It was their mistake. One he intended to exploit.

His first stop had been Magix - the crossroads to all magical dimensions. Known as the heart of the magical universe, Magix was not just a city, but a nexus where the most important realms, planes, and dimensions converged.

Here, all the magical worlds intertwined, linked by a vast network of ancient portals and gates that allowed the free movement of magic and beings across realities. It was a place of both great power and great secrets, where the most coveted information could be found, and also the most dangerous.

The city thrived on the exchange of knowledge, trade, and power, and its central district - the heart of the city - was home to the City Hall, a massive structure that housed the archives, the council chambers, and the very public records of the entire magical universe.

Entering the City Hall was simple. Few questioned the endless stream of visitors coming and going, for everyone had a reason to be there.

For nearly two decades, Valtor had been trapped in the Omega Dimension, frozen in time, a forgotten relic of the past. And in those two decades, the world had moved on. Power had shifted. Alliances had been formed and broken.

But Valtor needed to know what had happened during his absence. The most critical events - the ones that could change the course of his plans - had likely been recorded in these very archives.

And the truth of Domino's fate was far worse than he had imagined.

The planet had been completely destroyed. Erased from existence, its once lush landscapes now reduced to nothing more than frozen wasteland, blanketed by ice, snow, and howling winds. The fiery heart of the planet, once teeming with life and power, had been extinguished in an instant. No survivors.

The reports were vague, filled with the kind of hushed reverence reserved for lost worlds. No one could explain exactly how it had happened - only that the fall had been sudden and brutal. A world that had stood for millennia, a beacon of magic and power, was now little more than a legend.

And the destruction of his home, Domino, had been final. Irreversible.

But from the ashes of his world, something unexpected had risen: the Company of Light.

They were heralded as heroes now, legends who had stood against the forces of darkness and emerged victorious. The surviving members of the Company were now revered in songs and tales across the magical worlds. Their triumphs were celebrated. Their names spoken with reverence.

But what troubled Valtor was the fact that, in the wake of this destruction, the Ancestral Witches, whose powers had been entwined with his own, had simply vanished. Their disappearance was as shrouded in mystery as the fall of the planet itself.

As Valtor continued reading, his eyes fell upon the mention of the surviving members of the Company of Light. Faragonda, Griffin, and Saladin. To his endless amusement, all three of them had become the leaders of the major magical schools of Magix.

It was almost poetic, he thought - these once-mighty figures, who had once stood so firmly against his mothers, now wielding power in ways that both amused and irritated him.

But of all the names, it was Griffin that left a sour taste in his mouth. The woman had once been his ally, a powerful sorceress who stood with him. But she had turned her back on everything they had fought for and sided with the Company of Light.

The records told a story, a version of events that was clean, neat, and far too convenient. It didn't align with the memories that haunted him, memories of the day Domino fell.

Valtor knew better. His memories were vivid - like flames that had seared themselves into his soul. He had been there, at the center of it all, fighting to the bitter end, feeling the fury of his own magic shattering around him as the planet cracked and crumbled.

No, the records didn't reflect what had really happened. Something wasn't right. Someone had twisted the story, erased the truth, and created a lie that had been passed down as gospel.

The missing pieces - the clarity of his memory, the convenient silence around his role in the destruction of the planet - were unsettling.

Valtor's eyes had narrowed as his gaze fixed on one name in particular: Faragonda. The old fairy was now headmistress of Alfea. He had known her for years, and there had always been something off about her - a sense of knowing more than she let on.

Even back then, she had kept her cards close to her chest. But he knew better than to think she was just a simple, unassuming educator. She was far more than that.

And on the day Domino fell, he had seen her.

He remembered it clearly. Amidst the chaos, amidst the screams and the flames, he had caught a glimpse of her.

Something in her eyes had glinted - not fear, not even concern, but something far more calculating. Faragonda had known more than she had ever told anyone. She knew what had truly happened to Domino, and Valtor was certain of it.

He had to know. He needed to understand what had really gone down that day, what she knew, and how much she had kept hidden. Because if anyone held the key to the truth, it was her.

He had no intention of rushing this. He would play the long game. And when the time came, the Magical Dimension would crumble, just like Domino had. Only this time, he would be the one in control.

But he had to be careful. Faragonda was no fool. She would see through any deception quickly if he wasn't cautious. He would need to be someone else, someone unremarkable, someone far from the terrifying figure of Valtor that everyone feared.

A plan began to take shape in his mind.

Neuphra, a forgettable little planet tucked away in the vastness of the Magical Dimension, so insignificant that few ever bothered to visit. It had no great warriors, no powerful rulers, no grand archives of forbidden magic - just quiet villages and sprawling forests that whispered with old magic.

It was precisely the kind of place that made it useful.

Deep within one of its crumbling, long-abandoned temples, beneath layers of dust and time, he had found what he needed - a spell. Not a legendary incantation or a weapon of great destruction, but a simple enchantment, long overlooked.

Yet, simplicity was often the most effective tool. This spell would not make him invisible, nor would it erase him from existence, but it would shift his form, just enough. His features softened, altered at the edges, his presence cloaked in a subtle magic that made him... unremarkable. Familiar, yet unfamiliar. Just another face in a world that had long since forgotten his true one.

It had been an effortless theft. No alarms, no guards, not even a single protective ward to slow him down. He had merely brushed his fingers over the ancient text, spoken the incantation, and claimed the spell as his own. A flick of his hand, and the magic wove itself into him, sealing away his true self beneath a carefully crafted illusion.

No resistance. No challenge. It was almost disappointing.

Valtor entered Alfea under the guise of a professor with an ease that almost made him chuckle.

It was nearly ridiculous how simple it had been to orchestrate the departure of Professor Avalon. A well-timed whisper in the right ears, a series of subtle manipulations, and the next thing anyone knew, Avalon was off to the Malacoy Paladin Academy, leaving his position here vacant.

Valtor had slipped in seamlessly, claiming the role of Professor for Magiphilosophy, a subject that was, ironically, perfect for him. The study of magic, philosophy, and the webs that connected them had always fascinated him.

The study of the arcane, the forbidden, the hidden forces that bound magic and life together - it was all a game of manipulation, of control, and Valtor thrived in that world. It was his domain. His playground.

Valtor moved with measured steps, his long cloak brushing against the marble as he made his way toward his first class. Each footstep echoed slightly in the empty corridors, an almost soothing rhythm.

Students bustled in the hallways, laughter and chatter filling the air as they headed to their classrooms. He could hear snippets of their excited conversations about the new semester, their hopes, and their nervousness. It was all so... inconsequential.

As he passed, students gave him curious glances, some pausing their conversations to whisper amongst themselves. Valtor let the whispers wash over him - a friendly smile, a nod of acknowledgment here and there.

As he neared the door to his classroom, Valtor saw a group of third-year students approaching from the opposite end of the hallway. They walked in a tight-knit group, their conversation loud and excited, eager for the first class of the semester. Their energy was youthful and fresh, as was expected at this time of year.

But the girl at the front of the group was unmistakable. How could he not recognize her?

Valtor couldn't help but smirk as he watched the princess of Solaria approach. He had coveted that power for decades - dreamt of harnessing it, controlling it, using it to reshape the very fabric of magic.

"Good morning, Professor," she called, offering a radiant smile that rivaled the brilliance of Solaria's twin suns. Valtor returned it with his own smooth, practiced smile.

"Good morning," he replied in a warm, inviting tone.

Valtor gestured for the girls to enter first, his hands moving with a fluid, controlled grace. One by one, the students filed in, chattering among themselves, some more eager than others.

His eyes locked onto the last student to enter, and the world seemed to slow, each passing second stretching into infinity.

A girl with fiery red hair that shimmered like molten lava, her strands catching the rays of morning light. Her hair glowed like embers, like the heart of a fire, and with each step she took, the air seemed to ripple, crackling with an energy that pulled at him, demanding his attention.

She was a flame - his flame.

As she approached, his dragon flame, long dormant and buried beneath years of bitterness and cold, ignited with a force that took him by surprise. It was primal, raw, and fiercely alive - surging through his veins like liquid fire, an unstoppable tide that swept him off balance. His senses sharpened, his skin tightening as if his very cells were attuned to her presence.

It was overwhelming and all-consuming, like standing in the very eye of a storm of desire and power.

She moved with a quiet grace, but each step reverberated through him, pulling him in closer. He could feel her power - the heat radiating from her like the very core of the universe, a fire so fierce, so vibrant, that it felt as though the world had suddenly aligned.

It wasn't just her presence that caught his attention; it was something far deeper, something he had been missing for centuries. It was a connection - one that struck him like a bolt of lightning, igniting something ancient within him.

His dragon flame roared to life, blinding in its brilliance, but it wasn't just a flare of magic. It was recognition, as if the very fabric of the universe was whispering to him that this was fate, that their souls had crossed paths before.

He had felt this feeling before, or at least something like it - a warmth in the pit of his chest, a magnetic pull he had never been able to explain. The fire inside him thrummed, calling to her fire, like two halves of a whole that had been separated for eons, now finally reunited.

Her eyes - those eyes, a piercing blue so deep they threatened to swallow him whole - met his for a brief moment. The connection was instant, soul-deep, as if she had always been there, waiting for him.

The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them suspended in the charged atmosphere between them.

His heart skipped a beat, a strange, tight flutter in his chest, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking together. The intensity of the moment was so overwhelming that for a fraction of a second, he forgot to breathe.

It wasn't just a glance. It was recognition. A memory of something far older, something that existed beyond this lifetime.

His heart beat faster, and the flames within him flickered, growing brighter, hotter - alive in a way he hadn't felt in so long.

It was as if he had found the one thing he had spent his entire existence searching for: the missing half of himself. The piece that had been torn from him, lost in the ashes of time. And here she was, standing before him, so close - yet so far.

The realization was dizzying. His pulse quickened, and he fought to steady his breath, but his body betrayed him, pulling him toward her as though it was inescapable, as though every fiber of his being had been drawn to hers.

He felt the heat in the air between them, an undeniable current that seemed to tug at his very soul. There was no denying it - this was no ordinary student. This was something more. She was something more.

And then, as if the universe itself had conspired to test him, she faltered.

Distracted, lost in her own thoughts - or was it something else? - she missed a step, her foot catching on the smooth marble floor. In the blink of an eye, she was tumbling forward.

Valtor moved before he could think.

His gloved hand caught her with effortless precision, his grip firm yet careful, steadying her before she could crash to the ground.

Her warmth - her magic - pulsed against his fingers, even through the leather, and for a single, stolen moment, she was close enough that he could feel the soft hitch of her breath.

Her wide eyes lifted to his, and the world - his carefully constructed, controlled world - shifted.

Blue. Endless. Drowning.

Something deep inside him tightened, an ache that was both unfamiliar and far too real.

Her friend, who had walked ahead, turned at the commotion. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

The girl, still caught in his grasp, parted her lips - but no words came.

Valtor felt it then - her magic, turbulent and wild beneath her skin, shifting and surging as if answering his own.

He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice low, rich, undeniable.

"Answer her, please." His fingers curled just slightly against her arm, grounding her. "Are you alright?"

The sound of his voice sent a shiver through her. He saw it. Felt it.

She swallowed hard. "Yes," she managed, her voice softer than he expected. Sweeter than he expected. "I'm fine."

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, with all the restraint he had honed over lifetimes, Valtor released her, forcing himself to let her slip from his grasp and into the classroom.

As she passed him, the moment lingered, suspended in the air like an electric charge. He could feel her energy trailing behind her, wrapping itself around him, tightening, pulling him closer with every breath.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to regain control, to tamp down the fire that threatened to explode within him. But even as he attempted to steady himself, his mind raced. Who was she? What was this bond, this connection, that had lit him up inside in a way nothing had in centuries?

With great effort, he forced himself to focus on the students ahead of him, to push the fire back down and assume his role as a professor. But even as he did, he knew that this moment would not leave him. It would linger like an ember in the back of his mind, waiting, smoldering, for the right moment to burn through once again.

As the last student passed, he watched her walk to her seat, the aura of her power still burning brightly in his senses. His gaze followed her, a part of him unable to tear himself away.

With a deliberate calmness, he forced himself to refocus and stepped into the room behind the students, careful to maintain his composed facade.

Valtor stood at the front of the classroom, his posture composed, his hands resting lightly on the polished wooden desk. The room had settled into silence, the eager murmurs of his students dying down as they waited for him to speak. He could feel their anticipation thick in the air, their curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar presence of their new professor.

He had expected as much.

After all, his arrival had stirred whispers through Alfea's halls, and the mystery surrounding him had already begun to weave itself into the fabric of student gossip. But that didn't concern him. What did concern him, however, was the presence of her.

"Good morning, students," he said, his voice calm. "I trust you are all prepared for the next stage of your education. This year, we will delve into the advanced philosophy of magic. No more simple spells or elementary theory. You are now on the precipice of true mastery."

He had taken note of her name earlier, when he had gone over the attendance list.

Bloom Peters.

The name meant nothing to him, yet everything about her presence set his very being ablaze. The Dragon Flame within him, the ancient fire that had been part of him for as long as he could remember, burned with a ferocity he had not felt in centuries. It coiled and writhed beneath his skin, restless, as though it recognized something he himself could not yet place.

And still, he ignored it.

He forced the heat within him to still, suppressing the storm that raged beneath his composed exterior. He would not allow himself to be distracted. Not by her.

But when his eyes flickered, even for a second, to the red-haired girl sitting near the middle of the room, something deep within him stirred again.

She was watching him, those impossibly blue eyes filled with curiosity, her fingers idly twirling the tip of her quill. Unaware of the firestorm she had ignited within him.

Valtor exhaled, slow and measured, before turning his attention back to the entire class.

"This year, we will not waste time with trivialities," he continued, pacing slightly, his long coat trailing behind him. "You have spent two years learning how to use magic. You have studied its practical applications, its classifications, its history. But you have yet to understand what magic is."

"Magic is not merely a tool," he said, his voice lowering slightly, as though inviting them into a secret. "It is a force that shapes the very fabric of the universe. And to truly understand magic, you must first understand the philosophy behind it - theories that have been developed and debated for centuries by the greatest minds of our world."

He raised one hand, gesturing to the large blackboard behind him, where a list of names appeared, conjured by his magic.

"Throughout this year, we will explore the works of several renowned magiphilosophers, including Eryan of Solair, Idris Molrath, and Valen Thor, each of whom has contributed to the understanding of magic from a profound, often controversial perspective."

A few students shifted in their seats at the mention of Valtor's own name, but he ignored them. Let them wonder. It was only fitting, after all, that they would learn from one of the greatest magiphilosophers in history - himself.

He let his gaze sweep across the students before it settled - unintentionally - on her.

The dragon flame inside him surged, unbidden. He fought against it, his fingers tightening slightly behind his back, his control unwavering on the surface, but inside... inside, he could feel the fire reacting to her.

He forced himself to look away, resuming his lesson as if nothing had happened.

"Eryan of Solair," Valtor said, "is known for his Theory of Essence - a belief that magic does not flow through us but is, in fact, a part of our very being. He posited that we do not wield magic - rather, we unlock it through an understanding of our true self. According to him, the key to mastering magic is not through training alone, but through introspection and understanding the fundamental essence of our souls."

And yet, even as he continued, he felt it again - that pull, that ache. A sensation so ancient and unfamiliar that it left him deeply, dangerously unsettled.

It was as if, across lifetimes, across flames and centuries, something within her had always known something within him.

"Idris Molrath," Valtor said, his voice becoming more animated, "was a controversial figure. His Theory of Convergence suggests that all forms of magic - whether elemental, mystical, or even the darkest arts - are connected by an invisible thread. Magic, according to Molrath, is not isolated by schools or origins. It is one vast network, a web that binds everything in the multiverse together."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. Many of the students had never considered magic as a unified force - most learned that was a fragmented system of diverse disciplines.

"As for my own work," Valtor said with a barely perceptible smirk, "I have spent much of my life exploring the idea that magic is a reflection of the chaos that resides in all of us. The chaotic nature of the universe, the primal forces that govern existence, cannot be tamed by mere rules. Magic is not to be understood. It is to be embraced, even worshipped. The true power of magic lies in destruction - the ability to shatter the illusion of control and allow chaos to reign."

"The great flaw of modern sorcery," Valtor said, his voice rich and smooth, "is the belief that magic must follow rules. That it must be tamed. But tell me-" his gaze flickered across the room before landing, inevitably, on her- "can something that is truly powerful ever be caged?"

He could see their expressions shift. The idea was radical, but that was what made it compelling. Many would dismiss it as dangerous, but Valtor knew that true understanding of magic could never come from simply following the rules. Magic was freedom, and freedom could not be confined by doctrine.

The room was silent.

Bloom, her quill still resting between her fingers, met his eyes with an intensity that sent another ripple of heat through his core.

For a moment, she didn't move. Then, she spoke.

"But aren't there laws of magic?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Isn't it dangerous to ignore them?"

There was something in her tone - not defiance, not quite - but curiosity. A challenge without hostility. It was a question seeking truth, not validation.

Valtor allowed himself a small smile.

"The laws of magic," he echoed, stepping closer, his pace slow and deliberate. "Tell me, Miss Bloom, who wrote those laws?"

Bloom blinked, thrown off by the question. "Well... powerful sorcerers and scholars, I suppose."

"Exactly." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Which means they are not laws at all. They are constructs. Man-made limitations. The only true laws of magic are the ones written into the very fabric of existence. And those," his voice dropped just slightly, rich with meaning, "are far older than any spell-book."

She stared at him for a moment, considering his words.

He could almost feel the way her magic shifted, reacting to his presence, just as his own was reacting to hers. The Dragon Flame within him pulsed, restless, as if it had recognized something he himself could not yet name.

It was infuriating.

It was intoxicating.

He needed to move on. He needed to stop allowing this girl to unravel him with a mere glance.

Valtor turned his attention away, as if dismissing the strange pull between them, and addressed the entire class once more.

"This year, you will learn not just the history of magic, but its philosophy - its truth," he said, pacing slowly along the front of the room. "You will study the works of those who dared to question, who dared to push beyond the so-called limits."

"Eldenor of Zenith once theorized that magic is merely an extension of will - nothing more, nothing less. That the stronger the will, the stronger the magic." Valtor allowed the thought to settle, then continued, "But does that mean one who lacks will is incapable of magic? Or that one with great will is limitless?"

A few students glanced at each other, some shifting in their seats. Bloom, however, remained focused on him, her brows furrowed ever so slightly. Still thinking, still questioning.

He smirked. Good.

"Then there is Selian of Avram," he continued, "who believed that magic has an intelligence of its own. That spells, enchantments, even the very essence of power itself is alive. That it chooses its wielder." He let the weight of that idea hang in the air before adding, "What do you think of that, Miss Bloom?"

Bloom, startled at being addressed again, sat up straighter. "I think... I think that makes sense," she said carefully. "Magic isn't just energy. It feels - at least, sometimes - like it has a mind of its own."

Valtor tilted his head slightly, intrigued despite himself. So, she senses it too.

"But that also raises another question," she continued, her fingers absentmindedly twirling her quill. "If magic is alive... can it be wrong?"

The room fell silent.

For the briefest moment, Valtor was caught off guard. It wasn't a question he had expected - certainly not from her. And yet, it sent a shiver down his spine, because deep down, buried beneath centuries of knowledge, was an unsettling thought:

Had his own magic, his own fire, chosen him?

Or had it been forced into him?

He exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral. "That is an excellent question."

She watched him carefully, as if trying to read him. The sensation of her gaze on him was maddening, a flicker of warmth he didn't want but couldn't seem to ignore.

Shaking off the thought, he turned to the rest of the class. "For now, ponder this - if magic is alive, if it is more than just an instrument to be wielded, then who is truly in control? The sorcerer... or the magic itself?"

He let the question hang in the air like an unspoken challenge, then strode to his desk, signaling the start of their real lesson.

And yet, even as he spoke of theories and ancient texts, he could still feel her - her presence, her power, the way his own fire refused to quiet in her presence.

It was not just unsettling.

It was dangerous.

Chapter Text

The first week of the new school year had passed in a blur of classes, training, and the usual excitement of reuniting with friends. By the time the weekend arrived, Alfea had settled into its familiar rhythm - girls lounging in the common rooms, chatting in the gardens, or making plans to visit Magix.

Bloom, however, found herself alone in her dorm room, staring out of the window, lost in thought.

She should have been enjoying the downtime but her mind kept circling.

Professor Valen.

She had barely spoken to him after that first day. After she had nearly fallen at his feet like a fool, he had caught her with effortless grace, his hands steadying her like she weighed nothing at all. She had been frozen in place, caught in his gaze, and for a moment, just a moment, she swore she saw something flicker in his expression. Recognition. Surprise. Something.

Then it was gone.

And after that? Nothing.

He treated her as he did every other student. No lingering looks. No hesitation. No acknowledgement of whatever strange pull had surged between them in that split second.

But Bloom couldn't forget it.

And worse, her magic wouldn't let her.

Heat curled at her fingertips, a flicker of flame appearing before she even realized she had called it.

She frowned, watching the fire twist and dance above her palm. It felt... different.

More alive.

Her control had always been solid. Sure, when she had first discovered her powers, she'd struggled, but by now, she knew how to wield her fire. It answered to her. Obeyed her.

But now?

It moved differently. More reactive. Almost like it had a will of its own.

Bloom swallowed hard.

And yet her magic wasn't the only thing occupying her thoughts.

Professor Palladin had begun preparing them for something far more significant than exams or spellcasting drills. Something life-changing.

Enchantix. The final fairy transformation. The highest level of magic a fairy could achieve before becoming a full-fledged Guardian of her realm.

It wasn't like Charmix, which was earned through personal growth, or the way first-year fairies simply learned to control their abilities over time.

No, Enchantix required something far greater.

Sacrifice.

A fairy could only achieve Enchantix by performing an act of pure selflessness, saving another's life at the risk of her own. The magic responded to that kind of devotion, that kind of heroism. It was magic's way of saying: You are ready to wield true power.

And so, Professor Palladin's lessons were no longer just about perfecting spells. They were about understanding what it meant to wield magic at its highest level. He stood at the front of the classroom, his expression serious.

"You will not find Enchantix in a book," he had said on the first day. "You will not summon it with a spell. You cannot force this power to come to you. Enchantix is a reflection of who you are, of the choice you make when faced with a moment of true selflessness. It is not about strength. It is about will."

But how were they supposed to prepare for something that had no clear path?

That was what their training was focused on.

Headmistress Faragonda had joined the lesson yesterday, standing beside Palladin as they guided the students through an advanced exercise called "The Mirror of Sacrifice". It was a high-level magical simulation designed to put a fairy into an illusion, one so powerful it would feel real.

It placed each student in a scenario where they had to make an impossible choice. The spells woven into the illusion forced them to confront their own instincts, their fears, their ability to act when faced with true danger.

The first students failed immediately, hesitating when it mattered most. Others acted too quickly, only to find that their impulsiveness led to disaster.

Bloom had yet to go through the first testing herself, but she knew it was coming soon. And she wondered - would she be ready? Would her magic answer the call? Or was there something inside her still holding her back?

She exhaled, shaking her head. It was enough to make her dizzy.

Between Professor Palladin's lessons, the looming reality of Enchantix, and the unsettling presence of Professor Valen her thoughts had become a tangled mess of questions.

But the deepest of Bloom's doubts, the one that lingered even when she tried to push it away, was this:

How could she achieve Enchantix - how could she sacrifice herself for someone from her own realm - if she didn't even know where she was from?

Selflessness required a connection, a bond so strong that she would willingly risk everything. But who did she have? She loved her adoptive parents, of course, but Earth wasn't her true home. She had no kingdom, no people, no family beyond them.

For most fairies, Enchantix was a path that made sense. When the time came, their magic would call them to protect their own, to save a life tied to their world.

But Bloom had no such tether.

"Bloom!"

Stella's voice rang through their dorm, a bright, familiar voice cut through the fog of her thoughts like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

A second later, the door burst open, and the princess of Solaria strode in, golden hair bouncing, eyes shining with excitement.

"No brooding allowed," she declared, hands on her hips. "It's the first weekend back, and we are not spending it locked away in here like sad little bookworms. Magix is calling, and who are we to refuse?"

Bloom blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift in energy. "Magix?"

"Yes, Magix. You know, the actual city right outside these walls?" Stella rolled her eyes. "Shops, cafés, entertainment, civilization?"

Bloom hesitated, her mind still tangled. But Stella wasn't having it.

"Come on, Bloom," she urged, grabbing her hands and pulling her to her feet. "Once classes really start, we're going to be drowning in spell-books and transformation theory. This is our chance to have fun before everything gets serious."

Bloom sighed, but a small smile tugged at her lips. That was Stella - relentless, radiant, and always dragging her out of the dark places she sometimes fell into.

"Alright, alright," she relented. "Let's go."

Stella beamed. "Now, that's what I wanted to hear!"

As Bloom and Stella made their way down the dormitory stairs, the rest of their friends were already gathered near the entrance, chatting excitedly.

Musa was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. "Took you long enough," she teased. "I was starting to think we'd have to send a search party."

"I had to convince Miss Gloom over here that fresh air wouldn't kill her," Stella said dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Bloom rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile.

Flora, ever gentle, stepped forward and gave Bloom a knowing look. "I'm glad you're coming with us," she said softly. "You've been a little... distracted this week."

Bloom's stomach tightened, but before she could answer, Stella continued, her tone light and casual. "Oh, and by the way, the Specialists are meeting us in the city."

Bloom blinked. "Oh? When did that happen?"

"A few minutes ago," Tecna said, adjusting her glasses. "Timmy called and suggested we meet up. Something about celebrating the start of the semester."

"Well, finally! I was wondering when they'd stop playing hard to get," Stella grinned. "Shopping and cute boys? This is going to be the best day ever."

Layla smirked. "As long as we actually make it to them before sunset and don't spend three hours in the perfume aisle."

"No promises," Stella said with a wink before looping her arm through Bloom's. "Now, let's go, ladies. Magix awaits!"

Bloom felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing Sky again. It had been months since they last saw each other. An entire summer spent apart, and not by choice.

King Erendor had kept Sky on Eraklyon for the entire break, refusing to let him leave, citing royal duties that only his son could fulfill. But Bloom knew the real reason. He disapproved of their relationship, always had.

To him, duty came above all else. And in his mind, Sky's duty was to marry a girl of his choosing - a noble, a princess, someone who would strengthen Eraklion's political ties. Someone like his childhood fiancée, Princess Diaspro.

Not a girl with no kingdom. No title. No past.

Bloom swallowed hard, pushing that thought away. Sky had never cared about any of that. He had chosen her, not Diaspro, and he had fought for their relationship before.

But still... she had missed him. More than she wanted to admit. And now, after months apart, she was finally going to see him again.

The months apart had carved a deep, aching rift between them, one that Bloom was desperate to close.

Distance had a way of making things uncertain, turning whispers of doubt into something louder. She knew Sky loved her, knew he had fought for her before, but so much time had passed. Too much time.

It was no secret that King Erendor still clung to that old alliance, the one he had meticulously crafted for his son, the one he had never quite let go of. He wanted Sky to repair the broken betrothal with Princess Diaspro.

Bloom couldn't help but wonder how much time Sky had spent with her during their separation. How many hours had King Erendor forced him to endure in the company of his old betrothed? How many times had Sky been made to sit beside Diaspro, forced to relive the past that he wanted to move on from? She clenched her jaw at the thought.

The Winx girls had barely stepped off the transportation portal before their excitement bubbled over.

"Can you believe it's been months since we've been here?" Stella grinned, practically bouncing on her feet, her green dress sparkling with each movement. "The city of Magix, the heart of all magical realms! Nothing better than a weekend to get away from schoolwork."

"Agreed," Musa said, her voice a little more serious but with a knowing glint in her eyes. "But don't forget, we still have a lot to get done here. Remember, no getting lost in shops for hours, Stella."

Stella waved her off, a playful smirk on her lips. "Pfft, you always worry too much, Musa. You know how quickly I can get back on track after a quick window shopping."

"Right, and you're always so easy to spot when you're on a shopping spree," Flora chuckled, and Bloom couldn't help but smile at the familiar banter.

Soon enough, they arrived at one of their favorite meeting spots in Magix: the central plaza. The familiar scent of pastries and coffee filled the air, and Bloom felt herself relax slightly.

Then, a familiar voice broke through the air.

"Look who it is!" Riven called out as he, Brandon, Helia, and Timmy stepped into view, grinning from ear to ear.

Bloom's heart beat faster at the sight of Sky, who was walking just behind the others, his gaze already fixed on her. His blond hair was slightly tousled, and his posture still exuded that quiet strength that she'd always admired.

Sky's eyes met hers, and a gentle smile tugged at his lips as he made his way toward her. "Bloom," he greeted softly, his voice warm, though she could sense a hint of hesitance in it. He reached her and, after a brief moment of awkwardness, wrapped her in a careful embrace.

Bloom stiffened slightly at first, then relaxed into his arms. "Sky," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She hadn't expected it to feel so difficult. Sky had promised to write, to stay in touch, but the texts had been few and far between. His duty had come first, and Bloom couldn't help but wonder if that had been the king's doing or Sky's choice.

"How are you?" Sky pulled back slightly, his hands lingering on her arms as he looked at her with concern. "I've missed you."

Bloom forced a smile, though she couldn't help but notice how different everything felt. "I've missed you too," she replied, her voice steady, but not as full of the excitement she thought it would carry.

Riven, leaning against the nearby wall with his usual nonchalance, smirked. "Aww, look at the two lovebirds. You'd think you were separated for years instead of just a summer."

Musa rolled her eyes at Riven's teasing. "We get it, Riven. You're the expert on awkward situations."

Bloom glanced up at Sky, his face so familiar, yet strangely distant in a way she couldn't explain. Riven's teasing only made it worse, though a small part of Bloom was grateful for the distraction.

Riven interrupted her thoughts with another smirk, this time aimed at Sky. "So, Sky," he said, his tone a playful challenge, "How's life on Eraklyon? Still stuck with Princess Diaspro, or did you manage to escape her clutches this time?"

Bloom's smile faltered. Her stomach turned, though she quickly masked her discomfort with a deep breath. Riven might have meant it as a joke, but it felt cruel to Bloom.

Irritation bubbled up within her. He knew exactly what he was doing, poking at that sore spot, throwing salt on an open wound.

She couldn't help but feel the sting of it, the way his words cut through the fragile peace they had been trying to build between them. He never seemed to care about how others felt. He was too busy trying to get a rise out of people, and Bloom found it hard to hide her disdain for him in that moment.

Sky shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his childhood betrothed. "I didn't have a choice," he said quietly, his gaze dropping for just a second, as if the topic weighed on him more than he let on. "I had to fulfill my duties, Bloom."

Bloom felt the familiar pang in her chest. She wanted to be understanding, to tell him that she knew the pressure he was under, but something still twisted in her gut. Diaspro was his past, his duty, and there was little she could do about that. But the thought of him spending so much time with her... it stung.

"You don't have to explain," Bloom said softly, trying to sound more composed than she felt. "I understand. It's just... it's been a lot. For both of us, I think." She met his eyes, her heart racing as she looked at him, hoping he would see the truth in her words.

Sky reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as he gave her a soft, apologetic smile. "I know," he murmured. "But things will get better. I promise."

His words were kind, but Bloom still felt a nagging doubt at the back of her mind. She wasn't sure if it was just the pressure from everything else in her life, or if something had changed between them. But for now, all she could do was nod and smile back.

"I hope so," Bloom said quietly.

"Bloom," he said after a beat, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, trying to bring her back to the present. "This isn't easy for either of us. But we're still... we're still us, right?"

She nodded, ignoring the part of her that felt like she was lying to herself. They were still "them", but a piece of her had been left behind, something broken in the distance between their worlds. He had his duty. She did not. And the divide between them felt wider with each passing day.

Riven, still watching the scene unfold with his usual smirk, leaned in slightly and lowered his voice, "Well, as touching as this little love fest is, I think it's time we go check out that new pizza place in the city."

His words broke the moment, but they didn't erase the tension. It was as if the spotlight had been shifted away from the quiet understanding they were trying to have, and Bloom was left with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

She wasn't sure if the solution to their problems lay in more time apart or more time together.

"I think... that sounds like a good idea," Bloom said, her voice a little too quiet for her liking. She tried to push the doubt aside, tried to focus on the present.

Sky gave her a small, reassuring smile in return, but it was clear that he, too, wasn't entirely comfortable. He nodded. "Yeah, sounds perfect."

The new pizza place wasn't far from the central plaza. The building was sleek and modern, with large windows offering a view of the bustling streets of Magix. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and lively, the air filled with the scents of freshly baked dough and melted cheese. It was the kind of place that made you want to relax, put your feet up, and let the world outside melt away.

The group quickly grabbed a large table by the window, their voices blending together as they debated which toppings to choose. Stella, of course, insisted that Bloom try the new "Magical Veggie Deluxe" pizza - complete with enchanted ingredients that changed flavors with every bite. Flora was more interested in discussing the growing plant-based trends in the magical world, while Musa and Layla eagerly flipped through the menu to find their own perfect pies.

Bloom sat back, letting the chatter wash over her. Her eyes kept flicking back to Sky, who was sitting across from her, his expression a little too serious as he scrolled through his messages.

The food arrived, and for a brief moment, the group's attention shifted as they dug in, the mood lightening. The pizza was as good as promised, the magical toppings adding an extra layer of excitement with every bite. Stella laughed as she tried to convince Bloom to try a bite of the "changing flavor" pizza, but Bloom could only manage a hesitant smile, feeling too self-conscious to fully engage in the fun.

Sky cleared his throat, breaking into the chatter. "So, how's everything going with your training, Bloom? How's everything been since... well, since we were apart?"

Bloom paused, her fork halfway to her mouth as she looked at him. The question was simple, yet it struck her in a way she wasn't ready for. She had been so focused on everything else, the doubts, the pressure, that she hadn't really stopped to think about how she was doing.

"It's been... a lot," she said, setting her fork down. She looked down at her plate, a lump forming in her throat. "I'm learning a lot, but I don't know if I'm ready for everything. I still feel... like I'm trying to catch up."

Sky's gaze softened as he reached across the table, his hand resting gently on top of hers. "I can only imagine how much you've had to deal with, Bloom. But you've always been strong. You're going to get there." His voice was low, warm, filled with that quiet confidence she had always admired.

Bloom appreciated the sentiment, but the weight in her chest didn't lift. She hadn't felt this uncertain before.

"I don't know, Sky," she whispered, pulling her hand back slightly to pick up her drink. "Everything's moving so fast. There's so much I don't understand, and I just-" She stopped herself, realizing how vulnerable she sounded. She didn't want him to see her like this, but she couldn't keep pretending she had it all under control.

Sky tilted his head, his expression softening further, though the sadness behind his eyes was palpable. "You don't have to do it alone, you know. I'm here, always," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

Bloom's heart fluttered at his words, but a deep unease washed over her, almost suffocating her. She wanted so badly to believe him, but the gap between them had grown. They had spent too much time apart, and even now, as they sat across from each other, the space between them felt vast.

The table fell silent for a moment, the others too distracted by their own conversations to notice the subtle tension that lingered. It was Riven, once again, who broke the moment.

"Man, you two are so tense," he commented, his grin cheeky. "Didn't realize a pizza date could be so emotionally charged."

Sky gave him a pointed look, his voice light but clearly irritated. "Riven, can you stop making everything awkward?"

Bloom gave a small, forced laugh, hoping to shake off the cloud that hung over her.

Riven, ever the instigator, leaned back in his chair, smirking at them. "So, Sky, now that you're all back together, what's the plan? You going to make up for lost time with your girl here?" His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it.

Sky's jaw clenched at the question, his hand tightening on his glass before he set it back down and turned to Bloom, "I was thinking that we could look at the new exhibition-"

"An Exhibition?" Musa, always the curious one, couldn't help but overhear the conversation. Her sensitive hearing picked up every word, and before either of them could react, she had repeated it out loud.

The rest of the group, who hadn't noticed the exchange until now, all turned to look at them, their faces lighting up with interest.

"The new one at the Magix Museum?", Layla's eyes sparkled. "I've heard it is incredible."

And she gestured to the sky outside, now thick with ominous clouds. "And, it looks like it's going to rain soon. The museum will be a perfect escape!"

The others glanced up at the darkening sky, and the threat of rain seemed undeniable. Everyone, except for Stella, seemed to agree with Layla's suggestion.

Stella, always one for shopping, pouted slightly. "But we could always go to the mall. It's just as protected from rain," she said, crossing her arms as she tried to make her case.

Layla raised an eyebrow, undeterred. "Sure, but the mall doesn't have art," she countered smoothly, her voice teasing. "And I'm sure we'll find something to entertain you at the museum."

Before Stella could make another protest, Flora, who had been quietly watching the conversation unfold, smiled and added, "The museum sounds like a wonderful idea."

Stella sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as she conceded defeat. "Fine, fine, the museum it is," she muttered, but her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "But next time, we're doing my idea."

Bloom glanced at Sky, whose face had grown slightly tense as the attention shifted to them. His eyes met hers, a silent apology written in them.

He shifted, clearing his throat, but before he could say anything, Bloom smiled softly and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, "It's okay. We'll have other opportunities to be alone."

They could wait for a quieter time, when there were no prying eyes.

The first raindrop splashed against the ground just as they made it inside, the warm air of the museum greeted them like a welcoming embrace.

As they entered the main exhibition hall, Bloom couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement wash over her. The theme of the exhibition - Magical Artifacts Through the Ages - was right up her alley.

"I'm going to check out those ancient headdresses in the next room," Stella said, already pulling Layla and Flora along toward a display. "Come on, Layla! You have to see this! It's practically begging for a makeover."

"Stella, it's an ancient collection, not a fashion show," Layla remarked with a playful roll of her eyes, but she followed Stella anyway, her curiosity piqued.

Brandon, who had been unusually quiet since they entered, nudged Sky with a grin. "Let's see how much trouble we can cause with these displays."

Sky gave him a look that was equal parts amused and disapproving, but he didn't argue. Instead, he glanced over at Bloom, who had already wandered off to the first display case, her fingers lightly grazing the glass as she leaned in for a closer look.

"I'll meet you later," Sky said, his footsteps quiet on the museum floor. The group had dispersed quickly, each person gravitating toward different parts of the exhibit.

Bloom didn't notice them leave.

She was entirely engrossed in the intricate display in front of her - an ancient tome, bound in the skin of a long-extinct creature, its pages glowing faintly. She had read about those spell-books in one of her history classes, and now here it was, in the flesh, so to speak.

Her breath caught as she admired the delicate craftsmanship, the enchantments woven into the leather, and the powerful aura emanating from it. It was a testament to the mastery of magic in a forgotten era.

Not far away, there was a tall, intricately carved staff in one corner, its handle adorned with a delicate crystal that pulsed faintly with light. The plaque next to it read The Staff of the Eternal Seer, said to hold the power to glimpse into the future.

Next to it, a set of glowing orbs floated gently in their display case, surrounded by an iridescent mist. The plaque identified them as Essence Orbs, used by ancient mages to capture and store the magic of the world. The thought that magic could be contained in such a form was staggering.

Bloom's fingers brushed against the glass, imagining what it might be like to hold one of the orbs, to contain a piece of the magic that had always felt so wild and untamable within her.

The soft echo of her footsteps in the otherwise silent museum seemed to grow louder as Bloom walked deeper into the next room, her attention still captivated by the artifacts around her. The air was cooler here, as if the very temperature had shifted with the change in atmosphere. Her fingers lightly brushed against the displays, but then something caught her eye - the gleaming object at the center of the room, bathed in a soft, almost ethereal light.

It was an imposing artifact, its long shaft of pure gold inlaid with script that shimmered faintly, as if alive. At its apex, a gemstone - larger than any Bloom had ever seen - glowed crimson with a soft, pulsating light, as though it were drawing energy from the very air around it.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat as her feet moved toward it without thought. She hadn't even realized how close she had come until she was standing right before the display, her hand hovering just above the glass barrier, as though she could feel the scepter's power through the air.

Her skin prickled, her instincts screaming at her to step away, but she couldn't. She felt drawn to it, as though there was a connection she couldn't explain, as though the very essence of the scepter was calling to her.

The plaque beside the display read:

"The Scepter of the King of Domino, the last surviving relic of the once-proud kingdom. After the planet's tragic fall into eternal ice, this artifact remained, the sole thing recovered from the ruins. It is said that whoever wields the scepter can command the strength of the Great Dragon, but the cost is steep."

The words seemed to shimmer as she read them, and a chill ran down her spine. She knew the story. She had learned about the destruction of Domino in Magical History. And this scepter was now the only piece of that fallen world that had survived, preserved in ice, untouched by time. And it had a power. A terrifying power.

"Bloom..."

Her heart skipped a beat. A whisper seemed to slip through the cracks of the air, a soft, silken voice that floated on the wind like an ancient lullaby. It was faint, so faint she wasn't sure if she had imagined it.

"Bloom..."

That voice - it was the same voice that had called her in her dreams only days ago.

"Bloom... find the truth..."

The pull became stronger, an invisible thread that tugged at her heart and mind. She reached out instinctively, her hand trembling as it hovered above the glass, so close, yet just beyond her grasp. She could almost feel the power radiating from it, feel the warmth of its presence like the sun on her skin. But it was more than warmth. It was a fire that simmered beneath the surface, ready to burn.

It wasn't just the voice that called to her; it was the very essence of the artifact. The scepter itself seemed to recognize her, to beckon her to come closer.

"Now, that is a true piece of history."

The voice that broke the silence was deep, melodic, and it seemed to seep through the air, wrapping around Bloom in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. She spun quickly, heart pounding.

Professor Valen stood just a few feet away, an unreadable expression on his face. His grey eyes watched her closely, as if he had been observing her for some time, though his presence was calm, collected. Still, there was something in the way he held himself - an intensity in his gaze - that unsettled her.

"Professor Valen..." Bloom stammered, her voice betraying the rush of emotions she was feeling. Her hand instinctively pulled back from the glass display, though the pull of the scepter still seemed to hum in her bones, urging her to turn.

Her breath caught when she noticed the way he watched her - not with judgment, but with a strange intensity, as if he were seeing her in a way no one else had. The space between them seemed to shrink, and Bloom could feel a subtle magnetic force drawing her closer to him.

For a moment, she was frozen, caught between the object she couldn't tear herself away from and the professor, who seemed to have an unsettling grip on her attention.

He tilted his head slightly, his pale eyes never leaving hers. The corner of his mouth quirked in what could almost be called a smile. "I didn't mean to startle you." He said, his voice like velvet, smooth and deliberate. "But I couldn't help but notice your... interest in that artifact."

Bloom's stomach twisted. Interest was an understatement.

She tried to find her composure, but her voice faltered as she spoke. "Yeah... it's strange, isn't it?" She took a step back, distancing herself from the scepter, though the pull to it was still there, insistent, like a soft whisper in the back of her mind.

Professor Valen nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to the scepter. "It is one of the most fascinating relics in this museum, to be sure. But there's something about it that can be overwhelming." 

He mused, stepping closer to her, his presence looming over her in a way that felt deliberate, purposeful. "Some artifacts, like this one, possess an almost sentient quality. A power so old, so primal, that they can choose who they want to connect with."

Choose who they want to connect with. It was a strange, dangerous thought.

"How can that be?" Bloom asked, unable to keep the confusion from her voice. "This scepter- it's from Domino, right? I've read about it before."

Professor Valen's lips twitched, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Indeed. It's the Scepter of the King of Domino, the last surviving artifact of a world lost to time."

"Why would I...?" She trailed off, unsure how to voice the question.

Professor Valen's gaze softened as if he understood the unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

"You wonder why you feel a connection to something so distant," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "To something from a world you've never known. It's natural to question that pull. The truth is, there are some things in this universe that are bound by forces we can't always explain. And there are some of us who... belong to these forces."

His words made Bloom's heart stutter. There was a strange certainty in his tone, a sense of knowing that she couldn't quite shake.

"I don't belong to anything," Bloom murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the words aloud might make them true.

Professor Valen tilted his head slightly, studying her with a gaze that seemed both searching and understanding. "You may not know it yet, but sometimes, we are bound to things beyond our understanding. Things that choose us before we even realize it."

"Do you believe it's dangerous?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Valen paused for a long moment before answering, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "All great power comes with a price. The question is whether you're willing to pay it."

Bloom's heart hammered in her chest. Before she could ask another question, a soft voice interrupted them from behind.

"Bloom, there you are." Stella's voice rang through the otherwise silent room, light and cheerful, "We're all ready to return to Alfea."

Behind Stella, the rest of the group filed in, their footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors of the museum. The five Specialists were close behind, with Sky at the front. He froze as soon as his eyes landed on the scene before him. His gaze shifted quickly between Bloom and Professor Valen, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

Something about the way Bloom stood so close to the professor, her expression still distant and a little too thoughtful, set a spark of tension inside him.

"Professor, what a surprise to see you!" Stella continued with a wide smile, her usual enthusiasm barely contained.

Professor Valen turned toward Stella, his expression calm and composed, though there was a brief flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he regarded her. He gave her a polite nod, his voice smooth and deliberate as he responded, "Ah, Miss Stella. I've been enjoying the exhibits here. This museum has some remarkable pieces, doesn't it?"

"Definitely! But we know you must be busy with the new school year and everything." She laughed lightly. "What are you doing here?"

The professor's gaze briefly flicked to Bloom before he answered, his tone still smooth. "One could say I'm doing a bit of research," he said, his voice trailing off just slightly. "But I don't want to keep you from enjoying your weekend. I will see you in class."

Professor Valen gave a small nod to the group before he turned and exited the room with quiet steps, his presence vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.

Bloom stood there for a beat longer than necessary, still feeling the weight of his gaze and the unsettling pull of the scepter. It was as though he had never truly left, his aura lingering in the space around her. She blinked a few times, shaking herself out of the fog that had settled over her mind.

Stella, however, seemed to have completely missed the subtle tension, her usual energy quickly returning. She clapped her hands together with a bright smile. "Alright, let's go. I'm starving again."

Chapter Text

The first two weeks of the semester had slipped by faster than Bloom would have liked, and soon, Monday arrived, the day she had been both dreading and anticipating. The first test in the Mirror of Sacrifice was unavoidable. Her friends had tried it already, none with success.

Now, it was her turn.

Bloom had heard all the stories, some whispered in hushed tones, others told with grim faces.

Flora had barely managed to keep herself from losing her composure. Musa had entered the mirror with her typical confidence, but came out shaking.

A quietness in Tecna's usually steady voice, a faint crease between her brows whenever she thought no one was looking. Layla had taken to training harder, her movements more precise, more controlled - almost like she was trying to shake something off.

Even Stella, who would normally brush off anything remotely emotional with a dramatic flip of her hair, had been unusually subdued the evening after her first test, staring into her compact mirror for far longer than necessary, as if searching for something in her own reflection.

No one spoke in detail about what they had seen.

Bloom tried to keep herself busy in the morning, distracting herself with lessons and idle chatter, but nothing could fully push away the unease curling in her stomach. No matter how much she told herself she was ready, a part of her knew that nothing could truly prepare her for what was about to come.

The test was different for everyone. No one knew exactly what they would see inside. Professor Palladium had explained it the day they were introduced to the test.

"The Mirror of Sacrifices is not an actual mirror," he had told them, his voice calm but firm. "It is a simulation. A magical construct designed to place you in a scenario that feels entirely real. But it is just that: a test. A trial that you will face many times throughout your journey until you are ready to earn your Enchantix. What you see inside is not predetermined. It is shaped by your own magic, your deepest fears, and the choices you are willing to make."

That was what unnerved Bloom the most.

By the time lunch rolled around, she had barely touched her food. The cafeteria buzzed with its usual energy, trays clattering, voices overlapping in animated chatter, but Bloom felt distant from it all.

"You're thinking about the test," Flora said gently, setting down her glass of juice. It wasn't a question.

Bloom sighed, pushing a stray carrot around her plate with her fork. "I can't help it," she admitted. "I keep wondering what I'm going to see. What it's going to make me do."

Musa, sitting across from her, rested her chin in her hand. "That's the worst part," she said. "You don't know until you're in there. And by the time you realize what's happening, it already feels real."

"You'll get through it," Flora said. "No matter what it throws at you, you're strong, Bloom."

She wanted to believe that. She really did.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and with it came the weight of inevitability. This was it. No more distractions.

Bloom stood, exhaling slowly as she steadied herself. Her friends looked at her with quiet support - Flora offering a small, encouraging smile, Stella squeezing her hand briefly before letting go.

No turning back now. With one final glance at them, she turned and made her way toward the simulation chamber.

Professor Palladium was already waiting for her when she arrived. The usually warm glow of the classrooms lights felt dimmer here, the air carrying an eerie stillness. Unlike the last few times she had been here, when her friends had gathered in nervous anticipation, today she was alone. The other third-years were attending a lesson with Headmistress Faragonda, leaving only her and Palladium in the quiet space.

The professor offered her a kind smile as she approached, his keen eyes noticing the tension in her posture. "Bloom," he greeted. "I can see you're nervous."

She swallowed, trying to loosen the tightness in her chest. "A little," she admitted, though they both knew that was an understatement.

Palladium nodded, as if he had expected her answer. "That's perfectly natural. The Mirror of Sacrifices is not an easy test. It challenges you in ways that magic alone cannot prepare you for."

Bloom bit her lip. "It's just... I've seen how my friends were after their tests. They didn't talk about it much, but I know it affected them."

The professor's gaze softened. "What you experience inside will feel real, but you must remember that it is not. The simulation is designed to create a scenario drawn from your own fears, your own doubts. But at the end of the day, it is just a test."

She nodded.

"And if at any moment it becomes too much, I will stop the simulation. You are not alone in this, Bloom."

She let out a breath. His words didn't erase the nervousness twisting in her stomach, but they helped steady her resolve.

She gave a small nod. "Okay. I'm ready."

Palladium gestured toward the mirror. "Then step forward, and let the test begin."

With one last deep breath, Bloom did just that.

Then, darkness.

It surrounded Bloom like a suffocating void, pressing in from all sides. There was no light, no form, only the unsettling silence stretching endlessly. But then, rustling. A faint crackle of fire whispered through the emptiness, distant yet unmistakable.

Bloom inhaled sharply, steadying herself. With a careful flick of her wrist, she summoned a small flame into her palm. The golden light flared to life, flickering softly in the stillness, and at last, the shadows pulled away enough for her to see.

She was in a room, a small, quiet space. The firelight cast long, trembling shadows over the walls, revealing worn wooden furniture. A chair. A shelf of storybooks. A collection of small toys scattered across the floor, their once-bright colors dulled by time.

Her breath caught.

A crib.

It sat near the center of the room, untouched by dust or decay. The sight of it sent a strange shiver down Bloom's spine. Something about this place felt wrong. Familiar, yet distant - like a forgotten dream slipping through her fingers.

She turned slowly, taking in the eerie silence, the still air thick with something she couldn't quite name. Then, her eyes landed on a door at the far end of the room.

A heavy feeling settled in her chest.

Still, she moved.

With cautious steps, she crossed the nursery and pressed her hand against the cold wood of the door. It creaked as it swung open, and the moment she stepped through, the world around her changed.

Smoke curled through the air, thick and suffocating.

The scent of ash and burnt stone filled her lungs.

Bloom staggered back, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her - endless corridors, grand yet broken, their gilded edges blackened by fire. The walls, once beautiful, were marred with cracks, their murals reduced to soot-streaked remnants.

She was in a palace. Or rather, what used to be a palace.

The floors beneath her boots were littered with rubble and shards of shattered glass. Some doors hung open, their frames warped from heat, while others remained stubbornly closed, hiding whatever lay beyond them.

Yet, there was no one. No voices. No footsteps.

Just her. And the fire.

The flames licked at the walls and trailed across the ceiling, but they did not consume. They burned without spreading, flickering unnaturally, as if frozen in time.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

The air felt wrong here. Heavy. As though something unseen was pressing against her chest, wrapping around her lungs, tightening with each breath.

What is this place?

Bloom swallowed hard, shaking off the unease creeping up her spine. She had to move. If there were people here - if someone needed help - she had to find them.

The fire could not hurt her.

With that thought, she let the warmth of her magic unfurl through her body. Her wings spread in a shimmer of fiery light, and with a push, she lifted off the ground, soaring down the ruined halls.

Room after room, hallway after hallway. But nothing.

No voices. No movement.

Only the emptiness stretching endlessly around her.

The longer she flew, the worse the feeling became. It clung to her skin, thick and suffocating, the silence almost too perfect, as if the palace itself was holding its breath.

Bloom flew through the ruined halls, her heart hammering against her ribs. The further she went, the more twisted everything became. It wasn't just the silence. It was the feeling of being watched, of something just beyond her sight lurking in the smoke and shadows.

And then she saw it.

The corridor opened up into a vast, ruined space - a throne room.

Her breath hitched as she hovered in the air, taking in the destruction. The once-magnificent chamber was now a broken skeleton of its former glory. Marble pillars lay cracked and shattered, the golden accents melted into warped, twisted forms. Fire danced along the edges of the walls, casting eerie shadows across the ruined space.

And above her-

The domed ceiling had collapsed, leaving a gaping hole open to the sky. Ash and snow fell through it, swirling together in an unnatural dance, coating the ruined throne in a thin, ghostly layer of white.

Bloom landed hesitantly, her boots crunching softly against the soot-covered floor. A heavy silence hung in the air, thick with something unspoken, something wrong.

A sound broke through the quiet.

A baby's cry.

Bloom froze, her entire body stiffening. The high, desperate wail echoed through the throne room, raw and helpless. It came from somewhere ahead, beyond the ruins of the broken throne.

Her stomach twisted.

There was someone here. A child.

She forced herself forward, her legs moving before her mind could catch up. Her breath came in shallow, uneven pulls as she followed the sound, her hands trembling slightly. The flames flickered around her, throwing grotesque shadows against the walls, making it seem as though the broken palace moved with her steps.

Another cry, louder this time.

The air around her shifted, the temperature plummeting as a suffocating weight pressed down on the chamber. The firelight dimmed, retreating as though afraid. The silence stretched too long, too still.

Then-

The shadows moved.

A figure materialized from the darkness behind the child.

Bloom's stomach dropped.

It wasn't just darkness - it was made of darkness. A shifting mass of swirling black smoke, its form vaguely human but hollow, unnatural. Its limbs were long and spindly, moving with a fluid, unnatural grace. And then, with an eerie slowness, it lifted one arm.

A glint of silver.

A knife.

Bloom's heart slammed against her ribs in pure, animal terror.

"NO!"

Her body moved before thought could catch up, instinct taking over as a fireball ignited in her palm. She threw it with all the force she could muster, the flames roaring as they raced toward the shadowy figure.

But the figure barely reacted.

With a slow, deliberate motion, it lifted its free hand and wiped the fire away, dispersing it like it was nothing more than smoke.

The knife rose higher.

Bloom screamed and launched another blast, this time twin streams of fire bursting from her hands. The flames twisted through the air, burning hotter, brighter.

But the figure didn't move.

The fire hit, but instead of searing flesh, the figure absorbed it. The flames vanished into the swirling abyss of its body, flickering out as though they had never existed.

Bloom's blood turned to ice.

She didn't hesitate. She switched tactics.

With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a whirlwind of flame, spinning it into a deadly vortex around the creature, trying to cut off its movement. The fire roared, encircling the figure in a cage of searing heat.

But the shadow merely walked through it.

It didn't burn. It didn't flinch. It didn't even acknowledge her magic.

Bloom clenched her fists, panic crawling up her throat as she shifted mid-air, raising her arms in a defensive stance. "Combustion Wave!" she shouted, summoning a shock-wave of explosive fire. The ground beneath her trembled as a blast of energy erupted from her body, aiming to knock the figure away.

But it kept moving.

Slowly. Deliberately.

As though nothing Bloom did mattered at all.

She panted, desperation clawing at her chest as she threw spell after spell - Ring of Fire, Phoenix Burst, Dragon's Talon - nothing worked.

Nothing even touched it.

The blade gleamed again, catching the dim light of the ruined throne room.

The figure loomed over the baby now, completely ignoring Bloom as it raised the knife higher.

A terrible realization hit her all at once. It never saw her as a threat.

Terror locked Bloom's body in place. The baby let out a small, broken wail, and the figure brought the knife down.

"NO!"

Bloom surged forward, flames bursting around her.

A primal heat ignited inside Bloom's core, an inferno that burned deeper than anything she had ever known. It wasn't just magic - it was something else. Something that had always been there, waiting.

Desperation clawed at her as she reached for that power, grasping at it like a lifeline.

And she unleashed it.

The fire didn't erupt from her hands like it usually did. It exploded from within her, bursting forth in a blinding blaze of golden-red light. For a moment, Bloom thought she had lost control. But then-

From the heart of the inferno, something vast and powerful emerged. A creature of pure flame and raw magic, its massive form twisting and writhing as it took shape. Wings, long and jagged, flared wide as a guttural, ancient roar shook the throne room.

A dragon.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat as the fire-beast lifted its head, its body composed of roaring embers and searing heat, its molten eyes locked onto the shadowed figure.

For the first time, the figure stopped.

The knife it had wielded so fearlessly faltered in its grasp. It shrank back, the swirling darkness around it recoiling as if sensing something greater - something unstoppable.

But it was already too late.

The fire dragon surged forward with a deafening roar, slamming into the shadowed figure. The impact sent a shock-wave through the room, the very walls trembling from the force of it.

The darkness screamed.

It writhed, its formless shape twisting in agony as Bloom watched, frozen in horrified awe. The fire consumed the figure, licking through its smoky body, tearing it apart at the seams. One by one, the shadows unraveled, disintegrating into nothingness.

It was gone.

The fire dragon reared back, its enormous wings beating against the air, embers raining down like falling stars. Bloom's heart pounded as she gazed up at it. There was no fear, only understanding.

This creature...

It was hers. Born of her power. A part of her, even if she had no idea where it had come from or what it meant.

The dragon arced through the air in one last, graceful movement before its body turned, rushing toward her in a spiraling blaze of gold and red.

Bloom didn't flinch.

The moment the fire reached her, it didn't burn. It embraced her. The heat curled around her skin, sinking back into her body, as if it had never left.

Then the exhaustion hit.

Her knees buckled. The room spun. Her vision blurred at the edges as her body swayed, drained of every ounce of energy.

The last thing she heard before darkness claimed her, was a woman's voice calling her name, "Bloom!"

The first thing Bloom felt was warmth. It wasn't the searing, all-consuming heat of the fire she had unleashed in the throne room, nor the suffocating embers of a world lost to ruin. This was different - gentler, like the last flickers of a dying flame, steady and persistent.

She was floating. Or at least, it felt like she was. Suspended between waking and dreaming, her body weightless, her thoughts sluggish and fragmented. She tried to move, but her limbs were heavy, unresponsive. Her eyelids fluttered, barely able to lift, the world around her shifting in and out of focus.

A ceiling. White stone, enchanted to shimmer faintly in the soft glow of healing orbs.

Alfea. The infirmary.

The scent of herbs and healing potions clung to the air, mixing with something floral - maybe lavender. The sheets beneath her were cool, and she could feel the weight of a blanket tucked around her. Voices drifted in and out, distant murmurs beyond the veil of her exhaustion.

Time blurred.

At some point - she wasn't sure when - she became aware of someone beside her. A presence that was comforting her. A voice broke through the fog.

"Dragons choose their keepers, not the other way around."

Bloom tried to respond, but her throat was dry, her body too heavy. Her eyelids fluttered, catching only the faintest glimpse of a figure - Headmistress Faragonda, seated at her bedside.

A pause. Then, quieter, as if to herself:

"She called it, without knowing how."

Bloom wanted to ask what she meant, but her body betrayed her, dragging her back down into unconsciousness.

She wasn't sure how much time passed before she surfaced again. A soft light glowed beyond her closed eyes. She stirred, her limbs sluggish, as the headmistress's voice reached her once more.

She drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes aware of the hushed conversations happening just beyond her reach, other times lost in strange dreams of fire and snow, of voices she didn't recognize whispering things she couldn't quite make out.

At one point, she thought she heard Professor Valen's voice - smooth, deep, carrying an edge of curiosity.

"She didn't summon it," he murmured, as though speaking to someone else. "She became it."

A pause.

"That changes everything."

Her breath hitched. Her body tensed against the crisp sheets beneath her.

"Easy now, Bloom."

The voice was calm, familiar in a way that settled some of the panic rising in her chest. A hand, light and reassuring, pressed gently against her wrist. Bloom blinked, her vision swimming before finally sharpening enough to make out the figure seated beside her.

Headmistress Faragonda.

The older woman regarded her with kind eyes. Bloom's mind was sluggish, fogged with exhaustion, but the memories of what had happened in the simulation slammed into her like a tidal wave. The burning palace. The crying baby. The shadow with the knife.

The fire dragon.

Bloom's breath came quicker, her pulse thudding in her ears.

"W-what..." Her voice cracked, her throat raw, but she forced the words out. "What happened?"

Faragonda's lips pressed into a thoughtful line. "You overexerted yourself during the test," she said gently. "Your magic drained almost completely. You've been unconscious for nearly two days."

Two days?

Bloom struggled to push herself upright, but a wave of dizziness sent her collapsing back against the pillows. Her body felt weak, like she'd been wrung out and left in the sun to dry.

"But-" She swallowed hard. "That wasn't just exhaustion. That wasn't normal."

Faragonda sighed softly, her expression unreadable. "No," she admitted. "It wasn't."

Bloom stared at her, waiting - needing - for her to continue.

"That... thing I summoned," Bloom said, her voice barely above a whisper. "That dragon, where did it come from?"

Faragonda studied her for a long moment, as if weighing just how much she should say. Then, in a voice quiet but firm, she answered: "It came from you."

Bloom's body went cold.

That couldn't be right. She had created that thing? That creature of fire and rage, something so massive and powerful it had shaken the very air around her?

"That's not possible," Bloom whispered, shaking her head. "I- I've never done anything like that before."

"And yet, you did," Faragonda said, her gaze steady. "It was unlike anything I have seen in many years. That fire, that presence - it was not mere magic, Bloom. It was something far older. Far more powerful."

Bloom's fingers curled into the sheets. "Then what was it?"

Faragonda hesitated. Then, with great care, she said,

"The Flame of the Dragon."

Bloom's breath caught.

She had heard those words before - in History of Magic. The Dragon Flame is the sacred essence of the Great Dragon, the primordial force that gave birth to the entire Magic Dimension. It is a power unlike any other - ancient, limitless, and woven into the very fabric of existence.

It wasn't real. It couldn't be. Bloom shook her head. "That's- no. That doesn't make any sense. Why would I- ?"

Faragonda leaned forward, her voice gentle. "That is a question I cannot answer."

Bloom's heart pounded in her chest. She felt like the ground beneath her had suddenly tilted, like she was standing at the edge of something vast and unknown.

The Flame of the Dragon.

Faragonda reached out, placing a steadying hand over hers.

"I know this is a lot to take in," she said gently and stood to leave. "But for now, you must rest."

Bloom barely managed a nod, her mind spinning. As Headmistress Faragonda's footsteps faded from the room, Bloom's eyes lingered on the empty doorway for a moment, trying to piece together the fragmented pieces of the conversation she had just had.

She exhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. Only then did she realize that she wasn't alone.

A presence lingered in the corner of the room, silent and watchful.

Her breath hitched as her gaze flicked toward the shadowed figure. Professor Valen.

He stood there, poised, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he leaned against the wall, his grey eyes gleaming with something unreadable. No, Bloom corrected herself, not unreadable. There was something there, a glint just beneath the surface, a sharpness.

She should have felt uneasy. Perhaps she even did. But it wasn't fear curling in her stomach. It was something else entirely.

His lips curved slightly, an almost-smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "So," he murmured at last, his voice like velvet over steel. "The Dragon Flame. Quite the revelation."

Bloom shifted against the sheets, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his gaze traced over her, as if seeing her for the first time - or perhaps as if he had always seen her, but now, with confirmation of something he had suspected all along.

"You were listening?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Observing," he corrected smoothly. He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, slow, deliberate. Something in the way he said it sent a shiver through her - not cold, not exactly. Something more like heat creeping along her skin.

She forced herself to break the silence. "Why are you here, Professor?"

He chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing. "To ensure you're recovering, of course." A pause. "Are you feeling better?"

His eyes glinted in the dim light, a sparkle there that sent a shiver down her spine, but not the kind of fear that made her want to pull away. It was... curiosity. A hunger, maybe.

"I am... better," she said, her voice softer than usual.

He didn't answer right away, his eyes still fixed on her with that unsettling intensity. For a moment, there was only the sound of her own breathing filling the room.

"I'm glad," he replied, but his gaze never left her, lingering a little too long. Then, he took a small step forward, closing the distance between them just a fraction. "What you did was quite extraordinary, Bloom," he added, his voice smooth and low, like the softest caress.

She swallowed, the words sitting heavy in the space between them. There was an undercurrent in his tone that made her skin prickle, something too charged to be purely professional.

"Extraordinary?" she repeated, almost breathless.

Professor Valen smiled slightly, a smile that felt like it hid a secret. His eyes flickered with something far deeper than just curiosity, and that spark in them intensified for a brief, dangerous moment.

"Yes," he said simply, his voice a velvety drawl.

The weight of his gaze lingered, and Bloom felt an inexplicable heat spread across her face, her breath hitching in her throat. There was something in the way his eyes traced her face, the way his words seemed to sink into her skin.

Bloom cleared her throat, pushing herself back slightly in her bed, but the distance between them felt too thin, too fragile. "What's going to happen now?" she asked, her voice steadier now, though the warmth in her cheeks was hard to ignore.

For the briefest moment, Professor Valen's eyes darkened, his gaze sweeping over her. "That depends on you, Miss Bloom," he said slowly, letting the words linger like a promise.

And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Bloom alone with her mind filled with questions.

Bloom had barely settled back against her pillows, still trying to process everything that had just transpired with Professor Valen when the door to the infirmary swung open again. This time it was a burst of bright energy that could only come from her friends.

"Bloom!" Stella's voice rang through the room, filled with worry and relief in equal measure. The others followed close behind, all five of them practically glowing with concern.

Flora was the first to reach her side, her gentle hands brushing back a strand of hair from Bloom's forehead. "How are you feeling? You gave us all quite the scare," she said softly, her green eyes full of worry.

Musa's brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. "Yeah, we didn't get much from Miss Faragonda except that it didn't go well. What happened?" Her usual calm and collected demeanor was replaced with a rare intensity.

Layla's eyes flicked between the group, her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked Bloom over carefully. "We've been really worried, Bloom. You weren't- you didn't wake up for days."

Tecna, usually composed and analytical, seemed unusually concerned as well. "We've only heard bits and pieces," she said.

Bloom blinked slowly, her exhaustion still making her feel like she was wading through fog. But when she looked up at the faces of her friends, a warm rush of gratitude swelled in her chest. They were all here. All so eager to see her safe, to make sure she was okay.

She felt herself smile weakly. "I'm okay," Bloom said, her voice quiet but steady.

Tecna hesitated, clearly unsure of how to ask what she was dying to know. "What happened during your test? Was it... that bad?"

"Yeah," Layla added, crossing her arms with a mischievous grin. "Everyone's curious, especially about how you broke the simulator."

Bloom blinked, taken aback. "I broke the simulator?"

Musa chuckled softly from her place beside Tecna, her arms loosely crossed as she leaned against the wall. "Well, we weren't sure if that was intentional or not. But it seems like that's exactly what you did."

"It was strange," she said slowly, feeling her chest tighten at the memory. "I don't even know how to explain it. The test felt real, but I knew it wasn't. I was in this burning palace, everything destroyed... and then, there was this crying baby."

Her voice faltered slightly as she spoke, and she could feel the weight of the emotion rising in her chest. Why? Why was it that the thought of the baby - of what might have happened to it - clung to her even now?

Flora's soft hand was back on hers, squeezing gently. "It sounds really intense, Bloom. But you're okay now. That's what matters."

"You were in there longer than anyone else," Tecna said, her tone steady but tinged with curiosity. "A lot longer than the simulation should have allowed."

Musa's lips pressed into a thin line. "We didn't get all the details, but we know the system had to be shut down. A full shutdown," she added.

"Is that... bad?" Bloom asked, unsure whether to feel proud or frightened.

"Bad? No," Stella said, offering a reassuring smile. "It just means you're more powerful than we realized."

Flora nodded. "It sounds like you've unlocked something, Bloom. Something important."

Layla's eyes softened, and she gave Bloom a playful yet gentle nudge. "You're going to be okay. We're all here for you. We always have been."

"Thank you," she said softly, finally able to relax a little.

"For what?" Layla asked with a playful grin.

"For being here," Bloom said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "For being my friends."

"We're always here, Bloom," Flora said with a smile. "And we'll be with you every step of the way."

"Now," Stella said, clapping her hands together and breaking the tension, "what do you say we bring some strawberry cakes? I think we've earned it."

Laughter filled the room as Bloom, surrounded by her friends, finally felt like she could breathe again.

Chapter Text

Bloom's muscles ached, but the worst of the exhaustion had faded.

It felt good to stretch her legs, to feel the familiar weight of her own body, free of the dull haze that had kept her locked in the infirmary for days. It had been a strange blur of rest, recovery, and snippets of conversation with her friends, each of them eager to make sure she was okay.

She sighed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, standing up with some effort. As she began to gather her belongings, the door opened, and Nurse Ofelia entered, her eyes warm as usual.

"Ah, Miss Bloom, I see you're up and about," the nurse said with a kind smile. "It's good to see you looking better."

Bloom returned the smile. "I feel better. A little tired, but I think I'm ready to head back to my dorm."

The nurse nodded, but then her expression grew a bit more serious. "Before you go, Headmistress Faragonda has asked to see you before you return to your dorm."

"Do you know what it's about?" Bloom asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She hadn't seen her since she woke up in the infirmary.

Ofelia shook her head. "I'm afraid not. But she's been very concerned about you."

Bloom nodded, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach. "Thank you. I'll go see her." Her footsteps echoed softly as she walked from the infirmary down the familiar hallways, each one seeming to resonate louder in her ears.

As she reached the office, Bloom hesitated for a moment before knocking and pushing the door open.

Inside, the office was as serene as ever. The faint smell of parchment, the quiet hum of the fireplace, and the comfortable presence of Headmistress Faragonda, who sat behind her desk, waiting. Her eyes were thoughtful as they met Bloom's.

"Bloom," Faragonda said with a gentle smile. "I'm glad to see you're on your feet again."

"I'm feeling better, thank you."

"Good. I wanted to talk to you about what happened during your test," Faragonda replied, her eyes never leaving Bloom's face, gesturing to the chair across from her. "Please, sit."

Bloom hesitated for a moment, before she lowered herself into the seat. "I've been thinking a lot about what happened during the test. It felt so real... almost like I was trapped in that world for a lifetime."

Faragonda nodded knowingly. "The Mirror of Sacrifice does have that effect. It taps into the deepest parts of your psyche, bringing your greatest fears and desires to the surface. But what you experienced was far more than any of us expected."

"I still don't understand. The dragon flame-"

Faragonda leaned back in her chair, her hands folded gently in her lap. "The Dragon Flame is no small thing, Bloom. It is an ancient force, a power that has shaped the very fabric of this world."

"For centuries," Faragonda began, her voice calm and measured, "after the Great Dragon laid down to rest, his flame was entrusted to a guardian, chosen for their strength, their purity, and their worthiness."

Bloom's eyes narrowed slightly as she processed the information. "How could I possibly be worthy of this flame, of this responsibility?" Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper, as her insecurities crept up like shadows, threatening to overtake her.

Faragonda's gaze softened, and she placed a gentle hand on Bloom's shoulder, a comforting weight. "Your origins may be a mystery, Bloom, but that does not change the truth of who you are. The Dragon Flame has chosen you."

"How can I live up to something like this?" she murmured. "How can I be worthy of a power that shaped the entire Magical Dimension?"

Faragonda smiled softly, a glint of understanding in her eyes. "The Dragon Flame has chosen you not because you have all the answers, but because it saw the strength in you that you may not even recognize yet. And while you may feel conflicted, that power is yours to harness, to protect, and to grow into."

Bloom's heart lifted slightly, but her mind remained troubled. "How do I begin to understand it?"

"The first step," Faragonda said with a slight smile, "is accepting it. Embracing your connection to the Dragon Flame. And the second step is learning how to channel it responsibly. This won't happen overnight, but with time and discipline, you'll master it."

Faragonda's expression softened as she regarded Bloom. "You are not expected to understand everything right away, Bloom," she said gently. "Power like yours takes time, patience, and guidance to control."

Bloom swallowed, gripping the fabric of her skirt. "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

"You will train," Faragonda said simply. "I will help you harness the Dragon Flame, to understand it, control it, and unlock its full potential."

Bloom's breath hitched. "You will?"

Faragonda nodded. "You possess one of the greatest forces in existence, and it is vital that you learn to wield it properly. I will personally guide you in this journey." She gave Bloom a reassuring smile. "For now, you should rest. You have been through more than enough this past week. But tomorrow, after your last class, come to my office. That is when we will begin."

"Alright. I'll be there."

Faragonda's eyes twinkled with quiet pride. "Good. Rest well, Bloom. Tomorrow is a new day."

The entire day, Bloom felt like she was walking through a haze.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't focus on her lessons. Her thoughts kept circling back to what was coming after class - her first real attempt at training the Dragon Flame under Headmistress Faragonda. Excitement and anxiety twisted in her stomach, making it impossible to sit still.

She barely registered Professor Wizgiz's lecture on spell theory, completely missed a question in potion-making, and even Stella had to snap her fingers repeatedly in front of Bloom's face during lunch to bring her back to reality.

But when she stepped into Professor Valen's class, something shifted.

Unlike the other lessons, where she felt restless and distracted, here, she found herself grounded, captivated.

Professor Valen's voice was deep and deliberate, each word laced with an almost hypnotic cadence. He spoke of magic not as something to be memorized, but as something to be understood, unraveled, questioned.

"Magic," he said, pacing slowly before the class, "is not merely a force we wield. It is a reflection of us. Our beliefs. Our fears. Our desires. It responds to will, but what is will if not the very essence of who we are?"

Bloom felt a strange pull in her chest, drawn into his words more than she wanted to admit.

"The most powerful magic," he continued, his dark eyes sweeping across the room before briefly settling on her, "comes from those who understand not just their power, but themselves."

A shiver ran down Bloom's spine, though she wasn't sure why. Was he speaking generally, or did he somehow know? Could he see through her, past the uncertainty, past the questions, and into the fire burning inside her?

For the first time that day, her nerves quieted.

"The strongest magic," Valen said, stopping by his desk, "does not come from force. It does not come from power alone. It comes from understanding the cost." He leaned against the desk, fingers curling over the edge. "Many wield magic, but few truly understand it. Even fewer are willing to accept what it demands of them."

What it demands of them. Magic demands. Creation and destruction. Balance.

"Professor?"

Valen lifted his gaze to her, his dark eyes settling on her with quiet curiosity. "Yes, Miss Bloom?"

"You said that the strongest magic comes from understanding the cost." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "But doesn't every spell, every bit of magic, have a cost already? Even something as simple as a light spell takes energy. So why did you phrase it like that?"

A flicker of something - approval? - crossed his features.

"A perceptive question," he mused. "Yes, you are correct. All magic requires something in return. But I am not speaking of mere energy, Miss Bloom."

The way he said her name sent a small shiver through her, but she held her ground, meeting his gaze.

"What, then?" she pressed.

"True magic, the kind that shapes worlds, the kind that cannot be contained, demands more than just energy. It demands something of the soul. Intent. Will. It demands that the caster know the weight of what they wield. Without that understanding, power is just a force waiting to spiral out of control."

Her breath hitched. She thought again of the dragon, of how it had erupted from her, untamed and raw. She hadn't controlled it. She had only released it.

"What happens if someone doesn't understand it?" she asked quietly.

Professor Valen studied her for a long moment. "Then they become a vessel rather than a master," he said at last. "A conduit for something greater than themselves. And eventually... they break."

She had always thought magic was something she could learn, something she could train and refine. But he spoke as if magic wasn't just a skill - it was a force, a truth woven into the fabric of existence. A power that, if left unchecked, could consume.

The thought both terrified and fascinated her.

"But isn't that what happens naturally?" she countered. "When we push our limits, we change. We adapt. We evolve."

A slow, intrigued smile crossed his lips. "Indeed." He tilted his head slightly, watching her with something almost like admiration. "That is what separates those who wield power from those who are chosen by it."

Chosen. The word sent a chill through her.

Her mind raced with possibilities, with questions about herself, about the Dragon Flame, about what it meant that she had been born with it.

The moment stretched between them for just a beat too long before Valen finally spoke again, breaking whatever spell had fallen over her.

"That will be all for today." His voice was smooth, unhurried. "Next lesson, we will explore the balance between creation and destruction, because, as you all should know, one cannot exist without the other."

The bell rang, but Bloom barely registered it.

The other students were already gathering their things, chattering among themselves as they left the classroom. Musa nudged Bloom's shoulder, dragging her out of whatever trance she had fallen into.

"Earth to Bloom," Musa teased. "You look like you just had some kind of epiphany."

"I-" Bloom started, but she had no idea what to say.

Had she?

She didn't feel enlightened. If anything, she felt even more restless than before.

Musa tilted her head. "You good?"

Bloom forced a smile, hoping it would be convincing. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

"Well, don't think too hard. You've got that big training thing with Faragonda after this, right?"

Right.

As if she wasn't already nervous enough.

"Yeah," Bloom murmured, gripping the strap of her bag tightly as she stood up.

She risked one last glance toward Professor Valen. He was at his desk, skimming through a book, seemingly uninterested in anything else happening in the room.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and left the classroom.

The training hall was vast, an echoing expanse of polished marble and smooth stone. The walls stretched high, lined with thick columns that reached toward the domed ceiling, their surfaces engraved with runes of protection. The air was cool, despite the torches flickering along the walls, their golden light reflecting against the high, arched ceilings.

Bloom stood in the center of the chamber, her boots planted firmly against the stone floor, yet she felt strangely weightless, as if the sheer enormity of what she was about to do had lifted her slightly off the ground. A nervous energy pulsed beneath her skin, making her fingers twitch.

Miss Faragonda stood a few steps away, the folds of her blue robe catching the dim light. She radiated patience, a steady presence, yet there was a gravity to her expression. She was not just here as a mentor, but as a witness to something Bloom herself wasn't sure she was ready for.

"Alright, Bloom," Faragonda said gently, her voice calm. "Let's start simple. Summon your fire as you normally would."

That, at least, was easy.

Bloom inhaled deeply, allowing the air to settle in her lungs. Then she reached inward, searching for the familiar ember that had burned inside her for as long as she could remember. It was always there, waiting just beneath the surface, like a heartbeat, like breath.

Warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading down her arms, tingling at her fingertips.

A flicker of flame burst into existence, curling around her hand in twisting tendrils of orange and gold. It was effortless, as natural as breathing. The fire danced harmlessly along her palm, illuminating her face in a soft glow. The warmth licked at her skin, but it did not burn her.

"Good, but before you attempt to reach the Dragon Flame, let's focus on refining the magic you already wield," the headmistress said, her voice even and measured. "Your control, your precision. They will be just as important as the raw power itself."

Bloom shifted on her feet. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or even more anxious at the delay, but she nodded. "Alright. What do you want me to do?"

Faragonda waved a hand, and a set of floating targets appeared around the training hall, glowing faintly like orbs of light. They hovered at varying distances. Some were close enough to touch, others farther away, weaving slightly in the air like they were caught in a phantom breeze.

"Start simple," Faragonda instructed. "Hit each target with a controlled flame. Small bursts, nothing more."

Bloom took a steadying breath and turned to the nearest target. Snapped her wrist, she sent a concentrated burst of flame towards it. The fire hit its mark cleanly, dissolving in a brief flare of light before vanishing.

Good. She could do this.

She moved on to the next target, then another, each time adjusting her aim, ensuring the flames were controlled and measured. She could feel the warmth flow through her, an extension of herself, fluid and effortless.

Faragonda nodded in approval. "Good. Now..." She folded her hands in front of her. "Let's see if we can go further. Try to reach for what's beyond that flame."

Bloom swallowed hard. This was what she had been dreading. She took a slow breath and focused, reaching into herself again. Deeper. Further.

She imagined the fire within her, burning at her core. But instead of stopping at the familiar warmth, she pushed past it, reaching for something greater, something more.

Nothing happened.

The flame in her hand flickered but remained the same.

Bloom frowned, frustration curling in her stomach. She tried again, closing her eyes, digging deeper, searching for the same force that had surged through her veins during the simulation. The force that had brought the fire dragon into existence.

Still nothing.

She clenched her fists, extinguishing the normal flames in frustration.

Faragonda remained unshaken. "Power like this does not always answer when called. It is not about force, but understanding. Let's try another approach."

"This is a training enchantment," she continued. "It will allow you to better visualize the connection you have with your magic."

The air shimmered around Bloom, and suddenly she could feel it - the energy of the room, the hum of magic all around her, like invisible threads stretching in every direction.

"Now," Faragonda said, "I want you to close your eyes and listen. Listen to the magic within you."

Bloom obeyed, trying to push past her doubt. She focused on the hum, the energy, the fire inside her.

But it felt... distant.

She could sense her normal flame clearly, could call upon it as easily as breathing, but beyond that - where the Dragon Flame should have been - it was silent. Almost like a locked door that she had no key for.

Frustration gnawed at her.

Faragonda seemed to sense it. "Bloom, magic responds to emotion. Try to remember what you felt in the simulator."

Bloom opened her eyes, staring at the older woman. "I was terrified," she admitted. "I thought that if I didn't do something, that baby would die."

Faragonda studied her for a moment before nodding. "Then let's change the scenario."

With a wave of her hand, the torches around the room flared higher, the shadows stretching along the marble walls. A swirl of golden light surrounded Bloom, and suddenly, images flickered through her mind - visions of destruction, of helplessness, of fire consuming everything around her.

A test. A way to ignite the power through emotion.

Bloom's heart pounded. Her breathing quickened as she tried to summon the flame again, to reach for the dragon's power the way she had in the simulation.

Nothing. The fear was there, the urgency, but the power remained dormant.

Faragonda watched her closely, then lifted her hand again, casting the illusion away. The torches dimmed, the air stilled.

"Why can't I do it?" Bloom burst out, frustration making her voice tight. "I know it's there-" She clenched her fists, biting back the rising anger. "Why won't it answer me now?"

Faragonda sighed, stepping closer. "Because, Bloom... you are trying to force it."

Bloom frowned. "But that's how magic works! You call it, you control it-"

"No," Faragonda corrected gently. "You do not control the Dragon Flame. You must become one with it. It is not a spell to be cast. It is a power that chooses you."

Bloom swallowed. "Then how do I make it choose me?"

She shook out her arms as if to dispel the frustration creeping up her spine. She could still feel the lingering heat from her training, the way her flames had come so naturally when she was casting ordinary spells. And yet, when it came to the Dragon Flame, the power that had erupted so fiercely in the simulation... Nothing.

"Bloom," the older woman said gently, "you must be patient with yourself."

Bloom clenched her jaw. "But it was there, Headmistress. I felt it." Her hands curled into fists. "That fire - that creature - it came from me. And now, when I actually try, it's like it's gone."

Faragonda nodded knowingly. "Magic isn't always something we can summon on command, especially a power as vast and ancient as the Dragon Flame." She regarded Bloom thoughtfully.

"For two years, you believed yourself to be an ordinary fairy, with an affinity for fire, yes, but nothing more. You've trained with a different mindset, shaping your abilities within the limits you thought you had."

Bloom swallowed. That was true. She had always thought of her fire as hers, something she created, something she controlled. But this... the Dragon Flame wasn't just another spell she could summon at will. It was more powerful, and older.

Faragonda continued, "It is only natural that now, even after it has revealed itself to you, you would struggle to harness it. Power does not come simply because we demand it. The Dragon Flame is alive, in a way. It is part of you, but it will not answer to impatience or frustration."

Bloom exhaled slowly. "Then... how do I reach it?"

Faragonda smiled. "That is what you will discover. You must understand the Dragon Flame, not just wield it." She stepped back, gesturing toward the door. "That's enough for today. Go have dinner with your friends, get some rest. We'll try again tomorrow."

Bloom hesitated, then nodded.

Just as she turned toward the door, something shifted deep inside her.

It was a subtle sensation at first, like the faintest flicker of a flame in the darkness. But then, like a spark catching in a gust of wind, it flared brighter, hotter - alive. A surge of heat, of power, surged from her core, rushing outward and flooding her senses in a way that left her breathless.

The Dragon Flame.

It was there, just beneath the surface, stirring as though it had been waiting all along. Bloom froze, her pulse racing as the flame thrummed through her, vibrant and untamed. The air around her felt charged, the weight of the magic pressing against her skin. She could feel it stretching toward the surface, demanding to be released.

For a moment, Bloom was frozen, her heart pounding, her hands trembling. She knew it - this was the Dragon Flame. It had been so elusive before, locked away, but now it was reaching for her, alive and burning.

Then, without warning, the door to the training hall swung open, and Bloom instinctively took a step back as a figure strode through - the billowing dark robes, the sharp eyes, the rigid posture.

Professor Valen.

He strode past her with his usual commanding pace, his cloak swirling behind him, barely giving her a glance as he moved toward the center of the hall. His expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed ahead.

In that moment, her magic seemed to flip. The raw energy of the Dragon Flame wavered, almost like it was thrown off course, a shock-wave of power rippling through her.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe, to wrestle the fire back under control. Through the haze of magic, snippets of urgent words reached her ears.

"...Saladin-"

Bloom's head snapped up. Her eyes darted toward Professor Valen and the headmistress, her grip on her fire momentarily forgotten.

Faragonda's expression shifted. Bloom watched as the color drained from her face, her fingers tightening around the folds of her robes.

"How?" the headmistress asked, her voice taut.

Professor Valen's tone was clipped, urgent. "They don't know what happened."

A heartbeat of silence passed - then Faragonda moved. Swift, without hesitation, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door, her long robes sweeping the floor. The professor followed immediately, his pace matching hers step for step.

Bloom stood frozen, watching them go, her chest tightening with unease.

Saladin. Did something happened to Headmaster Saladin? That was all she had caught. And from the way Faragonda looked - like she had just received the worst possible news - Bloom knew it wasn't something minor.

The two figures reached the threshold, nearly disappearing through the door when-

Professor Valen suddenly stopped.

Just before stepping out, he turned back. And for the first time, he truly looked at her.

His gaze burned - intense, unreadable, like he was studying something only he could see. It was brief, a flicker of something between curiosity and calculation. But it sent an uneasy shiver down Bloom's spine.

Then, without a word, he was gone.

The heavy doors shut behind them, leaving Bloom standing alone, her heart pounding and her fire still pulsing beneath her skin.

She exhaled shakily, forcing her flames to finally dissipate. But the feeling remained - that deep, unsettled sensation, like she had just brushed against something much larger than herself.

Whatever had happened at Red Fountain... it was serious.

Taking one last glance at the now-empty hall, Bloom turned on her heel and made her way toward the great hall for dinner, though her appetite had all but disappeared.

Chapter Text

The night was silent.

The air in Bloom's dorm room was cool, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window, casting pale slants of silver across the floor. Outside, the distant sounds of crickets and the rustling wind filled the quiet.

But Bloom was not at peace.

Her eyes snapped open, heart hammering against her ribs, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The dream - the same one from before - lingered at the edges of her mind, vivid and disorienting.

She sat up, pressing a hand to her forehead, willing herself to steady.

It had been of her again. The woman made of light.

She had stood there, surrounded by nothing but darkness, a figure so radiant Bloom could barely look at her. And yet, the feeling in her chest was undeniable - warmth, familiarity, a deep ache that she didn't understand.

And she had spoken her name. Again. Again. Again.

"Bloom."

"Bloom."

"Bloom."

There had been desperation in her voice, an urgency that made Bloom's stomach twist. It wasn't just a call, it was a plea.

A shiver ran down her spine as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shake the unease that clung to her like a second skin.

Why was this happening?

Her pulse was still unsteady as she glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 3:42 AM.

She exhaled, trying to push the lingering sense of urgency away. But even as she lay back down, staring at the ceiling, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep again.

The dream - the woman in the dream - lingered in her thoughts like an echo, growing louder the more she tried to push it away.

Who are you?

The familiarity of the figure was undeniable. That warmth in her voice, the way she called her name - it wasn't just any voice. It felt personal.

Had she known this woman?

Was she... someone from her past?

A knot formed in her chest at the thought. Her past - her real past - was a mystery she had never been able to solve. She had been raised by Mike and Vanessa like their own child, but there had always been a part of her that didn't quite fit. And when she learned she wasn't just an ordinary girl, but a fairy with powerful magic, that feeling had only grown stronger.

Was this dream trying to tell her something?

Bloom bit her lip, restless energy thrumming through her. She couldn't just lie here and do nothing. If there was even a chance that this dream was connected to her past, she had to know more.

She made up her mind.

Slowly, she pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains.

She pulled on a hoodie over her nightshirt and padded toward the door, careful to be quiet. Unlike in their first years at Alfea, she and Flora no longer shared a room. As third-years, they had been given individual rooms, though they still shared a common suite.

She carefully turned the doorknob, opening the door just enough to slip through. The common room was empty, the air still and quiet.

Moving on light feet, she crossed to the main door, taking one last glance over her shoulder to make sure no one had stirred. No sign of Tecna staying up late with her laptop, no muffled giggles from Stella on a late-night phone call.

Easing the door open, she slipped out into the hallway.

The school was dimly lit at this hour, the corridors empty, the usual buzz of students replaced by silence. She wasn't supposed to be out this late, but rules could wait.

Right now, she needed answers.

And there was only one place to start.

The library was eerily quiet at this hour, its vast rows of towering bookshelves stretching endlessly into the dimly lit space. The scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air, mingling with the faintest trace of magic - a sort of humming energy that made the very walls of the library feel alive.

Bloom had always loved this place. Even as a child, before she knew anything about fairies or magic, she had adored libraries. There was something comforting about being surrounded by knowledge, about knowing that no matter what question you had, the answer was waiting for you somewhere between the pages of a book.

The flickering glow of enchanted lanterns floated lazily overhead, their soft light casting moving shadows along the marble floors. The bookshelves, filled with tomes both ancient and modern, seemed to whisper as she passed. Some books radiated a faint glow, infused with spells, while others rustled their own pages as if eager to be chosen.

But she wasn't here to browse. She needed answers.

She walked toward the center of the library, where an ornate research lectern stood on a raised platform. It was a grand, ancient-looking object, its polished wood carved with swirling designs. Gold-inlaid runes shimmered faintly on its surface.

The Enchanted Lectern of Inquiry was one of Alfea's most powerful tools. Unlike a simple index, this lectern could search through every book in the library in seconds. All one had to do was place a hand upon it, state their search terms, and it would guide them to the knowledge they sought.

Bloom didn't hesitate before reaching out and pressing her palm to the lectern's surface. It was warm beneath her fingertips, and she felt the magic within it stir, waiting for her request.

She took a deep breath. "I'm searching for information on..."

She trailed off. What was she searching for?

Woman made of light? That was too vague. The lectern would probably give her a book on magical energy forms or luminous elementals.

Bright woman calling my name in a dream? That sounded even worse. She'd probably end up with a book on dream interpretations or the psychology of memory.

Bloom exhaled through her nose, frustration curling in her chest.

How did one even begin to research something so... personal?

Her fingers tapped against the wood as she thought. Maybe she needed to break it down. What did she know?

First, the woman was made of Light. Second, she felt familiar as if Bloom should know her. And third, she was calling Bloom's name. Urgently. Desperately.

Bloom frowned. That desperation.

It wasn't the kind of urgency you had in a simple conversation. The woman in her dream had been pleading with her. Almost as if she was trying to reach Bloom across some great distance.

Or across time. Bloom's stomach clenched at the thought.

What if this woman wasn't just a random vision? What if she was someone who had once been part of Bloom's life, someone she had lost?

Her heartbeat quickened. That would mean-

She took another deep breath, refocusing on the lectern. "Search for... magical figures connected to the Dragon Flame," she finally said.

The runes on the lectern glowed brighter, the magic within it stirring like a living thing. The swirling carvings pulsed beneath her palm as if tasting her request, and then-

WHOOSH!

Books shot off the shelves in a flurry of motion, flying through the air toward the lectern. Some landed neatly in a pile beside her, while others hovered for a moment before floating back, deemed irrelevant by the lectern's magic.

Bloom watched in fascination as the library itself seemed to sift through its own knowledge, pulling only what it deemed useful. Finally, the last book settled before her with a heavy thud.

Bloom swallowed, staring at the cover.

Guardians of the Dragon's Flame.

The title sent a shiver down her spine. She reached for the book with slightly trembling fingers and slowly opened it.

Swallowing her excitement, she carefully turned the first page.

The introduction was nothing she hadn't heard before - the tale of the Great Dragon, the cosmic being who had breathed the stars into existence, igniting the birth of the Magic Dimension itself.

"In the beginning, there was only darkness, an endless void untouched by light or life. And then, from the void, the Great Dragon emerged, its wings unfolding like the dawn breaking over the abyss. It roared, and the sound became the first heartbeat of the universe. Its fire burned away the emptiness, birthing the stars, the worlds, the very essence of magic itself..."

Bloom had read these words before in different books. She had heard them spoken in lectures at Alfea. But still, she didn't skip over them.

She read on, absorbing the knowledge.

"When the Great Dragon's work was complete, it sought a place to rest. It descended upon the world of Domino, its fire settling within the heart of the planet, its body entering an eternal slumber. There, the Dragon's Flame remained - the raw essence of creation itself. A power too vast, too sacred to be left unguarded."

A shiver ran down Bloom's spine. She knew this part of the tale well -but the words felt heavier now. More personal. It was the Dragon's Flame that had chosen her. The same fire that had forged the Magic Dimension burned within her.

She turned the page, and the words shifted from legend to history.

"The Dragon's Fire was never meant to remain unprotected. From the dawn of time, an ancient order arose to watch over it - beings of unmatched wisdom and power, bound to the flame as both its protectors and its stewards."

The accompanying illustration took her breath away - figures of radiant energy, their forms wreathed in shimmering light. They stood tall and regal, their presence both ethereal and commanding. Their robes seemed woven from the very fabric of magic, flowing like liquid starlight. Their wings, vast and luminous, cast halos around their forms.

"The Nymphs of Magix were the guardians of magic itself, their existence dedicated to preserving the balance of the universe.  More than protectors, the Nymphs were bound to the Dragon's Fire. It lived within them, as much a part of them as breath and thought. They did not merely wield its power - they were its living legacy, its will given form. As long as they remained, so too did balance and order across the Magic Dimension."

The words resonated deep within her, sending a strange, tingling warmth through her veins.

"Many of the Nymphs of Magix came from Domino, the sacred land where the Dragon's Flames first took root. It was said that no force in existence could match the power of a Domino-born nymph, for their bond to the Flame was strongest of all.  Yet, their true home - their sanctuary - rests in the heart of Lake Roccaluce, a place of enchantment where the water glimmers with magic as ancient as the nymphs themselves. "

Her fingers trembled slightly as she scanned the next lines.

"Though the Nymphs of Magix once stood as the highest protectors of the Magic Dimension, their time has passed. Their final hour came with the fall of Domino. The last of their order perished alongside their sacred land, her spirit extinguished with her homeland, never to rise again."

Bloom's breath caught in her throat.

Never to rise again. She read the words over and over, willing them to change, to give her something more.

But they didn't.

Bloom paused, her eyes flickering back over the text.

She ran her fingers down the page again, her pulse quickening as she spotted something hidden in the margins, barely noticeable at first glance. A small, faded symbol, a barely visible mark, like a footnote in the text. It was connected to a few lines of faded ink near the last sentence.

"Crown Princess Daphne, last guardian of the Dragon's Flame..."

"Crown Princess Daphne..." Bloom repeated the words out loud. It felt like a punch to the gut. Her breath caught in her chest, and for a moment, everything went still. Crown Princess. That Nymph, Daphne, had been royalty? The last Nymph had been a princess?

It was a surprising revelation, and yet, it made sense. The power of the Nymphs, their deep connection to the Dragon's Flame, the responsibility they carried for the fate of the entire Magic Dimension... it stood to reason that they would have been not only powerful, but noble. Royal.

Bloom's eyes traced the rest of the faintly written note, the words curling in her mind like a secret. The faded ink was almost impossible to read in the dim library light, but she could make out enough.

She read it again, trying to decipher the faded words.

"Crown Princess Daphne, last guardian of the Dragon's Flame, protector of the Heartstone. With the fall of Domino, her fate sealed the Great Dragon's sleep."

A sharp breath escaped her as her mind raced. Heartstone? Was this some kind of relic? The protector of the Heartstone? Bloom's fingers gripped the edge of the book as she tried to process the significance of it all.

It was as though the book itself had been reluctant to reveal the name. Daphne.

She hadn't expected this. The name felt familiar, like something distant, like an old memory waiting to be recalled.

Her hand shook as she turned the page again, desperate for more. But the book offered no more answers.

There were no details about this Daphne, no explanation about what she had been or how she had died. The pages continued with vague references to the destruction of Domino, the end of the Nymphs, but nothing more that could shed light on Bloom's dream, or the mysterious figure calling her name.

Bloom felt a pull in her chest, an inexplicable tug. Daphne. The name repeated in her mind like a soft echo.

The glowing woman in her dreams - was it possible that she was the last Nymph? Daphne, the Crown Princess of Domino and guardian of the Dragon Flame?

Bloom's heart beat faster as she thought about the connection, about the way the woman in her dreams had called her name with such desperation. Why had she been so desperate? Why had she, the last of the Nymphs, reached out to her?

Bloom's thoughts spun in a whirlwind of possibilities. The Nymphs had dedicated their lives to safeguarding the Great Dragon's power, ensuring its slumber and keeping its magic in balance.

Daphne had been the last one - the final guardian. And now, all these years later, her spirit still lingered, reaching out from the depths of time.

A flicker of realization passed through Bloom. What if the dreams weren't just a haunting or a memory? What if they were a call to action? A call to her?

After all, she was the one now carrying the power of the Dragon's Flame. She had felt it, burning inside her, as alive as her own heartbeat. The same fire that had once belonged to Daphne and the other Nymphs was now inside Bloom. The connection between them was undeniable.

Her eyes narrowed in thought. Could Daphne be reaching out to her because Bloom now held that same power, the power of the Great Dragon? Daphne had been its protector, the guardian of this ancient force.

Maybe, in some way, Bloom was meant to carry on that legacy. Was that why she was dreaming of the glowing figure calling her name? Was Daphne trying to communicate something, something Bloom wasn't yet able to understand?

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Daphne, a figure whose very name was tied to the fate of the Magical Dimension, could be trying to reach the only one left who could wield the Dragon Flame.

Bloom's breath quickened as she realized something even more profound: If Daphne was the last guardian... then Bloom might be the first in a new line of protectors.

She had never imagined that she would have to follow in anyone's footsteps. Yet, if the dreams were a sign, if they were a plea for help, maybe it wasn't a coincidence that the power of the Dragon had been passed to her.

But why now? Why was Daphne calling to her now, after all these years?

It was all so overwhelming. Bloom pressed her palm to her forehead, trying to calm the flurry of thoughts. She had been carrying this power for years now. And yet, only recently had the dreams started. Only recently had Daphne's presence in her mind become so urgent, so desperate.

Bloom shook her head, as though trying to clear the fog in her mind.

She stood up from the table, the book she had been reading still clutched in her hands, and walked to one of the windows of the library. The moonlight bathed the room in soft, silvery light, and the distant sound of night creatures echoed through the halls.

Bloom let the cool air wash over her as she pressed her forehead against the glass, trying to ground herself.

If there was a way to reach Daphne, to understand what had happened to the Nymphs, and to uncover what had awakened her call, Bloom was going to find it.

Bloom turned away from the window and approached the lectern once again. As she placed her hand on the lectern, she whispered a new search term, her voice barely audible, but filled with determination. "Nymph Daphne... The Last Guardian."

For a moment, nothing happened. The lectern remained still, the ancient magic dormant. Bloom's fingers tightened around the surface, a flicker of frustration creeping up her spine.

Just as she was about to step back the books on the shelves began to move, almost imperceptibly at first, as if they had a mind of their own. Slowly, one by one, a few books floated toward her, their spines gleaming under the flickering lights of the library.

She reached out and took the first one, carefully flipping it open.

The words inside were new, written in elegant, flowing scripts that seemed to swirl and shift as her eyes traced them. Yet, despite the beauty of the writing, the words did little to answer her questions.

She scanned the pages, looking for anything new, anything that could give her more information about Daphne, the Nymphs, and the Dragon's Flame, but all she found was what she had already read in The Guardians of the Dragon's Flame - the same lines about Daphne's death, the same sad conclusion that the last Nymph perished with the fall of Domino.

Bloom's frustration mounted as she flipped through the next book. It was more of the same. The Nymphs had all but vanished from history, their power fading with the destruction of Domino, leaving no heirs, no guardians. Daphne was gone, her spirit extinguished with her homeland.

She slammed the book shut, her hand trembling slightly. Bloom paced in a small circle, running her fingers through her hair as the quiet of the library surrounded her. This wasn't enough. It couldn't be.

As she walked back to the lectern, an idea suddenly sparked in her mind. Daphne was the Crown Princess of Domino. She had been royalty, a figure of immense importance.

"Crown Princess Daphne of Domino," she whispered again, her fingers brushing the lectern's surface as if she could coax the answers from it.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, just as before, the books began to stir. The shelves creaked, and once again, several books floated toward her, this time more than before. Bloom reached out eagerly and pulled the nearest one into her hands.

The History of the Royal Family of Domino, had a cover of soft royal blue, embossed with a silver crest - a symbol she now recognized as the emblem of the royal family. She had barely skimmed through the first few pages, not interested in the history of the family before the fall of Domino.

What she needed was a clue, something that might explain why Daphne, the last Nymph, was calling to her through her dreams.

Her eyes flitted over the words, her mind barely registering the details.

There, on the final pages, she found it - the information she had been hoping for. The last chapter was titled "The End of an Era," and as she read, a sinking feeling began to spread in her chest.

The words on the page spoke of the tragic end of the royal family of Domino.

"Daphne, only daughter of King Oritel and Queen Marion, was the heir to the throne of Domino. Beloved by her people, she was a light in the darkest of times, a princess of unmatched wisdom and kindness, destined to lead her kingdom into a new era of prosperity."

Bloom's fingers trembled as she turned the page, revealing a stunning painting beneath the words. The image captured the royal family in a moment frozen in time. King Oritel stood strong and proud, a sword resting at his side, while Queen Marion's gentle grace softened the regal presence of the portrait. But it was Daphne who held Bloom's gaze.

The young princess was radiant, clad in golden robes that shimmered with an ethereal glow, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders like liquid sunlight. Her emerald-green eyes, so full of life, seemed to pierce through the pages. Behind her, a faint, intricate sigil glowed - the ancient mark of the Dragon's Flame. She looked familiar.

Bloom exhaled slowly and continued reading.

"On the day of her fourteenth birthday, Daphne was chosen to join the ancient order of the Nymphs of Magix, becoming the youngest guardian of the Dragon's Flame in history. With unwavering devotion, she embraced her duty, vowing to protect the sacred flames."

Bloom traced the words, her mind conjuring the image of the young princess standing before the order, her heart full of purpose. A girl - younger than Bloom had been when she first discovered her own magic - sworn to protect the most powerful force in existence.

Another painting greeted her, Daphne's coronation. The grand hall of the Domino palace stretched behind her, lined with banners of deep blue and gold. The crown of the royal family rested upon her golden hair.

"On her sixteenth birthday, Daphne was officially named Crown Princess of Domino. Though young, she bore the weight of her duty with a grace beyond her years. The people of Domino rejoiced, for in her, they saw their future - one filled with light, peace, and boundless possibility."

A heavy silence followed. Bloom stared at the last line.

That was it. The book ended there. No mention of the fall of Domino. No details about Daphne's final moments. No answers about her death.

Bloom slowly closed the book, her pulse pounding in her ears.

"Nothing," she murmured, her voice hollow. "Not a single word about what really happened to her."

Bloom tried one last thing. Stepping back to the research lectern, she placed her hand on the smooth, enchanted surface and spoke clearly:

"The fall of Domino."

She held her breath, waiting for the familiar hum of magic, the whisper of fluttering pages as books soared toward her from the endless shelves.

But there was nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and unnatural.

Frowning, she repeated the request. "The destruction of Domino. The final battle. The War."

Still, not a single book responded. Not a single page stirred. It was as if the fall of the once-great kingdom had been erased entirely from Alfea's records.

Bloom's stomach twisted. How could that be?

A world had been lost - an entire planet wiped from existence - and yet, here, in one of the greatest libraries in the Magic Dimension, there was no history of it. No accounts, no records, no answers.

Just nothing.

Bloom stared at the lectern, her fingers tightening against its surface. The silence around her felt deafening now, a quiet void where knowledge should have been.

Her mind raced. How could a tragedy so great - so devastating - leave no trace? It hasn't even been twenty years. How could there be nothing?

The question sent a shiver down her spine.

She took a step back, her gaze sweeping over the endless shelves that surrounded her. Somewhere in these towering bookcases, between the dust of ancient tomes and the glow of enchanted manuscripts, there should have been something. A single mention, a fragment, a clue.

And yet, there was nothing.

Her stomach twisted. That didn't make sense. Even if the kingdom had been destroyed, even if its people had perished - someone, somewhere, must have recorded what happened. A war, an invasion, a disaster like that didn't just vanish from history.

Unless... someone had made sure it did.

Chapter Text

Saturday had arrived, marking the end of another grueling week at Alfea.

A few days had passed since Bloom's late-night visit to the library, but the mystery of Domino's lost history still lingered at the back of her mind.

She had even returned during regular library hours, determined to double-check her findings. Maybe she had overlooked something in her sleep-deprived state that night. Maybe there was some book, some scroll she had missed.

But when she had asked Barbatea, the school's librarian, for help, the older woman had been just as surprised as Bloom to discover the lack of records. Together, they had searched, scanning shelves, flipping through indexes, even consulting the enchanted catalog.

Nothing.

At some point, Barbatea had frowned deeply, muttering that Alfea's archives had always been extensive, and there should have been something... But in the end, even she had to admit that there was no trace of Domino's fall in the school's collection.

And so, Bloom had to accept it - there were no answers for her here.

Not that she had much time to dwell on it.

With the school year now a month in, her professors seemed determined to drown their students in assignments. Potion recipes to memorize, transformation techniques to perfect, magical history essays that required reading three different spell theory books. More often than not, Bloom barely had enough energy to drag herself back to her dorm by the end of the day.

By the time she sat down to review her notes each night, her eyelids grew heavy, and thoughts of lost nymphs and erased histories faded into exhaustion.

Bloom also hadn't heard a word from Headmistress Faragonda since their first training session. There had been no explanation, no follow-up - just silence.

Professor Palladium had taken over to teaching their shared lessons alone, leading the third-year girls through their training without the headmistress or the simulator.

Bloom was still mortified about that incident. She had broken the simulator. And of course, that kind of thing didn't stay secret for long.

Word had spread through Alfea like wildfire.

At first, it had just been whispers in the hallways, hushed voices that died down when she walked past. But then, students started coming up to her outright, asking about what had happened - some out of genuine curiosity, others just hoping for gossip.

And then there were the meaner ones, the ones who made snide comments just loud enough for her to hear.

"A simulator can withstand battle-level spells. What did she do to it?"

"Maybe they'll make her pay for the repairs. Would serve her right."

"She probably lost control again. That's what happens when you don't know how to handle your own magic."

Bloom tried to ignore it, tried to push it all aside, but the embarrassment clung to her like a shadow. Those comments hit Bloom harder than she wanted to admit.

It brought back memories she'd rather forget. Of her first months at Alfea, when she'd struggled more than anyone else in her class. Back then, the magic had felt wild and untamed inside her, a force she couldn't quite grasp.

She remembered the way her spells would spiral out of control, the flickers of flame that would burst from her hands when she least expected them. She remembered how the professors had discreetly muttered fire-extinguishing charms under their breath every time she was up for practice, just in case.

How long had it taken her to gain control? Weeks? Months?

It had been exhausting. Embarrassing. Frustrating.

But she had worked for it. Hard.

And now, hearing those whispers, those taunts, it was like all that effort had meant nothing. Like she was right back where she started.

Bloom had tried, multiple times, to find Headmistress Faragonda.

She wanted to continue their private lessons, to understand more about the Dragon Flame, to control it before anything else went wrong. But every time she asked, the answer was the same.

"Headmistress Faragonda is not available at the moment," Miss Griselda would say, her tone clipped and final, leaving no room for argument.

It was frustrating.

Bloom had even stopped by the headmistress's office between classes once, only to find the door firmly shut, a magical seal shimmering faintly over the handle. Whatever Faragonda was doing, it was clear she wasn't to be disturbed.

And so, Bloom had no choice but to wait.

Wait, and wonder.

Because ever since that night in the library, ever since learning about Daphne and the lost history of Domino, Bloom's thoughts had been a whirlwind of questions with no answers. And without Faragonda, she had no one to ask.

The day was winding down, and Bloom had finally finished her mountain of homework. She had barely managed to scrape through it all, her brain feeling like mush after hours of calculations, history notes, and magical theory. She stretched her arms above her head, a small, tired smile on her face.

The common room was alive. Musa was sitting cross-legged on the couch, music blaring through her headphones as she worked on some new melodies. Flora, as always, was tending to a collection of plants she had set up by the window. Tecna was quietly tapping away on her laptop, a pile of textbooks beside her, while Layla was organizing her magical accessories in the corner, her usual energetic self.

And then there was Stella.

"Alright, girls," the princess said, bursting into the dorm room like a ray of sunshine. "Homework's done, which means it's time for some real fun! I've been talking to my father and he's promised me a grand princess ball during the semester break. And obviously, I need some help to make sure it's the most fabulous dress ever."

The other girls exchanged amused looks as Stella flounced over to her room and began rummaging through her closet, pulling out shimmering outfits as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

"I'm sorry," Bloom said, frowning slightly. "Did you say a princess ball? Like... what even is that?" She wasn't entirely sure what the event was, but she was intrigued. She had heard of royal balls, of course, but never of one specifically dedicated to princesses.

"Oh, sweetie," Stella cooed as she sauntered over to Bloom. "It's the ultimate royal event! Everyone's expected to wear their finest gowns, and it's all glitz, glamour, and dazzling entrances. You waltz in like a star, make everyone stare in awe, and then dance the night away in your sparkly shoes."

"Sounds... exhausting," Tecna muttered from the other side of the room, clearly more interested in her computer than royal pageantry. "Who wants to spend hours just walking around in a dress and heels?"

"It's not just about the dress and heels!" Stella said, her eyes sparkling. "It's about making a statement, an unforgettable one. You step in, and the whole room knows: I'm fabulous, and everyone else should take notes."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be the statement, alright," Musa teased, pulling her headphones off her ears with a grin. "And don't worry, I'll be the one with the camera, documenting every glorious moment."

"A ball is a big deal, you know," Stella continued, ignoring the skeptical glances. "And I don't know about you guys, but I'm definitely going to need a new gown. One that screams 'Princess Stella, the ultimate fashion icon.' And maybe one or two sparkles... or fifty."

Tecna, sitting at her desk across from the group, didn't look up from her computer screen as she typed away. "So, you're aiming for maximum attention."

"Of course! The only way to live life is maximum attention," Stella said with a wink. "Now, listen: everyone needs to help me find the most amazing dress. I can't trust my father's taste. You know how outdated royal fashion can be." She made a face at the thought of her father's ideas about dresses.

"Yeah, because his idea of fashion is probably making you wear a gown made of solid gold," Musa added sarcastically.

"Don't even joke about that," Stella shuddered. "That's so last season. The point is: We are going to the shopping mall in Magix, and I need all of you there." She paused, as if contemplating something very serious. "And also to tell me if I look too fabulous, if that's even possible."

Bloom raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her grin. "You're really getting a head start on this, huh?"

Stella threw herself dramatically onto the bed, her arms outstretched. "Why wait? The sooner I try out some dresses, the sooner I can make sure I'm the most stunning person at the ball. Plus, you all have to come with me! What else would you be doing, other than helping me look fabulous?"

Musa snorted. "You know, it's definitely not for the faint of heart. I can't imagine trying to keep up with your idea of fashion, Stella."

Flora, always the kind and gentle soul, smiled warmly. "I'm in! I think getting out of here would do us some good."

Tecna nodded. "I suppose it'll be an interesting experiment to study fashion in this context."

Musa gave an exaggerated yawn and stretched, before leaning back on the couch. "You know, if we're going shopping for dresses, I'm so not doing the whole 'princess' thing. I'm not interested in dresses that'll suffocate me. But I'll tag along for the spectacle. Can't miss that."

Stella clapped her hands. "Great! You'll all be a huge help in narrowing down my options. Let's go have fun! A whole day of shopping, gossip, and fabulous gowns. It's going to be wonderful."

She hopped up, throwing an arm around Bloom's shoulder. "And Bloom, you need to understand: Princess balls are about more than the dress. They're about attitude. You walk in with confidence, you own the room. And I'm teaching you how to do that today."

Bloom raised an eyebrow, her mind still spinning from all the information about this princess ball. But her friends' infectious energy was making it hard to say no. "I guess I'll have to try and keep up, huh?"

Stella grinned. "That's the spirit!"

With everyone in agreement, the girls headed out the door. Bloom couldn't help but smile at how easy it was to fall back into the easy rhythm with her friends. It had been a long week, and they all deserved a break, especially with all the pressure they had been under lately.

As they approached the gates of Alfea, ready to head into Magix for their shopping spree, Bloom froze when she saw a familiar group of boys waiting outside.

The five specialists were leaning against the gates, clearly waiting for someone. And though it had only been a month since she'd last seen them, it felt like ages to Bloom. Particularly Sky.

Her stomach did a little flip.

She hadn't had much contact with Sky since their last awkward conversation, and she was feeling the residual tension from that moment. Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted him standing with his arms crossed, talking to Brandon, his face serious as ever.

Stella, of course, was completely oblivious to Bloom's nerves. She waved at the boys as they neared. "Hey, boys! What are you doing here?"

Sky looked up, his face softening as he saw them approach. "Just passing through," he said, his eyes flickering toward Bloom for a brief moment before quickly looking away. "We figured you were heading into town, so we thought we'd tag along."

Brandon flashed a grin. "You guys going shopping? If I had the option to hang out with the best group of girls in the Magical Dimension, I'd definitely join too."

Riven rolled his eyes but leaned in, crossing his arms. "I'm not here for shopping, but I guess I could suffer through it if there's food involved."

"Do you always have to be so difficult?" Timmy said, shaking his head with an amused smile.

Helia offered a quiet smile to the girls as he greeted them. His calm demeanor had always put Bloom at ease, and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Hey," Sky greeted her softly, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "Do you, uh... have a minute?"

His usual confident, casual demeanor was slightly more tense now, his hands shoved into his pockets, his jaw clenched in an almost imperceptible way. It was as if the weight of his words was just waiting to spill out, but he was holding himself back, trying to find the right moment.

Bloom stopped short, startled for a moment, before she straightened herself and forced a smile. "Sure. What's up?"

Her voice came out a little higher than usual, betraying the unease she felt, but she hoped Sky wouldn't notice. She shifted her weight and took a small step back, the space between them suddenly feeling much too large and much too small at the same time.

Sky hesitated, shifting his weight as if choosing his words carefully. "I, uh... I've been meaning to ask you something," he began, his voice slightly strained. "You've been kind of hard to reach lately."

That wasn't a question. It was a statement, but it hung in the air like an accusation, thick with unspoken frustration.

"I've just been busy," Bloom responded quickly, almost too quickly, not meeting his gaze. She focused on the strap of her bag, her fingers fiddling with the fabric as if it could provide some distraction from the heat rising in her cheeks. "You know how it is. Schoolwork and stuff." She gave a small, somewhat awkward shrug, hoping he would take the explanation at face value.

Sky's eyes softened for a moment, but there was an edge to his expression now, a slight tightening of his jaw. "I get that. But, Bloom..." He took a step closer, dropping his voice to a lower register as if to make sure no one else overheard. "It's been weeks. I mean, I've texted you, called you a few times, and... you barely answered."

The guilt hit Bloom like a punch to the stomach. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She had seen his messages, the little notifications on her phone that she'd let slip by. Every time she thought about replying, something inside her had stopped her.

She didn't know how to explain it to him, to explain everything that had been happening. How could she put it all into words? How could she talk about the Dragon Flame, the strange dreams, the feeling that everything in her life had been turned upside down in the past few weeks? How could she even begin to explain it when she didn't even understand it herself?

And she certainly wasn't ready to spill it all out now. Not here. Not like this.

"I... I'm sorry," she muttered quietly, her voice almost lost in the soft breeze. She looked down at the ground, the words hanging in the space between them like an apology that she couldn't quite bring herself to fully give. "I didn't mean to ignore you, I just... well, things have been a little crazy."

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, and Bloom felt the anxiety building in her chest. She just wanted to leave, to escape this conversation before it got any deeper, but Sky didn't let her.

"Bloom, I get that, but..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I heard... well, Brandon mentioned that something happened. That you lost control of your magic? And that you had to stay in the infirmary for a couple of days. I, uh... I've been worried about you, Bloom. I tried calling you, texting, but your answers were... well, short."

"I... I don't really want to talk about it yet," Bloom said. She felt a lump form in her throat, but she swallowed it down and looked away. Her gaze fell to the cobblestones at their feet, the world suddenly feeling too big, too suffocating. She could feel Sky's eyes on her, and it made her skin crawl. She couldn't look at him. Not now. Not like this.

Sky stepped closer, his expression softening. "Bloom, you don't have to tell me anything. I just want to know if you're okay. I've been really worried."

The sincerity in his words made Bloom's heart ache. It was like he was reaching out to her, but she couldn't bring herself to take his hand. It made her chest tighten. "I'm sorry," she repeated, "I just need more time."

Sky nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't push her. He didn't demand anything from her. But Bloom could see the disappointment in his eyes, a flicker of something that stung worse than anything else.

"Alright," he said, his voice quiet now, resigned. "I just felt like you were shutting me out. You don't have to go through it alone, Bloom. You never have to do it alone."

Bloom was left speechless. She wanted to tell him she wasn't shutting him out, that she was just trying to figure things out on her own. His words were like a lifeline, but she couldn't bring herself to hold on. She pulled back but gave him a small smile, "Thank you, Sky."

They stood there for a moment, the noise of their friends continuing on in the background, but neither of them seemed to move. Bloom could feel his on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

She shifted uncomfortably, looking around, trying to escape the tension, when she suddenly felt a pull.

It started low in her chest, a warmth that spread outward like a spark catching dry wood. She could feel her fire, its power, its restlessness, as if it were about to burst forth at any moment. Bloom's hand instinctively went to her chest, as if she could hold it back, but it only seemed to intensify.

She knew the feeling by now, the Dragon Flame. As she braced herself for whatever was to come, a voice - deep, smooth, and unmistakable - cut through the air.

"Miss Bloom." The voice slid over her like silk, stirring a strange flutter deep in her stomach. A familiar warmth tingled across her skin, the sound of it almost like a purr.

She turned her head, blinking rapidly to clear the haze in her mind. Walking up to her, now just a few feet away, was Professor Valen.

His grey eyes gleamed in the sunlight, a confident glint beneath his pale hair. The cool breeze ruffled the edges of his dark cloak as he approached, his presence filling the space with an undeniable magnetic pull.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected to see him here.

The instant her eyes locked with his, her nervous energy shifted into something else entirely - something more focused, calm. She felt a wave of heat rush to her cheeks, and before she could stop it, she smiled at him.

The shift was immediate, and she knew Sky had noticed it. She barely acknowledged his presence as she greeted Professor Valen with all the enthusiasm that had been missing from her previous conversation.

"Professor Valen," Bloom's voice came out more upbeat than she intended. She found herself straightening up, almost like a reflex, her body instinctively mirroring the authority and confidence in his posture. The Dragon Flame, too, seemed to hum in her chest.

The professor smiled, and it was all too easy to get lost in the gleam of his eyes, the way his lips tilted in amusement. "Miss Bloom," he repeated, his voice a little lower this time, sending another pleasant shiver down her spine.

"My apologies for interrupting your free afternoon with your friends," he said, his lips curling slightly, almost playfully.

Bloom shook her head quickly, her focus snapping back to him. "Oh, no, it's fine!"

His eyes glimmered with amusement. "Good," he said, a satisfied tilt to his tone before he continued. "I actually came to deliver a message. Headmistress Faragonda is currently preoccupied with other matters, and in her absence, she has asked me to take over your private lessons."

Bloom blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She had been trying to track down Faragonda for days now, hoping to continue their sessions on the Dragon Flame.

"We'll start as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if you're available," he added smoothly, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Assuming, of course, you've finished your schoolwork. Wouldn't want to keep you from your academic responsibilities."

There was something about the way his voice dipped, the way his words rolled effortlessly off his tongue. It was too easy to get drawn in. He had a presence, a charm that felt effortless yet deliberate all at once.

Bloom swallowed, forcing herself to focus. "Tomorrow?" she echoed, processing his words. "Yeah, I mean- yes, I should be done with everything by then."

"Excellent," the professor murmured, his smile widening just a fraction. "I'll expect you after lunch, then. I'm looking forward to it."

Bloom nodded, though her mind was still trying to catch up to the fact that she would now be training under him. There was something oddly thrilling about the way he seemed so effortlessly in control.

And then, as if he could sense the thoughts running through her head, Valen took a step back, his expression remaining as composed as ever. "Well then," he said lightly, "I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy your afternoon, Miss Bloom."

He nodded once at her before turning on his heel and walking away, his cloak billowing slightly behind him.

Bloom exhaled and turned slightly, catching Sky's expression. His jaw was tight, his arms still crossed over his chest, and while he didn't say anything right, his posture spoke volumes.

She shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... so, we should catch up with the others?"

Sky didn't respond at first. Then, after a beat, he sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Chapter Text

The training hall was quiet, save for the soft hum of magic that lingered in the air.

Bloom stood in the center of the hall, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to shake off the tension that had stubbornly followed her since yesterday. It didn't help much. Her muscles remained taut, her mind restless.

She had told herself not to think about it. Not to think about Sky.

He hadn't asked about the private lessons. She had expected him to. After all, he had been there when Professor Valen had approached her. He had seen the interaction - the way Bloom had been excited to see the professor, the way she had given him her full attention.

And yet, for the entire trip to Magix, Sky hadn't said a word about it. Instead, he had been distant, cold, his usual warmth replaced by something unfamiliar. He had spoken to the others, had smiled at jokes, had even given Stella a teasing eye-roll when she had held up a particularly extravagant gown - but whenever his gaze met Bloom's, it was fleeting, guarded.

It wasn't like we had been talking much before this, she reminded herself. But still. It bothered her.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. The shopping trip had been exhausting, but not because of the countless stores Stella had dragged her through. She had actually enjoyed helping her best friend search for the perfect dress for her princess ball - well, as much as she could enjoy anything with Sky barely speaking to her.

Their group had splintered off rather quickly. Musa, Layla, and Tecna had abandoned the expedition early, their patience for dress shopping wearing thin. Timmy had practically dragged Tecna away, something about testing out a new tech prototype. Riven had rolled his eyes at the entire concept of a princess ball before making a swift exit with Musa. Layla, ever the athlete, had chosen to go to the Magix gym instead.

Flora had lasted the longest, quietly browsing through racks of dresses, but even she had slipped away, disappearing down the cobbled streets with Helia.

In the end, only Bloom had stayed.

Maybe it was because she actually enjoyed Stella's company, or maybe she had just needed something - anything - to keep her distracted. The alternative was standing still, and standing still meant thinking. And thinking meant acknowledging the things she wasn't ready to deal with.

Like Sky.

Now, though, as she stood alone in the vast training hall, all the thoughts she had been pushing away came rushing back.

Before she could spiral any further, the heavy doors of the training hall creaked open, and a familiar smooth voice cut through the silence. "You're early."

Bloom turned quickly, her heart skipping a beat despite herself.

Professor Valen stepped inside, moving with the kind of fluid grace that made it impossible not to watch him. His presence filled the vast room with effortless command. His long, tailored black coat swayed with every step, the rich crimson lining flashing like a whisper of blood.

The silver metallic fastenings along the front glinted under the soft glow of the enchanted torches, catching Bloom's attention before her gaze dipped lower.

The white V-neck shirt beneath his coat was just undone enough to hint at the sculpted form beneath, a striking contrast to the darkness that surrounded him.

Black leather gloves encased his hands, and though he wasn't carrying a weapon now, Bloom had no doubt he knew his way around a blade. The fitted black pants hugged his form a little too well, leading down to knee-high leather boots.

She straightened. "I didn't want to be late," she said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Professor Valen's lips quirked in amusement. "Punctuality is an admirable quality." He strode closer, stopping just a few feet away from her. "Though I imagine a student as... diligent as you wouldn't have needed me to tell you that."

Bloom swallowed, heat creeping up her neck at the way his voice dipped slightly, the way he looked at her - as if he could see right through her, past every wall she had ever built.

"Are you ready for your lesson, Miss Bloom?" he asked, tilting his head.

She nodded quickly. "Yes."

He smiled, slow and deliberate, before stepping past her. "Good. Then let's begin."

And just like that, the air in the room seemed to shift.

"I spoke with Headmistress Faragonda," he said, his voice smooth and rich, but Bloom straightened her spine. "She told me that you had some difficulty summoning your Dragon Fire during your last session."

Bloom felt her stomach twist at the memory. That first lesson had been a disaster. No matter how hard she had tried, the Dragon Flame had remained just out of reach, distant and unresponsive. It was humiliating, knowing that she carried the most powerful magic in the universe yet failing to call upon it when she needed it.

Professor Valen studied her, his expression unreadable. "Tell me, Miss Bloom, do you know why that happened?"

"I... don't know," she hesitated. "I tried everything. I focused, I cleared my mind, I reached for it like I always do, but it just- it wasn't there."

The professor exhaled softly, shaking his head. "That's because you're treating magic as something external, something separate from yourself. But that's not how true power works." He stepped closer, "Do you remember what I have told you about Eryan of Solair during your first class?"

Bloom's brow furrowed as she searched her memory. "Eryan of Solair," she murmured, tasting the name on her tongue. "He believed that magic isn't something we control, but something that is part of us. That we don't wield it, we are it."

"Good," Professor Valen gave a slow nod, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "You were listening."

His words sent an odd shiver down her spine.

"Eryan," Valen continued, stepping past her with slow, deliberate movements, "was a man centuries ahead of his time. The magical scholars of his day scoffed at him, believing that power could only be tamed through control and discipline. They taught that magic was like a wild beast - dangerous, unpredictable, something that needed to be bound and leashed."

He turned to look at her, his blond hair slipping over his shoulder as he did. "But Eryan disagreed."

Bloom found herself hanging onto every word. "What did he believe?"

"That magic, true magic, cannot be controlled because it is us. We are not its masters. We are its vessels. To control magic is to cage oneself. And a caged being can never reach its full potential." He tilted his head slightly. "Tell me, Bloom. Have you ever felt like you were caging yourself?"

Her breath caught. Because she had.

She had always feared her fire, what it could do, what it could destroy. She had spent so long trying to shape it, to bend it to her will, afraid of what might happen if she let it roam free.

Had she been holding herself back all along?

Professor Valen watched the realization dawn on her face, his smile deepening ever so slightly. "Ah," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "There it is."

Bloom swallowed, her hands unconsciously clenching at her sides. "But if I don't control it... what if it's too much?"

Valen exhaled softly, shaking his head. "Too much," he repeated, as if testing the words himself. "Who told you that?"

Bloom blinked. "I-" She hesitated. Headmistress Faragonda had warned her to be careful. Miss Griselda had lectured her on responsibility. Even her friends had voiced concern about the sheer strength of her magic.

"You are the Heir to the Dragon Flame, Miss Bloom. The magic of creation itself runs through your veins. And yet..." His voice dipped lower, just above a whisper. "You are afraid of yourself."

She shivered. Because he was right.

Bloom's breath came shallow and uneven, her pulse quickening as his words settled deep into her bones. She was afraid. Afraid of what lay inside her. Afraid of what she could do if she truly let go.

Valen took a slow, measured step closer.

He wasn't touching her, but he didn't have to. His presence alone was enough to command every ounce of her attention. "You fear your own power, yet you stand here before me, seeking to understand it. So tell me, Bloom..." His gaze held her captive. "Do you truly wish to cage yourself forever?"

Bloom parted her lips, but no words came out.

Her whole life, she had been told to be careful. To be responsible. That magic -her magic- was something to be wielded with precision, with restraint. That if she wasn't careful, it could spiral out of control.

But hadn't she already lost control?

The simulator had shattered under her flames.

She had felt that power explode from within her, untamed, wild, desperate to break free. And instead of trusting herself, she had recoiled, ashamed.

Valen's voice dropped to something barely above a whisper, like silk gliding over steel. "Do you know what happens to a fire when it is smothered for too long?"

She shook her head slightly, unable to look away.

"It doesn't die, Miss Bloom," Valen said, his gaze knowing. "It erupts."

A flicker of something ignited in her chest, just beneath her ribs. A pull, a slow-burning ember waiting for air.

"You feel it, don't you?" Valen murmured.

Bloom swallowed hard. "Yes," she admitted, barely above a breath.

He smiled, slow and indulgent, like a man who had just coaxed a secret from the universe itself. "Then do not fear it. Feel it."

She closed her eyes. She let herself feel. And suddenly, the flames surged to life.

Heat coiled within her, no longer distant or unpredictable, but alive - as if it had been waiting for her to acknowledge it. It wasn't just fire; it was her. It pulsed in her veins, humming with warmth and something ancient, something powerful.

It felt like home.

"What do you feel?" Valen's voice was a dark whisper in her ear.

Bloom exhaled, her fingers tingling with energy, her body thrumming with something raw and unshackled. "It's... warm," she said, struggling to find the right words. "Like it's always been there, waiting for me. It's not chaotic or dangerous, it's-" She opened her eyes, meeting his. "It's me. My own heartbeat, my own breath. It doesn't feel like something I'm controlling. It feels like something I'm letting be."

Valen's smile was sharper now, pleased. "Good. Because that is exactly what it is. The Dragon Flame is not a spell, Bloom. It is not something you channel through willpower alone. It is your essence. It is as much a part of you as your own thoughts, your own emotions."

His gaze darkened slightly, voice dipping into something almost hypnotic. "And yet, you have spent so much time trying to control it, trying to contain it. Why?"

Bloom hesitated. "Because... because when I don't control it, it hurts people."

Professor Valen was silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was softer. "Power does not hurt people, Miss Bloom. Intent does."

The fire in her hands flickered, responding to her pulse, to her hesitation. She wanted to say no. She wanted to argue. But something about his words struck deep, peeling away layers she hadn't even realized were there.

His gaze flickered downward, toward her hands. Flames licked at her fingertips - not wild and untamed, but steady, flickering in perfect harmony with her breath.

She gasped softly, turning her hands over, watching the golden flames dance along her skin without consuming it. For the first time, they weren't burning out of control. They weren't trying to escape.

They were hers.

Valen circled her slowly, his eyes tracing the magic curling around her form. "You are not a young woman wielding fire, Miss Bloom," he said smoothly. "You are the fire."

A thrill shot through her. The flames flared higher for just a moment, as if reacting to the sheer truth in his words.

She looked up at him, heart pounding, firelight reflecting in her eyes. "What now?"

Valen's smirk was nothing short of indulgent. "Now?" He stepped closer, just enough for her to catch the faint scent of leather and embers. "Now, we can begin."

The words slithered through the air, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. Bloom barely had a moment to process before Valen lifted his gloved hand, palm up, fingers curling slightly -an invitation. Or a challenge.

She swallowed, heat coiling in her chest, not just from the Dragon Flame but from the way he watched her. Like he was peeling her apart layer by layer, piece by piece, exposing something she hadn't even realized was hidden.

"Your power is awake now," he continued, his voice a dark velvet thread winding around her. "But awareness is not enough. Power demands to be used."

The flames at her fingertips wavered, flickering higher as her pulse quickened. "You want me to- ?"

"Attack me."

Bloom blinked. "What?"

Valen smirked, tilting his head as if amused by her hesitation. "You heard me, Miss Bloom. Attack me. Set the fire free."

Her fingers twitched, the warmth of the Dragon Flame thrumming just beneath her skin. "You can't be serious."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" His grey eyes gleamed in the dim light of the training hall, the way embers glowed beneath darkened ash.

Bloom hesitated, glancing at her hands, at the golden fire licking harmlessly along her palms. It felt different this time, more settled, more... hers.

But still.

"I don't want to hurt you," she admitted.

Valen's smirk deepened. "How very noble of you." He lifted a hand to his chest in mock appreciation before dropping it just as smoothly. "But unnecessary." His voice dipped lower, edged with something almost taunting. "You can't hurt me."

Something in her sparked at that.

She narrowed her eyes. "You sound awfully sure of that."

"I am." He spread his arms slightly, the black coat shifting around him, the red lining catching the low light. "Prove me wrong."

Bloom hesitated only a second longer. Then, exhaling sharply, she let herself let go.

Flames roared to life around her fingers, bright and eager - as if they had been waiting for permission. Her body responded instinctively, stepping into the motion as she thrust a hand forward, sending a controlled wave of fire straight toward him.

The heat crackled through the air, a shimmering inferno of gold and orange. It should have been enough to at least stagger him.

But Professor Valen didn't move.

At the last second, just before impact, the fire... stopped.

No, not stopped. Redirected.

Like a river meeting an unmovable stone, the flames split around him, curving and dispersing harmlessly into the air. Not a single ember so much as touched his coat.

Bloom's eyes widened. "How did you-?"

Valen smiled, slow and indulgent. "Try again."

This time, she didn't hesitate. She shifted her stance, heat curling around her fingers as she called forth another surge of fire. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a concentrated bolt straight at him.

Again, the flames veered off course at the last moment, dissolving into nothing.

Her heart pounded, frustration bubbling beneath her ribs. She threw another, then another, watching each time as the fire simply... refused to reach him.

"You're blocking it," she accused, breathless.

"Am I?" He took a slow step forward, unhurried, effortless. "Or are you holding back?"

Bloom's fingers clenched, fire still flickering between them. She knew she wasn't holding back, or was she? She had felt the fire leave her, had seen its power, and yet... nothing.

Valen studied her. "You are still afraid," he said simply.

Her pulse skipped. "I am not-"

"Oh, but you are," he interrupted smoothly. He stepped closer, and though he didn't touch her, his presence alone sent a shiver down her spine. "Not of me. Not even of your power." His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "You're afraid of what happens when you truly let go."

Bloom felt her breath catch. Because she knew he was right.

He leaned in, just slightly. Just enough to make the air between them feel charged, to make her skin prickle with something electric.

"I told you, Miss Bloom," he murmured, voice a dark purr. "You are not wielding fire. You are fire. And fire does not hesitate."

Her fingers twitched.

Valen straightened, his smirk lazy, assured. "One last chance," he said, stepping back. "Burn me."

The challenge was clear.

Bloom exhaled sharply.

She thought of Alfea, of her friends, of everything she had been through since discovering the truth of who she was. She thought of the weight of expectations, of the constant warnings to be careful, to hold back, to not lose control.

And then she thought, what if I didn't?

The flames surged.

Not forced. Not controlled. Not careful.

This time, when she released it, she didn't try to shape it.

She let it be.

The inferno roared to life, a wave of pure golden fire bursting from her palms. It wasn't chaotic, wasn't wild - it was powerful. It was her.

And this time, Valen didn't redirect it.

The fire struck him -surrounded him- engulfed him completely.

Bloom's breath caught.

For a moment, all she could see was flames, golden and unrelenting. She had done it. She had actually hit him.

But then-

The fire... bent.

Like molten silk, the flames twisted, coiling around his form like living threads, wrapping but never burning. And then, as if answering an unspoken command, they dissipated.

Valen stood there, entirely unharmed.

Bloom stared, heart hammering.

He smiled. "Much better."

She was still catching her breath when he stepped forward, closing the distance between them once again. His gloved fingers lifted, almost as if he was about to touch her face - but at the last second, he simply trailed them through the lingering embers in the air, watching as they flickered and died against his leather gloves.

"I want-," he murmured, grey eyes gleaming with something unreadable, "-to see what else you can do."

Bloom's heart pounded against her ribs, her pulse a rapid drumbeat in her ears.

The embers still danced in the space between them, tiny flickers of golden light that faded against the smooth leather of Valen's gloves. His presence loomed before her, an unshaken monolith in the wake of her unleashed power.

She had struck him with the full force of the Dragon Flame.

And he hadn't even flinched.

She swallowed hard, her fingers still tingling with residual heat. "What... what did you do?"

Valen's smirk was lazy, indulgent, as though she had asked something amusing rather than vital. He tilted his head slightly, pale blonde waves shifting over his shoulder. "You expected to burn me." It wasn't a question.

Bloom didn't hesitate. "Yes."

His eyes gleamed. "Why?"

She frowned, uncertain where he was leading. "Because it was fire. Fire burns."

"Does it?" His voice dipping low, rich as dark velvet. "Then why didn't it burn you?"

Bloom opened her mouth, but the words died before they could form. She looked down at her hands. The fire had been in her grasp only moments ago, wild yet controlled, searing yet painless. It had been hers.

It was her.

Professor Valen watched as realization flickered behind her eyes. He lifted a single gloved finger, tracing a slow, deliberate path through the air. "Magic obeys only one law, Miss Bloom," he murmured. "Understanding."

She exhaled, still shaken from the intensity of what had just happened. "I don't understand."

"No." He let out a low chuckle. "Not yet."

His confidence -his absolute certainty- sent something curling through her chest.

Valen turned, walking a slow, deliberate circle around her, the sound of his boots echoing through the vast training hall. "You expected your fire to lash out, to consume me. But that is not the nature of power, Miss Bloom. Power does not simply destroy."

He halted behind her, and she swore she could feel the heat of him, even through the space that separated them. "Power creates."

Her breath caught.

Valen leaned in, just enough for his voice to ghost against her ear. "Tell me, did it want to burn me?"

The question sent a shiver down her spine.

She had felt it, hadn't she? The fire had not recoiled in fear, nor had it surged to devour. It had... moved around him. Not because it was blocked, not because he had resisted.

Because it had chosen to.

"I..." She trailed off, staring at her hands again.

Valen stepped smoothly into her field of vision, his gaze locked onto hers. "You are still thinking of magic as a weapon, something to wield or suppress. But Eryan of Solair taught us differently, didn't he?"

Bloom licked her lips. "He said magic isn't something we use. It's... part of us."

Valen's smirk deepened. "Exactly."

She exhaled, her mind spinning.

He stepped back, watching her closely. "Again."

Bloom blinked. "Again?"

"You are not done."

A flicker of irritation sparked in her chest. "I just threw the most powerful magic I have at you, and you want more?"

The amused glint in his eye only made her frustration grow. "I do," he said simply. "Because I know you can do more."

Something about the way he said it sent a thrill down her spine.

He knew -he expected- her to be stronger. He wasn't afraid of her power - he wanted her to embrace it.

Bloom clenched her fists, feeling the warmth ignite once again beneath her skin.

She didn't just call the fire this time. She let it rise.

The flames surged, golden and unbound, wrapping around her arms like living ribbons. But this time, she wasn't just releasing them outward - she was feeling them, the pulse of magic thrumming deep in her bones.

Valen's expression shifted. Just slightly.

Interest. Approval.

"Better," he murmured.

Bloom took a step forward, her confidence growing. The flames curled around her fingers, waiting, listening.

She lifted her hands, palms outward. The fire obeyed her unspoken command, shaping itself not as a blast, not as destruction-

But as form.

For the first time, the flames did not rage. They created.

A fiery spear crackled to life in her palm, solid and unyielding, its surface shimmering with heat.

Bloom's breath caught. She had never done that before.

Valen exhaled, something sharp and pleased flickering in his gaze.

"Beautiful," he murmured. She met his eyes, the firelight reflecting between them.

The word sent something molten through her veins, something dangerously close to exhilaration.

Bloom's fingers tightened around the fiery spear, testing its weight - or at least, the idea of weight. It felt both impossibly light and overwhelmingly present, a piece of herself sculpted into something tangible.

Her entire body hummed with energy, with possibility. For the first time, her magic wasn't something she feared or struggled with. It was hers, listening, waiting. She had done this. She had become this.

But just as she was preparing to push further, to see how much more she could shape, Professor Valen's voice cut through the charged air.

"That's enough for today."

Bloom's head snapped up, her brows drawing together. "What?"

Valen was watching her with that same unreadable expression, though something in his stance had shifted - no longer coaxing her forward, but steady, firm. "You shouldn't exhaust your magical reserves too much. This is your first time truly holding the Dragon Flame, unshackled."

She frowned, the fire still crackling in her grip. "But I can keep going."

A smirk tugged at his lips, indulgent. "Oh, I know you can." His gaze flicking briefly to the weapon in her hands before returning to her face. "But just because you can doesn't mean you should."

Bloom clenched her jaw, frustration curling through her. She had never felt this attuned to her magic before, never felt so alive with it. To stop now felt... wrong. Incomplete.

Valen studied her for a moment, then his voice softened. "You've already taken your first real step today. And we will continue. Soon." His eyes gleamed. "I meant what I said, Miss Bloom. I do want to see how long you can hold it. But not today."

She exhaled slowly, unwilling but understanding. She had done a lot. And as much as she hated to admit it, she could already feel the strain setting in - the faint, creeping exhaustion beneath the lingering exhilaration.

Still, she hesitated.

Valen inclined his head. "Let it go."

Bloom's grip tightened around the fire. She didn't want to. But finally, with one last breath, she loosened her hold.

The flames flickered once, then dissipated, scattering into golden embers that drifted into nothingness.

The moment they were gone, the fatigue hit her fully. Her limbs felt heavier, her breath a little more uneven.

Valen's smirk deepened, as though he had expected this exact outcome. "See?"

She sighed, rolling her shoulders, trying to shake off the sudden weariness. "Fine," she muttered, shooting him a look. "You were right."

He chuckled. "A dangerous thing to admit, Miss Bloom."

She huffed but couldn't quite stop the small, tired smile that tugged at her lips.

As she turned toward the exit, Valen's voice followed her, smooth and deliberate. "Rest well. Next time, I won't let you stop so easily."

Bloom shivered. Something told her she wouldn't want to.

Chapter Text

Valtor sat in the dim light of his office, the soft crackle of a fire echoing in the corner as his fingers tapped lightly against the surface of his desk, an idle motion that betrayed none of the storm churning within him.

Faragonda was gone. Only temporarily, of course.

It hadn't been difficult to make sure she had a "pressing matter" elsewhere. Her constant presence in Alfea had been an obstacle, but he knew better than to underestimate her. She was too strong to be eliminated easily. He would need a more delicate approach with her.

However, Saladin was a different matter altogether.

The old man had been the weakest of the surviving members of the legendary Company of Light, his powers had always been more symbolic than practical. Valtor had always known that when the time came to rid himself of the last remnants of his old enemies, Saladin would be the first to fall.

It hadn't been hard.

Far too sentimental, too trusting of his own sense of honor and justice. Valtor had never liked him. It hadn't taken much to orchestrate his downfall. One evening, a carefully timed trap, a promise of an old artifact of power that Saladin had been chasing for years, and Valtor had him exactly where he wanted him.

The moment Saladin stepped into his chambers, Valtor had sealed the door behind him. The ancient artifact? A lie, of course. A trap, laced with magic strong enough to weaken the old hero. Saladin had been so easily ensnared, so eager to prove himself one last time. Valtor had watched from the shadows as Saladin struggled, using his pathetic remnants of power to break free. It had been amusing, almost laughable, how easily he had been broken.

Valtor had finished the job quickly, ensuring no trace of the man remained. His body, his essence, had been consumed by the dark magic Valtor had harnessed over centuries. A flicker of something -anger, regret, defiance- passed through Saladin's eyes before it faded into nothingness.

That was how it had to be.

The disappearance of Saladin would be the perfect distraction for Faragonda. The old hero's office was found in perfect order, exactly as it had been the day before, save for one thing - the absence of its occupant.

It was as if Saladin had simply decided to go for a walk, and never returned. His desk was impeccably organized, the books on their shelves arranged with meticulous care. There were no signs of distress, no magical residue in the air, nothing that would indicate a struggle had taken place.

Faragonda was old-fashioned in her thinking. She would waste no time searching for Saladin, and when she couldn't find him, she would assume the worst. She would be thrown off-balance, and the distraction would buy him precious time to continue his plan.

She would never figure it out. Saladin's absence, his disappearance, would only fuel her fear. It was the perfect distraction.

With Saladin gone, the stage was set. But there was another player in the game: Griffin.

Griffin was not to be underestimated. Unlike Saladin, she had always been a schemer, a manipulator. She had once been Valtor's ally -an old companion, if such a term could even be applied to someone like him- but their paths had diverged long ago.

Valtor had prepared something special for Griffin.

A trap, yes, but a much more subtle one. Something that would take longer to unfold. The old fool had grown complacent in her new position. She was isolated, thinking himself untouchable. She believed her connections and her influence in the magic world would protect her.

But Valtor had already woven his web around Griffin, ensuring that when the time came, Griffin would fall without even realizing she was being manipulated.

Griffin's arrogance would be her undoing.

Valtor leaned back in his chair and with a flick of his wrist, he summoned a flame to his palm.

It bloomed instantly, a small but perfect orb of fire, hovering just above his bare skin. No gloves tonight. He preferred the way the heat curled against his fingers, how the flame licked at his palm yet did not burn. The fire knew him, recognized him. It did not resist him as it would with others.

He tilted his hand, letting the flame roll lazily across his knuckles, down the length of his fingers.

It obeyed his slightest whim, twisting into thin ribbons, then curling like smoke before reshaping itself into something new. A flickering tendril coiled around his index finger, then slithered along his wrist, almost as if it were caressing him.

A smirk played at his lips. Fire had always been his most intimate companion. It whispered to him in ways no living thing could. He had learned long ago that true power did not come from restraint.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the girl with fire in her veins. Bloom.

The way she had wielded the Dragon Flame today - hesitant at first, uncertain, but then...

The way she had let go.

The raw energy that had burst forth from her, golden and untamed, had been nothing short of beautiful. It had taken everything in him not to laugh when she had struck him with her fire, so full of conviction, so sure she had succeeded.

But her fire had not harmed him. It had recognized him. Just as this flame in his palm did now.

Valtor let the fire slither along his fingers once more, watching it move like liquid heat, obedient to his every thought.

She had tasted what it meant to be fire. And she wanted more.

He could see it in her eyes, in the way she had looked at him - breathless, pupils blown wide, energy still crackling in her veins even as exhaustion had crept up on her. She had felt it. The power, the freedom. She just had to step past the threshold of fear, had to stop treating her magic as something separate from herself.

The way the fire had flowed from her hands, unbound, unchained, had been nearly mesmerizing. When she had finally let go, when she had stopped fearing herself, her magic had responded in kind. And in that moment, he had seen what she could be.

A spark turned wildfire.

She was powerful, more powerful than she even understood. Her naivete, her belief that she could hurt him with her fire, had been almost adorable. A young woman testing her limits, thinking she could match him. But even as he had smirked at her attempt, there had been something else that had sent a rare shiver of awareness through him.

Because she had shaped her fire effortlessly.

One moment, she had simply let it be. The next, she had willed it into form. A spear of golden flame, solid, lethal, crafted with a precision that should have taken years to master.

She had done it without even realizing it.

And that... that had been frightening.

Not because of her fire. Not because of the Dragon Flame itself. But because of her potential.

Valtor flexed his fingers, watching as the fire still curled lazily against his skin, shifting and twisting with his smallest movement. The remnants of their lesson still echoed in the air, in his thoughts, in the embers that still lingered beneath his skin.

She didn't know. She hadn't noticed.

But the moment she had called upon the Dragon Flame-

His own had answered.

The moment her fire had flared to life, his magic had reacted, pulsing in tandem with hers, recognizing it, yearning for it. It had taken everything in him to keep it contained, to keep it hidden. To not let his own fire reach for hers the way it had wanted to.

Because if it had-

No. He could not afford to let that happen.

Fire knew fire.

And his flames -ancient, dark, honed by time and experience- had stirred at the call of hers, as if drawn to it in an unspoken dance. The way golden sparks had crackled in the air, the way the warmth of her power had brushed against his own - it had taken every ounce of control to ensure that his magic did not respond the way it wanted to.

Because it had wanted to.

It had wanted to weave itself into hers, to twist and coil around the golden blaze like two flames entangling in the air, dancing, merging, becoming something more. It would have been so easy to let it slip, to let his own fire bleed into hers, to see how they burned together.

But that was dangerous. Because for all his power, for all his control, even he could not predict what would happen if he allowed it.

So he had hidden it. Buried it beneath layers of discipline, of restraint, ensuring that she saw nothing, felt nothing.

Because Bloom may have felt her fire today, may have finally accepted it as part of herself-

But she was still blind. She did not see the way her fire recognized its own. She did not know how close she had come to something far greater than she could yet comprehend.

And that was good.

Because if she did-

If she knew-

Tonight, for the first time in centuries, his fire had not been entirely his own. His jaw clenched slightly at the thought.

Over the ages, he had encountered many who wielded the Dragon Flame. Many who claimed its power. He had fought them, broken them, studied them, stolen from them. And never -not once- had his magic answered theirs the way it had answered her.

It had never reacted. Never stirred. Never reached for theirs as though it knew it.

The moment Bloom had called upon her flames, his own had surged in response. Unbidden. Instinctive. Right.

And it unsettled him.

Valtor narrowed his eyes, watching as the fire in his palm flared brighter, the edges tinged with a darkness that did not belong to natural flame. His fingers flexed, and the fire twisted with the movement, shaping into sharp, shifting tendrils, curling around his wrist before slipping between his knuckles like a serpent.

His fire obeyed him. Always.

And yet, in those fleeting moments of their training, it had almost felt as though his magic had wanted to obey her. It was absurd. Impossible. And yet the feeling still burned at the edges of his thoughts, refusing to be dismissed.

Why had his fire answered hers like that? Why had it stirred in recognition when it never had before?

There had been others.

He had come across wielders of the Dragon Flame -each of them powerful in their own right, each of them possessing some fragment of the ancient fire that had shaped the universe itself. He had fought them, manipulated them, extinguished them. But not once -not once- had his magic ever reacted to theirs.

Not like this. Not like her.

Valtor's fingers tightened slightly, and the flames in his grasp twisted violently before flickering out. The silence of his office pressed in around him, broken only by the soft crackling of the fireplace.

He didn't understand it. And he did not like what he did not understand.

Valtor exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest coiling tighter rather than loosening. He turned his gaze toward the enchanted orb floating to his right, its surface swirling with dark, shifting clouds of energy.

The spell was old and powerful. A rare artifact of sorcery that he had acquired from a distant world that no longer existed.

The planet's name had long since faded from memory, but its magic had not. It had been a world steeped in illusions, where reality bent to the will of those who knew how to command it. The mages who had once wielded this magic had believed their spells were unstealable, their knowledge untouchable.

They had been wrong. Valtor had taken what he wanted. And now, the orb - once a sacred relic of their kind - belonged to him.

It was more than a simple seeing spell. It was not just a window into the world, but a reflection of intent, a spell so deeply entwined with its caster's will that it showed exactly what he wished to see. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Tonight, the image flickering within its swirling depths was that of a room bathed in the soft silver glow of the moon.

Bloom's dorm room.

He had watched her since she had left the training hall that afternoon, his gaze following her as she reunited with her friends. He had observed the excitement in her voice as she spoke of what she had learned, the way her eyes had gleamed when she described the moment she had shaped the fire, rather than simply unleashed it.

She had been eager, exhilarated, alive in a way she had not been before.

But exhaustion had claimed her quickly. She had retired early, worn out from the weight of the day, and now-

Now, she was sleeping.

The soft glow of the moon filtered through the window, casting pale silver light across the bed where she lay. Her fiery red hair fanned out over the pillow, a striking contrast against the pale fabric, spilling like embers scattered in the dark.

For a long moment, Valtor simply watched through the swirling depths of the magical orb before him.

She looked peaceful. Deceptively so.

Her breathing was slow, even, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She had drifted into slumber with ease, exhausted from the day's training, her body too drained to resist the pull of sleep.

But the mind was another matter entirely.

It started with a twitch. A small, unconscious movement: Her fingers tightening slightly against the sheets, her lips parting as if whispering something to the night. The crease between her brows deepened, serenity fracturing, giving way to something more troubled.

A shadow flickered over her features.

She turned, rolling onto her side, her muscles tensing as if bracing against some unseen force. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sheets, grasping, clutching.

A flicker of tension ran through her body, first subtle, then stronger. Her breath hitched. Then, her movements became more restless, more urgent.

Ah a dream, Valtor mused, tilting his head. Or a nightmare.

Her breath quickened, uneven. Her head tossed to the other side. Her lips moved faster, forming whispered words he could not decipher, yet they carried the unmistakable tone of distress.

What do you see? Fascinated, Valtor leaned forward, his gaze narrowing.

Then, without warning, a cry tore through the stillness. Bloom shot up, gasping, her chest heaving as she clawed her way back to reality.

Her eyes were wide, wild, reflecting the ghost of whatever horror had plagued her dreams. She barely seemed aware of her surroundings, her breath ragged as she pressed a trembling hand to her chest.

Tiny flames danced along her bare arms, licking at her skin like affectionate serpents of light. They shimmered golden, curling around her fingers, flickering at the edges of her hair.

But they did not burn her, they never would. Instead, they moved as if drawn to her very essence, feeding off the raw magic still humming beneath her skin. And just as quickly as they had come, they vanished.

Valtor watched as Bloom slumped forward, pressing her hands into her lap, trying to steady herself. Her breath was still ragged, skin damp with sweat. The shadows in her room flickered as the last embers of her magic dissipated into nothingness, leaving only the soft glow of the moon to illuminate her.

Even from a distance, he could feel the energy still coiling beneath her skin, untamed, unsettled.

Bloom exhaled shakily and pressed her palms to her face, fingers tangling in her hair. She was trying to steady herself, to push away whatever remnants of her nightmare still clung to her thoughts.

But Valtor could see the doubt in her movements. The uncertainty.

Did you see something scary, little flame?, he mused, watching as she finally pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around herself, her body curling in on itself slightly as though she were trying to hold her own form together.

The moonlight bathed her in its cool light, casting long shadows across her features, highlighting the tension in her expression. She looked so fragile in that moment - vulnerable, lost in the remnants of whatever she had dreamed.

Chapter Text

The classroom was buzzing with the quiet hum of students scribbling notes, the faint rustle of paper as pens skittered across parchment. 

The soft glow of magical lights illuminated the rows of desks in Professor Valen's Magiphilosophy class. The subject was complex, often considered dull by some students, but Bloom found it fascinating. 

Today's discussion focused on the theories of Selin of Avram, a long-dead magiphilosopher who had argued that magic was not simply a force, but had an intelligence of its own, capable of making choices and shaping outcomes beyond the will of the practitioner.

Professor Valen stood at the front of the class, his tall, imposing figure casting a shadow as he spoke passionately about Avram's work. 

His eyes flicked to the students, lingering for just a moment longer on Bloom. She was sharp and he admired her curiosity. A mind like hers deserved to be nurtured.

"As Selin of Avram postulated," Valen said, his voice smooth, "magic has an inherent autonomy. He believed that the true magic of the world is not the result of a mere spell or ritual, but rather, that it grows, evolves, and -at times- acts on its own volition. It is not just a force to be controlled. It is alive."

He paced slowly in front of the chalkboard, the soft scuff of his leather boots against the stone floor punctuating his words.

"Now, the question for us to consider is this: Is magic truly sentient?" he continued, turning toward the class. "Can it act outside the bounds of our will? Does it think for itself?"

Bloom's hand shot up, interrupting the murmur of the class. Her expression was thoughtful, almost challenging. Professor Valen regarded her with a raised eyebrow, intrigued.

"Yes, Miss Bloom?" he asked, motioning for her to speak.

Bloom leaned forward slightly, her fiery red hair spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of flames. "Professor, you say magic has intelligence, but is that intelligence in the same way we understand consciousness? Or is it more of an unconscious process, where the magic follows its own path due to certain natural laws and not actual decision-making?"

The room quieted. Valen himself paused, his gaze flickering momentarily as he regarded her.

"That's an interesting way of putting it," he replied, clearly pleased with the depth of her thought. "Avram's theory was more than just magic as an unconscious force. He proposed that magic could act according to its own desires, though not in the human sense of 'desires.' A magic that can sense the need for a transformation, for a shift in reality, and seeks the most harmonious outcome. Not because it is consciously choosing, but because it is an intelligent force that operates on a deeper level."

Bloom's brow furrowed as she considered his words. She wasn't one to accept things at face value. "But if magic is truly autonomous, then is it bound to the caster's intention at all? Or could it override that intention completely, like... like an entity acting on its own behalf? What's the line between the will of the caster and the will of magic?"

Valen studied her carefully, his lips curving slightly upward at the corners. "You make a compelling argument, Miss Bloom. I see that you are not one to take simple answers. That's the very essence of what makes this subject so intriguing." 

He paused, his gaze flickering to the other students, many of whom were now paying more attention than they had moments ago. He was careful with his words.

"If magic were completely independent, Miss Bloom, it would be chaotic and unpredictable. But the notion of balance is critical in magic, in all things. What we control is the channeling of that energy, the direction. It is not the energy itself that is autonomous, but its expression - through our will. But that expression can vary depending on the circumstances."

Bloom thought for a moment, her lips pressing together. "So, what you're saying is that we shape magic, but it shapes us in turn? Our desires, our emotions, they affect how the magic manifests, yes?"

"Exactly," Valen said, his voice lowering slightly. "Magic is not simply a tool to be wielded, but a force that responds to the caster's essence. Magic, like everything, is a mirror. It reflects what we are."

Bloom absorbed his words, nodding slowly but her mind was already working ahead, considering the complexities of what he had said. "But if it reflects us, then how do we know if we truly control it?" she mused aloud. "If magic reflects our inner selves, our emotions... is it always something we can wield consciously? Can we trust it, if it's responding to what's inside us rather than what we consciously want it to do?"

Valen was silent for a moment, as if contemplating her question. The other students, who had mostly been content to sit back and listen, seemed to hold their breath, awaiting his response.

"That," he said slowly, "is the crux of Avram's theory. He believed that magic, as it evolves, becomes more attuned to the caster's essence, their emotional state, their very soul. The danger, Miss Bloom, lies not in magic's inherent power, but in what we project onto it. It can amplify our desires, magnify our fears... or, in rare cases, it can mirror parts of us that we do not wish to confront."

Bloom shifted in her seat, her thoughts buzzing. "So, we are not the only ones guiding it. Magic guides us, too."

Professor Valen's lips quirked. "In a sense, yes. But it is not a relationship of equals. We are the ones who direct the flow, though magic's responses are often shaped by who we are, by what we believe and fear."

He paused, letting that sink in. "That's the subtle, and often dangerous, part of this balance. Magic doesn't just answer; it shapes. It's not always a perfect reflection, and the results can be unpredictable. But it is always tied to the caster, intertwined with their intent."

Bloom's expression softened slightly, her mind lost in the concepts, the theories, and the implications they held. After a long moment, she looked up at him, eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and contemplation.

"Professor... do you believe that magic, at its core, is good or evil? Or is that simply a human construct we impose on it?"

Valen regarded her thoughtfully as he considered the question. "Ah, that... is perhaps the most profound question you've asked today, Miss Bloom. Magic, like all things in this world, simply is. It is a force that has no inherent morality. It is not good, nor evil. It simply exists. It is us -our intentions, our choices- that shape its outcomes."

The class seemed to quiet again, the weight of the discussion pressing on them.

Bloom's eyes narrowed slightly, still considering. "So, in your view, is magic neutral, like a tool?"

Valen's gaze softened, the faintest trace of approval in his eyes. "That's the key, Miss Bloom. Magic is not simply a tool. It is a partner - one that must be understood, respected, and, above all, learned from. If we do not respect its complexity, its autonomy, we risk losing control. But if we learn to coexist, to work in harmony, then we unlock its true potential."

Bloom fell silent, her mind whirling with the concepts they'd discussed. There was so much to unpack, so much to understand.

After a moment, Valen smiled softly, an unreadable look in his eyes. "Well, Miss Bloom, it seems you have a great deal of potential in this field. Please, stay behind for a moment after class."

The rest of the class passed in a haze for Bloom, her mind still grappling with the theories that Professor Valen had laid out. The rest of the students were absorbed in their own notes and thoughts, but Bloom barely heard the sound of their pens scratching across parchment. She was too deep in thought. 

Professor Valen's voice continued to flow smoothly, guiding the students through the next layers of magical philosophy. His words were clear, deliberate, his tone calm. 

Her magic -the Dragon Flame- was unpredictable. She had known that. But the idea that magic could have a will of its own, separate from the caster, unsettled her. Could she even control something like that?

Her gaze drifted back to the chalkboard, where Professor Valen was now drawing symbols, connecting them to various schools of magical philosophy. Each symbol seemed to come alive as he explained them. 

She didn't raise her hand again during the remainder of the lecture. 

Every time a question or thought tried to form in her mind, another would quickly take its place, tumbling over the first like a flood. She wasn't sure how to ask the right questions yet - what she was experiencing with her own magic felt so personal, so... different.

And then, just as she thought she could focus again, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. 

The noise in the room shifted as the other students packed up their things, chattering as they gathered their notes and prepared to leave. Bloom's fingers hovered over her notebook, still staring at the chalkboard, but her thoughts were somewhere far away.

The sounds of the room faded into the background as she slowly packed her things - her quill, her notebook, the books she hadn't even opened. Her hands moved mechanically, absentmindedly slipping everything into her bag.

As the last student filed out of the room, Bloom stood slowly, the familiar sounds of her footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet classroom. She paused for a moment in front of Professor Valen's desk, the room now bathed in the soft glow of afternoon light.

Professor Valen was seated behind his desk, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips as he glanced up at her approach. His sharp eyes seemed to see through her.

"Miss Bloom," he said, his voice low and calm. "I sense that you've been deep in thought today. You had many questions."

"I-" she began, then stopped, uncertain of how to phrase the surge of questions and doubts in her mind. "I still have many questions," she finally said.

Valen leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface of the desk, the rhythmic sound almost hypnotic.

"Theories are all well and good," he replied, a knowing glint in his eyes. "But true understanding comes when you seek to experience magic, not just talk about it."

Bloom hesitated for a moment before speaking again, the words tumbling out before she could fully think them through. "I... I don't know if I fully understand my own magic," she admitted. "Sometimes it feels as though it... reacts to things on its own. It's not just what I want - it feels like something alive."

He stood from his desk and walked toward her, the light catching the edges of his dark robe as he moved with a smooth grace. "You have a lot of potential, Miss Bloom. I'd like to continue our training this afternoon."

"I still have one period before my school day is over," she answered. "But I'm free the rest of the day."

Valen's lips curved slightly, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, though there was an unmistakable approval there. "I'm glad to hear it. Meet me in the training hall this afternoon, just before dusk. I'll be waiting."

With that, he gave her a respectful nod and turned, his footsteps steady as he made his way toward the door.

Bloom stood still for a moment, her thoughts a whirl of excitement and anticipation before she makes her way to her next class. 

The training hall was colder than it had been last time, the shadows lingering deeper around the edges of the expansive room.

Bloom could hear the familiar sound of footsteps echoing from behind her. Slow, deliberate. Calculating.

Professor Valen's voice broke through the silence before he even appeared. "You look... pensive, Miss Bloom."

She straightened, forcing herself to look up and face him. "I've been thinking about what you said," she admitted. "About power being a mirror of ourselves."

Valen stood before her, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. His pale grey eyes flickered with amusement at her serious tone. "I would be disappointed if you hadn't."

Bloom held his gaze, searching for any trace of mockery in his expression. There was none. Just quiet delight and something that made her pulse quicken.

"I want to try again," she said, voice steady despite the way her heart pounded. "But this time, I don't want to hold back."

Valen's lips curved into something slow and knowing, his approval evident in the sharp gleam of his eyes. "Good," he murmured. "Then don't."

There was no hesitation in his steps as he closed the distance between them. The torches along the training hall flickered, their golden glow catching the strands of his pale hair. He came close -closer than necessary- until she had to tilt her chin up just slightly to keep her eyes on his.

"Summon it," he instructed, voice low, measured. "Not as a tool. Not as a weapon. As an extension of yourself."

Bloom swallowed hard and exhaled, rolling her shoulders before letting her fingers flex at her sides. She reached inward, calling on the fire - not forcing it, not shaping it before it was ready, just feeling it.

Heat curled in her veins, responding not just to her will but to her intent. The flames unfurled from her palms, golden and alive, flickering hungrily as if sensing her determination.

Valen watched, his expression unreadable. "Better," he mused, stepping around her in slow, deliberate circles. The sound of his boots against the stone floor sent a shiver down her spine. "But you're still thinking too much."

"I'm not," she shot back, tightening her fingers into a fist. The fire flared brighter, licking up her wrists.

His chuckle was quiet, infuriating. "Then why are you hesitating?"

Bloom's breath hitched. She hadn't realized she was.

Valen stepped behind her, close enough that she swore she could feel the faintest brush of his presence against her back. Not touching, not even truly near - but there. A whisper of proximity that sent a tremor through her body, though she refused to show it.

"Power is instinct," he murmured near her ear. "You know what you want to do. So do it."

The words sent something sharp and reckless through her, something that made her fingers twitch.

She turned abruptly, facing him head-on, the fire still curling around her hands. Her breath came quicker, her skin warm - not just from the magic, but from the way he looked at her. As if he was waiting. As if he wanted to see just how far she would go.

"Fine," she whispered.

And she let go.

The fire burst outward, but this time, it wasn't chaotic. It coiled and twisted around her, bright and controlled, a force that moved with her instead of against her. She lifted her hand, and the flames followed, forming a shape - something stronger, something with weight.

A blade.

It burned fiercely in her grasp, its edges shifting like molten gold. Solid and sharp, but still hers. Still her.

Valen exhaled slowly, studying the weapon she had forged. The corner of his mouth lifted, but there was no teasing now - just something deeper.

"Beautiful," he murmured. The single word sent a jolt through her, hot and electric.

She clenched her jaw, tightening her grip on the fiery blade as she stepped forward. "Do you ever stop talking?"

His smirk deepened. "Do you want me to?"

Damn him.

She moved. Fast.

The blade sliced through the air as she lunged, but Valen was already shifting, stepping to the side with effortless grace. She pivoted, sending a controlled arc of fire toward him, testing his reflexes.

He didn't redirect it this time. Instead, he let it pass, his body slipping through the space between the flames like it was second nature. A deliberate choice.

She swung again, faster, aiming for the space just next to him, forcing him to move. He did, but not away - toward her.

The moment she realized it, he was already close, too close, his gloved hand snapping up to catch her wrist mid-swing. Not hard, not forceful. Just firm enough to halt her motion.

The flames still burned between them, licking up her arm and reflecting in his grey eyes.

"Not bad," he murmured, his grip steady but not unkind. "But you hesitate."

Bloom's breath was uneven, her pulse wild in her throat. "I do not-"

"You do," he interrupted smoothly, tilting his head. His hold on her wrist remained, steady and sure. "You think before every movement. You plan. You calculate. It's why you're good - but it's also why you'll never be great unless you stop."

Her jaw tightened, fire still flickering between them. "And what? Just act on impulse?"

His thumb brushed, barely, against the inside of her wrist - a featherlight touch against her hammering pulse. "No," he said softly. "You act on instinct."

Her breath stuttered.

The tension between them coiled, thick and electric, charged with something neither of them acknowledged but both of them felt.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to refocus. Her fingers flexed, and Valen released her wrist without hesitation, his expression still maddeningly composed.

His gaze flicked down, watching the way her flames pulsed, flickering uncertainly, mirroring the conflict within her. His hand lifted slowly, deliberately. Not touching. Just hovering, close enough that the warmth of his gloved fingers brushed the air between them.

"Your magic responds to your will," he said, his voice almost intimate now. "But it also responds to your fears. To your desires."

Desires. The word sent a sharp jolt through her, and for a split second, her control wavered. The flames flared, licking at the edges of his coat before she pulled them back. Her breath caught.

Valen's smirk deepened.

Bloom's cheeks burned hotter than her fire. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," He chuckled, low and knowing. "Again."

She scowled, forcing herself to focus. Her fire still swirled around her hands, but now it was no longer just responding to her emotions - it was listening. She breathed in, letting go of the lingering tension, of the wariness, of the fear of what might happen if she let herself truly feel it.

And the flames obeyed.

They coiled up her arms, graceful, powerful, an extension of herself rather than something to be wielded. She felt completely in harmony with her magic.

Valen's expression shifted just slightly, just enough for her to catch it. Approval. Not amusement. Not condescension. Just pure, sharp interest.

She swallowed, her voice quieter when she finally spoke. "Is this what you wanted?"

"It's a start," Valen stepped back, as if giving her space to breathe. "Now, shape it again."

Bloom took a steadying breath and let the flames gather, coalescing into something tangible. This time, it wasn't just a spear. It was a blade, sleek and deadly, its fiery edge shimmering with heat.

Valen regarded it with a quiet hum of appreciation. "Better," he murmured. "Now, let's see how long you can hold it."

She exhaled slowly, tightening her grip. "I can handle it."

He arched a brow, stepping forward again, close enough that she could feel the faintest whisper of his breath against her skin. "We'll see about that."

Bloom shifted her stance, adjusting to the weight of the fire-blade in her grasp. The heat curled around her fingers, pulsing in time with her breath.

Valen watched her closely, his smirk lingering but his posture deceptively at ease. She knew better. He was never unguarded, never truly relaxed. He was waiting. Calculating. Testing her.

This time, when she moved, she didn't hesitate.

And Valen smiled.

The fireblade arced toward him in a sharp, deliberate strike - faster than before, cleaner. But Valen was just as fast. He stepped to the side, letting the heat graze past him, his long coat barely shifting from the force of her swing.

"Better," he murmured. "But predictable."

Bloom gritted her teeth, adjusting mid-movement. She didn't let herself stop, didn't think - she let instinct take over, twisting into a follow-up strike. This time, she feinted, letting the fire flicker before shifting direction at the last moment.

Valen's gaze flickered with something sharp -approval, maybe- but he still dodged her with infuriating ease, his gloved hand catching her wrist again, halting her movement with practiced precision.

The fire hummed between them, casting golden light over his sharp features.

His grip wasn't harsh, wasn't restricting. Just a reminder. Control. Precision.

"You hesitate here," he murmured, fingers tightening slightly against her pulse point. "Not in your body. In your mind."

Her breath was uneven, and she hated that he could hear it.

"Let go, Miss Bloom." His voice was softer now, quieter. "I can feel you holding back."

The words sent something wild through her, something she wasn't ready to name.

She ripped her wrist from his grasp, her fire surging in response. The moment his fingers left her skin, she struck again, forcing him to move, forcing him to react. And he did.

For the first time, Valen didn't step back. 

He moved into her space, twisting around her flames like they were nothing more than an afterthought. She barely had time to register the shift before he was behind her again, his presence pressing into the space she had occupied just seconds ago.

A sharp inhale caught in her throat.

"Good," he murmured behind her, close enough that she could feel the ghost of his breath against the nape of her neck. "Now do it again."

She turned on instinct, fire crackling between them as she slashed outward. But Valen was already gone, stepping just out of reach, his expression unreadable except for the faint curve of his lips.

Damn him.

Bloom steadied her stance, her fire still flickering strong. No hesitation this time. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Her next strike was different. Sharper. Faster. 

And for the first time, Valen actually blocked instead of dodging, his hand snapping up to catch the edge of her flame-forged blade with an unseen force - dark energy coiling around his gloved fingers like smoke.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The fire pulsed between them, their magic colliding - hers burning bright and wild, his controlled, unyielding. She could feel it, the way his power countered hers, the way it refused to bend, just like him.

Her heart pounded, her breath shallow.

Valen tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving hers. "There you are," he murmured.

The words sent a shiver through her, though she refused to show it.

Bloom forced herself to breathe, to push past the heat curling beneath her skin - heat that had nothing to do with the fire still burning in her hands.

She stepped back first, her flames retracting slightly. Not from weakness. From control.

Valen watched her carefully before finally lowering his own hand. The darkness that had coiled around his fingers dissipated, leaving only the unreadable intensity in his gaze.

"You're learning," he said simply.

Bloom swallowed, rolling her shoulders as if to shake off whatever had just passed between them. "You almost sound surprised."

His lips quirked. "Not surprised."

There it was again. That look. That tone. Like he was waiting for something. And for once, she wasn't sure she minded.

She exhaled, allowing the last flickers of fire to dissolve from her fingertips. Her skin still felt warm, but she ignored it.

"But you're trying to hold back again," he murmured.

Bloom swallowed, pulse hammering. "I let go."

"Not enough."

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't step away. She wouldn't let him win. "You keep saying that, but I don't see you letting go everything either."

His eyes flickered, just for a second, like she'd struck something beneath that perfect, composed surface. And then the corner of his mouth curved.

"That's the difference between us, Miss Bloom," he said, voice smooth as silk. "I don't have to."

Her fingers curled into fists. "How cocky."

His chuckle was quiet, dark. "You wound me."

She barely had time to process the shift before he moved - sudden, fast. Her breath hitched as he closed the distance completely, the space that had been between them vanishing in an instant.

She tensed, but not in fear.

His hand lifted again, this time to her face. Not touching. Just there, near the curve of her jaw, close enough that the heat of his skin -bare, just past the edge of his glove- was unmistakable.

A test.

"You say I hold back," he murmured. "Perhaps I do."

Her breath was uneven. She hated that he could hear it.

His head tilted slightly, his gaze never wavering. "Tell me, Miss Bloom... if I didn't-" His voice dipped lower, a whisper of something dangerous. "Would you be ready for that?"

A sharp jolt ran through her, something hot and breathless and infuriating all at once.

She should shove him back.

She should call him on his bullshit.

She should move.

But she didn't.

Instead, she met his gaze, steady, unwavering. And then -just to prove a point- she let her flames ignite again. Slow. Controlled. They curled up her arms, illuminating the space between them in gold and amber, licking toward his hand, toward him.

She didn't miss the way his fingers twitched, the way his throat bobbed ever so slightly.

The fire danced between them, the heat licking dangerously close to his skin. Still, Valen didn't pull away. He let the flames hover there, daring, testing.

Bloom watched him, searching for any sign of unease, but there was none. Only that steady, unreadable gaze - assessing her, as he always did.

But then, the moment was broken. 

Valen stepped back, giving her space again, though the heat of his gaze remained. "That's enough for today," he said, turning smoothly on his heel.

Bloom watched him go.

Chapter Text

Bloom could hardly keep still. Every inch of her buzzed with an energy she hadn't felt before, like a live current running through her veins.

She did it. Twice now. Not just a flicker, not just an accidental burst of power. She had called her fire, shaped it, felt it.

She could still feel the warmth lingering beneath her skin as she practically bounced into her dorm room, a grin stretched wide across her face.

She barely had time to take a breath before the inevitable happened.

"Okay, spill!" Stella's voice rang out from the couch, her golden hair piled into a messy topknot as she sat cross-legged, flipping through a fashion magazine. "You're practically glowing - which I assume is from some kind of magical epiphany and not a new moisturizer, but if it is skincare-related, I need details immediately."

"She does look ridiculously happy," Musa added from her spot on the floor, casually twirling one of her earbuds between her fingers.

Tecna, ever the analytical one, raised an eyebrow from her laptop. "Statistically speaking, Bloom comes back from magical training in one of two states - frustration or existential crisis. This-" she gestured vaguely at Bloom's beaming expression, "-is new."

Flora, sitting by the window tending to a row of potted plants, smiled warmly. "Maybe she's just proud of herself," she said gently. "Which she should be."

"Or maybe she finally made Professor Valen crack a real smile!" Layla added with a smirk, kicking her legs up onto the coffee table.

Bloom rolled her eyes but couldn't stop her grin. "I did it," she said, practically bouncing onto the couch. "I controlled my fire, fully! And I shaped it into a blade!"

The room instantly erupted into cheers.

"You go, girl!" Layla clapped her on the back, nearly knocking her forward.

Musa gave an approving nod. "Damn. So you went from 'oops, I set something on fire by accident' to 'deadly flaming sword' in, what, two lessons? That's gotta be a new record."

"It is impressive," Tecna admitted. "Especially given that your first training attempt was, shall we say, less successful."

Bloom groaned dramatically, flopping back against the cushions. "But that's why this feels so good. With Professor Valen, it's different. He doesn't just tell me to 'feel my power' - he pushes me. Forces me to think differently. And it actually works."

The girls exchanged glances. Then, as if on cue-

"So," Stella drawled, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "when are we going to talk about the obvious?"

Bloom frowned. "Which is?"

Stella grinned. "Professor Valen is hot."

Bloom's face instantly burned hotter than her fire. "Stella-!"

"What?" Stella threw up her hands innocently. "I'm just saying, there's 'mentorship', and then there's 'Oh no, we accidentally burned the training room down because we were standing too close and the tension could ignite a building'."

Flora stifled a laugh behind her hand, while Musa just smirked knowingly.

"Okay, but for real," Layla leaned forward, grinning. "What's he like? He's all mysterious and broody in class, but you've spent the most time with him. Is he actually as scary as he looks?"

Bloom groaned, covering her face with both hands. "Why is this turning into an interrogation?"

"Because we care," Musa said.

"And we're nosy," Stella added.

Bloom sighed but couldn't help the small, secretive smile tugging at her lips. "Fine. He's... intense. Sharp. He always knows exactly what I'm going to do before I do it, which is infuriating, by the way. And he's got this way of making you feel like he's always two steps ahead."

"Sounds exhausting," Tecna muttered.

"It is," Bloom admitted. "But it works. He knows how to push me without making me panic."

"See? That's so important," Flora said. "Finding someone who teaches you in a way that actually helps you grow instead of just making you feel small."

"Exactly!" Bloom said, pointing at Flora. "That's why I think it's working so well. With Miss Faragonda, I felt like I should be able to do it, and when I couldn't, I just got more frustrated. But with Professor Valen... I don't know. He makes me believe I can do it."

The room was quiet for a beat.

Then Musa snorted. "Oh no."

Bloom blinked. "What?"

Musa grinned. "You like him."

"I do not!"

"She totally does," Layla smirked.

"I don't!"

"Denial," Stella said, sighing dramatically. "It's a classic first stage."

Bloom let out a frustrated groan. "Guys, come on! I have a boyfriend, remember?"

That seemed to break the teasing slightly. Stella held up her hands. "Hey, we remember. But do you remember the last time you and Sky had an actual conversation?"

Bloom opened her mouth, but... yeah. That was a fair point.

"It's just... been weird lately," she admitted, running a hand through her hair. "We keep missing each other, and whenever we do talk, it feels like I'm either distracted with schoolwork, or he's distracted with royal duties."

"Relationships take work," Flora said gently. "Maybe you just need to make time for each other."

"Yeah," Layla added. "And hey, if things are rocky, that's okay. Doesn't mean you have to go falling for the first dark and mysterious magic instructor that looks at you like you're a fascinating puzzle."

Bloom threw a pillow at her. "Stop!"

The girls howled with laughter, and despite herself, Bloom couldn't help but laugh too.

It was easy to lose herself in the moment, in the warmth of her friends' joy, in the familiar comfort of their teasing. But even as the laughter faded and the conversation moved on, a quiet thought lingered in the back of her mind.

Bloom turned Flora's words over in her mind as she stood, stretching her arms above her head.

"Maybe you just need to make time for each other."

She knew Flora was right. Relationships weren't just about feelings. They took effort. And lately, all she'd been doing was letting the distance between her and Sky stretch wider, as if ignoring it would somehow make it disappear.

No more excuses. She was going to call him.

With a determined nod, she glanced around the dorm, trying to remember where she'd left her phone.

Somewhere in the background, her friends were still talking, their voices drifting in and out of her awareness.

"I mean, I get the whole dark and brooding thing," Stella was saying, her tone dramatic as ever. "But his hair - ugh, perfect."

Musa snorted. "Oh? And which perfect feature are we talking about? The 'I probably wake up like this' messy dark hair or the 'I could stare into your soul' brown eyes?"

"Both, obviously," Layla added. "That whole look just screams 'mysterious past' and 'dangerously competent'."

Bloom barely registered the conversation, her mind already elsewhere.

She vaguely thought to herself that they were getting Professor Valen's features wrong. Dark hair. Brown eyes.

Her mind flashed back to their training. Valen's sharp gaze, the way his pale grey eyes flickered in the firelight. The way his hair, almost white-blond, caught the dim glow of the torches.

The thought barely settled before it flitted away, replaced by the more pressing matter of where she had last seen her phone. She stepped around the coffee table, absently lifting a few throw pillows. Nothing.

"Well, I still say he knows the effect he has," Stella continued. "There's no way a guy like that walks into a room with all that effortless menace and doesn't realize people are looking."

"Oh, totally," Musa agreed. "The whole 'step too close and I might kill you' aesthetic is intentional."

"Or maybe he's just like that," Flora suggested. "Not everything is an act."

Bloom spotted the edge of her phone peeking out from beneath one of her notebooks on the bed-side table. Finally.

Snatching it up, she clicked the screen awake, her heart picking up speed at the sight of Sky's name. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the call button.

It had been a while since they'd properly talked. What if he was busy? What if the conversation felt just as strained as before?

No. Enough second-guessing.

With a deep breath, she tapped the button and lifted the phone to her ear, tuning out the sound of her friends' continued laughter.

The line rang once. Twice. And then-

"Bloom?" Sky's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the speaker.

She exhaled slowly, a small smile forming. "Hi, Sky."

There was a pause on the other end, not long enough to be awkward, but just enough that Bloom felt the weight of it.

"Hey," Sky said, his voice softer now, like he hadn't expected her call but wasn't unhappy about it either. "It's... really good to hear your voice."

Her chest tightened. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed hearing his voice, how much she had let the silence between them stretch too far.

"Yeah," she admitted, shifting on the bed. "It's been a while, huh?"

Sky let out a breathy chuckle, but there was something else beneath it, something strained. "Yeah. Too long."

Bloom chewed her lip, gripping the phone a little tighter. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I just-" She hesitated. What was she supposed to say? That she'd been busy? That new training had taken up her time? That Professor Valen had...

She swallowed. "I should've called sooner."

Another pause. Then, softer, "So should I."

She could almost see him running a hand through his golden hair, could picture the way his brows would knit together when he was trying to find the right words.

"Things have just been... hectic," he continued, and there was something almost apologetic in his tone. "Between everything going on in Eraklyon and school-" A sigh. "I don't want to make excuses."

Bloom smiled, though it was small. "Then don't. Let's just... talk. Like we used to."

Sky's voice warmed. "I'd like that."

She curled her legs under her, letting the sound of his voice ground her. "Okay, then. Catch me up. How's everything with the specialists? Is Riven still stealing your protein bars?"

That got a real laugh out of him, and the sound was so familiar, so Sky, that her heart ached just a little. "You know he is."

She laughed, relaxing bit by bit as Sky fell into easy conversation, talking about their training, about Riven nearly getting thrown out of the dragon riding lessons for pushing the limits too far. About Timmy's latest upgrade to their communications. About how he'd been thinking about visiting Magix soon.

She listened, letting herself soak in his words, in the warmth of his voice.

For the first time in a while, it didn't feel like there was a rift between them. It didn't feel like they were dancing around something unspoken. It just felt like them.

And for now, that was enough.

Bloom let herself sink into the conversation, letting the sound of Sky's voice ease the tension she hadn't realized she was carrying. It was easy to laugh with him again, to let the worries fade into the background, even if only for a little while.

"So then," Sky continued, amusement lacing his tone, "Riven actually had the nerve to tell me I was the one being dramatic about my missing protein bars. Like I wasn't the victim in this situation."

Bloom snorted. "You are dramatic about food, Sky."

"I am passionate about food," he corrected. "There's a difference."

She grinned, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. So what did you do?"

"I did what any reasonable person would do." A pause. "I stole his lunch."

Bloom burst into laughter. "Oh my god. And?"

"And he declared a full-scale war. We're in a stalemate right now, but I have a feeling he's planning a counterattack."

"You're both ridiculous."

"But you love it."

She did.

She loved this, them. The way they could joke and talk like nothing had changed, like there wasn't a distance between them. Like they weren't both pretending that things hadn't felt strained for a while now.

Her smile softened. "I really missed this."

Sky went quiet for a second. Not an uncomfortable silence, but one that felt full, like he was thinking the same thing she was.

"Me too," he admitted. His voice was lower now, steadier. "I know things have been... off. And I don't want that. I don't want to lose what we have."

Bloom's chest tightened. "Neither do I."

Another pause. She could hear the faint hum of noise in the background on his end - probably the other Specialists somewhere nearby.

"I want to see you," he said at last, quiet but certain. "Soon."

Her heart skipped. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "No more of this long-distance 'barely talking' thing. I'll find a way to visit Alfea."

A warmth spread through her, and she let herself lean into it. "I'd like that."

"Good," he said, and for the first time in a long time, things felt... okay.

They talked for a little longer, soft words and laughter filling the spaces that had once felt too empty. But eventually, reality crept back in - the responsibilities, the distance.

"I have to go," Sky murmured. "Duty calls."

Bloom sighed, but nodded. "Yeah. Me too."

"Soon, though."

She smiled. "Soon."

After days of silence following their call, Bloom was starting to wonder if things between her and Sky were slipping away again. She had told herself not to overthink it, not to let the doubt creep in, but it was hard.

Every time she reached for her phone, she hesitated. Every time she thought about calling him again, she talked herself out of it.

Then, just as she was about to push those thoughts aside and busy herself with something else, her phone buzzed in her hand and Sky's name popped up.

'Meet me outside the gates. I have a surprise for you.'

For a moment, she just stared at the message, reading it twice as if to make sure she wasn't imagining it. A surprise?

Excitement bubbled in her chest, pushing away the lingering doubts that had been gnawing at her all week. She quickly typed back a reply, her lips curving into a small smile.

'On my way!'

Tossing her phone onto her bed, she rushed to her closet, scanning for something to wear. It wasn't like this was some grand event, but she wanted to look nice. She and Sky hadn't spent proper time together in what felt like forever, and if this was his way of fixing that, she wanted to meet him halfway.

A few minutes later, she gave herself one last glance in the mirror, smoothing down her hair, before grabbing her phone and practically flying out the door.

Her boots clicked against the stone pathways as she hurried toward the gates, full of anticipation. Things with Sky had been... complicated lately, but this? This felt like a step forward. A reminder that they still tried - that they still wanted this.

The cool autumn air nipped at her cheeks as she reached the entrance, her breath puffing slightly from the rush.

Sky stood just beyond the gates, hands in his pockets, his golden-blond hair catching the afternoon light. His blue eyes brightened when he saw her, and the familiar sight of him - the real him - sent a wave of warmth through her.

Bloom raised an eyebrow as she approached, giving him a playful smile. "So, what do you have planned?" she asked, crossing her arms loosely over her chest.

Sky gave her a sly grin, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "You'll see," he replied, his voice light, almost teasing. He motioned to the basket, as if the answer might be contained within, but he wasn't offering any clues. Bloom narrowed her eyes, clearly intrigued but not willing to push him further.

"Alright, I'll bite," she said with a laugh, her curiosity still alive as she glanced at the hover-bike parked next to him, the sleek machine gleaming under the sunlight. "Are we going somewhere far?"

Sky chuckled softly and shook his head. "No, nothing too far. But I thought we could go for a little ride and get some fresh air."

Bloom smiled. She loved the idea of an afternoon ride, something simple yet peaceful. Just as she was about to hop on the hover-bike, a sudden gust of wind swept through the air.

Before either of them could react, a piece of parchment shot through the air and stopped right in front of Bloom, as if directed by an unseen hand. It hovered there for a brief moment before falling gently into her hands.

Surprised, Bloom stared at the letter, her fingers brushing the smooth surface of the paper. The script was unmistakable - beautiful, flowing letters that only one person she knew could write in such a manner. She smiled instinctively, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

Sky raised an eyebrow, watching Bloom's expression change as she opened the letter. "What's that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Bloom didn't answer right away. Instead, she unfurled the letter and began reading the contents silently. Her lips curled into a smile as her eyes moved over the words.

Miss Bloom,

I trust your school-work has been progressing well. I would like to invite you to continue our lessons tomorrow afternoon, just after lunch. Meet me in the training room.

I look forward to it.

Professor Valen

Bloom could hardly contain her excitement. Her heart skipped a beat. Tomorrow. After lunch. The letter had been simple, but the familiar feeling of excitement was anything but.

Sky watched her, a small frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he saw the smile spread across her face. She looked positively radiant.

"Who wrote that?" he asked, taking the letter gently from her hands. His eyes scanned the words quickly, his brow furrowing as he read the elegant script.

When he finished, he looked up at Bloom, his expression thoughtful. "Professor Valen, huh?" he said, his tone careful.

Bloom's smile faltered for a brief moment, but she quickly shook her head, as if to shake away any doubts. "He helps me," she said softly, her voice careful. "With... my magic. He's been teaching me how to control it better."

Sky's eyes narrowed, sensing something more behind her words, but he didn't press. He didn't push her, and Bloom was grateful for that.

"Alright," he said finally, his expression softening. "Just be careful, okay? Take it one step at a time."

Bloom nodded, her excitement still bubbling inside her. "Well, let's go," Bloom said with a grin, jumping onto the hover-bike. "I want to know what kind of surprise you have planned for me."

Sky smiled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Alright, alright. Let's go, then."

The afternoon air was crisp and refreshing as Bloom and Sky cruised through the air, the hum of the hover-bike a steady presence beneath them. The wind tugged at Bloom's hair, sending it flying in wild streaks of red behind her.

She smiled to herself, the lingering excitement of the letter from Professor Valen now fading into the background of her thoughts. For the moment, she was with Sky.

She did her best to push any lingering thoughts of her magic, her lessons, or her professor out of her mind. Instead, she focused on the warmth of the sun on her skin and the thrill of the ride as they sped through the open fields, the world blurring in a whirlwind of colors.

Sky was talking, but Bloom wasn't listening too intently. She was content to let the wind and the quiet hum of the bike carry her thoughts away from anything serious.

Sky's voice brought her back to the present. "We're almost there."

Bloom turned toward him, a curious look on her face. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Sky's eyes sparkled with mischief as he pointed ahead. "Just trust me."

The hover-bike descended slowly, gliding through the air before landing gently in the middle of a lush, vibrant meadow. The tall grass swayed in the breeze, the wildflowers dotted across the landscape in bursts of yellow, purple, and pink.

Sky stopped the bike, and with a grin, he hopped off, heading to the back where the basket was securely fastened. Bloom followed, her heart lifting as she gazed around at the serene scene. It was quiet here, almost magical in its simplicity, and it felt like the perfect place to just breathe.

Sky turned back toward her, the basket in his hands. "Welcome to your surprise," he said with a flourish, setting it down on the soft grass.

Bloom's eyes widened with genuine delight. "You've... you've been planning this?"

"Yeah," Sky admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted to do something nice for you. Something fun. Something... not about magic."

Bloom laughed, relieved. "That's just what I needed." She reached forward and opened the basket, her heart leaping at the sight of the contents. Inside were all of her favorite things - every little detail had been carefully thought out.

The basket held a chilled bottle of strawberry juice, the glass glinting in the sunlight. There were several small plates of lemon tart cakes, their golden-brown crusts perfectly baked, the sweet lemon filling peeking out with a soft shine. A few strawberry shortcakes, topped with whipped cream and sliced strawberries, were nestled beside a small container of her favorite chocolate truffles.

Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up one of the lemon tarts, the delicate crust and zesty filling filling her senses with an unexpected wave of joy. She had no idea how Sky had known, but he had gotten everything just right.

"This is amazing," Bloom said. "How did you...?"

"I've been paying attention," Sky said with a wink, sitting down on the blanket he had laid out. "I know you've got a thing for tart flavors and sweets. And I wasn't about to leave out the juice. I remember you saying once that you love strawberry juice more than anything."

With a soft sigh, she sat beside him on the blanket, taking a sip of the strawberry juice, the cool sweetness easing her mind. "This is incredible," she whispered, her gaze meeting his. "Thank you."

Sky grinned, his eyes bright with affection. "I'm glad you like it. You deserve this, Bloom."

They ate, laughed, and talked, the conversation light and easy. For a few hours, the worries of the world faded into the background. No magic lessons. No expectations. Just the warmth of the sun, the tranquility of the meadow, and the contentment of sharing something simple.

The air around them had cooled slightly as the sun began its descent, casting a soft golden hue over the meadow. Bloom and Sky sat side by side on the blanket, the remnants of their picnic basket resting beside them, the last crumbs of lemon tart and chocolate truffles slowly disappearing.

"So," Sky began, nudging her lightly with his shoulder, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "You've ever gotten up to any trouble when you were a kid?"

Bloom raised an eyebrow, a small smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. "Trouble? Me? Never." She laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, maybe a little. But what about you, Prince Sky?"

Sky chuckled, clearly enjoying the playful banter. "Well, I didn't exactly have much room for trouble. You know, royal duties and all that. But I did manage to get into a bit of a mess now and then."

"Oh, really?" Bloom leaned in, intrigued. "Tell me about it."

Sky's grin widened, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Alright. This one time, when I was about seven or eight, I decided it would be a great idea to sneak out of the palace and go explore the royal gardens... at night."

Bloom gasped, raising an eyebrow. "At night? You? A prince?"

Sky winked, leaning back slightly against the grass. "Yep. I thought it would be an adventure. You know, being a little rebel."

"What happened? Did you get caught?"

"Oh, I got caught alright," Sky said with a chuckle, his expression turning playful. "The problem wasn't getting caught - it was getting away. See, I wasn't exactly great at being stealthy. I'd climb over the walls, but I didn't account for the guards walking by on their rounds."

He paused, an amused expression crossing his face as he looked up at the sky. "There I was, hidden behind a shrub, trying to stay perfectly still, but the bushes were... not as thick as I thought. A guard caught sight of me. So naturally, I did what any reasonable child would do. I ran."

Bloom laughed, covering her mouth. "Oh no! Did you get away?"

"Barely." Sky grinned, clearly enjoying the memory. "I dashed across the gardens, making as little noise as possible. But the guards were faster than I anticipated. In the end, I climbed up the fountain statue just to escape."

She burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. "You climbed a statue?"

"Yep," Sky said, still laughing at the memory. "Well, it wasn't exactly the climbing that got me into trouble. It was... the falling."

Bloom raised an eyebrow. "Falling?"

"Yeah," Sky sighed dramatically, settling back beside her, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "See, the statue I climbed wasn't just some random decoration. It was a memorial to one of my ancestors - the great King Kalyves, the founder of our dynasty. His statue was this towering marble figure with a sword raised high."

He chuckled softly at the memory. "I thought I would hide there, you know? And just when I'd reached the top- snap! The hand came off."

Bloom's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait. The hand? You broke off the hand of your ancestor's statue?"

"Yeah," Sky muttered, his face flushed with the recollection. "I couldn't believe it. I swear, time stopped for a second as I watched that hand tumble down, and then crash into the fountain below." He gave a low groan. "It shattered. I was just staring at it, thinking, 'What have I done?'"

Bloom burst out laughing, unable to help herself. "Oh no! What did you do after that? Was your father angry?"

Sky winced. "That's what I was worried about. The last thing I wanted was for him to find out I'd destroyed a priceless family relic."

"I can only imagine how terrifying that must've been," Bloom said with a chuckle, her laughter still lingering in her voice. "How did you escape his wrath?"

Sky hesitated, glancing away, his fingers playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. "Well, I had to act fast. So, I ran up to the palace and woke Diaspro."

Bloom felt her chest tighten at the mention of his ex-fiancée's name. She forced herself to smile, even as a small knot of discomfort twisted inside her. "So, Diaspro... fixed the statue. You got away with it, and no one ever found out?"

Sky nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though it was clear he wasn't entirely at ease. "Yeah, pretty much. She used some quick magic, a spell she'd learned from her tutors, and fixed the statue without anyone noticing. She was always the practical one, even back then."

His voice faltered for a moment, and he seemed to catch himself, his gaze flickering toward Bloom, uncertain whether to continue.

Bloom could feel the tension in the air. The name Diaspro seemed to hang between them like an invisible thread.

She picked at a stray piece of grass, trying to push the beautiful princess of gemstones from her mind.

"Well, you were lucky," she said, her voice a little more lighthearted than she felt. "Imagine if you had gotten caught! I'm sure your father would've had a few words with you."

Sky's chuckle filled the air, though there was a hint of something somber behind it. "Yeah, that would've been bad. My father was... well, he's the kind of man who values order and discipline above all else. It wasn't easy growing up under that."

"That sounds... difficult," Bloom said softly. "I can't imagine what it must have been like, having to live up to such high expectations."

Sky gave a half-shrug, his gaze dropping to his hands for a moment before looking back at her. "Yeah, well... It was my life. I couldn't exactly change it. But Diaspro... She was always there. Always so calm, so composed. I guess that's why it wasn't so hard to rely on her when I needed help."

There was a pause, and Bloom felt the air between them grow thick again.

It wasn't just the second mention of Diaspro that lingered now - it was the weight of Sky's words, his tone, and the way he spoke about her with such familiarity. Bloom couldn't help but wonder how much of his past with her still lingered in his thoughts, how much of her was still part of him.

She wanted to shake off the quiet discomfort she felt.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't get caught," she said. "You're lucky Diaspro was there to help. You must've owed her one after that."

Sky met her gaze, his eyes flickering with a trace of something unreadable. "Yeah, I guess I did. But that's in the past. And it doesn't really matter now." His smile was a little more genuine this time, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Bloom wanted to believe him. But the truth was, there was something unspoken between them. It wasn't just the story of a childhood mishap - it was the lingering shadow of his past with the princess, and of things they hadn't yet discussed.

Bloom could feel the quiet stretching between them again, and though she wanted to fill it with something light, something carefree, she knew there were things she wasn't ready to ask. Not yet. So, instead, she reached for the last lemon tart, trying to push away the unease in her chest.

Sky seemed to sense the change in her mood and quickly shifted gears. "Hey," he said, reaching over to nudge her playfully. "What do you say we stop talking about my childhood for a bit? Let's focus on enjoying the rest of the day. I'm sure there are plenty of other things we can talk about."

Bloom smiled softly, grateful for his effort to change the subject. "Sounds good to me."

And for the rest of the afternoon, they let the past fade into the distance, the conversations turning back to lighter topics as they enjoyed the quiet warmth of the meadow.

But for now, she would simply enjoy being with Sky, and let the rest wait.

Chapter Text

"Again!"

The command rang out through the training hall, cutting through the air with an intensity that sent a jolt through Bloom's body. Without hesitation, she raised her hands, flames dancing to life at her fingertips.

The fire crackled and roared as it surged toward Professor Valen, twisting like serpents with an untamed hunger.

Valen's eyes never left hers, and she could feel his gaze like a pressure in the air. Her flames whipped outward, a wild arc of light and heat, but he stepped aside, fluid and effortless, as if he were simply drifting out of the way of a breeze.

Bloom wasn't slowing down. She wouldn't.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and the magic inside her thrummed, responding to the pulse of her emotions. The fire followed her lead, surging forward again, but this time with more force, more speed. She slashed at him with a blaze of fury, a wave of heat so intense it burned through the air between them. Valen dodged once more, his movements a graceful, practiced dance.

Her breath came in short, rapid bursts, but she didn't falter. She pushed harder. The fire wrapped around her hands like living ropes, twisting and coiling into blades, striking at him again and again.

"Good," Valen's voice came, low and steady, though his posture never shifted. He didn't flinch. He didn't even seem to sweat. "But you can do more."

Her chest tightened at his words, but she couldn't stop herself. More. She needed more. She needed to feel it. The power. The wildness of it. Her fingers flexed, and the flames flared with an intensity that made the air crackle, flickering so brightly that the shadows in the room seemed to shrink away.

She slashed with a wide arc, the fire sweeping through the air with a thunderous roar, but Valen was already behind her, effortlessly sidestepping her attack.

Damn him, she thought, grinding her teeth.

Her next strike came faster, harder. She focused, her magic responding to her anger, her frustration. But each time, he was just a step ahead. He was always a step ahead.

"Be the fire," Valen said, his voice calm, unshaken. "Stop thinking, and just feel it."

Feel it?

Bloom's eyes narrowed as her flames surged higher, the heat licking at her skin, but she could feel the twinge of hesitation, the tightness in her chest that wouldn't let her give in completely. The magic inside her raged like a storm, but she was still controlling it, steering it with her mind instead of surrendering to the flow of it.

She needed to trust it.

Trust the fire, she thought, pushing past the fear that gnawed at her.

Without thinking, Bloom spun on her heel, sending a blast of fire in every direction. The flames shot forward, twisting and spiraling with violent intensity, crackling and hissing in the air. She felt it then - the rush of energy, the freedom. It was like she was part of it, not just controlling it, but becoming it.

The flames felt alive to her, like they were part of her body, her mind. They responded to her without question. They wanted to burn, to consume, to create.

She let out a fierce cry, the heat building, growing, until the very walls of the training hall seemed to tremble under the sheer force of her magic.

Valen didn't dodge this time.

Instead, he stepped into the wave of fire, his gloved hand raised in front of him. The fire slammed against an invisible barrier that crackled with dark energy, sending sparks flying in all directions.

"Yes," Valen murmured, his voice low, almost satisfied. "That's what I wanted to see."

Bloom's heart pounded as she took a breath, still feeling the surge of energy rushing through her veins. Her magic still swirled in the air around her, crackling with life. The fire was there, wild and untamable, just like her.

"You have it," Valen said, stepping closer now, his eyes locked on her. "You've learned to trust it. To let it be."

She swallowed, her breath still heavy, her body still humming with the power of it. "I didn't know I could... feel it like that," she admitted, her voice a little shaky, but the pride in it was undeniable.

"You never will if you keep holding back," he replied. "Magic is not meant to be controlled in the way you think. It's meant to be embraced. To be a part of you. You can wield it, but first, you must become it."

"You say that like it's easy," she muttered, the words leaving her before she could stop them.

Valen's lips twitched at the corners. "Do you think the fire listens to hesitation?"

Before she could respond, he moved again -swift, a blur of motion- and suddenly, the air was thick with his presence. His hand was a breath away from hers, so close she could almost feel the coolness of his touch, even though they hadn't made contact.

"Again," he commanded.

The air around them crackled with a tension that almost felt tangible, electric. Bloom stood frozen for a split second, her chest still rising and falling from the explosion of energy she'd just unleashed.

Her hands trembled slightly, but it wasn't from exhaustion. It was from the rush of power, the wildness of it, still surging within her.

Her mind already calculated her next move, but Valen was watching her, his gaze unblinking, daring her to make the first move.

"What's the matter, Miss Bloom?" His voice was low, like a predator toying with its prey. "Afraid of the fire now?"

Her lips tightened, and she straightened her back, fighting the unease bubbling in her chest. "Afraid? I don't think so."

"Then show me," he taunted, his voice soft, the challenge unmistakable.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of answering right away. Instead, she focused, breathing deeply, letting the heat swirl up from the core of her body. The fire responded, curling and shifting in her hands like a living thing, almost as if it was waiting for her command.

Her flames erupted again, not in the uncontrolled fury they had before, but now with more precision, more deliberate force. She was learning to direct it, to shape it, but she could still feel the undercurrent of danger - this power wanted to run wild.

Valen didn't move this time. He simply raised his hand, and Bloom felt the pulse of dark energy pulse outward from him, meeting her flames head-on. The two forces collided, and the sound was deafening - the crack of fire slamming against shadow, energy crashing against energy.

Sparks flew like a shower of shooting stars, and the heat from both their powers made the air shimmer around them.

"Good," Valen said again. "But still not enough. Again."

Bloom clenched her jaw, refusing to show him how much his words got under her skin. Her magic, her fire, was powerful. She knew it. But she had to make him see it - had to make him feel it the way she did.

Without thinking, she spun, her hands already gathering the heat, pulling it up from the core of her being. Fire exploded from her fingers, the flames roaring to life as they twisted through the air, a fierce arc of heat that would've turned the training hall to ash if Valen hadn't been there.

And Valen didn't flinch. Instead, he stepped into the flames.

The shadows at his feet began to swell, growing and shifting, consuming the flames that were meant to scorch him. For a moment, Bloom could do nothing but stare as the battle of their magics unfolded - his darkness smothering her fire, pushing it back with a force she hadn't anticipated.

His magic was thick around him, like a dark shadow, bending and twisting the fire as if it were nothing more than a thread in his hands.

"Good," Valen's voice was a soft growl, a murmur that sent a thrill through her. "But not enough."

Bloom's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing faster than it should. She wasn't sure if it was from the magic, the heat, or the raw energy that crackled between them, but something was different. Something had shifted in the space between them, a pulse of awareness that hadn't been there before.

She exhaled slowly, gathering her fire once more, but this time, she didn't hesitate. The flames roared out of her, violent and untamed, the heat so intense it seemed to make the very air shimmer.

Valen's lips curled into a smirk, and for a heartbeat, Bloom thought he might actually be enjoying this - her power, her willingness to give in.

Then, with a sharp movement, he was on her again, close. His hand came up, barely a breath away from hers, his dark energy clashing against her flames, sending sparks flying between them.

She gasped, feeling the heat of his power wrap around her own, the sensation not unlike being caught in a storm. His touch was like a magnet, pulling her toward him, drawing her closer.

"Let go, Bloom," Valen murmured, his voice a smooth caress in the heated air. "Feel it. Become it."

His words were like a command, but they felt different. He wasn't just telling her to let go of the magic. He was telling her to let go of the fear, to stop holding back in every part of her being.

She clenched her fists, and the flames responded, surging forward with even more intensity. But this time, it wasn't just fire. It was desire - an uncontrollable force that burned through her veins, urging her to give herself to it completely.

"That's it," he said, his voice rougher now, barely above a whisper. The air between them was thick with the crackle of their magic, the energy swirling in tight, feverish waves. He stepped closer, his body almost pressed against hers, the heat from their powers merging and growing stronger, the air between them thick with tension.

Bloom could feel his breath on the back of her neck, the brush of his fingertips as he reached forward, so close, so dangerously close.

"You've learned to control it, but you haven't learned to let go of it," he murmured, his voice low, just for her. "You're still holding something back."

"How do you know?" she shot back, her voice sharp, but there was no mistaking the way her heart pounded in her chest, how her breath came faster. The proximity, the way he moved, the dark power he wielded - it was all too much, too close.

Valen's eyes darkened, his smirk turning into something more dangerous, more seductive. "Because you're still afraid of it. Afraid of hurting me."

Bloom's pulse skipped a beat. She couldn't deny the truth of his words, but she wasn't going to show him that weakness. Not yet.

"Is that so?" she said, her voice daring. "Maybe I'm just waiting for you to show me how it's done."

For a moment, Valen said nothing, the only sound in the room the crackle of their magic. Then, his lips brushed lightly against the shell of her ear, so close that it almost felt like a kiss.

"Trust me," he murmured. "I can show you exactly how it's done."

His presence enveloped her, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his, or the way he stood just a breath away, so close, yet not touching.

"Do it, then," she breathed, her voice low. The fire around her hands flickered, pulsed with anticipation, but she kept it under control, for now. The challenge hung between them, daring him to act, daring him to let go.

Valen didn't move immediately. Instead, he stared at her with an intensity that seemed to pierce right through her, like he was looking into the very heart of her. His lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"Do you even know what you're asking, little flame?" His voice was darker now, laced with something dangerous. "You think you can control this, but you're still fighting it."

"I'm not fighting anything," Bloom shot back, her tone defiant, though she could feel the slight tremble in her hands.

Valen took a step forward, closing the gap between them just a fraction more. His dark energy pulsed through the room, sending a chill through the air, like the calm before the storm. "You're not fighting me, Bloom. You're fighting yourself."

Bloom's heart hammered in her chest. He was right, in a way, but she wasn't going to let him have that victory. Not yet. She lifted her chin, eyes locking with his. "Then show me what I'm doing wrong," she challenged, her voice tight with frustration.

Valen's gaze darkened further, his smirk slipping. "You still think it's about controlling the fire."

Before she could react, he raised his hand, a pulse of dark energy shooting out, hitting her flames head-on, but instead of dousing them, he twisted them, bending the fire around them into strange patterns, making them dance and flicker in midair. The fire didn't burn him. It couldn't. It simply responded to his command, just as it responded to hers.

"Your fire is an extension of yourself," Valen said softly, his voice tinged with something almost teasing. "But you're trying to cage it. You can't cage fire. You can only set it free."

Bloom's breath caught, her flames twisting in response to the challenge. The heat surged again, her fingers trembling with the sheer force of the energy surging through her.

"Set it free?" she murmured.

Valen stepped even closer, his voice a low rasp in her ear. "You've been holding yourself back for too long. Let it out."

Bloom closed her eyes for a moment, letting the energy flow through her. The flames grew, growing with every heartbeat, burning brighter, hotter, wilder. They wrapped around her body like a living thing, a swirling mass of heat and light. She could feel the fire tugging at her, urging her to let go, to let it take over.

Her eyes shot open, and without thinking, she thrust her hand forward. A torrent of flame burst from her palm, swirling in every direction, cascading with the fury of a storm. The flames shot high into the air, dancing in the darkness of the room, a brilliant mix of red, orange, and gold.

Valen didn't move this time. He didn't need to.

The fire twisted around him, caressing him like a living thing. And for a moment, Bloom lost herself in it - in them - as if the fire and her were one. The power that had once been so foreign, so contained, now surged with a wild, untamed energy.

She stepped forward, the flames rising in her wake, feeling the magic flow through her veins, through her entire body. She let it course through her, felt it respond to her every movement.

"Good," Valen murmured. "Feel it. Don't fight it." His eyes never left her as the flames rose higher, as if the room itself were being consumed by their power.

Bloom's heart was pounding in her chest as she stood there, the heat from the fire still scorching, but now it didn't feel like a threat. It felt like part of her. Alive.

She turned, her magic swirling around her, a sea of fire in every direction. It felt like she could do anything, like the world was at her fingertips. She could burn everything down or rebuild it from the ashes, all with the fire she held within.

But then, just as suddenly, the flames halted, hanging in the air, suspended by some invisible force. Bloom froze, the fire quivering, waiting for her next command.

Valen didn't speak right away. He only watched her, his gaze steady, as if he was waiting for something. Waiting for her to see it for herself.

"Now," he said softly, "tell the fire to return to you. Not because you have to control it, but because you want it to."

Bloom exhaled slowly, her body still thrumming with energy, her heart beating erratically. She focused on the fire, felt the connection, felt it waiting for her.

With a breath, she let the flames curl inward, pulling them back to her, drawing them close again until they disappeared completely.

Valen's eyes followed the movement of the flames. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the soft hum of residual magic still vibrating in the air. Valen's gaze remained steady on her, as if he were studying her every reaction.

"That," he said, his voice low, "was what I wanted to see."

Bloom's chest tightened, the energy still thrumming beneath her skin. "I didn't think I could do that," she breathed, shaking her head as if trying to clear away the shock of it.

Valen took a step forward, his presence enveloping her once more. He was close enough now that she could feel the faint pulse of his magic, a dark, steady hum that blended with her own. His eyes never left hers, intense and full of something she couldn't quite place. Something deep.

"Of course you could." His voice was softer now, almost like a caress. "You've always had it in you. You've just been too afraid to let go of the reins."

Bloom frowned, her brow furrowing as she looked up at him. "But... how do I not hold back? How do I just... trust it?" She wasn't sure if she was asking him, or herself.

Valen's gaze softened, just slightly, his tone shifting to something more gentle. "You trust yourself first. You are the fire. You are the one who commands it. The fear will always be there. It's natural. But you can choose to step past it. And when you do, when you stop fighting... that's when you truly become unstoppable."

Her heart pounded in her chest, the weight of his words sinking deep. She could feel the fire -still warm in her hands, still alive in her veins- but there was a certain hesitation that lingered. The fear, the doubt that whispered in the back of her mind.

"I want to," she whispered, almost to herself. The fire in her chest surged in response, a small flicker of the raw power she had just unlocked.

Valen's lips curled slightly, the faintest hint of a smile. "Good. Show me again."

Bloom squared her shoulders, her fingers flexing as she breathed deeply.

The heat within her rose again, swirling in the pit of her stomach, and she let it expand, feel it coil through her body. With a deep breath, she thrust her hands forward once more, sending another blast of fire spiraling into the air, this time even larger than before.

The flames roared with life, crackling and twisting, burning with a wild ferocity. She could feel the power coursing through her, more intense, more alive. The magic wasn't something she controlled anymore - it was something that flowed with her, as if they were one.

Valen didn't flinch, didn't step back. He stood his ground, his gaze unwavering as the fire engulfed the space between them. For a moment, he didn't move, simply watched as the flames danced in the air, responding to Bloom's will.

Bloom's eyes narrowed as she willed the fire to expand even further, to push the boundaries of her magic, to make the flames respond with all the force she had within her. But even as she did, a little voice in her head screamed at her to stop - to be careful.

"No more hesitation," Valen's voice broke through her thoughts. "Let it go."

The words hit her like a spark to tinder.

Bloom inhaled sharply, and in that breath, her hands moved with fluid precision, and the flames responded, leaping higher and brighter, twisting in wild patterns, the air crackling with the force of it. She felt the fire grow, felt it take over, but this time - this time, she didn't fight it.

She welcomed it.

Her chest expanded with the release, and she reveled in the feeling of power that surged through her. It wasn't just fire. It wasn't just magic. It was her.

The room shook with the force of it, the walls trembling beneath the energy that radiated out from her. But Bloom didn't falter. Her hands didn't hesitate. She felt it all - the heat, the power, the freedom.

Valen stood still. "There," he said quietly, his voice filled with something almost reverent. "That is the fire I've been waiting to see."

Bloom's breath was ragged, the room still alive with the echo of her magic. She lowered her hands slowly, the fire retracting with a soft, reluctant sizzle, but she felt it in her - felt the heat still flickering beneath her skin, ready for the next moment. Ready for whatever came next.

"Don't stop now," Valen said, his voice like a challenge again. "We're just getting started."

She shifted her stance, her eyes never leaving him. Her fingers crackled with fire. She gathered the energy, focused, and as the flames surged from her hands, they took shape - spinning into a sharp, gleaming sword of fire.

The sword was beautiful, its edge crackling with raw power, the heat of it almost visible in the air. Bloom swung it toward him, the flame-sword cutting through the air like a flash of lightning.

Valen raised a hand, his dark energy swirling to meet the blade. The impact was fierce, the air crackling with the force of their magic, but he held firm. He blocked it, his fingers glowing with power as he absorbed the attack.

"Impressive," he said, his voice laced with approval. "But you're still trying to control it."

With a growl, Bloom pulled back the sword and focused again. She wasn't going to stop. Not now. Not when she was this close to something incredible.

This time, the fire didn't take the shape of a sword. Instead, it surged upward in a wide arc, forming a massive, glowing spear of flame, the point sharp and dangerous.

She hurled the spear at him with all her might, the flames roaring as they flew through the air.

Valen's eyes flashed with something akin to admiration, but he didn't move, didn't flinch. Instead, he raised both hands and twisted them with a slow, deliberate motion, creating an opposing wall of dark energy. The spear of fire collided with the wall, sending shockwaves through the air, but Valen's barrier held firm.

"Good," Valen said again, his voice deeper now, almost approving. "But you need to stop thinking about what you're creating and focus on the feeling, the connection. Let the fire know what it is you want."

Bloom's brow furrowed, frustration and determination warring inside her. She could do this. She could.

With a breath, she closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, she was no longer just focusing on the flame. She felt the fire within her, felt the power that surged through her entire body. She let it course through her, and with a fierce cry, she released it again.

This time, the flames erupted from her in all directions, twisting into long ribbons of fire that spiraled upward, around her, and toward Valen. It was as though she were no longer controlling them. They were with her, an extension of herself, wild and free.

Valen's smirk returned, though there was something darker to it now. "Beautiful," he murmured, and in a flash of movement, he was gone, disappearing into the swirling inferno.

Bloom didn't have time to react. He appeared directly in front of her, his body barely a shadow in the midst of her flames. She instinctively raised her hands, and the flames responded, forming a swirling shield of fire around her.

He was fast, faster than she'd expected. But she was faster now too.

"You'll need to be quicker if you want to catch me," he said, his voice a teasing growl.

Before she could respond, he darted forward again, this time his dark energy coiling around his hands like tendrils of smoke. He lashed out, forcing her to retreat, the flames around her snapping in response to his movements.

Bloom, however, was faster this time. She pushed forward, her hand extended, and a long ribbon of fire erupted from her, twisting around Valen's dark energy, breaking through his defenses. The fire coiled around him like a snake, and for a moment, she saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

He didn't hesitate for long. He reversed the flow of his magic, forcing her flames to bend back on themselves.

"I like the aggression," he said, his lips curling into a grin, "but you're still not listening to your fire. What's the point of all that strength if you're not one with it?"

Bloom gritted her teeth, frustration starting to claw at her. But she wouldn't let him get to her.

Valen's gaze darkened. "You're getting close," he said. "But remember, control is overrated."

And then, without warning, he lunged, his movements blindingly fast, closing the distance between them in an instant.

Bloom didn't flinch. She thrust her hands forward, and the flames responded - this time they were no longer just a barrier. This time, they lashed out like claws, sharp and vicious, with every ounce of power she had. The fire surged forward in wild arcs, her magic and Valen's dark energy clashing with explosive force.

For a moment, there was nothing but a massive storm of fire and magic, swirling around them like a battleground. The room filled with the crackling sounds of their powers colliding, the heat of it all burning through the air.

And then, with a final, explosive burst of magic, the room fell silent, save for the faint hiss of dissipating flames. Both of them stood in the aftermath of the storm they'd created.

Valen looked at her, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Not bad, little flame," he said. "Not bad at all."

Chapter Text

Weeks blurred into each other as Bloom's training with Professor Valen progressed at a neck-breaking pace.

After that moment of reckoning, when she had finally let go of her fear, her magic had blossomed in a way she hadn't thought possible. Each session left her feeling more connected to her Dragon Fire, as if it were no longer just a part of her; it was her.

Her magic wasn't a tool. It wasn't something to be tamed or controlled - it was something that responded to her. Bloom could feel the raw energy coursing through her every nerve, every fiber of her being, pulsing with power and life.

The training hall had become a battleground of sorts - except instead of clashing swords and steel, it was fire and dark energy, raw magic meeting with dark power in a dance of unpredictability.

Each week, Professor Valen pushed her further, forced her to test her limits.

Bloom was standing across from him, her breath steady, her body warmed from the training she'd already undergone. Her hands crackled with heat, the familiar spark of magic dancing in her palms.

Valen, as ever, was in his usual stance - relaxed, calm, his grey eyes steady as he observed her.

"Are you ready?" Valen's voice was low.

Bloom's lips curved into a confident smile. "Born ready."

He raised an eyebrow, and a slight smirk played at the edge of his mouth. "We'll see."

Without another word, he darted forward, a blur of movement, and Bloom's heart skipped. He was faster than she had anticipated - every day, his precision in magic seemed to grow sharper, his attacks more calculated.

His control was something entirely different, something Bloom admired even as it pushed her to her limits.

She reacted instinctively. The flames around her flared up, shooting outward as she thrust her hands forward, releasing a concentrated stream of fire.

But Valen was already there, his hand moving in a graceful arc, a shield of dark energy emerging in front of him, absorbing the brunt of the blast. The impact shook the room, but Valen didn't budge. Instead, he grinned, dark energy crackling around his form.

"Is that the best you've got?" he teased, his voice dripping with challenge.

Bloom narrowed her eyes, frustration lighting a spark of defiance within her. "No. Not even close."

With a breath, she focused again, her fire swirling around her. The power was alive within her. She could feel it - could feel the flames twisting, urging her to let go, to release them fully.

Bloom threw her arms wide, and this time, the fire responded in kind.

A massive, swirling vortex of flame erupted from her hands, spiraling upward, spreading outward like the wings of a dragon. The heat was intense, the air warping as the flames soared, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls of the training hall.

Valen's expression darkened, the amusement gone, replaced by something far more intense. He raised both hands, dark energy gathering around his palms, a protective barrier forming just as the vortex of fire crashed into it.

The two opposing forces met with a violent burst, the force of the collision rattling the entire hall. The air crackled with energy, the flames and dark energy battling for dominance, neither willing to give an inch.

Bloom held her ground, pushing her magic further. She could feel the heat, the power, swirling around her like a living thing, her fire pushing, pushing against the dark wall Valen had created. Her body was alive with the magic, the heat from her flames feeding the rush of energy, the strength she had found in herself.

But then, something shifted. Something inside her snapped into place.

The fire was hers. All of it.

Without thinking, she willed it forward, a single wave of flame cutting through the barrier of dark energy. The flames rushed past Valen, engulfing the space between them, encircling him in a storm of burning heat.

Valen didn't flinch. Instead, his form blurred, disappearing for a moment, and when he reappeared, he was standing just a few feet in front of her, surrounded by swirling shadows of dark magic.

"You're getting better," he said, his voice low and approving, though the hint of teasing still lingered. "Attack me again. But this time, don't just throw your fire around. Use it with purpose. Channel it. Let it flow through you, not just from you."

Bloom swallowed, the fire still swirling within her. She raised her hand, her fingers crackling, and this time, instead of hurling fire at him, she willed it into something new.

The flames twisted, coiling around her arm like molten ribbons before leaping forward, elongating, refining - until a weapon took shape in her grasp. A sword, glowing with searing heat, its blade flickering between solid and liquid fire.

Valen's eyes gleamed as he tilted his head. "Use it," he murmured. "Let's see if you can land a hit."

Challenge accepted.

Bloom didn't hesitate. With a flick of her wrist, she slashed the flaming sword through the air, sending an arc of fire racing toward him.

Valen dodged left, but she adjusted mid-motion, twisting her body and swinging the weapon in a sweeping arc. The fire expanded with her movement, a burning crescent slicing through the air.

For the first time, Valen had to throw up a full barrier of darkness to block it. The impact sent a gust of heated wind whipping through the hall, making the torches lining the walls flicker violently.

When the flames settled, Valen lowered his hand, his smirk turning razor-sharp. "You almost had me."

Bloom rolled her shoulders, her confidence burning as hot as the fire at her fingertips. "Next time, I will."

Valen let out a low chuckle, something dark and amused threading through the sound. "I look forward to it."

Bloom barely had time to catch her breath before the professor moved again. A shadow, a blur, fast as a whisper - one second he was standing across from her, the next he was behind her, a coil of dark magic crackling at his fingertips.

"Too slow," he murmured.

Bloom whirled around, instinct taking over. Fire erupted from her palms, twisting into a spear before she could even think. She lunged, the blade of flame crackling with raw heat as it sliced toward him.

Valen sidestepped, but this time, she didn't miss entirely. The edge of her fire licked the hem of his black coat, burning away the fabric in an instant. He raised a brow, impressed, even as he lifted a hand and summoned the darkness to smother the flames.

"Getting bold, aren't we?" His voice was low, edged with amusement.

Bloom smirked, flipping the spear in her grip. "You told me to use it."

Without warning, she struck again - thrusting the spear forward, then shifting it mid-motion, letting the fire reshape into a whip of molten gold. It snapped through the air with lethal precision, forcing Valen back, his expression shifting from smug to something more focused, more intense.

Their magic filled the space between them - fire and shadow, colliding and dancing, pushing and pulling. The fight wasn't just training anymore; it was a conversation, a challenge, an unspoken dare.

Bloom had never felt this alive.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent another wave of fire surging toward him, but Valen didn't dodge this time. He stepped into the blaze, letting the heat curl around him, letting the darkness swallow the flames before they could reach him.

Then he was there, right in front of her.

His hand shot out, fingers grazing her wrist, just barely. A shiver -not of fear, but of something unspeakable- ran through her. The air between them crackled, thick with magic.

Too close.

She could feel the coolness of his power clashing with the fire raging inside her, could see the way his gaze darkened, sharp and assessing, his smirk replaced by something else.

"You hesitated before you attacked," he murmured, his voice just a breath above a whisper.

"I did not," she shot back, but her voice had lost its usual bite.

His lips quirked. "Liar."

The moment stretched - fire flickering in her eyes, shadows curling in his. Neither of them moved, neither of them breathed, the space between them charged with heat and tension, burning and fraying at the edges.

Then-

"Ahem." The sound of someone clearing their throat shattered the moment like a stone through glass.

Bloom jolted, stepping back instinctively. Valen's expression barely flickered, but the briefest hint of irritation ghosted across his features before he turned toward the doorway.

Headmistress Faragonda stood there, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

Bloom's stomach dropped.

"Forgive the interruption," Miss Faragonda said, arching a delicate brow, "but I do believe this is a training session, not... whatever that is."

Heat -different from her magic- flushed up Bloom's neck. "We were just-"

"I could see exactly what you were doing," Miss Faragonda said smoothly, giving Valen a disapproving look before turning back to Bloom. "Though I do admire your progress."

Bloom didn't dare glance at Valen, but she could feel his smirk return, practically radiating amusement.

"Headmistress," he said with that same insufferable drawl, "I assure you, I'm merely doing my duty as an instructor."

The older woman didn't look convinced. "Indeed."

Bloom's fingers twitched, remnants of fire still simmering in her palms.

"Well," Faragonda continued, clapping her hands lightly. "Since you both seem to be so thoroughly engaged, I suppose I'll leave you to it. But I expect you in my office after you're done, Bloom."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving behind a silence so thick Bloom wanted to disappear into the floor.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then-

"Next time," Valen mused, glancing at her, "I suggest we save the near-kiss for when we're alone."

Bloom groaned, throwing a small burst of fire at him.

He laughed, dodging effortlessly, his smirk lingering.

And despite herself, despite everything-

Bloom found herself grinning. "You're the worst."

"You say that," He looked entirely unbothered, his voice a lazy drawl. "But I think you'd miss me if I were gone."

Bloom scoffed. "Miss the endless teasing? The smug comments? The way you-"

She stopped herself.

His expression sharpened slightly, like he'd caught something in her voice. That shouldn't have sent a shiver down her spine. It really shouldn't have.

"The way I what, Miss Bloom?"

Nope. Not going there.

She squared her shoulders, ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks. "Nothing. Forget it."

Valen chuckled, shaking his head. "And here I was, thinking you were finally getting bolder."

She was bold. Just not stupid. "Stop saying that."

"Make me."

So instead of responding, she threw another ball of fire straight at his face.

He dodged it easily, but his grin sharpened. "Resorting to cheap shots now?"

Bloom smirked. "You said to make you stop."

Valen's eyes darkened - not with anger, but something more intense. "Alright then, Miss Bloom," he murmured. "Let's see what you've really got."

And before she could react, he attacked. Valen moved like a shadow - silent, fast, untouchable. A surge of dark energy shot toward her, sharp as a blade.

But Bloom was faster. She ducked, rolling to the side as her fire ignited around her fists. With a quick pivot, she sent a wave of flames slicing through the air.

Valen countered with a flick of his wrist, shadows rising like smoke to swallow her attack whole.

His smirk was all teeth. "You're getting predictable."

Bloom growled under her breath and lunged, summoning the flaming spear in her hands. She struck hard, aiming straight for his side.

He dodged, but barely.

The tip of her weapon grazed his sleeve, the heat singing the edge of his coat.

For the first time, Valen actually looked impressed. Then he retaliated.

With a sharp flick of his fingers, darkness lashed toward her, a whip of shadow meant to knock her off balance. Bloom barely managed to block it, twisting mid-air to land in a crouch.

She grinned. "That all you got?"

Valen arched a brow. "Cocky, are we?"

Bloom spun the spear in her hands, the fire crackling like a heartbeat. "No. Just confident."

Valen's smirk turned razor-sharp. "Good." And then, without warning, he blurred forward.

Their fight exploded back to life - fire and shadow clashing in the dimly lit training hall, the air thick with magic. This time, Bloom wasn't holding back. She attacked with precision, her flames shifting mid-strike, transforming from spear to whip to sword.

She was in control. And judging by the look in Valen's eyes, he knew it. But he wasn't going to make it easy for her.

He countered every strike with flawless precision, shadows curling around him like a second skin. He was stronger, more experienced - but Bloom was faster, her fire wilder, untamed in a way he hadn't quite anticipated.

And she wasn't stopping.

For the first time, Valen was on the defensive, forced to retreat as Bloom advanced, her flames flaring higher, stronger.

She could win this. She could beat him.

And then-

In a blur of motion, Valen twisted, stepping into her space so quickly she barely had time to react. One second, she was striking forward, the next...

His hand closed around her wrist, twisting just enough to send her flaming sword clattering to the ground. Shadows wrapped around her ankles, pulling her slightly off balance.

And just like that, she was pinned again, her back against the stone wall, his body too close, his breath ghosting against her skin.

Her fire flickered in response, heat coiling in her chest, caught somewhere between frustration and-

Something else.

"You got reckless," he murmured, his voice low. "Almost had me, but you let your guard down."

Bloom scowled, her heart still racing. "I could say the same about you."

His grip on her wrist tightened slightly. "Could you?"

Bloom arched a brow. "I singed your coat."

Valen glanced down at the darkened fabric, then back at her. "Mm. Maybe I let you."

Bloom huffed. "You're insufferable."

His smirk returned, slow and knowing. "And you're improving."

A beat of silence. The air thickened again, something that made Bloom hyper-aware of just how close they were.

Then, just when she thought he might actually step back-

He leaned in just a fraction. Not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel the chill of his magic teasing against the fire still burning inside her.

"Again," he murmured.

Bloom blinked. "What?"

Valen's smirk deepened. "We're not done for the day, little flame."

Bloom let out an exhausted groan. "You have to be joking."

He pulled back, stepping away like he hadn't just been right there, like he wasn't the single most infuriating person she'd ever met. "You can rest when you actually land a solid hit."

Bloom clenched her fists, her fire roaring back to life. "Fine."

Valen's smirk was wicked. "Good. Then come at me."

Bloom hesitated outside Headmistress Faragonda's office, still feeling the phantom heat of the fight coursing through her veins. Her hair was a wild mess, her clothes slightly singed, and her body ached in ways she was sure she'd regret tomorrow. Every part of her was screaming for a shower and bed, but instead, here she was.

She took a steadying breath and knocked.

"Enter," came the familiar, calm voice.

Bloom stepped inside, half-expecting a lecture, maybe even some disapproving looks. Instead, Faragonda sat behind her desk, hands folded neatly, watching her with a knowing expression. The office, as always, was warm and inviting. Bookshelves lined the walls, a gentle golden light filled the room, and a faint scent of herbs lingered in the air.

"Sit," Faragonda said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Bloom obeyed, still bracing herself for whatever was coming. For a moment, the headmistress simply studied her, as if assessing something unseen.

"Your progress is impressive," Faragonda said at last, a small smile forming on her lips. "Your control, your confidence- it's clear Professor Valen's methods are effective."

Bloom blinked. "...Thank you?"

Faragonda chuckled softly. "You sound surprised."

"I just... I thought you were going to scold me."

"For what?"

"I...- ugh... For-" She didn't know how to answer her.

"Bloom," Faragonda interrupted gently, "you've unlocked something in yourself. Truly unlocked it. I won't reprimand you for that. Whatever Professor Valen's methods may be... they appear to be working."

Bloom exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "Yeah. They are."

Faragonda's sharp gaze didn't waver. "And how do you feel about that?"

Bloom hesitated. She wasn't sure how to put it into words.

Because if she was honest? It felt amazing.

She'd been afraid of her new powers, afraid of herself. And now the fire answered her. It had become her.

Faragonda waited patiently, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched between them, not unkind but expectant, as if she was giving Bloom the space to figure out her own thoughts before voicing them aloud.

Bloom shifted in her seat, running a hand through her tangled hair. "It feels..." She hesitated, then let out a breath. "It feels right."

Faragonda nodded,.

Bloom leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "But it also feels... different. Like, for the first time, I'm not just using my fire. I am my fire. And that's not scary anymore."

Faragonda's gaze softened. "That is an important realization."

Bloom frowned slightly, drumming her fingers on her knee. "But at the same time, it's like I've opened a door, and I don't know what's on the other side. What if there's more power than I can handle? What if I take it too far?"

Faragonda tilted her head. "Did it feel like too much today?"

Bloom shook her head slowly. "No. It felt like I finally stopped fighting it. Like I finally let it be what it was meant to be."

Faragonda gave her a knowing look. "Then trust yourself."

Bloom exhaled, letting those words settle in her mind.

Faragonda studied her for a moment longer, then her lips curved slightly. "I imagine Professor Valen has been... an interesting instructor."

Bloom let out a breathy laugh, rubbing her temples. "You could say that."

Faragonda's eyes twinkled with something unreadable. "He's challenging you, isn't he?"

"That's one way to put it," Bloom muttered. "He's relentless. He pushes me to my limit, and then past it."

Faragonda arched a brow. "And yet, here you are, stronger than before."

Bloom sighed, tilting her head back against the chair. "Yeah. I hate to admit it, but... I think I needed someone like him."

Faragonda nodded. "I chose Professor Valen chosen for a reason. He understands power in a way few do, although his methods may be... unconventional."

Bloom snorted. "Unconventional is one way to see it. Infuriating is another."

Faragonda chuckled. "But you're learning."

Bloom opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. She was learning. Faster than she ever had before.

Faragonda leaned back in her chair. "Tell me, what do you think of him?"

Bloom blinked at the sudden shift. "Professor Valen?"

Faragonda gave a knowing nod.

Bloom huffed, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Like I said, he's relentless. And he definitely enjoys getting under my skin. But... he's good at what he does."

Faragonda arched a brow. "Is that all?"

Bloom hesitated. Was that all?

She thought about the way he looked at her when she was on the brink of something new, the way his voice dropped to that low, teasing murmur when he challenged her. The way the air between them had crackled when he stood too close.

Her face burned. "Yes. That's all."

Faragonda's smile softened. "Then I'll leave you with just one last thought."

Bloom lifted her gaze.

Faragonda's expression turned serious. "The Dragon Flame is powerful, Bloom. But power is shaped by those who wield it. You must decide what kind of flame yours will be - one that burns recklessly, or one that brings light."

Bloom swallowed, nodding slowly.

Faragonda's eyes softened. "I believe you will choose wisely."

"...Thanks, Headmistress."

Faragonda nodded. "Now, go get some rest. You'll need it."

Bloom groaned as she stood. "Let me guess; because Professor Valen's planning to kill me with training tomorrow?"

Faragonda chuckled. "Possibly."

Bloom shook her head and headed for the door. But just as she reached it, Faragonda called out one last time.

"And Bloom?"

She turned, meeting the headmistress's gaze.

Faragonda's smile was almost too knowing. "Do try to keep your training professional."

Bloom's face burned. "I- what...I don't-"

Faragonda chuckled, her amusement unmistakable. "Goodnight, Bloom."

Bloom practically fled.

As she walked down the hallway, her mind was still racing - not just from the conversation but from the fact that Faragonda knew.

Great. Like she didn't already have enough to deal with.

And somehow, she knew Professor Valen was never going to let her live this down.

Chapter Text

The dream had returned.

Bloom bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. Her heart pounded in her chest, wild and erratic, as if she had just run for miles. Sweat clung to her skin, dampening the sheets despite the cool breeze drifting through the open window. Moonlight filtered through the glass, casting soft silver beams across her trembling hands.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to grasp onto the fragments of the dream before they slipped away, like sand slipping between her fingers, like mist dissolving with the morning light.

But the emotions remained.

A hollow ache in her chest, raw and familiar. Grief. Desperation. A sense of loss so deep it didn't even feel like her own.

Daphne.

She had seen her again. Her ethereal figure wreathed in golden light, her voice distorted yet urgent, calling out to her. But the words had been swallowed by the shadows, drowned beneath a power Bloom could not yet comprehend.

Still, that feeling lingered. That aching, suffocating certainty that something had been stolen from her - something vital, something she was meant to find.

But what? Bloom ran a shaky hand through her tangled hair, trying to steady her breath.

It had been weeks since her last dream - weeks without that voice reaching for her from the darkness, without those visions of fire and sorrow. She had almost convinced herself they were gone.

But now they were back. And they were stronger than before.

Bloom swallowed hard, pressing her palms against her face. Sleep was impossible now - her mind was too awake, too tangled in the remnants of something she couldn't fully grasp.

She needed to know the truth.

She had searched Alfea's archives already, flipping through pages upon pages of recorded history, only to find nothing. No official records of the Fall of Domino. No written accounts of what had truly happened that night when her kingdom had been lost to ice and ruin.

The truth had been erased. Hidden.

But why?

Her hands curled into fists against the blankets.

If Alfea's archives wouldn't give her answers, then she would have to find them somewhere else.

The next time the Winx ventured into Magix, it was under the guise of something entirely ordinary - a shopping trip. Or, at least, that's what Stella had promised.

In reality, it was a full-scale, military-grade operation to find the perfect dress for her upcoming Princess Ball, and she had made it very clear that settling for anything less than perfection was not an option.

"You don't understand," Stella had said dramatically on the way to the boutiques. "A dress isn't just a dress. It's a statement. It needs to say regal yet breathtaking, elegant yet utterly unforgettable. It needs to scream I am a radiant celestial being while also whispering effortlessly stylish."

"So... no pressure," Tecna deadpanned.

"Exactly!"

The girls had barely stepped into the first boutique when Stella whirled around, hands on her hips, her eyes gleaming like a queen addressing her royal court.

"Alright, ladies, today's mission is simple: Find me a dress worthy of a fashion goddess!"

Flora smiled as she flipped through a rack of dresses. "You mean yourself?"

"Obviously," Stella said, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder.

A chorus of laughter followed as they dove into shimmering fabrics and dazzling accessories. Dresses of every color and texture surrounded them - silks, satins, flowing chiffon, intricate bead-work. Racks of shoes, gloves, and jewelry lined the walls, each piece designed to be just as extravagant as the next.

Layla lifted a dress with an elaborate feathered train, raising an eyebrow. "Too much?"

Stella barely spared it a glance. "Not enough."

Bloom laughed along with them, but her mind was elsewhere.

She lingered near the entrance, eyes flickering toward the street outside. The Magix Public Archive was only a few blocks away.

She hesitated. She should tell them what she was planning.

But... what if they insisted on coming with her? It wasn't that she didn't trust them - she did. More than anything. But this... this was her power. Her burden to uncover.

She glanced at Stella, who was currently draping a bright gold sash around an unimpressed Musa.

Maybe just a quick trip.

Slipping away while they were distracted, Bloom hurried down the street.

Bloom pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she approached the towering structure of the Magix Public Archive. The building loomed before her, an imposing fortress of knowledge, its high marble pillars stretching toward the cloudy sky. Right beside it, the Magical Council's headquarters stood just as grand, its polished domes and spires gleaming even under the dim afternoon light.

The Archive's massive doors were open, welcoming scholars, historians, and knowledge seekers into its depths.

Bloom exhaled, steeling herself. This was it.

Just as she took a step forward, something -or rather, someone- caught her eye.

A dark figure moved swiftly near the Magical Council's entrance. A long black coat billowed behind him, the faintest glimpse of blonde hair visible before disappearing beyond the towering doors.

Bloom's breath hitched.

Professor Valen? Why would he be at the Council Headquarters?

For a moment, her entire focus snapped away from the Archive, her thoughts spinning. The figure disappeared behind the columns, the black fabric of his coat barely visible before vanishing entirely.

Bloom frowned, her pulse quickening. Was that really him?

Probably not, she told herself, shaking off the thought. Focus, Bloom.

Her goal was clear. The Fall of Domino.

Turning away from the Council building, she stepped into the Archive instead.

The vast hall was filled with the scent of parchment and candle wax. Towering bookshelves stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, and enchanted lanterns floated overhead, their soft golden light illuminating the endless rows of knowledge.

Bloom approached the central desk, where an elderly librarian sat, her sharp eyes glinting behind thin spectacles. A quill floated beside her, scribbling notes in midair.

Clearing her throat, Bloom stepped forward. "Excuse me."

The woman glanced up, taking her in with quiet curiosity. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for historical records," Bloom said, keeping her voice steady. "About... Domino. Specifically, the events surrounding its fall."

The librarian didn't speak at first. Her gaze sharpened, assessing. Then, with a slow nod, she stood. "Follow me."

They wove through towering bookshelves, past sections labeled Ancient Magical Creatures, Runes and Spells of the Old Kingdoms, and Council Legislation Through the Ages. The deeper they went, the quieter the Archive became, as though even sound hesitated to disturb this place.

At last, they reached a section marked Historical Records.

The librarian gestured toward the shelves. "You'll find it here."

Bloom exhaled, murmuring a quick thank you. As the woman shuffled away, she turned to the endless tomes before her, their spines lined with the weight of lost stories.

Her fingers hovered over them.

Let something be here. Please. Taking a deep breath, she began to search.

Dust rose in thin, swirling wisps as Bloom pulled a heavy leather-bound tome from the shelf. Its cover, once adorned with golden filigree, was now worn and faded with time. Records of the Great Cataclysm: The Fall of Domino.

Her heart pounded as she carried it to a nearby table, the soft glow of floating lanterns casting flickering light over the page. She flipped it open.

The first pages detailed Domino's golden age.

Bloom's eyes skimmed the text, absorbing every word.

"Before its fall, the planet of Domino stood as the beacon of power and prosperity, a kingdom unmatched in magical strength, wisdom, and beauty. Ruled by a noble and just lineage, the royal family possessed an extraordinary connection to the very force that created the Magical Dimension - the Dragon Flame."

Bloom swallowed. That much, she already knew.

"It was this power that made Domino a coveted jewel, one that drew not only admiration, but also envy and darkness. From the farthest reaches of the universe, three ancient witches, known as the  Ancestresses , turned their greedy eyes upon the kingdom. Their hunger was simple, yet terrible - to claim the Dragon Flame as their own, to twist its creation magic into destruction, and to make themselves the true rulers of all existence."

Bloom's eyes widened and a shiver crawled down her arms. The Ancestresses. She had never heard of them before.

She turned the page.

"The Ancestresses - goddesses of darkness in their own right - descended upon Domino with an army of horrors. Their magic was not like the witches of today, but something older, something raw and nightmarish. Time itself bent to their will, the stars trembled at their power. And yet, Domino stood defiant."

A large illustration filled the page - a breathtaking depiction of a once-thriving kingdom, golden towers gleaming under twin suns, waterfalls of light cascading from floating islands. But in the distance, an ominous storm churned, shadows creeping over the land like an unrelenting tide.

"The royal family and their forces, led by King Oritel and Queen Marion, stood against the darkness. Their daughter, Daphne, was not only the heir to the throne but also a Guardian of the Dragon Flame. With her unparalleled mastery of the fire, she became the kingdom's greatest shield. But even her power alone was not enough against the Ancestresses."

Bloom's breath caught.

"It was then that the greatest alliance in history was forged - the Company of Light, a gathering of the most powerful warriors and mages from across the Magical Dimension. Together, they clashed against the Ancestresses in a war that shook the very foundations of the planet. Their battle raged for days, neither side yielding, the fate of all existence hanging in the balance."

Another illustration filled the page - warriors of every kind, sorcerers and knights, standing against the monstrous forms of three looming figures cloaked in shadows, their eyes glowing with unnatural power.

Bloom could almost hear the clash of swords, the roar of fire and lightning, the cries of warriors locked in desperate combat.

Her fingers trembling slightly.

"At last, the Company of Light prevailed. One by one, the Ancestresses fell - cast down, their physical forms destroyed, their spirits banished into the void. But as they faded, they uttered a final, terrible curse, one that even the Company of Light could not stop."

Bloom's hands tightened around the edges of the book.

"With their dying breath, the Ancestresses wove a spell of ice and death, one last act of vengeance. A storm unlike any before swept across Domino, freezing the rivers, the mountains, the cities - until nothing remained but an endless wasteland of ice and silence. The kingdom, once filled with life, was left in ruin. The people, the warriors, the rulers - all perished, entombed in frost, their magic extinguished forever."

Her vision blurred as she stared at the words.

No one survived.

The people... the entire kingdom... gone.

"The destruction of Domino left a scar across the magical dimension and market the greatest tragedy in magical history. With the fall of Domino, the legacy of the royal family and the ancient guardians of the Dragon Flame vanished. It is believed that Daphne perished alongside her people."

Bloom's heart clenched.

No. She had seen Daphne. She had felt her presence, heard her voice calling out to her in dreams. Could it really be true? Had Daphne perished along with her people?

Bloom turned the page, desperate to continue, to find some hint, some clue that could guide her through this labyrinth of loss and unanswered questions.

The next passage detailed the aftermath - the long, cold years following the Fall of Domino. How the magical world mourned, how the echoes of the disaster rippled through every corner of the Dimension. But there was no mention of Daphne. No mention of a body, no trace of her disappearance.

"In the years following the destruction of Domino, the surviving members of the Company of Light became heroes of the magical world. They were the ones who helped rebuild, who restored peace and order to a fractured Dimension. They are now revered as the guardians of the realm, the last line of defense against any new threats that may arise."

But what caught her eye were the names listed in the next part of the passage. Three surviving members, three names that were far more familiar than she ever expected.

"Among the last living members of the Company are Faragonda, Headmistress of Alfea; Griffin of Cloud Tower; and Saladin, Headmaster of Red Fountain. These three great leaders are the last protectors of the magical realm, keeping the peace and ensuring that the lessons of the past are never forgotten."

Her heart skipped a beat, her gaze locking on the name she had least expected: Faragonda.

Headmistress Faragonda? Bloom felt a strange tension knot in her chest. She'd known Faragonda had a history, of course - there had always been something about her that seemed both ancient and wise.

But she had never imagined that the kind, gentle woman who guided her at Alfea was one of the legendary figures from the battle that had shaped the entire Magical Dimension.

Faragonda had been there. She had fought in the battle to save Domino. How was this possible?

Bloom's fingers trembled as she turned the page, eager to uncover more, but there was nothing more in the records. The history section of the archive seemed to have only grazed the surface, not delving into the actual roles these individuals had played during the battle.

There was no mention of how Faragonda had been involved, what part she had taken in defeating the Ancestresses, or her role in the Company of Light.

The silence around her seemed to grow oppressive, the weight of her discovery heavy in her chest. Bloom glanced back at the book and the words that seemed to echo louder than before, a strange clarity forming in her mind.

Faragonda, Griffin, Saladin... The three surviving members, the final protectors.

The three surviving members of the Company of Light - three people who had not only witnessed the fall of Domino but had fought in that war, risking their lives to save the entire magical world. But what Bloom couldn't understand was how they had survived.

The records had been clear - no one else had made it. The entire population of Domino had perished, their lives frozen by the curse of the Ancestresses, leaving nothing behind but an endless wasteland of ice. The people, the warriors, the royal family - all gone.

Yet these three -Faragonda, Griffin, and Saladin- had lived. They were untouched by the ice storm, unaffected by the curse that had obliterated an entire planet.

How? How had they escaped when no one else had?

Her mind raced, trying to connect the dots. Was there something about their magic that had protected them? Or had it been sheer luck? But the more she thought about it, the less likely that explanation seemed.

The Ancestresses had not just wielded magic - they had commanded the very forces of death and destruction itself. A curse that had wiped out everyone on Domino... and yet, somehow, Faragonda and the others had survived.

But then... what about Daphne? Bloom's chest tightened at the thought of her. Daphne, the last heir of the royal family, a Guardian of the Dragon Flame, had given everything to protect her kingdom. And yet, according to the records, it was believed that she perished with her people.

Bloom's heart clenched painfully at the thought. She had seen Daphne - she had heard her voice, calling out to her in dreams. Daphne had been there in her dreams, urging her to unlock the Dragon Flame's true power.

Was Daphne really gone? Had she perished alongside her people, as the records claimed? Or had something else happened?

Bloom sat at the small wooden desk in the archive, the flickering light of nearby lanterns casting long shadows across the stacks of books piled around her. Her fingers itched to turn the pages faster, but she held herself back.

Her eyes moved from one tome to another, each thick with history, but none of the books offered anything beyond what she had already learned.

Every record seemed to say the same thing.

The kingdom of Domino had been a golden beacon of power and magic, until it was destroyed by the curse of the Ancestresses, who sought to steal the Dragon Flame. After a long battle, the Company of Light had defeated them, but at the cost of Domino's people. Everything had been frozen in a storm of ice, leaving no survivors... except for the Company of Light.

But that didn't make sense.

Bloom's fingers trembled as she flipped through another book. The history of Domino, the rise and fall of its royal family, the tragedy of the curse - it all made sense, but there was one thing that didn't. Faragonda. Griffin. Saladin. Daphne.

But the more she read, the more frustrated she became. The Ancestresses, their battle against the Company of Light, the curse that followed - it was all the same, over and over again. And Daphne's fate was as mysterious as ever.

Bloom slammed the book shut and stood abruptly, pacing back and forth across the small table she had claimed for herself. She ran her fingers through her hair, staring at the rows of bookshelves that seemed to stretch endlessly before her.

The archive felt oppressive now, the shelves towering over her like silent witnesses to her failure. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for something she might have missed. She had already combed through the history section - now she was starting to wonder if she had missed something in the older records, the ones that weren't as heavily referenced.

Her eyes landed on a small section of shelves tucked away in the far corner. A section she hadn't yet explored. The titles were unfamiliar to her, and they didn't seem to belong to the usual historical records. There were no grand golden filigree bindings or detailed maps of worlds. These books looked older, more obscure.

Bloom hurried over to the corner, her footsteps echoing in the silence. The shelves here were less orderly than the others, filled with stacks of books, some with cracked spines, others with fraying covers. She reached for the first book that caught her eye, its leather cover almost completely faded, and flipped it open.

The Ancestresses: Their Rise and Power

She opened the first page and began to read.

The book began with a description of the Ancestresses' origins, detailing their rise to power and their ambition to rule the magical realms. It spoke of their ancient knowledge, their dark powers that predated even the most powerful magic known in the universe.

Bloom absorbed the words, but a nagging feeling in her chest persisted. This was all familiar to her - the witches, their hunger for the Dragon Flame, their desire to wield ultimate power.

There was no mention of the Fall of Domino, no reference to the terrible curse that had sealed the fate of an entire kingdom. It was dated far earlier than the other records she had found, and its contents were likely written long before the fateful battle that would change everything.

She turned the page and her gaze fell on a chapter title that made her pause.

The Apprentice.

Her fingers froze. The title sent an unsettling shiver through her, an instinctual unease crawling under her skin.

What kind of apprentice could the Ancestresses have had? The witches were powerful, and they had conquered realms - why would they need a protege? The idea of them teaching anyone, much less someone willing to serve them, felt wrong. And yet, despite her hesitation, Bloom couldn't resist turning the page.

"The Ancestresses were not without their own ambitions. Even with their vast power, they sought to expand it further. It was during this pursuit that they created one of the most powerful beings to ever walk the realms - a wizard who would serve them loyally in exchange for untold power."

Bloom's eyes widened. Created? The Ancestresses hadn't just found a powerful wizard - they'd made one?

"Valtor, a wizard born of the witches' twisted magic, was their most prized creation. He was shaped from the depths of their dark arts, forged to be the perfect servant - a being of incredible power and ambition, designed to serve the Ancestresses' vision of total control over all magical realms. He was their apprentice, but more than that - he was a weapon, one they believed would give them the upper hand in their quest for absolute power."

Bloom felt a shiver ripple down her spine as she read the name. Valtor.

Her mind raced with the implications of what she had just discovered. The Ancestresses had not only been powerful witches in their own right but had also created a being, a wizard, to serve them. A wizard born from their dark, twisted magic, forged to serve their insatiable hunger for control.

Bloom could hardly process it - how had someone so powerful come into existence, created for a singular purpose, bound by the will of the Ancestresses?

Her stomach twisted. Valtor had been crafted to be a servant, a weapon. The thought sent a surge of unease through her, but something else gnawed at her as well - something she couldn't put her finger on.

But if Valtor had truly been their apprentice, as this book seemed to suggest, where was he during the fall of Domino?

When Bloom read through the countless records and tomes detailing the tragic destruction, she found no mention of a wizard named Valtor.

She reached for a nearby shelf, pulling down another book - this one was a detailed account of the final days of the Ancestresses and the great war that had consumed Domino. She flipped through it, her eyes scanning the pages, desperate for any sign of Valtor.

But again, nothing. His name wasn't mentioned. It was as if he never existed in the aftermath of the battle. As if, somehow, he hadn't been part of the destruction that wiped out an entire planet.

"Maybe he wasn't there," Bloom muttered to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. She paused, her fingers resting on the edge of the page. Could it be possible that Valtor hadn't been involved in the battle at all?

She couldn't shake the feeling that the puzzle pieces weren't quite fitting. Valtor had been created to serve the witches. But why did no one ever mention him in connection with the witches' downfall? Did he vanish with his creators, forever cast into oblivion? Or had he played no part in the destruction of the royal family and the kingdom?

Bloom could hardly bear it any longer.

The more she read, the more confused she became. The history of Domino, the Ancestresses, the Company of Light, Valtor, Daphne - nothing seemed to fit together in a way that made sense. It was as if the records themselves were hiding the truth, leaving gaps that she couldn't fill, and each book she opened only added to her sense of unease.

She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing the strands away from her face, as her gaze drifted to the pile of books stacked around her. She had combed through so many of them, but they all led to dead ends. Each book promised answers, but none had delivered.

It was maddening.

She slammed the book shut with more force than she intended, startling herself. She needed to stop. She needed a break. It was clear now that she wouldn't find the answers here, at least not today.

And then a familiar sound pierced the silence of the archive: her phone ringing.

Bloom blinked in surprise and fumbled for her phone in her bag, the screen lighting up with Stella's name. The guilt hit her like a wave. She had been so absorbed in her search that she hadn't even realized how much time had passed.

The guilt intensified as she answered the phone. "Hey, Stella," she said softly, trying to mask the frustration in her voice.

"Bloom!" Stella's voice rang out on the other end of the line, so bright and cheerful it immediately made Bloom smile, despite herself. "I have the most exciting news!"

Bloom glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disappear like that. I... I got caught up in something."

"Caught up in what? Honestly, Bloom, wherever you went, it better be good because I have finally found the dress for the Princess Ball! And I need you to come and see it. Like, right now. Right. Now."

There was no reprimand in Stella's tone, just pure, unadulterated excitement. The kind of joy that was impossible not to feel through the phone, and it brought a warmth to Bloom's chest.

"A dress? You mean you've actually found one you like?" Bloom couldn't help but laugh, imagining her friend's usual extravagant search for something perfect. Stella had been searching high and low for what she considered her dream dress for the upcoming Princess Ball.

"Yes! You won't believe it! It's everything I've been looking for and more, but it's missing one very important thing..." Stella paused, drawing out the suspense.

Bloom raised an eyebrow, despite knowing she couldn't see her. "What's that?"

"You! You need to come see it for yourself! I can't make a final decision without your expert opinion. You're going to love it. I promise!" Stella practically sang the words, and Bloom could already hear the confidence and excitement in her voice.

"Alright, alright," Bloom said, laughing softly. "I'll be there as soon as I can.

"Prepare to be amazed," Stella squealed, and Bloom could practically hear her jumping in place. "I'm in the boutique on Magix Avenue, the one with all the sparkles in the window. Don't keep me waiting too long, okay? I need to know if this dress will dazzle the entire ballroom!"

"I'll be there soon, I promise," Bloom reassured her.

After hanging up, Bloom let out a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair again.

The whirlwind of emotions and questions still loomed over her, but Stella's joy was infectious, and for a brief moment, Bloom allowed herself to forget about the looming mystery surrounding Daphne, the Ancestresses, and the strange disappearance of Valtor.

Shoving the troubling thoughts aside, Bloom walked briskly toward the exit of the public archive, the door creaking as she pushed it open.

The buzz of activity and the warmth of the sun pulled her back into the present. The quest for answers wasn't over. It couldn't be. Not yet.

But for now, she was going to be the friend Stella needed.

Chapter Text

The Great Hall of Alfea was bustling with activity, a lively hum of conversation and the clattering of trays and cutlery filling the vast space as students gathered for their midday meal. The long wooden tables were packed, every available seat occupied by fairies engaged in whispered conversations.

Bloom paused at the threshold, glancing around in confusion. There was something in the air, a tension that crackled like static before a storm. Whispers spread from table to table, students leaning in close, exchanging hurried words.

Her brow furrowed. She had been late for lunch, but this wasn't just the usual midday buzz. Something had happened. Something big.

Curious and concerned, Bloom weaved through the crowded hall toward the familiar faces of her friends. They were all there -Stella, Flora, Tecna, Musa, and Layla- huddled together, their lunch all but forgotten. As she approached, she saw them talking in low voices, their heads bent close.

"What's going on?" Bloom greeted them, sliding into an empty seat at the table.

Stella looked up first, her usual energetic expression replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. "Haven't you heard?"

Bloom's frown deepened. "I can tell something's wrong," she said, scanning their faces.

"It's about Headmistress Griffin," Layla said, her voice quieter than usual.

Bloom's stomach twisted at the name. "What about her?"

"She was arrested last night by the Magical Council," Tecna explained, her tone crisp and matter-of-fact. "No one knows exactly why, but there are all sorts of rumors flying around."

"Arrested?" Bloom repeated, feeling a jolt of disbelief. "That doesn't make any sense. Headmistress Griffin is one of the most powerful witches in Magix."

Musa leaned forward, lowering her voice as she drummed her fingers against the wooden table. "There are a lot of theories," she muttered. "Some of them are pretty wild. I've heard people say she was caught trying to summon a demon."

"A demon?" Bloom's brows shot up. "That's ridiculous."

"I know," Stella said, rolling her eyes. "But you'd be amazed at what people come up with when something like this happens." She gestured vaguely at the students around them. "Right now, everyone's just looking for something dramatic to latch onto."

"Well, I heard it has something to do with a powerful artifact," Flora chimed in, her voice soft but concerned. "Something that was recently stolen from a planet. And apparently, the Council believes Griffin was involved."

Bloom glanced at Flora, feeling her curiosity spark. "An artifact? What kind of artifact?"

Layla shook her head. "No one knows for sure, just that it's incredibly dangerous. If it's in the wrong hands, it could wreak havoc across the realms."

Tecna folded her arms, her gaze thoughtful. "It would explain the Council's sudden intervention. If this artifact really exists and is as powerful as the rumors claim, it could pose a serious threat to magical balance. And if Griffin has any connection to it-"

"Then they would consider her dangerous," Bloom finished, the pieces clicking together in her mind.

"But why Griffin?" Musa asked. "Why now? She's been Headmistress of Cloud Tower for years, and the Council never stepped in before."

"Well, the Magical Council doesn't explain their decisions," Stella said, propping her chin on her hand. "Especially if they're dealing with something big."

"They're afraid of her," Layla murmured, and everyone turned to look at her. "She's a witch," she continued. "No matter what she's done, no matter how much she's worked for balance, some people will always see her as a threat."

Flora sighed. "It's true. People have long memories. They haven't forgotten the things witches have done."

Bloom crossed her arms. "That's not fair. Griffin isn't like the other witches. She's actually helped keep things in check."

"But think about it," Tecna said, adjusting her glasses. "If there really is a stolen artifact, and if it's powerful enough to be considered a danger to the realms, then it's logical the Council would act quickly. They might have connected it to Griffin based on something we don't know."

"Or," Musa said, "they just wanted an excuse to get rid of her."

That thought sent a shiver down Bloom's spine. "But if they arrested her without proof, wouldn't that cause an uproar?"

"Not necessarily," Tecna said. "If they had enough evidence to justify an investigation, or even just enough suspicion, it would be enough to take action."

"Well, that's just great," Stella muttered, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Because that means we won't get answers anytime soon."

"There's another problem," Layla added. "The Council didn't just arrest Griffin, they humiliated her. They took her in the middle of a lecture - no explanations, no warnings. The witches at Cloud Tower are furious. And if they feel like this was an attack on them as a whole, things could escalate."

A heavy silence fell over the group. It wasn't just about Griffin anymore. If the witches of Cloud Tower saw this as an injustice, it could stir up tensions between them and the rest of the magical community.

Bloom ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly. "This is insane."

"I know, right?" Flora agreed. "It's hard to believe."

"Like I said," Stella added, "people love drama. And when they don't know the truth, they make things up."

"Which means we need to find out what really happened," Bloom said firmly, looking at each of her friends.

Tecna adjusted her glasses. "I might be able to access some information from the Magical Council's official reports. If they've made a public statement, I can analyze it."

"And I'll talk to some of the witches I know," Musa said. "See what they're saying. If anyone at Cloud Tower knows more than we do, they might be willing to talk."

"I'll do some digging too," Layla added. "There are plenty of people who work closely with the Council. Maybe someone slipped up and let something important slip."

Stella gave a dramatic sigh. "And I suppose I'll work my magic and see what the nobles are saying. You'd be surprised how much gossip gets passed around by people who think they're important."

Bloom felt a surge of gratitude for her friends. "If Griffin really is innocent, we need to help her. And if she's not..."

Musa let out a breath and leaned back. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if Cloud Tower starts pushing back. Witches already think the Council has too much power over them."

"If the Council can just storm in and take their headmistress without any explanation..." Layla added grimly. "... what's stopping them from doing it again?"

Flora frowned, her green eyes clouded with worry. "This could spark something dangerous. We don't need another divide between fairies and witches."

"We're already divided," Tecna pointed out, her tone pragmatic. "Fairies and witches have never fully trusted each other. This just adds more fuel to the fire."

The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the Great Hall, signaling the end of lunch.

All around them, students groaned, gathered their belongings, and reluctantly pushed away from the tables. The low hum of conversation quickly turned into a chaotic shuffle as everyone prepared to return to class.

Bloom stood, still deep in thought, her mind turning over everything they had discussed. The arrest of Headmistress Griffin, the mysterious artifact, the possibility of Cloud Tower retaliating... it all felt like a tangled mess with no clear answer.

"Come on, Bloom," Stella said, looping an arm through hers. "If we're even a minute late, Professor Medea is going to give us detention and I refuse to spend my afternoon scrubbing cauldrons."

The halls buzzed with energy, the midday gossip still lingering in hushed whispers, but Bloom felt distant from it all.

Alchemy was usually a class she enjoyed. It was hands-on, practical, and had just enough magic involved to keep things interesting. But today, her mind was anywhere but the classroom.

By the time they reached the spacious alchemy lab, most of the students had already taken their seats at the workstations, where flasks bubbled, cauldrons shimmered with half-brewed potions, and the air carried the sharp scent of herbs and molten metal.

Bloom barely noticed when she dropped onto the stool beside Flora and Stella, her fingers idly tracing the engravings on the wooden tabletop.

"All right, class," Professor Medea called out, her commanding voice slicing through the murmured conversations. She adjusted her thin-rimmed spectacles as she strode toward the center of the room, her long robes swirling around her feet. "Today, we will be working with heat-sensitive compounds to test their magical properties. Precision is key."

Her sharp gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on a student who was already reaching for the wrong ingredient. "I cannot stress this enough - alchemy is about control. A single misstep, and-"

BOOM!

The explosion was immediate. A sharp crack split the air, followed by a rush of pink smoke that billowed from one of the cauldrons at the back of the room. Sparks burst into the air like tiny fireworks, fizzling out before they could do any real damage, but the sudden blast was enough to send a ripple of panic through the class.

Several students yelped and ducked. Stella had thrown herself dramatically to the floor, shielding her face as if bracing for an attack.

And then, silence. All eyes turned.

Bloom blinked, staring at her cauldron in horror. The liquid inside -once a shimmering gold- was now an angry, bubbling shade of deep purple, hissing violently as tendrils of steam curled into the air. The edges of her workstation were dusted with what looked suspiciously like ash.

"...Bloom, please tell me that was supposed to happen," Stella said, peeking up from behind her chair, her expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

Bloom's mouth opened, then closed. She glanced down at the heat setting beneath her cauldron, her stomach sinking. The flame was burning far too hot, its glow an alarming shade of shimmering orange.

"...Uh, maybe?" she offered weakly.

Professor Medea sighed - a long, suffering sound that made it painfully clear she had seen far too many magical mishaps in her lifetime. She rubbed her temples before striding toward Bloom's workstation, surveying the damage with an unimpressed expression.

"Miss Clarice," she said, turning to a girl with sharp, dark eyes who had clearly been enjoying the chaos a little too much. "Kindly remind your friend of today's first instruction."

Clarice grinned, her voice carrying a note of mock formality. "'Always monitor your flame levels, or risk unpredictable magical combustion.'"

Bloom groaned. "Oops."

Stella, now fully recovered from her 'life-threatening' brush with disaster, waved a hand dramatically in front of her face. "Honestly, Bloom, if you wanted to cause a distraction to sneak out of class, there were much subtler ways."

A few students chuckled, and even Musa smirked from across the room. Bloom, however, buried her face in her hands.

Professor Medea waved a hand, and with a small burst of magic, the remaining smoke vanished into thin air. "Luckily for all of us, this was only a minor reaction," she said. "However, Miss Bloom, I expect you to pay closer attention. A loss of focus in alchemy can lead to far more serious consequences."

Bloom straightened in her seat, guilt settling in her chest. "Yes, Professor. Sorry."

The older woman gave her a small, knowing look - one that said she recognized when a student's mind was elsewhere.

As Professor Medea resumed the lesson, Flora leaned over and whispered, "Are you okay?"

Bloom nodded, though she wasn't sure she meant it. She felt restless, distracted. Alchemy was the least of her concerns right now.

The air inside Alfea's greenhouse was thick with the scent of damp soil, blooming flowers, and the faint, sharp tang of magical herbs.

Sunlight filtered through the large glass panes, casting dappled light on rows of plants that shimmered with enchantments - some humming softly, others twitching their leaves as if reaching toward the warmth.

Bloom had chosen botany as one of her extra-curriculars this year.

After sharing a room with Flora for two years, she had developed a deep appreciation for plants. She had seen Flora coax the most stubborn seedlings to bloom, watched her brew healing salves from seemingly unremarkable leaves, and - on more than one occasion - witnessed her save the day with the right combination of herbs and a little bit of magic. It was a slow kind of magic, one that required patience and care, but Bloom liked that about it.

She exhaled softly, brushing her fingers over the petals of a Lunabloom, a delicate flower that only opened under the glow of the moon. It responded to her touch, trembling slightly before unfurling just the tiniest bit.

It had been a long day. Between the news of Headmistress Griffin's arrest and the disaster in alchemy class, Bloom felt drained. The greenhouse had been a welcome escape.

Now, with her work for the day finished, she pulled off her gloves and grabbed her satchel, ready to leave.

As she stepped toward the door, however, she nearly collided with a figure entering the greenhouse.

"Oh!" She took a quick step back, startled.

Professor Valen stood before her. His dark uniform was crisp, accentuating his powerful frame, and his sharp features were set in their usual unreadable expression. His piercing grey eyes flicked down to her, assessing her with an intensity that made her stomach tighten.

In his hands, he carried a small, rectangular package wrapped in crisp white cloth, tied neatly with twine. It didn't look particularly heavy, but he held it with careful precision.

"Miss Bloom," he greeted, his voice dark and rich. "Still in the greenhouse at this hour?"

"I just finished up," Bloom replied, nodding toward the workstation she had cleaned before leaving. "I had botany today."

"Ah, of course." His expression softened, almost as if he approved. "A fine choice. Botany is a subject that rewards those who have patience."

Then, with an almost lazy shift of his weight, he tilted his head slightly. "I promised Professor Eldora I'd deliver this," he said, lifting the package slightly. "And since I'll be stepping away for a moment, I need you to stay until I return."

Bloom frowned. "Stay? Why?"

"Because I asked you to," Valen replied simply.

Bloom narrowed her eyes. "That's not really an answer."

He smirked, just barely. "You're perceptive."

Bloom folded her arms. "And I'd appreciate an actual explanation."

A soft chuckle left him, almost too quiet to catch. He adjusted his grip on the package and took a slow step forward, closing the small space between them. Bloom refused to back away, even as she felt the heat of his presence.

"I'll explain when I return," Valen said smoothly. "Be patient."

Bloom huffed, tilting her chin up. "And if I decide to leave instead?"

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through his expression. Then, in a voice just above a whisper, he said, "You won't."

It wasn't a threat. It wasn't even a command. It was a statement - one that sent an inexplicable shiver down Bloom's spine.

Before she could think of a retort, he stepped past her, his presence lingering in the air like an unsolved mystery.

Bloom stared after him, jaw clenched.

Great. Now she was stuck here, waiting for answers from the most infuriating professor at Alfea.

And worse? She hated that a part of her actually wanted to do what he had to say.

Bloom leaned against one of the large wooden tables in the greenhouse, idly tracing patterns into the soil still left over from their last planting lesson. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh herbs, but she barely noticed.

She should have left. She could have ignored Professor Valen's instructions and walked right out. But for some unknown reason, she was still standing there, waiting.

Waiting for him.

Bloom exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. This was ridiculous. Professor Valen wasn't even that-

Before she could finish that lie, the greenhouse door creaked open.

His presence filled the space instantly.

Even without looking, she could sense him - cool confidence, dark energy crackling in the air like an unspoken challenge. He walked in with deliberate ease.

"Still here," Valen noted, sounding amused. "I was almost certain you'd run off."

Bloom scoffed. "I thought about it."

He stepped closer. "And what kept you?"

Bloom crossed her arms. "Curiosity. Or stupidity. Haven't decided which yet."

Valen smirked at that, his eyes glinting with something ...pleased.

Then, smoothly, he leaned against the opposite side of the table, mirroring her stance. "I've been meaning to ask," he said casually. "How did your conversation with Headmistress Faragonda go?"

Bloom froze. Heat rose up her neck at the memory.

Their last training session had been intense - and not just because of the magic. They had been too close, moving in perfect sync, pushing each other further with every strike and counter. She could still feel the heat of his body, the way his fingers had brushed against her wrist when he had caught her.

And then Miss Faragonda had walked in.

Bloom groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Oh, you would bring that up."

Valen smirked. "Of course. I imagine it was... an interesting conversation."

"She had some words to say about professionalism," Bloom muttered. "And something about not letting myself get distracted by... certain influences."

Valen tilted his head. "Ah. I am a 'certain influence' now?"

Bloom shot him a glare. "You are the reason we got caught in the first place."

His expression remained maddeningly neutral. "Funny. I recall you being the one who lost focus first."

Bloom opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because technically, he wasn't wrong. And judging by the way his lips twitched upward, he knew it too.

Bloom huffed. "You're insufferable."

Valen's gaze darkened, just slightly. "And yet, you keep coming back."

Bloom's pulse jumped. She hated that he was right. Again. "Shut up."

His laughter was dark and rich. "I'd love to, but I don't think you want me to."

Bloom didn't dignify that with an answer but she couldn't ignore the truth burning beneath her skin.

Straightening, she turned toward the door. "I'm leaving."

Valen moved faster than she expected, stepping into her path just before she reached the door. Bloom barely stopped herself from crashing into him.

She exhaled sharply, tilting her head up to glare at him. "Really?"

His smirk was infuriatingly lazy. "Really."

She shifted to the right - he did too.

Left - same result.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are we actually doing this right now?"

Valen shrugged, utterly unbothered. "I told you, I want to talk to you."

Bloom sighed, crossing her arms. "Fine. Talk."

He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Not here."

Her brows knit together. "Why?"

"Because I don't trust half the people in this school to keep their mouths shut," he murmured. "And neither should you."

Bloom hesitated. "What is this about?"

Silence. Valen just stood there, facing her, dark eyes unreadable. Bloom's stomach tightened, her fingers clenching at her sides.

This was a terrible idea. And yet-

"Fine," she muttered, already regretting it. "Lead the way."

Valen gave her a slow, knowing smile before turning and heading toward the back exit of the greenhouse.

Bloom followed Professor Valen through the dimly lit corridors of Alfea, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She wasn't sure why she was still trailing after him, why she hadn't just turned around and left when he refused to answer her question. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was stupidity.

The hallway they entered was unfamiliar - far from the busy classrooms and student dorms, tucked away in a quiet wing of the school.

Finally, Valen stopped in front of a dark wooden door, his fingers brushing over the metal handle before he pushed it open.

Bloom hesitated at the threshold. She had never been in his office before. Professors never invited students here - at least, not that she'd heard of.

"You coming in?" Valen asked, arching a brow as he stepped inside.

Bloom squared her shoulders and followed, stepping into a room that was... nothing like she had expected.

The space was large but somehow still intimate, the walls lined with tall bookshelves filled with old tomes, rolled-up scrolls, and artifacts that pulsed faintly with magic.

A sleek mahogany desk sat near the window, stacked neatly with papers, though a single dagger lay across them, its hilt gleaming under the soft golden light of the chandelier overhead. The air smelled of aged parchment, burning embers, and something faintly spiced - something him.

Her gaze flickered to the far wall, where a large, enchanted mirror reflected the room - but with odd distortions, as if showing something just beyond reality's reach.

"Didn't take you for the decorating type," Bloom muttered, running her fingers along the spine of a book as she wandered further in. The title was in a language she didn't recognize. "Very ominous."

Valen leaned against the desk, watching her. "I'll take that as a compliment."

She rolled her eyes, but her attention kept snagging on small details - the way the fireplace crackled softly, its flames unnaturally still, the faint hum of magic in the air, the dark curtains drawn just enough to let the afternoon light slant through the room.

Bloom turned to him. "So? Are you going to tell me why you dragged me all the way here, or was this just an elaborate power move?"

Valen chuckled, but there was something serious in his expression. "I heard about your little... mishap in Alchemy today."

Bloom blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Word travels fast." His gaze flickered over her, slow and assessing. "Apparently, you nearly blew up a cauldron. Turned a perfectly harmless potion into something unstable."

Bloom crossed her arms. "It wasn't that bad."

His lips quirked. "Medea's singed worktable would beg to differ."

Bloom groaned, rubbing her temples. "Great. So now even you're giving me a lecture?"

"No," Valen pushed off the desk, taking a step closer. "I didn't bring you here to lecture you, Bloom."

Something in his voice made her pause. She looked up at him, and for the first time since entering the room, she realized - he wasn't teasing. Not really.

"Then why am I here?" she asked, quieter now.

Valen studied her for a long moment before speaking.

"Because magic doesn't just misfire like that," he said. "Not with someone like you."

A flicker of unease curled in her chest. "What are you getting at?"

He tilted his head slightly. "Your power is tied to emotion. Strong emotions make it stronger. Unstable emotions make it dangerous."

Bloom felt something tighten in her throat.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that. She had been dealing with it her whole life. But the way he said it, the way he was looking at her, like he saw right through her- made her stomach twist.

"I was just distracted," she said, forcing nonchalance into her tone.

Valen didn't look convinced. "By what?"

She hesitated. "It's nothing."

He stepped closer. Too close.

"You can lie to the others," he murmured. "But not to me."

Bloom's pulse kicked up. He was always like this - pushing, probing, peeling back the layers she wasn't sure she wanted exposed.

She swallowed. "It's just... everything with Headmistress Griffin. The rumors, the tension between Alfea and Cloud Tower. It's a lot."

Valen held her gaze. "And that's all?"

Bloom clenched her jaw. "Why do you even care?"

He was quiet for a moment, then: "Because when power like yours starts slipping, it doesn't just go away." His voice dropped, low and edged with something almost dangerous. "It burns."

A shiver ran down her spine. Valen's gaze flickered to her hands.

"You're shaking."

Bloom hadn't even realized it.

Annoyed, she clenched her fists. "It's fine."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it is," she snapped.

Valen exhaled a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You really are stubborn."

She scowled. "And you're really annoying."

His smirk returned, slow and lazy. "I am rather talented at that, aren't I?"

Bloom rolled her eyes and turned toward the door. "Well, thanks for the check-in, Professor, but I'll be fine. Now, if you don't mind-"

Before she could take another step, his voice stopped her cold. "What do you know of the guardians of the Dragon Flame that came before you?"

Chapter Text

Bloom froze in place, hand still on the doorknob. The weight of his words hung in the air. She turned slowly, facing him again. His eyes were darker now, focused intently on her.

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously, though a gnawing feeling stirred in her stomach. Something about this felt different from everything else.

Valen didn't answer right away.

Instead, he took a step forward, his presence looming over her like an inevitable storm. His gaze was sharp, like he was studying her, trying to gauge her every reaction.

"You're the current bearer of the Dragon Flame," he said quietly, his voice low, almost reverent. "But that power... it's not just yours. It's been passed down through generations, through different guardians. And each one carried their own burden."

Bloom felt a chill crawl down her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention.

There was something in the way he spoke, something unsettlingly intimate about it. His presence seemed to invade the very space they shared, dark and undeniable, like an invisible pull that drew her in despite her hesitation.

"I... I've read a little," she began.

Bloom wasn't sure how much of this she should share with him. There was a part of her that felt like he was probing, fishing for something, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to give him any more than he already knew.

"The Nymphs Magix," she continued anyway, her voice trailing slightly. "They were the original guardians, the first to carry the flame. Powerful, but not immortal. They were fairies of the Dragon Fire, guardians of the Great Dragon's power. Their duty was to safeguard the flame, to ensure that no one could take its power."

Valen's eyes never wavered from hers, his gaze intense. There was no mockery in his stare, no judgment, only a quiet understanding. But it unsettled her more than she would have liked.

"And the last of their order," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "was Daphne."

Valen nodded slowly, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. It wasn't reassuring, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"Yes. Princess Daphne. She perished during the Fall of Domino, in that tragic battle. She fought to protect her world, to keep the flame safe. But in the end, she couldn't stop the fall." His voice dropped, becoming almost cold as he spoke of the destruction.

His words felt heavier now, each syllable dragging through the silence like the weight of ancient history. He didn't look away, his eyes dark as he spoke of Daphne's sacrifice.

"And the flame passed to you," he continued. "But Daphne's death... it's a part of the flame's history now. A reminder of the price of this power."

"She perished," Bloom said softly. "For the power. For the flame."

Her eyes flickered toward the ground as the memories of Daphne's tragic end, the Fall of Domino, flooded her mind. She had read about it, how the curse had devoured her world, how the last guardian had given her life to protect it.

Valen tilted his head slightly. "The flame doesn't just give you power, Bloom. It asks for something in return. And when it slips from your grasp..." His voice trailed off, a dark warning hanging in the air.

Bloom lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a steady look.

She knew that power like that came with a cost. She had seen Daphne's sacrifice, read about it, felt its echoes deep in her bones. But hearing it from Valen's lips -so carefully measured, yet so intense-...

"I'm aware of the price," Bloom said softly. "I've read the histories."

Valen studied her for a long moment. "You've done your research," he said, his voice low and almost impressed. "More than I expected."

Bloom's lips curved up just slightly. A teasing glint sparked in her eyes, and she straightened a little, the tension in the room shifting just slightly.

"Well, you didn't think I'd just walk into this without knowing a little something about the flame, did you?" she said with a cheeky smile, leaning slightly forward.

Valen's gaze sharpened, his eyes flashing amusement. He gave a slow, almost appreciative smirk. "I didn't think you'd be one to leave things to chance."

"No," she said, her smile widening as she met his gaze head-on. "I prefer to know what I'm getting into."

Valen chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on hers. "You certainly don't lack confidence, do you?"

"Confidence is half the battle," Bloom teased. "But I think we both know it's not enough. I want more than just knowing what I'm holding. I want to master it."

There was something in his gaze, something that shifted, approving. "A worthy ambition," he replied. "But knowing is only the first step. Mastery..." He trailed off, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment.

Bloom could feel that familiar spark between them, that pull, even as the conversation lightened. The power of the Dragon Flame was no joke.

But at least for this moment, Valen wasn't the infuriating professor; he was just a man - one who understood the weight of her words, and maybe, just maybe, appreciated her willingness to take on that weight.

She took a slow step closer, her voice now quieter, but still with that hint of playful defiance. "So, do you think I can master it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or do you have some other test in mind to make sure I'm worthy?"

Valen's lips curved into a knowing smile, though his eyes remained sharp. "I'm sure you'll rise to whatever challenge I throw your way, Bloom. But you should know, the flame doesn't give up its secrets easily."

Bloom smiled back, her heart beating a little faster, but now for a different reason. She was no longer afraid of what the flame might demand of her. No longer afraid of what it might cost. She was ready.

"Well," she said, her voice teasing but steady, "I don't mind a good challenge."

"Then you should know," he said, the words almost a whisper. "You've barely scratched the surface."

Bloom's lips parted, her breath catching as she fought to maintain her composure. She could feel the heat of his proximity.

"I'm not here to scratch anything," she said, her voice low, as if daring him to say more. "I'm here to take what's mine."

His gaze never left hers, the intensity growing with each passing second. "You think you're ready?"

Her eyes flickered with defiance, that same spark of fiery determination that had burned inside her for so long. "I know I'm ready."

"You're confident, I'll give you that," he said. "But confidence alone won't keep you from getting burned, little flame."

Her heart skipped a beat at the implication. She took a step back, tilting her head slightly, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I don't mind a little heat."

"Heat can be... unpredictable," Valen murmured, and the way his gaze flickered over her lips made her stomach tighten. There was something in his eyes, something dark and hungry.

"I think you're just looking for an excuse to play with fire," she said, half-joking, half-challenging. Her voice was steady, but the way she said it felt almost like a dare.

Valen's eyes darkened. "Maybe I am," he said, his voice low, almost purring the words.

The words hung in the air between them, charged and potent.

Their gazes locked, two forces pushing against each other, magnetic, dangerous. Bloom could feel the raw power in the air, swirling around them, pulling them both closer. She could feel the heat of his proximity, the way it coiled in her veins, tempting her to let go.

Then, without warning, Valen moved.

It was sudden, and Bloom barely had time to react as he lunged at her, swift and lethal, the force of his movements sending a shock-wave through the room. He was like a shadow, impossibly fast, his presence overwhelming.

Her instincts kicked in, but for a moment, she hesitated - hesitated because she didn't want to set the room on fire.

But Valen didn't give her that time.

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with the precision of a predator, his grip tight and unyielding. Her heart raced as she felt the heat of his touch, his power coursing through her. She stumbled back, barely staying on her feet, her pulse pounding in her ears.

"Come on, little flame," Valen's voice was low, almost mocking now. "What are you waiting for? You've already come this far, haven't you? Show me what you can do."

She stared at him, chest rising and falling with each breath, struggling to find the words, struggling to ignore the fire inside her, the flame that was now alive and roaring, urging her to release it.

"I- I don't want to burn your office down," she said, her voice tight, the fire flickering dangerously within her.

Valen's gaze flickered with a dark intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. If you manage to burn it to the ground, I'll be the first to congratulate you."

His tone was dangerous, full of that same unsettling promise she couldn't quite place.

Bloom's breath hitched, her body trembling with the urge to act, to unleash the flame inside her. She could feel the heat of it, rising, pressing against her skin like a burning brand. The way Valen was looking at her only made it harder to resist.

Her voice came out strained, but resolute. "You want me to do it, don't you?"

Valen's lips curled into a smile, that dark, magnetic smile that always made her insides twist. "I want you to show me, Bloom. Show me what the Dragon Flame really can do. Control it, or let it consume you. It's your choice."

His words were a challenge. A dare.

Without thinking, Bloom's eyes flashed with fire, and she felt the power surge through her. It was sudden, unstoppable. Her hands were blazing, the heat of the flames lighting up the room, flickering wildly. Her heart raced, but there was a strange sense of calm beneath the chaos. The flame felt right inside her, a part of her.

And yet, despite everything, she held back - just a little. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to lose control. But Valen, unyielding as ever, stepped forward, closing the gap between them with that dangerous, consuming presence of his.

"That's it," he murmured, voice low and rough, his breath warm against her skin. "You can do it, Bloom. You just have to let go."

Her chest tightened at his proximity, the heat of his body and the fire inside her threatening to explode. And something inside her felt like it was going to snap at any moment.

"Let go," he repeated, his eyes dark and steady, watching her with that intense, knowing gaze. "Burn this place to the ground."

For a split second, Bloom thought she might do it. She thought she might lose herself to the flames, to the power that was already building within her. But the hesitation remained - the same hesitation that always seemed to hold her back.

Valen saw it. He saw the flicker of doubt, and in an instant, he was standing right in front of her, his hand curling around her wrist, pulling her closer. His gaze was searing, his voice almost a whisper.

"Bloom, you're not going to burn anything," he said, his tone full of dark amusement. "Unless you want to."

His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a shock of heat straight through her, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the room was on fire.

She swallowed, fighting the surge of emotions that were flooding her. The flame inside her flared, but she forced it back, holding on to the control she still had.

"I'm not going to lose it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Let me see," Valen murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but the command was clear.

Bloom didn't need any more encouragement. She took a step forward, allowing the fire to stretch out behind her, a trail of scorching light that flickered with every movement. It was raw, unrestrained now - just like her.

Her every thought, her every intent, shaped the flames, guiding them as she moved. The fire was an extension of her will. Nothing happened without her wanting it to happen.

With a fluid motion, she raised her arms, and the flames spiraled upward in a twisting inferno, swirling around her like a protective shield. The heat intensified, filling the room with a palpable pressure. The flames were beautiful, deadly, and they obeyed her every command.

Valen watched, utterly entranced, his gaze flickering over her with an almost predatory hunger.

"Very impressive," he said, as his eyes raked over her.

For a split second, Bloom wasn't sure what he was doing. But then, before she could react, he raised his hand, and a surge of dark energy crackled between them.

She didn't flinch. The fire around her flared, meeting his challenge head-on. She felt the heat of his energy pressing against her, but she didn't waver. Her eyes never left his, her hands never stopped guiding the flames.

But then, as Valen stepped closer, nearly touching her, the challenge in his eyes sharpened. The flames wavered, as if they were responding to him, pulsing and twisting with an unpredictable energy. For a moment, Bloom was thrown off balance. Her breath hitched, and something flickered in her chest - something she couldn't yet name.

The fire flickered and swirled erratically, like it was unsure whether to obey her.

Valen noticed the shift, and his grin deepened. "What's wrong, Bloom? You seem to have lost your focus."

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to regain control of the flames, but there was an unsettling realization that began to creep into her mind.

It wasn't her thoughts guiding the fire. Not entirely. It was her emotions. Her intent. The feelings that surged inside her now - those were the true source of the flame's strength.

"This... this isn't just about controlling the flames, is it?" Bloom said, the realization dawning on her as her pulse quickened. "It's about controlling myself."

His voice dropped to a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Exactly," he said softly. "It's not about the fire, Bloom. The fire will do what you want it to do. But only if you can control the one thing that makes it burn: yourself. You think the flames obey you? No, they respond to what's inside you, what you feel, what you want, what you need."

Her chest tightened, but she stood her ground.

"You're saying it's my emotions that control the fire?" she asked, voice steady, even as the heat in the room seemed to rise.

Valen's eyes gleamed with approval. "It's all about the balance. You can't fight the fire, Bloom. You have to work with it. But to do that, you need to control yourself. You need to control the thing that fuels it."

"Control myself?" she repeated, her voice sharp with the realization. "You want me to control my feelings? My emotions?"

"Not just control them," he said, his voice dark and low. "You have to master them. To master the flames inside you, or they will consume you. And if you let them, they'll burn everything around you, including me."

"Focus, little flame," Valen watched her closely, almost hungrily. "What's making you lose control? Is it anger? Fear?" His eyes flickered to her lips as he spoke. "Or something else? Desire?"

"You're trying to get a rise out of me," Bloom said, voice low but steady, despite the overwhelming surge of heat within her. "You're trying to push me to lose control."

Valen's smile deepened, the intensity of his gaze never leaving hers. "That's exactly what I'm doing, Bloom. Because if you can't control yourself, if you can't control the heat inside you, then you're nothing more than a dangerous spark waiting to burn out. You have to learn to control the fire and your emotions. Only then will you truly wield the Dragon Flame."

Something clicked.

She realized the truth of what he was saying. The fire wasn't simply responding to her thoughts - it was responding to her emotions, her inner world. The power wasn't just in the flames themselves, but in her ability to control why she unleashed them.

Her intent. Her emotions.

She took a deep breath, letting the surge of feelings run through her, but she didn't let them dictate the flames. Instead, she harnessed them - focused on the calm at the center of her being. The fire roared, yes, but it was now her own to command, her emotions no longer a dangerous storm but a controlled force.

She raised her hand, steady now, and the flames followed her lead - bright and powerful, but no longer wild.

Valen raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with something both proud and pleased. "Now that's more like it."

Her lips curved into a confident smile. "I told you," she said, her voice cool and controlled now, "I'm ready."

Valen stepped closer, his gaze flicking from the fire to her.

"Tell me," Valen murmured, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "What is it you're really feeling right now, Bloom? Is it the power of the flames? Or is it something else?"

Her breath caught, her control slipping for just a moment. He was so close, his words a whisper in her ear, stirring up more than just the flames. She could feel it - the pull between them, the desire that crackled like the fire in her hands.

Bloom met his gaze, her voice steady despite the chaos stirring inside her. "It's not the flames you should worry about," she said, her lips barely moving as she spoke. "It's me."

Valen chuckled darkly, a low sound that reverberated in the air between them. "That's exactly what I'm worried about, little flame. What's inside you. Because that's what will make the fire burn brightest."

The words hit her like a physical blow, but in the best way. The fire inside her surged, and this time, she didn't hold back. The flames blazed to life in her hands, roaring in a way they hadn't before, powerful and alive, like they were waiting for her to give them permission to burn.

Valen's eyes gleamed with something that made her heart race even faster. "There it is," he murmured, his tone a low, heated growl. "That's the fire I've been waiting for."

His breath was nothing but a whisper, "And if you're truly in control, Bloom, then you won't let the flames dictate what happens next."

Her heart raced, his proximity sending desire through her veins.

He was mere inches between them, his breath warm against her skin. She could feel the heat of him, like a furnace against her own fire. His gaze dipped to her lips for a brief, charged moment before he met her eyes again.

His hand brushed lightly against hers, sending a spark of electricity through her, and the flames around her flared in response, but she kept them in check. Just barely.

Bloom's heart pounded in her chest, but she wasn't about to let him get the better of her. She focused on her breathing, on the fire inside her, on the way it responded to her every thought, every emotion.

She raised her hand, letting the flames lick the air between them, but she didn't let them consume him. There was something in her that wanted to - wanted to see how far they could push each other, how far she could push herself.

His lips parted, just slightly, as if tasting the air between them. There was something in his eyes and it was intoxicating. It made her pulse race even faster, but she couldn't -no, she wouldn't- lose control.

But then, as if sensing her resolve, Valen stepped forward, closing the distance between them completely until there was no space left at all. His presence was suffocating, intense, and it made everything inside her burn. The fire inside her hand flared up again in response, but she kept it in check, a sharp, controlled flicker of power.

"Let's test your control," he whispered. "And see if you can still stand when I'm done with you."

Before she could react, his hand shot out, grasping her wrist with a suddenness that made her gasp. The heat of his touch burned through her skin, making the fire inside her flare wildly. Her heart raced as his fingers wrapped around her, his grip firm, unyielding.

She could feel the raw energy between them, the pull of something dangerous that she didn't want to fight.

For the first time, Valen's touch wasn't a tease or a challenge - it was real, undeniable, and it sent a jolt of desire straight through her. Her breath caught in her throat as her pulse quickened, and she tried to focus, tried to maintain the control she had worked so hard for.

But with his hand on her wrist, and the heat of his body so close to hers, it was impossible not to feel the overwhelming rush of everything she had tried to keep contained.

"You're not just a little flame, are you?" Valen said, his voice thick with something that made her blood boil. His gaze flickered down to her lips, then back to her eyes. "You're so much more than that."

Her breath faltered as his thumb brushed lightly against her pulse, sending a shock of heat straight to her core. She could feel it then, the way her emotions stirred, mixing with the fire.

Her hands trembled slightly, the flames crackling and flickering in response, and she couldn't -didn't- want to control it.

Valen leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear as he spoke again, his voice sending another shiver down her spine. "You're fire and desire, Bloom. And neither one of them can be contained."

His words were like a spark to dry tinder.

Bloom's heart slammed in her chest, her body humming with the heat of everything she had tried to suppress. His proximity was intoxicating -his presence overwhelming- and in that moment, she couldn't tell if it was the fire inside her or the fire between them that was making her pulse race so wildly.

"I'm in control," she whispered, though her voice cracked slightly, betraying the surge of emotions she could no longer contain.

She wanted him to push her. She wanted him to challenge her. She wanted him to make her lose herself, just for a moment, to let the fire between them consume everything else.

Valen's eyes darkened, that predatory gleam growing more intense. "Are you sure about that?" He pulled her closer, his other hand tracing a slow path down her arm, sending sparks of heat wherever his skin met hers. "Because I can feel it, Bloom. You're fighting it. Fighting me."

The heat between them was undeniable now, the flames within her thrumming in tune with the pulse of her heart, with the electricity in the air. She could feel the tension growing - her own desire mirrored in his touch. His hand slid to her waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of her clothes, pulling her even closer, his chest pressed firmly against hers.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat. The fire between them was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was more than just the flames - it was the connection, the pull, the undeniable desire that shot through her every nerve.

He slid his hand slowly, dangerously, to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head back slightly. The movement was deliberate, slow, as if he were savoring the moment before taking it all.

His lips brushed against her skin, the contact barely there but enough to send a jolt of heat through her. Valen's gaze flickered to hers.

And then, without hesitation, he kissed her.

It was a soft, searching kiss at first, his lips lingering against hers, but it only took a second for the fire to ignite.

Bloom's heart surged as she kissed him back, every bit of control she had shattered in that instant. The fire in her hands flared to life, wild and fierce, but this time, she didn't care. She let it burn. She let it rage.

Valen groaned against her lips, his hands tightening around her, pulling her even closer. The heat between them was unbearable now, consuming everything around them. Bloom could feel the flames licking at her skin, but it wasn't the fire that scared her anymore - it was the desire, the intensity of it, the way it threatened to overwhelm everything.

"Let go, darling," Valen breathed against her lips. "Let the fire burn."

The kiss deepened as if the fire inside them couldn't wait any longer, each breath heavy with the weight of what was building between them.

Bloom's hands, which had previously been so controlled, now roamed up to his chest, feeling the heat of his body beneath the fabric, as if she needed to feel him closer, as if the very essence of him might ignite something even stronger inside her.

Valen's hands moved with a purpose, pulling her closer, his fingers slipping into her hair, gripping it lightly, and tilting her head back. The sharp, tingling sensation of his touch sent another jolt of heat through her body.

She could feel the fire between them - not just the one in her hands, but the one that burned in every glance, every touch, every word that passed between them.

Bloom didn't care anymore about holding back. The flames, the power, the emotions - they were all part of her now. She didn't need to control them. She just needed to embrace them. She needed to feel it all.

With a low, almost hungry growl, Valen pulled away for a brief second, just enough to look into her eyes. His gaze was dark, his pupils dilated, and there was something in his expression that made her heart race even faster.

"Tell me you're not feeling this, darling," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "Tell me to stop."

Her breath was ragged as she met his gaze, her hands still clinging to his chest, but her body now pressing fully into his, feeling the heat of him against her. The fire inside her thrummed, rising, but she held it in check, for now.

"I feel everything," she whispered back, her voice husky, full of truth. "Every damn thing."

Valen smirked, a dangerous and captivating smile, and then his lips were back on hers, more urgent this time, more demanding. Bloom could feel the tension between them building, a kind of unspoken understanding that neither of them could escape.

She didn't want to escape. She wanted to burn.

He shifted, pressing his body fully against hers, and she could feel the heat of him - the unmistakable press of desire between them. The room seemed to grow even warmer, the air thick with the kind of power that came not just from magic, but from the undeniable connection between them.

His hands, still tangled in her hair, slid down to her back, pulling her even tighter against him. Bloom's breath caught as she felt every inch of him, the raw intensity of the moment catching her off guard. She had never felt this before - not with anyone. Not this close to the edge, this raw, this consuming.

"Bloom," he murmured against her lips, his voice rough. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

Her pulse thudded in her ears, her body aching for more, aching for him. She could feel the fire inside her, no longer a simple element, but a part of her soul. And it was scorching, alive, ready to consume everything.

Bloom lifted her hands, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the stubble there, the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips. She wanted more. She needed more. There was no going back now.

Without thinking, her lips found his again, and this time, she kissed him with all the fire she had within her - no restraint, no hesitation, just pure, unfiltered passion.

Valen's response was immediate and fierce. He groaned, his hands sliding to her waist and then down to her hips, pulling her closer, the tension between them thick enough to burn. The flames in the room rose higher, a visible representation of what was happening between them.

"Gods," he whispered against her lips, his voice barely audible, as if the moment was overwhelming him, too. "You're a force of nature, darling."

Bloom's heart raced, her pulse erratic, as she felt the fire burning hotter, not just around them, but inside her, making everything feel electric. She responded with a fierceness of her own, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer.

"I'm not the only one burning," she whispered, her lips brushing against his. "You're just as consumed as I am."

He gave a low chuckle, a dark, almost wicked sound, before his lips found hers again, hard and unrelenting.

Bloom didn't care anymore. She didn't care about the consequences, the power, or anything else. She only cared about the flames, the fire, the desire that was now raging between them, unstoppable, undeniable.

Chapter Text

The room was in ruins.

Dark scorch marks licked the walls like ghosts of long-lost battles, their jagged edges crawling toward the ceiling as if trying to escape the destruction below. The once-pristine marble floor was cracked, fissures running through it like veins of barely contained fury.

Bookshelves had been reduced to splintered wreckage, their contents strewn across the room, pages still smoldering, curling at the edges like they, too, had been caught in the storm

And at the center of it all, standing in the wreckage of what had once been his perfectly organized office, was Valtor.

His breath was still ragged, uneven, the echoes of what had just transpired between them refusing to fade. He flexed his fingers, staring down at his hands as though they were foreign to him, as though they had done something unforgivable.

Because they had touched her.

They had held her, pulled her close, felt the warmth of her against him, the fire in her kiss, the way she had trembled not out of fear but from something else entirely. Something that had unraveled the last threads of his self-control.

His jaw tightened, the muscles in his arms coiling with residual tension as he swept his gaze across the destruction. It wasn't Bloom's doing. No, she had left the moment reality crashed back down on her, her eyes wide with the realisation of what had just happened.

Bloom had fled.

And Valtor... he had lost it.

The second she was gone, the moment the door slammed shut behind her, something inside him snapped. He had lashed out -not at her, never at her- but at everything else, every single object in this cursed office that had borne witness to the moment he lost control.

The moment she had slipped past his defenses, past the careful layers of calculation and control he had spent years perfecting.

He had wanted to test her. To push her. To make her confront the feelings she so stubbornly pushed away. He had expected resistance, expected her to fight him, deny the truth, deny herself.

What he hadn't expected was for her to win.

Not because she had fought back against him, but because she hadn't needed to. She had mastered her fire in a way he hadn't foreseen - not by suppressing it, but by owning her desire. Commanding it. She hadn't lost control.

She had been in complete control. Of her flames. Of herself. Of him.

His grip tightened into fists at the memory of her lips, of the way she had kissed him back - not hesitantly, not cautiously, but with the same fire that burned in her soul. That fire had wrapped around him, consumed him, dragged him into a place he hadn't allowed himself to go in a very, very long time.

And now, he was paying the price for it.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration clawing at his ribs like a caged animal. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be the one in control. He had been the one orchestrating this, manipulating the pieces on the board.

And yet, somehow, she had flipped the entire game over in a single heartbeat.

His eyes flickered to the shattered remains of his desk, the dark wood cracked down the middle where he had slammed his fist through it. Papers lay scattered like fallen soldiers, their ink smudged and torn. A half-melted candle dripped wax onto the floor, the flame still flickering defiantly despite everything.

Just like her.

Valtor turned away abruptly, as if physically distancing himself from the thought could banish it from his mind. It didn't.

His hands curled around the back of the nearest chair, the only one still standing, his fingers digging into the wood. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, trying to force his thoughts into submission. But no matter how many times he tried to rationalize it, to push it away, one truth remained.

He had been affected, too. More than affected.

Bloom had gotten under his skin, past his defenses, straight into the very core of him. And worse, he wanted more.

The sweet taste of her still lingered on his lips, the warmth of her body against his like an imprint burned into his very being. He could still hear the way she had whispered his name, the breathless way she had challenged him, the confidence in her eyes when she finally understood what he had been trying to make her see.

And gods, that had been his undoing.

But it wasn't just him that had lost control.

His fire had, too.

The realization was like a slow, creeping burn in his mind, spreading through his thoughts with relentless clarity. He could still feel it - the remnants of something beyond his own power, something that had slipped from his grasp the moment he had touched her.

His fire had answered her call.

Not obeying him. Not bending to his will. But moving toward her, fusing with hers, drawn like a moth to an inferno.

His flames had intertwined with hers, wrapped around them in a searing embrace, responding to her like they had always belonged together. They had danced, merged, become something else entirely. Something neither of them had controlled.

And Bloom hadn't even noticed.

Valtor let out a sharp breath, his hands pressing against the ruined desk, his fingers curling into the scorched wood. A flicker of blue fire pulsed at his fingertips, wild and unsettled, like it, too, was trying to understand what had just happened.

This wasn't supposed to be possible.

His fire was his. Controlled, precise, an extension of his very being. It had never -never- acted without his command. It did not respond to emotion the way hers did. It did not rise and fall with feeling. It was pure, calculated destruction.

And yet, the moment his lips had met hers, his flames had broken free.

They had reached for her, fused with hers as though they had been waiting for the chance, as though they recognized something in her fire that even he had not. His fire had burned alongside hers, not in opposition, not in a clash of power, but in unity.

The way the flames had twisted and coiled together, seamless and perfect, still haunted him. The memory was burned into his mind, an undeniable truth that he could not ignore.

It hadn't been just her power raging in that moment. It had been both of them.

For the first time, he had felt something entirely foreign - a force neither of them controlled, something greater than either of them alone. And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Valtor's jaw clenched, his fingers dragging across the damaged desk as he forced himself to focus.

And she hadn't realized. She had been too lost in the moment, too wrapped up in the fire inside her, to notice that it wasn't just her Dragon Flame that had been burning between them.

And he was glad.

If Bloom had noticed, if she had even suspected the truth...

His fire flickered again, restless, and he clenched his fist, extinguishing the flames before they could betray any more of his thoughts.

This was dangerous.

He had set out to test her, to push her to the edge, to make her face her emotions and the power that stemmed from them. But he had never expected to find himself teetering on that same edge.

Never expected to lose control. Never expected to feel.

Valtor turned, his movements sharp, restless. The destruction around him was proof enough of his failure - proof that he had let something slip, something he could not afford to lose hold of.

This could not happen again. His fire had to be his own. His control had to be absolute.

And Bloom- she had to remain oblivious. Because if she ever realized that their flames could merge, that their power could become one...

The laughter of her friends swirled around her like distant echoes, their voices rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but Bloom barely heard a word. She sat curled up on the dorm's plush common room couch, her hands wrapped around a lukewarm cup of tea she hadn't taken a sip from in the last twenty minutes.

The room was warm, filled with the scent of vanilla candles and brewed tea, the fire in the hearth crackling softly. It should have felt safe, grounding. It should have felt normal.

But nothing felt normal.

Not after last night.

Not after what she had done.

She barely registered Stella's dramatic retelling of something that had happened in their potions class earlier that day. Musa was laughing, shaking her head. Flora was smiling in that gentle way of hers, and Tecna looked vaguely amused but unimpressed. A normal evening, just like any other.

Except that Bloom wasn't truly there.

Her mind was still back in that ruined office, still replaying everything in vivid, scorching detail.

Her fire.

The realization that had clicked into place like the final missing piece of a puzzle - how her magic wasn't just about control. It was about balance. About knowing her emotions, feeling them fully, but never letting them take the reins.

But that wasn't what had her stomach in knots.

That wasn't what had kept her awake long into the night, staring at her ceiling, heart pounding, body still thrumming with an energy she couldn't shake.

No, it was him.

Valen pressing her against the his chest, his lips against hers.

Valen whispering against her mouth, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me you're not feeling this, Bloom."

Her breath caught in her throat just thinking about it, her fingers tightening around the cup in her hands.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me."

Gods, what had she done?

Not just kissed him. No, it had been more than that.

She had felt something in that moment. A pull, a spark -no, a blaze- that went beyond just attraction. Beyond just fire and magic and temptation. It had felt like their very essence had merged, like their magic had responded to each other, had fused together in perfect sync.

That thought alone was insane. Her flames had burned, but it hadn't been just hers.

There had been something else, something unfamiliar yet achingly familiar at the same time. Like a song she had never heard before but somehow knew every lyric to.

And then, reality had come crashing down on her.

She had pushed away from him so fast she barely remembered how she'd even gotten out of that office. One second, she had been burning in his arms, and the next, she had fled like a coward, her heart slamming against her ribs.

And now, she was here. Sitting in the common room, surrounded by the people who knew her best, pretending that she wasn't coming apart at the seams.

And worst of all- Sky. She had a boyfriend. A good one.

A kind, noble, wonderful boyfriend who loved her, who had stood by her side through so much, even when things between them had felt... off.

It wasn't Sky's fault. He was everything she should want. Steady, safe, constant.

And yet, last night, she hadn't thought about him. Not once.

A sharp pang of guilt twisted inside her. What kind of person did that make her? What kind of girlfriend kissed someone else -let alone her own professor- and then sat here, silently drowning in the memory of it?

Bloom pressed her fingers to her temple, forcing herself to breathe. She could see it -feel it- like it was happening all over again. She needed to stop thinking about it.

Needed to stop feeling the ghost of Valen's hands on her waist.

Needed to stop remembering the way he had groaned against her lips, when he had lost control just as much as she had.

The heat of his body pressed against hers. The way his hands had tangled in her hair, his fingers firm, almost possessive. The sound of his voice, rough and wrecked, whispering words that had made something inside her snap.

Because if she thought about it too long, she might start to wonder what would have happened if she hadn't run away.

And she couldn't let herself wonder that. Ever.

But her body betrayed her.

Her skin still tingled, still ached with the phantom feel of him. The warmth of his breath against her ear. The way he had looked at her, like he had been just as wrecked as she was.

And gods, it wasn't just desire that terrified her. It was the truth she had felt deep in her bones, the truth she refused to acknowledge.

That what had happened between them had been real. That she hadn't just lost control - he had, too.

Bloom was unraveling.

Not just from the kiss itself, or the way her fire had responded to him, but from the terrifying realization that she had crossed a line she could never uncross.

And worse, she didn't regret it.

She should. She should be sick with regret, drowning in it.

But instead, all she could think about was how it had felt. How his lips had claimed hers, how her body had pressed into his, how she had wanted to be closer, to lose herself in the flames of something she couldn't even name.

It was reckless. It was wrong.

And yet, sitting there, surrounded by her friends, trying to be normal, all she wanted was to feel it again.

That thought alone made her stomach churn. Because what did that mean? What did it say about her? What the hell was she supposed to do now?

She had to face him.

The realization made her pulse stutter. She would see him again.

She would have to walk into his class, sit there like nothing had happened, meet his gaze as though she hadn't let him kiss her, hadn't kissed him back.

Would he look at her the same way? Would his voice still hold that sharp, knowing edge when he challenged her in front of the others?

She would have to be alone with him again.

The thought sent a shiver through her, one that had nothing to do with the warmth of the common room fire or the weight of the tea she still hadn't touched.

It was bad enough that she would have to sit through his class, pretending that everything was normal - pretending that she hadn't let herself burn for him.

But during the training sessions...

She swallowed hard.

There would be no distractions in those moments. No classmates. No friends laughing around her. No one else to act as a buffer between them.

Just her and Professor Valen.

Just the two of them, alone.

The last time they had trained together, she had been fighting for control - of her flames, of her emotions. And she had thought, foolishly, that he was simply testing her, pushing her to unlock the truth of her power.

Now, she knew better.

He had been testing her, yes. But he had been testing himself, too.

And he had failed. Just like she had.

What was she supposed to do when they were alone again? When he stood too close, when his voice dipped into that low, knowing murmur that made her pulse race?

Would he address what had happened? Would he pretend it never did?

She wasn't naive enough to believe he didn't want her. Not after the way he had kissed her, after the way he had groaned against her lips like he was losing himself in her just as much as she was in him.

But Valen was her professor. And she was his student.

And he was bound to be furious with himself.

Bloom squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the thought away, but it only made the memory sharper - his hands gripping her waist, his breath against her lips, the way his fire had intertwined with hers, as if they had never been separate at all.

She needed to get a grip.

"Bloom?" She jerked at the sound of her name.

Stella was watching her, brows furrowed in concern. "You okay?"

Bloom forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm-" She cleared her throat, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt. "Just tired."

The excuse was weak, but Stella didn't push. None of them did.

And yet, she felt Flora's gentle gaze linger on her a second too long, as if sensing the storm raging inside her.

Bloom looked away.

Because if anyone could see through her, it was Flora. And right now, Bloom wasn't sure she could handle being seen.

She had to act normal. That was the only thing she could do.

She had to pretend nothing had happened.

Pretend she hadn't shattered the thin line between them with a single, desperate kiss.

Pretend that when she walked into his classroom tomorrow, she wouldn't still feel the imprint of his hands on her skin.

Bloom sat stiffly in her seat, hands clenched into fists beneath the desk as she forced herself to look anywhere but at Professor Valen.

His voice, deep and smooth like rolling thunder, filled the lecture hall, weaving through the air like a spell all on its own. Magiphilosophy had become her favorite class this year. She had always loved philosophy - asking questions, pushing theories, getting lost in discussions about magic and existence and the unknown.

And Valen made it fascinating.

The way he spoke, the way he challenged them, the way his words seemed to carry some deeper knowledge - she could listen to him for hours, could fall headfirst into every debate, every question, every idea.

Usually.

But not today.

Today, she couldn't focus.

Today, she couldn't even look at him.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stared at her open notebook, her pen held motionless between her fingers. She wasn't even pretending to take notes, wasn't even trying to look engaged. And what was worse - she had yet to raise her hand.

It was unnatural.

For weeks now, she had been the first to shoot her hand into the air whenever he introduced a new concept. She had challenged his explanations, debated his theories, argued just for the sake of pushing further.

But today, her hand remained frozen in her lap.

And she knew he noticed.

She could feel it.

That same pull, that same awareness that she had tried desperately to ignore since last night.

Valen continued to lecture as though nothing had happened, his voice smooth and unwavering, but Bloom knew better. She felt it - felt his gaze flicker toward her more than once, felt the question hanging in the space between them.

She didn't know how to be normal around him anymore.

Because every time she so much as looked in his direction, her mind betrayed her - flashing back to the way he had whispered her name like it meant something more.

She squeezed her eyes shut for half a second, her breath unsteady. She needed to stop thinking about it. Needed to stop feeling it.

But how could she, when the moment had seared itself into her like a brand? The memory wasn't fading. It was only growing stronger, more vivid, more unbearable.

She bit her lip hard, grounding herself in the sting of pain, forcing herself to focus on the steady rhythm of his voice instead.

"Emotion is the root of power," Valen was saying, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. His presence alone was magnetic - intense without being overbearing, confident without being forceful."

"Magic is not some separate, detached force to be tamed through willpower alone," he continued, his sharp gaze sweeping across the lecture hall. "It is not a neutral energy that exists outside of us, waiting to be harnessed." His voice dipped lower, softer. "No. Magic is alive, and it is deeply, inextricably tied to who we are. To what we feel."

Was he doing this on purpose? Bloom's stomach twisted violently.

Surely he wasn't. Surely this wasn't some cruel joke, wasn't some veiled message meant for her alone. And yet, every word felt like it was burrowing straight under her skin, twisting inside her chest.

Her throat tightened, and she forced her eyes onto the blank page of her notebook, onto the untaken notes, the empty lines where her words should be.

"The greatest mages in history," Valen continued, "were not those who shut out their emotions, but those who learned to harness them, to wield them like a blade, rather than letting them run wild like an uncontrollable fire."

Her fingers clenched around her pen, and for a moment, she swore she could still feel it - the heat of his magic against hers, the way her fire had intertwined with his magic, the way it had danced together.

She exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of her desk like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

She couldn't do this. She wasn't ready for this. Not after last night.

Valen moved to the large enchanted chalkboard behind him, where a magical diagram was already forming at his command. Arcs of energy twisted across the surface, words and symbols forming as though drawn by invisible hands.

"Emotion fuels magic, but it does not define it." His voice remained smooth, but Bloom thought she caught the faintest shift in it, like a hidden current beneath calm waters. "Emotion is a spark, a raw force. But raw power, without direction, is destruction."

She felt the words like an accusation.

Like a truth she had already learned firsthand.

Fire without control burned everything in its wake.

And last night, she had burned.

Not in destruction, but in something just as dangerous.

Her breath came a little too shallow, a little too fast. She pressed her palms against the desk, willing herself to focus, to listen, to not feel.

Because the way he spoke, it was too much. The way his words wove themselves around the room, seeping into the minds of every student, into her - it felt like magic of its own.

"The discipline of magiphilosophy," Valen continued, his pacing slow, measured, "is not just about understanding magic as an energy, but as a relationship. It is the bridge between want and power, between instinct and control. Every spell you cast, every surge of magic you unleash - it is a dialogue. A conversation between yourself and the very forces that make up this universe."

A faint murmur of understanding rippled through the class. Some were taking notes furiously, others sitting back with thoughtful expressions.

Bloom just stared at her blank notebook, her knuckles white around her pen.

A dialogue.

A conversation.

But last night, she hadn't spoken to her magic.

She had felt it.

Was he thinking about it now, as he spoke of control, of emotion, of balance?

"True mastery of magic," Valen said, his voice soft, "comes not from suppressing what you feel, but from knowing it. Accepting it. And using it, without letting it use you."

His words hung heavy in the air.

A pause.

A heartbeat.

And then, his gaze flickered across the room.

For the first time since the lecture began, Bloom risked looking up.

And the moment her eyes met his, she knew.

Knew that he was thinking about it.

Knew that he felt it, too.

A slow, unbearable second stretched between them.

Her pulse pounded against her ribs, heat creeping up her neck, her breath shallow.

And then, just as quickly, she looked away.

Back to her empty notes.

Back to her clenched hands.

Back to the weight in her chest.

The moment passed, but it didn't dissolve. It lingered, thick and suffocating.

She needed to get out of here.

The second class was dismissed, Bloom was gone.

She shot up from her seat so fast she nearly knocked over her chair, stuffing her notebook into her bag with frantic, clumsy fingers. She didn't wait to see if he was watching. Didn't dare glance in his direction.

She just bolted.

She was the first out the door, weaving through the hallway like her life depended on it, her heart hammering, her breath uneven.

She knew she was being a coward.

Knew that running away wouldn't fix anything.

But what else was she supposed to do?

She wasn't ready to face him.

Wasn't ready for whatever expression he might wear, wasn't ready for whatever words he might say - whether they were sharp and cutting, or worse, soft and filled with something she wasn't sure she could handle.

"Bloom." Her name, spoken in that voice, sent a shiver straight through her.

She heard him behind her.

Felt him.

Too close, too dangerous, too much.

He was calling for her. Probably asking her to stay.

But she didn't stop.

Didn't turn around.

Didn't give him the chance.

Instead, she walked faster, pretending she hadn't heard him at all.

And by the time he could reach for her, she was already gone.

Chapter Text

Days had passed, but it hadn't helped.

If anything, avoiding Valen had only made it worse.

Bloom had thrown herself into every possible distraction, anything to keep her mind from straying back to that night, back to him, back to the way his fire had felt against hers.

It wasn't just the kiss that haunted her. It was the way it had changed everything.

Before, Professor Valen had been her mentor, her teacher, the one who had challenged her like no one else. His words had infuriated her, his ideas had captivated something in her.

And now... now she couldn't even look at him.

She had buried herself in schoolwork, retreating to the library as if she could hide between the pages of old spellbooks and potions texts. Normally, she would have relished the endless debates that filled their class discussions, the thrill of questioning magic itself, of unraveling the threads of theory and truth. But now, she skimmed words without reading them, turned pages without absorbing anything.

It was useless.

No matter how hard she tried to drown herself in studies, his voice still lingered in her mind, pulling her back to thoughts she couldn't afford to have.

She had spent more time with her friends, desperate to lose herself in their easy, familiar company. She let Stella drag her into the boutique district after class, pretending to be interested in the latest enchanted fabric designs, nodding along as Stella ranted about needing a wardrobe reset before her grand Princess Ball.

She sat with Musa as she composed new melodies on her enchanted keyboard, watching the notes shimmer in the air but not really hearing them.

She helped Flora repot a particularly stubborn lunar bloom that only opened beneath moonlight, listening to her friend murmur softly to the plant as its petals trembled under her touch.

She even let Tecna show her the newest updates to her digital spell matrix, feigning interest in the way computational magic could be optimized for battle efficiency.

But through it all, Bloom was pretending. Smiling in all the right places. Laughing when she needed to. Acting normal when nothing felt normal at all.

She had even called Sky. That was when she knew just how desperate she was to escape her own mind.

It had taken her hours to build up the nerve. She had stared at his name on her phone for so long that the screen dimmed from inactivity, her finger hovering over the call button like pressing it would somehow make her feel whole again.

She had wanted to hear his voice, had wanted to want to hear his voice.

But when she finally did...

"Bloom?" His voice had been warm, familiar. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."

"Sorry," She had forced a laugh, hollow and brittle. "Just... busy with schoolwork."

A lie.

She listened as he spoke about his latest training sessions at Red Fountain, about a sparring match that had almost ended in disaster.

She tried to focus as he described Helia's latest painting - a breathtaking depiction of the Magix countryside, that Flora would probably adore.

She responded when she needed to, murmuring agreements, forcing herself to sound interested. But the entire time, all she could think about was what she wasn't saying.

What she couldn't say.

Sky, oblivious, kept talking. "And Headmaster Saladin still hasn't come back. I don't know where he even went, but it must be serious. He just left without much of an explanation. Some diplomatic mission or something. I thought he'd be back by now, but it's been weeks."

Bloom blinked, barely processing his words. "That's... weird."

Sky sighed. "Yeah, and now we're stuck with the new deputy headmaster, Professor Cedros." He said the name like it was a curse.

Bloom almost asked why but stopped herself. She shouldn't ask. Shouldn't sink into casual conversation when all she could feel was the crushing weight of her own betrayal.

But Sky continued anyway. "He's a nightmare. A total hard-ass. Keeps going on about how Red Fountain's gotten 'too soft' and how we need to 'restore the honor of true warriors.' Whatever that means. He's already increased training hours, doubled combat simulations, and started implementing these ridiculous discipline rules. You wouldn't believe it - he actually made Brandon polish every single training blade in the armory by hand just because he was late to class."

Normally, she might have laughed at that. Might have pictured Brandon scowling, muttering curses under his breath as he was forced to scrub blades like a first-year cadet.

But she barely heard it.

"That sounds... awful," she muttered.

Sky sighed again, heavier this time. "Yeah. Honestly, I just can't wait for Saladin to get back. Everything feels off without him."

Off. The word clung to her, wrapped around her like a second skin.

Everything felt off for her too. But it had nothing to do with a missing headmaster.

Her stomach twisted as she gripped her phone tighter, nausea rising in her throat.

She couldn't tell him.

She didn't tell him.

Didn't tell him about the kiss.

Didn't tell him that, for the past few days, she had been avoiding her professor like her life depended on it.

Didn't tell him that every time she closed her eyes, she saw Valen, not Sky.

That her hands still burned from where he had touched her. That his voice had etched itself into her bones. That when Valen had whispered her name, it had felt like something she had been waiting to hear her whole life.

Guilt devoured her from the inside out.

Sky loved her. She knew that. He had always been there, always steady, always good.

Even when things between them had felt strained, even when she had sensed that something was missing between them, Sky hadn't wavered.

And yet, when she had been in Valen's arms, when his lips had brushed against hers, she hadn't thought about Sky at all.

She had ended the call early, her chest tight, her stomach twisting in knots.

And still, none of it helped.

Because no matter how hard she tried to run from it, she knew.

Knew that she couldn't avoid him forever.

For the past few days, she had managed to leave class first every day, slipping out before Professor Valen could stop her, before he could say her name in that deep, spellbinding voice.

She never raised her hand anymore, even when the answer burned on her tongue, even when she wanted to argue, to challenge, to debate.

She had never been able to silence herself before.

But now? Now, she couldn't trust herself to speak.

Her time had run out.

For days, Bloom had perfected the art of avoidance - arriving just before class started so she wouldn't have to wait, claiming a seat near the door so she wouldn't be in his direct line of sight, and bolting the moment the lesson ended.

It had worked. Until now.

She was the last to enter, just as always. The hallway was empty, silent but for the distant murmur of voices from inside the classroom.

She took a steadying breath, steeling herself to step through the door-

But then, the shadows to her right shifted, a dark shape emerging from the alcove near the entrance.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat as Professor Valen stepped forward, cutting off her path before she could enter the classroom.

She froze. Took a step back without thinking.

Immediately, something inside her rebelled, some invisible thread between them pulling tight, resisting the distance.

He didn't touch her. Didn't move toward her. He didn't have to. His presence alone was enough.

Her pulse thundered as she stared up at him, her mind screaming at her to move, to say something, to do anything other than just stand there like a fool and let herself drown in him again.

He tilted his head, studying her, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Running out of exits, are we?"

His voice, oh gods, his voice.

It slithered down her spine like silk, rich and smooth and utterly intoxicating, sending a violent shiver straight through her.

She swallowed hard, forcing words past the tightness in her throat. "I didn't-" she started, her voice weaker than she wanted.

Valen's mouth curved, slow and knowing. "You've been avoiding me, Bloom."

It wasn't a question.

Bloom's fingers curled into fists. "I've been busy," she said stiffly.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Mm. And yet, despite your busyness," -he took one slow step toward her- "you've still found the time to sit through every class like a ghost, silent and stiff, as though your very existence depends on not drawing my attention."

Another step.

"You used to be the first to speak."

Another.

"The first to challenge me."

He was too close now. Not touching her, not reaching for her - but there, warm and solid and completely overwhelming.

The scent of him wrapped around her, something dark and crisp, like firewood and old parchment. Her breath hitched before she could stop it, heat pooling low in her stomach.

She hated that her body reacted this way, that even now, every inch of her was attuned to him, to the space between them, to the wrongness of it, the rightness of it-

"Tell me, Miss Bloom." His voice dipped, softened. "Why is it that you can't even look at me?"

Her lungs locked. Bloom's breath was ragged, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

Because when I look at you,  I still feel you.

Because  all I can think about is how it felt to have your lips on mine.

Because I don't know how to stop wanting you, and I hate myself for it.

But she couldn't say any of that.

She forced herself to scoff instead, lifting her chin even as her legs threatened to give out beneath her. "You're awfully full of yourself, Professor."

His smirk deepened. "Am I?"

"You think I've been avoiding you," she said, arms crossing over her chest. "Maybe I've just lost interest in your subject."

A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. "Lying doesn't suit you."

Bloom bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to hold his gaze. "Neither does arrogance, and yet here we are."

"Ah, there she is," Valen chuckled, low and rich. "I was beginning to think I'd lost my sharpest student."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate to disappoint, but I've just been-"

"Busy, yes, I heard you the first time," he drawled. "Conveniently busy enough to disappear the second class ends. Tell me, Bloom, do you intend to run forever?"

Her breath caught. He was baiting her. Teasing her with the very thing she refused to acknowledge.

Her jaw tightened, fingers digging into her arms. "If I were running, I'd be a lot further than this."

"Perhaps," Valen hummed, amused. "Or perhaps you're waiting for me to catch you."

Bloom's stomach dipped. The way he said it, the way his voice wrapped around the words like a secret -like a promise- sent heat rushing straight through her.

Enough. She refused to let him see how much he got to her.

"You wish," she shot back, tilting her head. "I'm just making sure you keep your distance."

He studied her for a long, agonizing moment, his gaze sweeping over her like he could see every thought she was trying to bury. Then, slowly, he smirked.

"Then I suggest you stop tempting me."

Bloom gasped. "I am not-"

"You will be in the training hall after your last class," he said smoothly, cutting her off. "We still have work to do."

She narrowed her eyes, her pulse still racing. "And what if I have better things to do?"

"You don't," His smirk didn't waver, his voice a dark promise. "But if you make me come looking for you, I will find you, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you through every hallway until you're right where you belong."

Bloom clenched her jaw. She should say no. Should refuse. Should turn on her heel and walk away just to prove that she could.

Instead, she lifted her chin, glaring up at him. "Fine."

And with that, she shoved past him and into the classroom, never once looking back.

Bloom took her time.

If Valen thought he could command her, if he thought she'd just rush to him like an obedient little student, he had another thing coming.

She smirked to herself as she strolled back to her dorm, her school bag slung lazily over her shoulder. If he was expecting her right after class, he was going to be waiting.

Let him. It would serve him right for thinking he could order her around.

She entered her dorm room, tossing her bag onto her bed before moving to her wardrobe, deliberately slow, savoring the small act of rebellion. If she was going to be stuck in a training session with him, then she would decide how and when.

Her uniform was stiff, suffocating. So she discarded it without a second thought, slipping into something far more comfortable.

A fitted tank top and shorts that allowed easy movement. If she was going to train, she needed to be able to move - but that didn't mean she couldn't also enjoy the thought of getting under Valen's skin.

And this outfit? Oh, it would definitely get under his skin.

She smirked at her reflection, running her fingers through her hair before tying it up in a loose ponytail. Let him fume.

And so, taking her sweet time, Bloom strolled out of her dorm and toward the training hall, the evening air cool against her bare skin. By the time she finally arrived, the sun had already started dipping below the horizon, streaking the sky in shades of gold and crimson.

The heavy doors of the training hall groaned as she pushed them open, stepping inside.

And was immediately hit by the crackling tension in the air. Professor Valen stood in the center of the hall, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression sharp and unreadable.

Oh, but she could feel his irritation. It was a storm beneath his composed exterior, like a wildfire barely restrained.

Bloom bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking.

"You're late." Valen's voice was smooth, but she could hear the edge beneath it, razor-sharp and cutting. She could feel his irritation.

Bloom arched a brow, strolling further into the room, deliberately unhurried. "You said after my last class. You never specified when after."

His jaw flexed, and that was the first real hint that she'd gotten to him. There was a storm beneath his composed exterior, like a wildfire barely restrained.

Good.

"Don't play games with me, Bloom." He took a step toward her, his movements controlled, deliberate. "You kept me waiting."

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Oh? I wasn't aware you were so impatient."

Something flickered in his eyes, dark and unreadable. "I don't like being disobeyed."

"Funny," she mused, tapping her chin. "Because I don't like being ordered around."

Another step. Closer now.

Not close enough to touch, but gods, she felt him - felt his presence pressing against her like an unseen force, wrapping around her, tightening.

His gaze dragged over her, slow and assessing, and when his eyes flickered to her bare arms, to the toned lines of her legs, something darkened behind them. "And this is what you wear to train?"

If she had to suffer under his presence, then she could at least return the favor.

Bloom smirked, shifting her weight just enough to be a little too casual, a little too tempting. "Would you prefer I wore something else?"

Valen exhaled through his nose, the movement subtle but telling. "I would prefer you took this seriously."

"Oh, I am." Her voice was light, teasing. "Very seriously."

Valen exhaled through his nose, a slow, deliberate breath, as if reining himself in.

Then, just as slowly, he circled her, his pace unhurried. "Do you think this is a game?" His voice was low, velvety smooth, threading through her like smoke.

Bloom swallowed, but she didn't let herself falter. "What if I do?"

He came to a stop behind her, so close she swore she could feel his breath ghost against the back of her neck.

"You should know," he murmured, voice like a whispered promise, "that I never play fair."

A shiver danced down her spine, and she cursed her body for reacting, for betraying her with heat curling low in her stomach, for making her hyper-aware of every inch of space between them, every inch he could close if he wanted to.

But she could play that game too.

Bloom turned, facing him once more. She tilted her chin up, looking him dead in the eye. "Good. I’d hate for this to be a fair fight."

His mouth curved, slow and knowing. "Oh, Bloom." His voice dipped, rich and deep. "Who said anything about fighting?"

Her breath caught.

Damn him. Damn the way he always managed to get under her skin, the way he made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous, something thrilling.

But she wouldn't back down. Not from him. "So? Are we actually going to train, or are you just going to keep trying to intimidate me?"

Bloom braced herself as Valen finally stepped back, putting just enough distance between them to breathe - but not nearly enough to quell the tension coiled between them like a living thing.

"Very well." His voice was smooth, controlled, yet there was something simmering beneath it. "Let's see what you can do."

Bloom rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to focus. It didn't matter that her pulse was erratic, that her skin still prickled where his breath had ghosted against it. She had trained with him before. She knew how to control her magic, how to channel it through intent, through movement, through will.

She mirrored his stance, summoning her flame. It flared to life, bright and eager, flickering between her fingers like it had been waiting.

"Good," Valen murmured, his gaze flickering over her. "But fire is more than just precision." His hand moved - quick, fluid, and the energy in his palm shifted shape, curling into a sharp-edged dagger of flame before dissipating entirely. "It is instinct."

She narrowed her eyes. "I know that."

His lips curved. "Then do it."

He moved suddenly, faster than she expected, sending a small but deliberate burst of fire toward her. Bloom reacted on instinct, shifting her stance and conjuring a shield of flame, dissipating his attack before it could reach her.

But the moment she steadied, he was there. Not attacking. Not throwing another spell. Just, so close.

His gloved hand brushed against her arm, barely a touch, a whisper of pressure against her bare skin. And still heat licked up her spine, spreading like wildfire through her veins.

Her breath caught, her grip on her magic faltering for half a second.

That smirk of his deepened. Bastard.

"You're hesitating," he murmured. "Letting yourself be distracted."

Bloom clenched her jaw, shoving the thought down. She took a measured step back, rolling her shoulders before summoning another pulse of flame.

"You should focus," Valen continued, circling her again, his voice a quiet hum of amusement. "Or are you going to let a few distractions undo you so easily?"

"I can handle distractions," she bit out.

"Oh?" His tone was all challenge now.

He struck again - faster this time, a streak of fire aimed not at her body, but at her balance. She barely had time to react, twisting to the side to avoid it, her own fire flaring instinctively in response.

But she was already off balance.

And then, his hand was on her again.

Not rough, not forceful. Just steadying her. At her waist, the barest press of fingertips against fabric.

It sent a bolt of electricity straight through her. She inhaled sharply, cursing herself, cursing him, for the way her body betrayed her.

"That was just sloppy," Valen murmured, his voice low. His hand didn't linger - but the phantom of it remained, burning through the thin barrier of her clothing. "You need to focus."

"I am focusing," she ground out.

He chuckled, dark and quiet. "Then try harder."

Bloom gritted her teeth. She knew what he was doing. He was testing her, pushing her, baiting her into breaking her own control. And she refused to give him the satisfaction.

She stopped thinking about his voice, his touch, the way her pulse pounded. She focused on the fire.

Her fire. The way it moved, the way it responded - not to her mind, but to her emotions.

A deep breath. She let the heat build. Let it fuel her instead of unravel her.

Valen attacked again -another quick burst, aimed at her side- but this time, Bloom didn't just block it.

She countered. Flames erupted from her palm, not wild, not uncontrolled, but deliberate. They curled through the air, not just in response to his magic, but in tandem with them.

Valen's eyes flashed.

"Better," he murmured.

Valen moved, a blur of motion, and Bloom barely had time to react before his magic crackled toward her. She twisted away, countering with a burst of her own fire, the force of it stronger than before, hotter, fueled by the growing embers.

It was supposed to push him back.

But he didn't move. Instead, he deflected it with ease, his gloved hand slicing through the air, dissipating the attack like it was nothing.

He was right there, again.

Not touching her, not quite, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the steady weight of his presence pressing into the space between them.

Bloom swallowed hard, willing her pulse to slow. It didn't.

Valen's gaze flickered over her, sharp and assessing. Then, quietly, he murmured, "You've come so far, Bloom."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She clenched her fists, the flames around her fingers flickering dangerously.

"You've been trying to provoke me," she said, her voice laced with the sharpness of her defiance. "Pushing me to lose control."

Valen took another step toward her, slow, deliberate.

"No," he corrected, his voice low, even. "I've been trying to help you find it. The control, the power. The balance."

He lowered his voice even further, his dark eyes locked onto hers. "But sometimes, control comes from letting go."

Her breath hitched. She shouldn't react to him like this. Shouldn't let his words slip beneath her skin, shouldn't let them burrow deep enough to make something inside her tremble.

But gods, they did.

"Letting go?" she echoed, barely more than a whisper.

Valen's eyes darkened. "Yes."

The word felt like an unspoken challenge, curling through the air between them like smoke.

"Letting go of the fear. The hesitation. And just letting yourself be..." His voice dipped lower, rougher. "Consumed."

Bloom inhaled sharply, but the breath barely filled her lungs.

Consumed. Like fire. Like heat. Like him.

She forced herself to hold his gaze, even as her body betrayed her, her skin still burning from where his hands had barely touched her.

She knew what he was doing. And damn it, she wasn't going to let him win.

"Consumed," she repeated, her voice shaking, but her chin lifted in defiance. "That's not control, Valen. That's surrender."

For a moment, she saw something flicker in his eyes, a dark desire. But just as quickly, his lips curved into that damnably confident smirk, the one that made her blood run hot and cold all at once.

"And what if surrender isn't weakness?" he murmured, his tone low, playful. "What if it's the truest form of power?"

His gaze raked over her - slow, deliberate, like he was stripping her down layer by layer, making her feel bare in ways she couldn't name.

She wanted to feel his hands on her again. Wanted to feel the fire, the friction, the way everything around them seemed to fade when they were this close. 

But there was something else too. Something that, despite the flame that rose inside her, made her stomach turn in the best way and the worst way.

"I can't-," she said, forcing the words out, each one like a strike of lightning. "This is wrong."

Valen's gaze sharpened at her words, the teasing smirk faltering just enough for Bloom to notice.

"Then tell me to stop." His words were a challenge, but there was something underneath them, almost vulnerable. "Tell me that you don't want this."

Bloom's pulse spiked at the words. They felt like a dare, a temptation wrapped in silk. She swallowed, but it felt like she couldn't quite get enough air into her lungs.

She should. She should tell him. But then, there was this fire that pulsed between them, this raw, undeniable connection that made it so hard to focus on anything else.

"I... I can't do this." The words came out in a whisper, but they weren't strong enough to make him stop. He was too close, too compelling.

Valen's expression softened, but only for a moment. Then, that damn smirk slid back into place, and he was the same cocky, confident figure he always was.

"You're standing here, fighting it." His voice had that teasing, dangerous edge again, like he was playing a game, and he knew he was winning. "But if you really didn't want me, you'd already be gone."

Bloom's chest tightened. She wanted to pull away, to retreat, but there was something magnetic about him that kept her rooted to the spot.

He reached out slowly, his hand hovering near her cheek as if testing her resolve. It was barely a touch -just the faintest brush against her skin- but it felt like a lightning strike. Her breath caught, and she had to stop herself from leaning into it. She had to stop herself from wanting more.

"Tell me, darling," Valen murmured again, voice soft but burning with a quiet intensity. "Tell me that you don't want this."

She looked up at him, her lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. Every word felt like ash in her mouth. She should push him away. She should say something, anything, to stop this.

But instead, all she could do was stare at him, at the way he stood there, waiting for her response like he knew exactly what she was feeling.

"You're my professor," she said finally, the phrase tasting like ash in her mouth. "And I'm your student. This -what happened between us, that kiss- it can't happen again. It was wrong. All of it."

The words were hard to say, even harder to believe, but she had to. His gaze flickered, just for a moment, but he didn't move. Didn't say anything.

"I can't do this," she said, the words finally escaping, though they felt inadequate. "I can't just throw everything away. My life, my future... Sky."

At the mention of her boyfriend, Valen's jaw tightened, his grey eyes darkening for a brief moment. The intensity that had once crackled like fire seemed to have shifted, curling into something quieter, but no less dangerous. His gaze was unreadable now, like a storm waiting to break.

He didn't move for a long moment, just watched her, his lips pressing into a thin line, as though weighing her words.

"Sky," he repeated softly, almost as if testing the name on his lips, feeling the weight of it. "I see." His tone was even, but she could hear the undercurrent of something raw in it, that flickered beneath the calm.

" I can't betray him," Bloom whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. "I can't do that to him. He doesn't deserve this."

The words feeling like a lifeline, something to cling to.

Valen didn't respond, his grey eyes never leaving hers. And in that silence, the reality of her own words settled like a weight in her stomach.

She had already betrayed Sky. She had kissed Valen. She had felt the heat of his lips, the intensity of his touch, the way her body responded to him, to all of it.

The words she had said felt hollow now, almost like a lie. Because she had already crossed that line. She had already let herself be consumed by him in ways she couldn't explain, even if they hadn't gone further than the kiss.

She had felt it, the shift. The desire. The way everything around her seemed to fade away when Valen was near. When he touched her, even in the smallest way, her entire world tilted, her body reacting in a way that felt completely out of her control. And she hated herself for it. For not being stronger. For not being able to push him away.

Sky didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be caught in the middle of whatever twisted thing was happening between her and Valen.

And yet, here she was. Standing in front of the man who had kissed her, who had stirred things inside her she didn't want to acknowledge, and telling him that she couldn't betray her boyfriend. All while knowing that she already had.

Valen's expression darkened. "And what about what you deserve, Bloom? What about your own desires?"

Bloom's breath hitched, and she stepped back, shaking her head. "They don't matter."

"Don't matter?" His jaw tightened. "You're telling me you don't matter, Bloom?"

Her breath hitched. She knew exactly what he was doing - pushing her, challenging her to admit things she wasn't ready to face.

But it was harder than ever to ignore the pull, the temptation that lingered in every moment they shared. He was right in front of her, close enough to touch, close enough that she could almost feel the heat radiating off of him.

She took a step back, shaking her head. "This thing between us, it can't go any further."

For the briefest moment, her gaze flickered toward the door. The exit. The safe space where she could retreat. But the door was a lie. Because she knew, deep down, she didn't want to leave. Not yet.

Bloom knew that she couldn't run from this, from him.

So, she didn't give him a warning. The moment she made her decision, she struck.

Flames erupted from her palms in a controlled blast, aimed straight for him. Not reckless, not wild - precise and deliberate.

Valen barely had time to react. He twisted to the side, the fire missing him by a fraction of a second, heat licking at the edge of his coat. His eyes widened, just a flicker, before amusement curved his lips.

"Oh?" he murmured, brushing a stray ember from his sleeve. "So this is how it's going to be from now on?"

Bloom didn't answer. She was already moving, already gathering the fire into her hands again, shaping it, controlling it. This time, she didn't throw it - she let it trail behind her fingers as she lunged forward, aiming for his center.

Valen deflected at the last second, catching her wrist with his gloved hand, the leather cool against her burning skin. He twisted, using her own momentum to throw her off balance, but she was ready for him this time. She dropped low, sweeping his legs out from under him.

His back hit the floor with a solid thud. For the first time since they'd started training, she had him on the ground.

And gods, it was satisfying.

Bloom hovered over him, her breathing steady, the fire still crackling in her palms. "Surprised?"

Valen exhaled a slow breath, eyes dark with something unreadable. Then he smirked.

"A little." Then, before she could react, he struck.

Faster than she thought possible, he hooked a leg around hers and twisted, dragging her down with him. She barely had time to brace herself before he flipped them, pinning her to the floor.

The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.

But Valen's hand had slipped behind her head, catching her before it could slam onto the unforgiving marble floor. His fingers curled protectively in her hair, cushioning the impact, keeping her from harm even as he took her down.

She was beneath him now, her wrists caught in his grip, his body hovering just above hers - not touching, not really, but close enough that she could feel his heat. Close enough that her flames flickered, caught between them, burning but not out of control.

Valen's smirk deepened. "You were saying?"

Bloom scowled up at him, refusing to acknowledge the way her pulse had quickened, the way every inch of her body was suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.

Instead, she let her magic do the talking.

The fire surged beneath her skin, heating the space between them until Valen had no choice but to release her, forced back by the sheer intensity of it. The moment his grip loosened, she twisted, breaking free and flipping them again, straddling his waist, pressing a burning palm to his chest.

Not enough to burn him. But enough to make a point.

She leaned in, her voice low. "Better?"

Valen's gaze flickered to her lips, just for a second. His breathing was steady, but there was something else beneath the surface. Something restrained.

He exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a chuckle escaping. "Much."

Bloom narrowed her eyes, searching his face, trying to find some sign of frustration, some sign that she had finally shaken him. But all she found was that same, infuriating amusement.

"Don't look so smug," she muttered, pulling back.

"Oh, Bloom." His voice was velvet, teasing. "That would be much easier if you weren't so determined to impress me."

She felt the brush of his fingers ghosting along her waist, barely touching, but enough. Her control wavering for just a fraction of a second. And that was all he needed.

One second, she was on top, the fire still pulsing between them, her control absolute. The next, the world tilted.

Valen moved with infuriating ease, his hands finding her waist -not gripping, just guiding- as he shifted his weight beneath her. It was barely a touch, barely a movement, but it was enough.

Before she could brace herself, before she could counter, her balance was gone.

Her back hit the floor, the impact stealing the breath from her lungs. But before she could even process it, Valen was already moving, rising to his full height, standing above her while she lay sprawled on the floor beneath him.

For the first time in their training, he hadn't pinned her. Hadn't used his weight to keep her down.

He didn't need to.

The position alone - him standing tall, looking down at her while she was flat on her back, fire still flickering at her fingertips - was enough.

And gods, he knew it.

"That was careless," he murmured, tilting his head, storm-grey eyes sharp with amusement. "You had me. And then you let me take it back."

Bloom scowled, heat prickling beneath her skin—not from the fire, but from something else entirely. "I was distracted."

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "By what?"

His voice was all velvet and smoke, like he already knew the answer. And that only infuriated her more. Bloom swallowed hard, glaring up at him.

"Still in control?" Valen asked, his voice maddeningly calm, teasing.

She grit her teeth. "Completely."

His gaze flickered down, taking in the heat in her eyes, the flames still licking at her fingertips. "Good."

And then he stepped forward, offering his hand.

For a long moment, she considered ignoring it. But that would be a different kind of surrender.

So she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. His fingers lingered for half a second longer than they needed to. So did her gaze. Then she let go.

Valen's smirk deepened, watching her carefully as he took a step closer, closing the distance she had just created.

"You're enjoying this," she accused.

His brows lifted in mock surprise. "Shouldn't I? You've never fought me like this before."

"I've fought you plenty."

"Not like this."

She exhaled slowly, grounding herself. And yet, her pulse betrayed her. She was still reacting to him.

Damn him. Damn herself.

Chapter Text

The days blurred into weeks, and soon, training with Professor Valen became just another part of Bloom's routine. Well, almost.

Some things had shifted, changed in ways she couldn't quite put into words. The tension between them had never disappeared, not really. It lingered in the air, woven into every glance that lasted a second too long, every teasing remark, every sparring match that forced them too close.

But neither of them mentioned the kiss. It was as if it had never happened.

So, she ignored it. And so did he.

Instead, they focused on training.

And that, at least, was going well.

Now that she understood the key to controlling her powers -mastering her emotions rather than being ruled by them- her progress had skyrocketed. She was faster, stronger, more precise with her flames. They answered her command with ease, no longer wild and unpredictable but sharp, refined.

She had even managed to land a few solid hits on Valen during their spars. Not many, and never enough to truly win, but it was something. Like today.

Bloom wiped sweat from her brow, eyes locked on Valen as he circled her. Her pulse was steady, her flames at the ready, simmering just beneath her skin.

He smirked. "You're thinking too much again, Bloom."

She rolled her shoulders, loosening her stance. "Or maybe you're not thinking enough."

A flicker of amusement passed through his gaze. "Bold claim."

She didn't answer. Instead, she moved. Fast.

Flames burst from her palms as she lunged, feinting left before twisting right at the last second. It almost worked. Almost.

At the very last moment, Valen shifted, dodging just enough that the brunt of her attack missed - but not all of it.

Her flames licked his arm, singing the edge of his sleeve. Not enough to burn, but enough to be felt. Enough to remind him she was getting better.

Bloom grinned. "Oh, what's this? Did I actually land a hit?"

Valen glanced down at his arm, then back up at her, his smirk deepening.

"Don't let it get to your head," he said, and before she could react, he struck.

He moved faster than she could register, sweeping her legs out from under her in a move so seamless it was almost frustrating. One moment she was standing. The next, she was flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

Then Valen's face appeared above her, looking far too pleased with himself. "Victory is fleeting, Bloom."

She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. "You are insufferable."

He crouched beside her, resting his arms on his knees, his smooth pale hair falling over his shoulders. "And yet, you keep coming back for more."

Bloom huffed, shoving herself upright. "Because I actually want to improve."

"And you are." It wasn't teasing. It wasn't mocking. Just simple truth.

Something warm curled in her chest, but she ignored it, quickly dusting herself off and pushing to her feet.

"Good," she said, crossing her arms. "Because I'm not stopping until I actually beat you."

Professor Valen rose to his full height, tilting his head slightly. "Then I suppose I should start preparing for the day hell freezes over."

She scowled, launching a flame toward him - not an attack, just a flash of heat meant to make him move. He dodged easily, laughing under his breath.

The tension between them was still there, but this - this was normal.

It was better this way. Wasn't it?

Outside of training, things had also fallen into a steady rhythm.

She was engaged in his lectures again, challenging him in front of the entire class when she wasn't satisfied with his answers. Their battles weren't limited to the training hall; they extended to the classroom, a war of intellect and wit that neither seemed willing to lose.

Every time she called him out on something, he met her challenge with that maddening smirk, answering her questions with just enough patience to be infuriating. And every time he turned a question back on her, forcing her to think, to push herself, she felt that same thrill of victory when she held her own.

Her classmates had started to notice.

More than once, she had caught amused glances from Musa, or the knowing way Layla smirked when Bloom left class looking just a little more flustered than before.

Even Stella had raised an eyebrow at her one afternoon, giving her a look so pointed Bloom nearly burned a hole in her textbook.

"What?" she had asked, feigning ignorance.

Stella had only hummed, flipping lazily through a fashion magazine. "Nothing." A pause. Then, "Just that it's fascinating how much energy you put into arguing with Professor Valen."

Bloom rolled her eyes. "It's called learning."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it?"

Bloom smacked the magazine out of her hands.

But it didn't mean anything. It couldn't. So she shoved it all down and focused on what mattered. Her control. Her power. Her training.

And not the way Professor Valen looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

Like the way his eyes lingered on her in the moments between their sparring matches, when their breathing was still heavy and their bodies were still too close.

Like the way her magic responded to him, not just in battle, but in proximity - like it knew something she refused to acknowledge.

Like the way his teasing had shifted, becoming something sharper, something edged with something neither of them wanted to name.

It was dangerous. It was wrong.

Time slipped through Bloom's fingers faster than she could grasp it.

It felt like only yesterday that Stella had announced -no, declared- that her grand Princess Ball was happening during the semester break. And now, as the event loomed closer, it was all anyone could talk about.

Or, more accurately, it was all Stella could talk about.

Her father had set the date on her birthday, ensuring that there would be no excuse for anyone to miss it. And judging by the sheer number of invitations the princess had sent out, it seemed like half the Magical Dimension would be in attendance.

Or at least, that's what it felt like to Bloom.

Every day, there was some new update. Some new detail Stella had to finalize, a crisis she had to avert, an outfit disaster that needed immediate attention. There were discussions of ballroom layouts, enchanted floral arrangements, music selections, and guest lists that stretched far beyond what Bloom even thought was possible.

Stella's enthusiasm was unshakable.

"You don't understand, Bloom," she had said one afternoon, arms flailing dramatically as she paced the dorm room, her sketchbook of dress designs clutched in one hand. "This isn't just any ball - it's my official princess debut. It has to be perfect."

Bloom, lying on her bed flipping through a book she wasn't actually reading, had glanced up with an amused smile. "Haven't you already debuted as a princess? You know, at birth?"

Stella had scoffed, tossing her sketchbook aside. "That doesn't count! That was baby me. This is my first ball as an adult, Bloom. A fashion icon. A future queen. This is the moment where I officially announce myself as the most dazzling, unforgettable royal of all time."

Bloom had bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Instead, she just nodded. "Of course. How silly of me."

Stella, completely missing the sarcasm, beamed and launched into another hour-long monologue about decor themes and how the chandeliers had to be infused with a celestial glow - anything else would be a disaster.

But beyond all the glitz and glamour, there was one small detail Bloom couldn't ignore.

It was also Stella's birthday. And she needed to find the perfect gift.

Stella had insisted that Bloom didn't need to give her a present when Bloom mentioned it. "You being there is the best present I could ask for. That, and having you actually enjoy yourself for once."

Bloom had rolled her eyes at that. "I know, but I still want to get you something."

Stella had gasped, clutching her heart dramatically. "Bloom! Are you saying my love and friendship isn't enough for you?"

Bloom had smacked her with a pillow.

Still, she wanted to get Stella something meaningful. Something special. Something that wouldn't be overshadowed by the literal royal extravaganza that was about to unfold.

But gift shopping would have to wait. Because before anything else, there was the matter of dresses.

Stella had, of course, already found her dream dress for the event. And a back-up dress. And a back-up for the back-up, just in case.

But in true Stella fashion, she had also insisted that her best friends look just as stunning as she did. "We are not just showing up looking good. We are showing up looking flawless."

Bloom had protested at first, insisting she could just wear something she already in her wardrobe. But the horror in Stella's expression had been enough to silence her.

"You are not wearing something simple to my ball, Bloom," she had said, scandalized. "You are not going to fade into the background like some tragic, overlooked side character!"

"Wow. Tell me how you really feel."

Stella had ignored her, already pulling out swatches of fabric. Bloom sighed, knowing there was no getting out of this.

A princess's ball. A sea of nobility and royals. And a night where, whether she liked it or not, she was going to be in the center of it all.

And that was how Bloom had found herself -again- standing on the pedestal of yet another dress shop, feeling like a life-sized doll under Stella's expert hands.

It wasn't the first time she had been in this exact position. In fact, she had lost count of how many fashion emergencies she had been roped into in the past few weeks. But this? This was a whole new level of Stella-induced suffering.

"Next!"

Bloom barely had time to react before Stella was tugging at the delicate straps of the gown she was currently wearing, a soft green number that, admittedly, wasn't the worst thing she'd ever worn. But before she could form an opinion, Stella was already shaking her head, dismissing it entirely.

"This is all wrong," Stella groaned, pacing the fitting room like a designer on the verge of a creative breakdown. "The cut is too safe, the color is too predictable, and the fabric? Ugh. No. We need something that screams 'I am effortlessly stunning, but also mysterious, powerful, and undeniably magnetic.'"

Bloom sighed.

"I think it just needs to scream, 'I can walk in this without tripping over the hem,'" she muttered.

Stella ignored her.

"Try the deep red one next," she instructed, waving over one of the shop attendants who had been waiting patiently with an alarming number of dress options.

"I don't know why this is such a big deal," Bloom mumbled as she stepped off the pedestal, gathering the green fabric to avoid stepping on it. "It's not my ball, Stella."

The princess fell silent.

Slowly, dangerously, Stella turned to her, placing both hands on Bloom's shoulders. "I need you to listen to me very carefully," she said, eyes dead serious. "This is not just a ball. This is my princess debut. My fairy tale moment. My crowning achievement as the reigning fashion goddess of Solaria." She narrowed her eyes. "And you, my dearest best friend, will not ruin that by showing up looking anything less than perfect."

Bloom held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! I get it. Just, please don't murder me in a dress shop."

"No promises," Stella muttered, already helping her unzip the green gown.

The other girls weren't suffering nearly as much.

Musa had put her foot down almost immediately, refusing to let Stella convince her to buy something new when she had a perfectly good wardrobe full of dresses she barely wore. "I'm not spending a fortune on something I'll wear once," she had said, rolling her eyes at Stella's devastated expression.

Flora and Tecna, meanwhile, had already found their gowns earlier in the week. Flora had settled on a soft, flowing green dress that matched her natural elegance, while Tecna had chosen a sleek, futuristic ensemble with intricate digital patterns woven into the fabric - somehow managing to make it both regal and perfectly her.

And Layla, as a literal princess, didn't have to worry about shopping at all. She had access to Andros' royal wardrobe, a collection of dresses so elaborate that even Stella had been momentarily speechless when she saw them.

Which left Bloom. The only one still trapped in this never-ending cycle of outfit changes.

Ten more dresses later, Bloom was running out of patience. At this point, time was a blur of fabric, exasperated sighs, and Stella's increasingly high standards.

The red dress had been too bold. The baby pink one had been too structured. The shimmering lilac gown had been too much, even for Stella's tastes - though, in Stella's words, it was more "gala-appropriate" than "ballroom stunning."

And that was how she found herself once again stepping onto the pedestal, half-resigned to her fate as Stella appraised her with a critical eye.

The color of the dress was a deep, rich sapphire blue, reminiscent of the night sky, wrapping her in a color so striking it almost felt like she was wearing the cosmos itself. The bodice was fitted but not restrictive, adorned with silver embroidery and delicate, shimmering embellishments that cascaded downward like a sky full of scattered stardust.

It wasn't overdone, wasn't too much, but it was mesmerizing.

The neckline dipped into an elegant V-shape, enough to add a hint of allure while still feeling regal. It framed her collarbones, her shoulders, drawing just enough attention without being excessive.

And the sleeves - oh, the sleeves. They were unlike anything she had worn before. Sheer and weightless, they draped from her shoulders like the softest veil of moonlight, layered in delicate fabric that moved with every small shift of her body. They were light, airy, giving her the illusion of wings.

The skirt was another masterpiece. Voluminous yet effortless, the fabric cascaded like water, pooling around her feet, whispering with every movement. Silver embroidery and tiny, twinkling embellishments formed celestial patterns across the fabric - shooting stars, cosmic designs, both intricate and endless. And trailing behind her, extending like a dream, was a sheer gossamer train, weightless and glistening under the boutique's soft lighting.

Bloom turned to the mirror, breath catching slightly in her throat.

A hush fell over the boutique. Even Stella, who had been ruthlessly opinionated up until now, was silent. And then-

"This is it," Stella murmured, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her lips.

Bloom turned to her. "What?"

"That's the one."

For once, Stella's voice wasn't teasing. There was no dramatic declaration, no over-the-top enthusiasm. Just certainty.

Bloom looked at herself again, smoothing her hands over the fabric, feeling the way it moved with her, the way it felt right.

"...You really think so?"

Stella gave her a look. "Bloom. I have spent hours making you try on dresses, and I don't regret a second of it because this - this is the one."

Bloom had barely stopped staring at her reflection, lost in the sheer beauty of the dress, when she caught sight of the tiny, damning piece of paper attached to the gown.

Her heart plummeted. The price tag was astronomical. As in, "you could buy a car or make a down payment on a house"- kind of astronomical.

Her stomach twisted. No. Absolutely not.

The dress had felt like a dream, like something plucked from a fairytale, but it would have to stay a dream.

Bloom swallowed, forcing herself to peel her gaze away from the price tag and back to her reflection. For a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine what it would feel like to wear it to Stella's ball, to walk into the grand palace halls with this celestial masterpiece flowing around her.

It was beautiful. It was perfect. And it was so far out of reach it might as well have been in another dimension.

Stella, of course, noticed the change in her expression immediately. "What?" she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Bloom took a slow, steady breath before giving her a tight smile. "Nothing. It's just..." She gestured vaguely toward the tag, her tone wry. "I think this dress costs more than my entire life."

Stella blinked. Then, as if she had misheard, she leaned forward and grabbed the tag, her perfectly manicured fingers flipping it over to read the number.

Then she tilted her head, unimpressed.

"Well, yeah," Stella shrugged as if that was entirely normal. "It's designer, Bloom."

"That doesn't justify it!"

Stella arched a perfectly shaped brow. "Bloom, royalty is going to be at this event. Do you have any idea how expensive princess dresses are?"

Bloom shook her head, half in frustration, half in resignation. "Well, I'm not a princess."

Stella hummed thoughtfully. "No, but you are my best friend, which means you should look just as amazing as me."

Bloom sighed, looking down at the dress wistfully. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. But there was no way she could justify spending that much money on a dress she would wear once.

With great reluctance, she turned to the boutique assistant who had been helping them. "I'm really sorry, but I think I need to try something else."

The woman gave her a polite nod, but before she could even take the first step off the pedestal, Stella's voice cut through the air. "Bloom."

Uh-oh. She knew that tone. That was Stella's 'I'm about to do something you won't like, but you're going to deal with it' tone.

"I'm buying it for you."

"No." The refusal was immediate.

"Bloom."

"Stella, no."

Stella placed her hands on her hips. "It's not a big deal-"

"It's a huge deal!" Bloom shot back, exasperated. "That's way too much money for you to spend on me!"

"I can afford it."

"That's not the point!"

Stella let out a dramatic sigh, crossing her arms. "Bloom, you know I love spoiling my friends. I literally do this all the time."

"Not like this," Bloom countered, shaking her head. "I appreciate it, I really do, but I can't let you spend this much on me. It wouldn't feel right."

Stella groaned, looking genuinely frustrated now. "Bloom. It's your first real ball. Do you really want to settle for something less than perfect?"

Bloom bit her lip. But accepting something this extravagant from Stella? She just couldn't.

"I'll find something else," Bloom insisted, stepping off the pedestal. "Something less ridiculously expensive."

Stella looked at her like she had just suggested wearing a paper bag to the ball. "Bloom, don't be stupid-"

But Bloom had already turned away, needing a moment to herself.

For a moment, her gaze drifted toward the boutique window, the soft glow of streetlights spilling in from outside.

And that's when she saw him. Or at least, she thought she did.

Professor Valen. Standing on the other side of the street.

His posture was relaxed, but there was something about the way he stood there, his hands in his pockets, his sharp gaze fixed on the boutique, on her, that sent a strange jolt through her chest.

The moment felt stretched, suspended in time. Her heart gave a strange little lurch-

Then a group of people passed, momentarily blocking her view.

And when they cleared, he was gone.

Bloom's breath caught slightly, her eyes scanning the street, but there was no sign of him. Just the usual bustle of passersby, the golden glow of lanterns, the sound of distant chatter.

Had she imagined it? Had she only wanted to see him? The thought left her unsettled, an odd warmth curling in her stomach.

She turned back to Stella, shaking off the strange moment.

"Alright," she said, forcing a breath. "Let's find another dress."

A little while later, Bloom had finally found a dress, and though it wasn't the jaw-dropping, show-stopping gown she had dreamed of, it was still beautiful. Soft, flowing fabric in a delicate shade of soft blue that complemented her red hair perfectly, and most importantly, it didn't cost an arm and a leg.

As the sun began to set over the streets of Magix, the group found themselves in one of the city's bustling squares, crowded with shops, cafes, and the hum of lively conversation.

The Specialists had joined them, and the group set off to enjoy the afternoon together, their laughter mingling with the music and chatter around them.

Bloom found herself grateful for the distraction, the lively atmosphere of the street market, the smells of food wafting through the air, and the sights of colorful stores brimming with treasures. She let herself get lost in the warmth of her friends' company, in the comfort of their easy conversations and familiar jokes. But even as she smiled, something lingered at the back of her mind, something she couldn't quite shake.

Sky was texting again.

It wasn't exactly a new occurrence. Over the past few weeks, Bloom had noticed his attention becoming more and more consumed by his phone. He had been glued to it, sending messages, answering calls, his brow furrowing in concentration as his fingers moved quickly over the screen. It was an almost constant presence between them now - a silent third party that kept him occupied in a way that made her feel a little distant, a little... unnoticed.

It wasn't entirely surprising. The demands from his father had only grown more intense lately.

Sky's future as the heir to the throne of Eraklyon loomed large, and the responsibilities he had to shoulder were only becoming more pressing. Bloom understood that pressure, or at least she tried to be understanding.

He had to be ready, prepared for the day when he would take over, to rule and lead the kingdom with all the weight that came with it. She could see it in the tense set of his shoulders, the way his eyes would drift with concern whenever his father's name came up in conversation.

He withdrew into his phone, into whatever conversation was happening on the other side of the screen, and the rest of the world became secondary.

She didn't mind that he was busy, not really. He needed to be. It was his duty. It was simply the fact that Sky was distracted - and for some reason, Bloom wasn't entirely sure she minded.

She hadn't told him about the kiss. The world-shattering kiss she had shared with Professor Valen. The one that lingered in her memory like a storm she couldn't quite weather.

And she had no intention of ever telling Sky about that, about the way her body still reacted to the thought of her professor, the pull that tugged at her whenever he was near. That was a secret Bloom would take to her grave.

Yet, despite that, she still felt guilty.

Guilty for the way Valen's gaze seemed to brand itself into her mind, for the intensity that sparked in her chest whenever their hands brushed or when he stood too close.

Bloom had told herself a thousand times that it didn't matter - that it was nothing, just a kiss, just a fleeting moment.

But the truth was, it mattered. In ways she couldn't explain, in ways she couldn't control. She still thought about him and no matter how hard she tried to push it away, the feelings didn't fade. They only simmered, ever-present, like a fire she was too afraid to touch.

And now, with Sky more absorbed than ever by his father's demands, Bloom couldn't help but wonder if he even noticed.

She stole another glance at him, her heart tightening in her chest as she watched him text away, his eyes flicking up to meet hers for a brief moment. He gave her a distracted smile, his attention already back on the screen.

She smiled back, a little too quickly, a little too forced.

"Sorry, I just have to take this," Sky muttered, his voice light but apologetic as he stepped away from the group, phone pressed to his ear.

Bloom nodded, not sure what to say, not sure what to feel. There was no anger, no resentment. Just a strange emptiness that lingered where there used to be more - more connection, more presence, more of Sky.

Her gaze turned to the others, but she didn't really hear their conversation.

Her thoughts were miles away, trapped somewhere between Sky's phone calls and the ever-constant ache of the secret she was carrying. What was she supposed to do when it felt like she was slowly being lost in the quiet space between them?

It had been growing for weeks now, subtle at first but then steadily growing larger. The longer Sky stayed absorbed in his phone, the more distant he seemed. And Bloom? She was left behind, tangled up in her own confusion, her own guilt.

The conversation around her continued, the laughter and chatter of her friends pulling her back to the present, but it wasn't enough. Not anymore. Bloom found herself glancing at the street corners, her gaze drifting to the familiar sight of the shops and cafes ahead, as if she were waiting for something -or someone- to break the spell.

Chapter Text

The last day of school before the much-anticipated break had finally arrived, and Bloom could hardly believe it.

It had been an exhausting few weeks, with every professor at Alfea seemingly conspiring to test their limits with grueling end-of-semester exams. As a third-year student, things had only gotten harder - no longer were they just learning the basics of magic. Now, they were expected to master complex spell theory, battle magic, and advanced potion-making. It was enough to make her head spin.

Bloom had spent the past nights drowning in textbooks, her room littered with parchment filled with scribbled notes, and her mind constantly buzzing with the weight of everything she had to remember. Between her classes, endless studying, and her merciless training sessions with Professor Valen, Bloom hadn't had a single moment to breathe.

She had spent the past nights drowning in textbooks, her room a battlefield of scattered parchment filled with frantic notes, ink stains smudging her hands, and empty cups of tea piling up on her desk. Her mind had been buzzing constantly, trying to juggle everything at once.

She hadn't had a single moment to breathe. But now, finally, it was over.

Bloom slumped against a pillar in one of Alfea's grand hallways, exhaling as she clutched the results of her final exam in Dimensional Navigation.

"How bad is it?" Musa leaned against the wall beside her, sipping from a conjured-up cup of iced coffee.

Bloom glanced at the paper again. "B+."

Musa whistled. "Not bad. Considering Professor Alleas was throwing hypothetical multi-dimensional travel failures at us, I'd say that's a win."

"Hypothetical? He made me simulate what to do if I got trapped in the Omega Dimension without a portal," Bloom groaned, rubbing her temples. "As if I'd ever want to go there."

Thinking back, Bloom still couldn't believe how she had survived some of those exams.

Potionology had been a complete nightmare. Professor Palladium had insisted that they craft an advanced Regeneration Elixir with zero instructions. Everything had to be memorized. One mistake and the potion would either explode or, worse, become poisonous.

Alchemy was equally unforgiving. Unlike Potionology, which relied on brewing methods, Alchemy required them to transmute materials into completely new substances using precise magical formulas.

Bloom had barely managed to turn a lump of enchanted lead into celestial silver. She had passed, but not without a comment from Professor Medea about "slightly unstable elemental infusion."

But by far, the strangest exam had been Magiphilosophy.

That test hadn't involved magic at all - at least, not in the traditional sense. Instead, Professor Valen had posed a single, open-ended question:

"What is the true nature of magic?"

That was it. Just one question.

The students had been given two hours to answer, and Bloom had filled nearly four pages before realizing she was overthinking everything. Her Magic wasn't just a force or a tool. It was alive, woven into the fabric of the universe. It was in the stars, the elements, in every living being. It was creation and destruction.

She had no idea if her final answer had been right, or if there even was a right answer.

Flora appeared beside them, looking exhausted but pleased. "At least it's over. No more exams. No more studying. No more-"

"-except for training with Professor Valen," Layla cut in as she joined them. "Right, Bloom?"

Bloom groaned louder. Right. Valen.

Unlike the other professors, who had given them a slight reprieve in the final days before the break, Valen had doubled down. Their training sessions had been relentless.

No matter how exhausted she was from studying, no matter how late she had stayed up trying to cram for Metamorphosymbiosis or Potionology, he still expected her to show up and give her all.

And, of course, he still bested her nearly every time. But not always.

She had landed a few solid hits in the past week - real hits, ones that had momentarily thrown him off guard. She had seen it in his expression: the faint flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by that damn smirk. But she could see it in his eyes when she had done something right.

But that wasn't good enough for her.

Flora nudged her with her elbow, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Don't look so miserable. It's your last session before the break, right? Then we can focus on the important things - like packing and making sure Stella doesn't have a royal meltdown before the ball."

Bloom snorted. "She's already had three. I had to talk her down yesterday when she realized her backup dress didn't match the palace's 'golden hour' lighting aesthetic."

Musa burst out laughing, shaking her head. "Of course she did. Let me guess, she made you stand in front of a window while she held up fabric swatches?"

Bloom sighed dramatically. "For an hour."

The girls laughed, and for the first time in weeks, Bloom felt the weight of stress start to lift.

One more training session. Then freedom.

The moment Bloom stepped into the training hall, a familiar thrill of anticipation ran through her, though this time, it was edged with a strange sense of finality.

For the first time in months, she wouldn't be training with him every other afternoon. No relentless sparring sessions. No taunting smirks. No sharp corrections muttered under his breath as he pushed her harder than anyone else.

A whole week without Professor Valen. And yet, instead of relief, she felt something unsettling twist in her stomach.

She exhaled sharply, shaking the thought away. Focus, Bloom.

Her gaze flickered toward him, drinking in the sight of him one last time before the semester break and just like every time before - he stole her breath away.

Stars above.

He stood in the center of the hall, waiting, looking like he belonged in some dark, forbidden legend - a villain whispered about in hushed tones, the kind you weren't supposed to want but did anyway.

His long, tailored black coat hung open, just loose enough to tempt. The rich crimson lining shifted with his slightest movements, the metallic fastenings catching the flickering torchlight.

Beneath it, a white V-neck shirt clung to him just enough, hinting at the sculpted form underneath. The contrast between the darkness he wrapped himself in and the stark white of his shirt made him look even more dangerous, untouchable.

Her eyes traveled lower before she could stop herself.

The fitted black pants were a problem. Or maybe she was the problem, because they hugged his frame in a way that was deeply unfair, the smooth material leading down to knee-high leather boots.

Today, his white-blonde hair was left open and untamed, falling around his sharp features, almost too perfect to be real. It framed his face, catching in the dim light like strands of moonlight spun into silk. Sometimes, during training, it would fall over his eyes, and he'd brush it back with an absentminded flick of his fingers - a movement that was far more distracting than it had any right to be.

Bloom swallowed.

Her pulse had no right to be racing like this, not over him, not when he was-

Stars above, move, Bloom. She forced herself forward, desperate to act normal, to pretend like she hadn't just spent an embarrassingly long moment devouring him with her eyes.

Professor Valen turned his head slightly, those sharp grey eyes locking onto hers instantly. Like he had felt her looking. "You're late."

Bloom rolled her eyes, glancing at the time. "By thirty seconds."

"Which is still late," he countered smoothly, tilting his head slightly. "But I suppose I'll let it slide. Since it's the last session before your little vacation."

Bloom bristled at the teasing edge in his voice. "Oh, how generous of you."

Valen smirked. "Don't get used to it."

Without warning, he struck.

Bloom barely had time to react before a sharp wave of dark energy cut through the air toward her. She twisted out of the way, summoning her fire just in time to counter the attack, her flames colliding with his magic in a crackling explosion.

"Seriously?" she panted, her boots sliding across the smooth floor as she regained her stance. "No warm-up?"

Valen stalked toward her, his presence intense, unrelenting. "The enemy doesn't wait for you to warm up, Bloom."

She gritted her teeth, launching forward, her fire igniting in her palms. She swung her right hand, a controlled burst of flame streaking toward him, but he sidestepped effortlessly, as if he had already predicted her attack.

His movements were fluid, calculated. He was never reckless, never wasted a single step.

Bloom barely had time to plant her feet before Valen was on her again. Fast. Precise. Merciless.

A twist of his wrist, and another burst of shadow magic surged toward her. She barely had time to conjure a shield of fire before it hit - hard, sending her skidding backward across the floor. Her boots screeched against the smooth training hall surface as she fought to keep her balance.

"Sloppy," Valen remarked, adjusting his stance with that infuriating ease. Not even breathless.

Bloom scowled. She flicked her fingers, sending a sharp arc of fire his way, but -of course- he sidestepped again, just barely moving, like he had all the time in the world.

She was not going to let him have the upper hand so easily.

Grinding her teeth, she launched forward, this time feinting left before twisting right, her flames curling around her fists. She swung, aiming for his ribs - but he was already gone.

Damn him. Before she could recover, she felt it - a shift in the air, a presence behind her. Too late.

A strong arm caught her around the waist, and in one fluid motion, he spun her around and sent her tumbling to the floor.

She barely managed to twist mid-air, landing with a rough thud on her back, the impact rattling through her bones.

And there he was, standing over her, untouched, unshaken, his pale hair falling over his forehead, those piercing grey eyes watching her like he had already won.

Bloom clenched her fists, fighting down her frustration.

Before he could make a smug remark, she sprang to her feet, fire bursting in her palms. This time, she didn't hold back.

Her flames surged forward, wild, untamed, filling the space between them with searing heat. Valen dodged left - but she was ready. She twisted her wrist, shifting the flames mid-air, forcing him to react.

For the first time, he frowned.

It was just enough of a hesitation. Bloom lunged, spinning mid-air, fire trailing from her fingers as she aimed a kick at his chest. He caught her ankle, stopping her momentum too easily, but the moment their skin touched, she channeled a burst of fire through the contact point.

A direct hit. Valen grunted, releasing her with a sharp inhale, stepping back as her flames flickered across his coat before dissipating.

Bloom smirked, landing gracefully. "Got you."

Valen exhaled through his nose, brushing a hand over the place where her fire had made contact. His smirk returned, slow, dangerous.

"That," he murmured, stepping closer, "was almost clever."

Before she could react, he was moving.

His palm slammed against her stomach - not hard enough to hurt, but charged with just enough magic to send her flying. The impact stole her breath as she crashed to the ground once more, rolling across the floor before coming to a stop.

Bloom groaned, pushing herself up onto her elbows, dazed, breathless, frustrated.

"Almost," Valen repeated, standing over her again, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "But not quite."

She glared up at him, her breathing ragged. Stars, he was insufferable.

He crouched slightly, extending a hand toward her. "Come now, little flame. Surely you didn't think you'd win so easily?"

Bloom slapped his hand away and forced herself to her feet. "Oh, I'm not done yet."

Valen chuckled, stepping back as she rolled her shoulders, summoning another burst of flame. "Good. I'd hate to think you were giving up already."

And then he attacked again.

Bloom gritted her teeth, dodging his precise attack. He was too fast, too damn good, and too damn smug about it. Every time she thought she had him, he slipped away like smoke between her fingers.

Her fire flared wildly in her palms, frustration fueling the flames. If she kept fighting like this - predictable, direct - she'd never win.

She needed to do something different. Something he wouldn't expect.

Then it hit her. She moved suddenly, lunging forward in a reckless charge. Predictable. On purpose.

Valen smirked as she rushed him, already twisting to the side, ready to counter - but she was ready for that too.

At the last second, she feigned a stumble, her fire sputtering out as if exhaustion had finally caught up to her.

And just as she'd hoped, Valen reacted.

He caught her wrist -firm, unrelenting- his grip strong but not painful, because he thought he had already won.

Wrong move.

Bloom smirked. And a second too late, he realized it too.

In an instant, her flames flared back to life, not in her hands but beneath her feet. A roaring burst of heat sent her rocketing upward, yanking free from his grip as she twisted mid-air.

And before he could react, she unleashed a concentrated blast of fire right at him.

A direct hit.

Valen barely had time to throw up a shield before the fire crashed into him, forcing him back with a grunt. But she wasn't done.

The moment she landed, she moved again - fast, pressing the attack while he was still regaining his footing.

She conjured a second wave of fire, curling it like a whip around her arm before slashing it toward him. His shield absorbed most of the impact - but not all. She saw it, that flicker of surprise in his stormy eyes as the edge of her flames seared through his coat, leaving behind a very real scorch mark.

And that was the moment Bloom knew. She had him.

Grinning, she pressed forward, weaving around his counters, forcing him to react to her instead of the other way around. A flick of her wrist sent fire streaking toward his boots - he dodged. A second later, she sent another toward his left - he parried.

And then she feinted.

She threw a powerful, obvious blast toward his chest, just as she had countless times before. Valen braced for impact, summoning his shadows to block it-

Except the fire wasn't real.

The moment his magic rose to meet it, Bloom shifted her focus, twisting her fingers in a subtle, fluid motion.

Her real attack came from below.

A thin ribbon of fire curled underneath his guard, weaving through his defenses like liquid flame before exploding upward in a sudden, scorching burst.

Another direct hit.

And Professor Valen stumbled. Not much. But enough.

Enough for Bloom to land one final, decisive strike - an arcing burst of fire aimed right at his chest.

This time, he didn't block it. This time, he took the hit.

The force of it sent him skidding back, his boots dragging against the floor before he finally came to a stop. Smoke curled from the scorched edges of his coat, the rich crimson lining singed beyond repair.

And still, he didn't look angry. He looked... amused.

Breathing heavily, Bloom watched him, waiting, expecting some kind of snide remark, some teasing jab about how she got lucky.

Instead, Valen tilted his head, studying her with those sharp grey eyes. Then -slowly, infuriatingly- he smirked.

"Well, well..." He exhaled, brushing a hand over the burn mark on his coat, inspecting the damage before lifting his gaze back to her. "It appears I underestimated you."

Bloom grinned, wiping sweat from her brow. "You did."

Valen stepped forward - closer than necessary, close enough that she could see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, the way his pale hair clung just slightly to his forehead.

His voice dropped, quiet, edged with something she wasn't ready to name. "Don't let it go to your head, little flame."

Bloom's breath caught. He was too close. And he had no right to look at her like that. Like he had looked at her that night.

She swallowed, lifting her chin defiantly. "Afraid I might beat you again?"

Valen chuckled, the sound low, rich, entirely too knowing. "Oh, Bloom..." He leaned in just slightly, his breath warm against her skin. "Enjoy your victory. It won't happen again."

Before Bloom could even think of something clever -something that wouldn't make her sound like a breathless fool- Valen let out a quiet sigh and reached for the ruined coat.

With one fluid motion, he shrugged it off, letting the scorched fabric slide down his arms.

Bloom stopped breathing.

Because underneath, the simple white dress shirt clung to him in ways that should have been illegal. The fabric, damp with sweat, stretched taut over his broad shoulders, the thin material outlining the solid plane of his chest and the faint dip of his toned stomach.

And then -oh, stars- he rolled up his sleeves.

Slow, methodical.

His fingers worked at the cuffs before sliding the fabric up, revealing strong forearms, dusted with just the faintest trace of scars. His muscles flexed with the movement, veins shifting beneath skin as he pushed the sleeves past his elbows.

Her mouth went dry. Her brain completely short-circuited. Because of course he had forearms like that. Of course. Thick, powerful, built for combat. The kind of arms meant to pin someone down-

STOP!

Heat rushed to her face, burning hotter than any fire she had ever conjured. What was wrong with her?

This was her ruthless, arrogant, infuriating instructor. The man who had spent weeks knocking her to the ground, pushing her limits, making her burn for reasons that had nothing to do with magic.

And yet, she was staring. Openly. Shamelessly.

Bloom knew she needed to look away, needed to force her mind onto literally anything else - but it was impossible when he made even the simple act of rolling up his damn sleeves look like a deliberate act of seduction.

Get it together.

She clenched her fists at her sides, swallowing hard, trying to pretend she wasn't absolutely, painfully aware of how her stomach was twisting, of how her pulse had quickened, of how some dark, forbidden part of her wanted to reach out and-

Nope. Not finishing that thought.

Valen straightened, flexing his hands as if testing the freedom of movement now that his coat was gone. He exhaled once, the rise and fall of his chest obnoxiously distracting before he finally -finally- looked back at her.

And Bloom knew. He had noticed. His smirk was utterly devastating.

"Oh?" His voice dipped, smooth and taunting, as he took a lazy step closer. "What's this?"

Bloom stiffened. "What's what?"

Valen hummed, tilting his head just slightly, pale hair slipping over his cheek. "That look in your eyes."

Her entire body went rigid.

He knew.

He knew.

And he was enjoying this far too much.

Bloom forced a scoff, folding her arms tightly across her chest, as if that would somehow stop the wildfire spreading beneath her skin. "Please. I was just thinking about how much damage I did to your coat."

Valen arched a pale brow, clearly unimpressed with the excuse. "Mm. Right. Of course."

A pause.

"Though I must say," he mused, rolling his shoulders in a way that only made the shirt stretch even more across his arms, "I wasn't aware you found my coat so fascinating that you needed to study what was underneath so thoroughly."

Stars help her. Bloom's jaw locked. "I wasn't—"

His smirk widened. "No?"

He was playing with her. Teasing. Toying. Enjoying every second of watching her squirm.

Bastard. Bloom scowled, forcing herself to hold his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

"I was just making sure you weren't hurt," she lied smoothly, tilting her chin up in defiance. "Wouldn't want my favorite instructor getting injured right before the break."

That smirk turned wolfish.

"Favorite?" Valen echoed, stepping even closer, too close, close enough that she could feel the faint warmth of his body, close enough that she swore she could smell him - a mix of crackling embers and something darker, dangerously intoxicating.

Bloom barely stopped herself from stumbling back. She held her ground. Barely.

"You heard me." She refused to let her voice waver, refused to let him know just how hard it was to keep breathing when he was standing like that, looking at her like that.

Valen exhaled softly, gaze sweeping over her as if peeling back every layer she had tried to put between them.

"You land one decent hit and suddenly you think you've bested me?"

Bloom smiled, sweet, innocent, utterly fake. "I don't think, Professor. I know."

He exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head as he took a measured step back toward her. Dangerous. Casual. Completely in control. "How very bold of you."

Bloom lifted her chin. "Maybe you're just upset that your favorite student finally put you in your place."

Valen chuckled, low, dark, entirely too amused. "Oh, little flame." Another step, slow and deliberate. "Do you really want to tempt me?"

Bloom's fingers twitched at her sides. Yes. No!

She wanted to wipe that knowing look off his face, wanted to shove him off balance the way he had done to her over and over again.

And, more than anything, she wanted to prove that she could beat him, more than once.

Bloom inhaled sharply, letting the fire rise beneath her skin, filling her veins with warmth, with power, with purpose.

She wasn't done. And neither was he.

Valen didn't move right away. Instead, he just stood there, watching her.

Watching her with that same maddening smirk, that same unreadable glint in his storm-grey eyes, as if he could see straight through her.

And maybe he could.

Bloom clenched her fists, fire curling at her fingertips. She wouldn't let him rattle her. Not this time. Not when she had already won once.

"Ready to lose again?" she taunted, forcing confidence into her voice.

Valen exhaled a quiet laugh, low and indulgent, like she had just told him something deeply amusing, and her gaze wandered to his shoulders - broad, powerful, shaking ever so slightly with laughter. The movement sent a ripple through his frame, the muscles beneath his fitted shirt shifting with an ease that was entirely unfair.

"Something wrong, Bloom?" Valen asked, far too casual. Far too smug.

Bloom snapped her gaze back to his face, glaring, trying desperately to smother the heat rising to her cheeks. "No."

His smirk deepened.

"Mm." He took a slow step forward, stretching his arms out in a loose, almost lazy motion, the movement making the shirt tighten across his chest, his biceps flexing just slightly. "You sure?"

She scowled. He was doing this on purpose.

Fine. Two could play this game.

"You seem awfully chatty for someone who's about to lose again." She cocked a hip, lifting her chin. "Stalling, are we?"

Valen sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "You really do enjoy tempting me, don't you?"

And then he moved. Faster than she expected. Faster than she could think. A shadow-laced strike shot toward her, sharper than before, forcing her to twist out of the way.

She felt the chill of his magic graze her side, crackling against the warmth of her own fire as she countered with a burst of flames, forcing distance between them.

He smirked, dodging easily. "That all you've got?"

Bloom didn't answer. She couldn't. Because stars above, she was struggling.

Not just because Valen was fast. Not just because he was relentless, every movement calculated, precise.

But because she was still thinking about what was beneath that damn shirt. Still thinking about the way his arms flexed with every attack, the way his collar had come slightly undone, a hint of his collarbone visible beneath the sweat-damp fabric.

She barely dodged his next strike, her foot skidding slightly against the floor.

Valen laughed, dark and knowing.

"Careful, little flame." He stepped forward, his voice a velvet taunt. "You seem... distracted."

Bloom's jaw locked. Enough.

Gritting her teeth, she shoved everything else -his arms, his stupid smirk, his knowing tone- out of her mind. Focus.

Her fire surged as she twisted her body, ducking under his next strike and countering with a burst of heat aimed directly at his ribs.

Valen barely managed to sidestep, his brows lifting slightly in surprise - but she wasn't done. She pressed forward, moving fast, fast enough that this time, he was the one dodging.

His expression flickered with something sharp, thrilled. Good. Let him take her seriously.

Valen shifted his stance, no longer toying with her, his movements sharper, faster.

And still, Bloom fought.

The hall filled with heat and shadow, their magic colliding again and again, the air thick with tension, with energy, with the impossible need to win.

Bloom gritted her teeth, thinking, calculating, searching for an opening.

And then, she found one.

It was small. Barely a flicker. But it was enough.

Bloom faked a stumble.

Valen, for the briefest second, took the bait.

His eyes flickered with the instinct to strike, to take advantage of the opening-

And that hesitation cost him, because Bloom wasn't actually falling.

She used the momentum, twisting her body as she gathered all the fire she could muster, forcing it outward in a controlled, devastating arc-

And it hit.

Valen barely had time to react before her flames sent him skidding back, his boots dragging against the smooth floor.

Another hit.

And then, another.

And for the second time that night, Bloom stood over him, breathless, victorious, stunned.

Valen stayed on the ground for a moment, chest rising and falling with exertion, pale hair falling over his eyes.

Then - to her absolute fury- he laughed. Not an annoyed laugh. Not frustrated, not angry. A low, rich, thoroughly entertained laugh.

Slowly - so damn slowly - he sat up, shaking his head.

"Well," he mused, rolling his shoulders, clearly feeling the impact. "I suppose I deserved that."

Bloom exhaled sharply, a grin pulling at her lips. "Damn right you did."

He laughed, deep and warm, something close to genuine amusement flickering in his gaze as he looked up at her.

And then, before she could even think about it, he reached up, gripping her wrist gently, effortlessly.

Bloom froze. Not because the touch was sudden. But because it wasn't rough.

It wasn't a challenge. It wasn't part of the fight. It was something else.

She swallowed, her pulse roaring in her ears as Valen's grip tightened just slightly.

Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make her heart stop.

"Bloom." His voice was soft, lower than before, dangerous in an entirely different way.

And stars help her, she knew that if she looked at him -really looked at him-

She wouldn't be able to move. Wouldn't be able to think.

So she did the only thing she could. She pulled away.

Valen let her go, easily, without resistance. But not without a smirk.

Not without that infuriating, knowing glint in his silver eyes, like he had just let her win. Like he knew exactly why she pulled away.

Bloom clenched her jaw, rolling her shoulders as if that would somehow shake off the feeling of his fingers on her skin.

She had bested him. Twice. That should have been enough.

And yet-

"You look upset, little flame." Valen's voice was smooth, teasing, too amused. "Why is that?"

Bloom scoffed. "Why would I be upset? I just kicked your ass."

His smirk deepened.

"Mm. You did." He rose fluidly to his feet, unhurried, dusting off the front of his shirt.

That damn shirt. The fabric was damp with sweat now, clinging even more to the lines of his torso, the broad span of his shoulders. And, because the universe clearly hated her, he reached up, dragging a hand through his pale hair, pushing it out of his face in a way that made his biceps flex, the muscles in his forearm tightening-

Bloom snapped her gaze away, heat flooding her face.

Valen chuckled. "Something wrong?"

"Not at all," she said, stiff, lying through her teeth.

"Ah." He took a slow step closer, tilting his head, gaze sweeping over her in that lazy, infuriating way. "So you just refuse to look at me now? That's new."

Bloom forced herself to meet his eyes, even as her stomach twisted itself into knots. He knew. He always knew.

"Why would I refuse to look at you?" she said, forcing her voice into something sharp, something steady.

"You tell me." He hummed, taking another step closer.

He was too close. Again. Just like before.

Close enough that she could feel the faint warmth of his body, the lingering heat from their fight still crackling in the air between them. Close enough that her traitorous mind was far too aware of how he smelled.

Bloom swallowed hard. She would not back down. Would not let him win this round, too.

So she did the only thing she could think of. She smirked. Sweet. Innocent. Fake as hell.

"I was just admiring the view," she said, voice smooth as she let her gaze very deliberately drag over his form. "After all, it's not every day I get to see Professor Valen on the ground."

Valen blinked.

For the first time, something flickered in those storm-grey eyes - caught off guard, surprised. It was gone in an instant. But Bloom had seen it. And she relished it.

"Careful, Bloom," he murmured, voice lower, softer. "You might make me think you're enjoying playing with fire a little too much."

Bloom exhaled sharply, forcing her pulse to stay normal, forcing her breath to remain steady. She shrugged, tilting her head. "Maybe I am."

A beat of silence stretched between them. Charged. Unyielding.

Then, Valen sighed, long-suffering, shaking his head as if she were some great burden he had to bear. But the smirk curling at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

"That's enough for today," he said smoothly, stepping back - finally, finally giving her space to breathe. "I'd hate for you to leave for break thinking you actually stand a chance against me."

Bloom let out an indignant scoff. "I beat you, twice."

He chuckled. "And yet, here you are, still trying to convince me of it."

Bloom rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her skin still hummed with leftover adrenaline. She should've been relieved the session was over, relieved that she'd finally get a break from his relentless training, from his taunts, from this.

Bloom crossed her arms, offering him her best smug grin. "Guess I'll just have to do it again next semester."

"Mm." Valen hummed, rolling his shoulders, stretching in a way that made his shirt pull taut over his arms, his chest-

Stars above. Bloom clenched her jaw, looking anywhere else.

Valen, of course, noticed. And of course, the bastard took his time rolling down his sleeves again, the slow, methodical movements entirely unnecessary.

Bloom hated him. Absolutely, utterly hated him.

(That was a lie. And she was a terrible liar.)

She turned sharply toward the exit before she could embarrass herself further.

But just as she reached the door, his voice followed her. Low. Velvet. Wicked.

"Have fun at your ball, darling."

Bloom froze.

His smirk was in his voice, in every syllable. "Try not to think about me too much."

Her fingers tightened around the door handle. She didn't turn back. She would not give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she threw open the door, stepping into the cool evening air, inhaling deep-

Only to curse under her breath. The audacity. The absolute arrogance.

Because of course she'd be thinking about him.

Chapter Text

The moment the royal ship crossed into Solarian airspace, Bloom knew she had entered a different world.

The golden light of two suns bathed the entire sky in a perpetual, shimmering glow, casting warm reflections over the floating isles and cascading waterfalls that dotted the kingdom. The clouds weren't just ordinary clouds - they were infused with magic, swirling with soft gold and pink hues as if painted by an artist's careful hand.

Below them, crystal-clear rivers wound through vast, sprawling fields of luminescent wildflowers, their petals shifting colors with every passing breeze.

And then, there was the palace.

Bloom had seen pictures, of course. Stella had practically shoved an entire photo album in her face the second she mentioned never having visited Solaria before, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

The palace gleamed like it had been carved straight from the heart of a star. Massive spires of gilded glass twisted into the sky, refracting the golden light like a prism. Arching bridges wove between floating platforms, each one adorned with hovering lanterns that pulsed softly in midair. The entire structure shimmered, almost ethereal, as if it could disappear into the sunlight at any moment.

Bloom let out a slow breath. "Wow."

Stella, sitting beside her in the plush interior of the royal airship, grinned. "Told you. Solaria doesn't do 'subtle.'"

"That's one way to put it," Bloom muttered, still staring out the window, eyes wide.

Stella gave a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the velvet cushions. "Just wait until the ball. If you think this is excessive, you haven't seen anything yet."

Bloom snorted, shaking her head. "I'm guessing you've been in full princess-mode since the break started?"

"Full princess-mode?" Stella gasped, pressing a hand to her chest as if personally offended. "Bloom, please. I was born in perpetual princess mode."

That, unfortunately, was not an exaggeration.

From the moment the royal ship had taken off from Alfea, Stella had been alternating between excitedly planning and stress-panicking about every single detail of the upcoming ball.

It had been two hours. Bloom was already exhausted.

Stella let out a dreamy sigh, clasping her hands together. "But can you believe it? The most important night of my life is finally here! My first official ball as the Crown Princess of Solaria, the entire kingdom watching, all eyes on me!"

Bloom barely held back a laugh. "As if they aren't always on you."

Stella shot her a smug look. "I know, right?"

Bloom rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself.

The ship gave a soft chime, signaling their descent. Bloom's stomach flipped.

The air outside was warm, a soft golden breeze carrying the scent of Solarian sunblossoms as Bloom and Stella stepped off the airship onto the immaculate marble landing platform.

The entire palace courtyard stretched before them, lined with towering sun-kissed pillars and elegant gardens bursting with radiant golden roses that glowed in the light.

And standing right in the center of it all was King Radius. Bloom had seen the king in holo-news broadcasts before, but seeing him in person was... different.

He was huge - broad-shouldered, strong, with a powerful presence that made it clear why he was king. His golden crown shimmered in the light, embroidered with the royal crest of Solaria, but despite the imposing figure he cut, his eyes were warm. Bright. The same exact shade as Stella's.

The second he saw them, his entire expression softened. "Stella!"

With zero regard for royal dignity, Stella squealed and launched herself at him. "Daddy!"

Bloom barely had time to react before the literal king of Solaria was lifting his daughter into a massive hug, spinning her around like she was still a child.

She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. Some formal greeting? A dignified royal embrace? Maybe a regal nod of acknowledgment?

Nope. Just pure dad energy.

King Radius finally set Stella back down, holding her at arm's length with a beaming smile. "My sunshine! Look at you! Have you gotten taller?"

Stella grinned, flipping her hair dramatically. "Obviously."

He chuckled, then turned his gaze toward Bloom. She froze.

Oh stars. What was she supposed to do? Bow? Curtsy? Shake his hand? Salute?

Her body chose the worst possible response. She raised a hand and waved. Like an idiot. "Uh. Hi."

Stella made a dying whale noise. And Bloom wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

But instead of looking offended, or scandalized, or horrified that she had just greeted the King of Solaria like some random guy at the supermarket-

King Radius laughed.

Not a small chuckle. Not a polite, royal laugh. A full, genuine, amused laugh. "You must be Bloom."

Bloom somehow did not die on the spot. "Uh. Yes, Your Majesty. Sir. King. Your- uh- Royal Highness? I mean-"

He held up a hand, still smiling. "Just 'King Radius' is fine."

Bloom nodded way too fast. "Right. Yes. King Radius. That's- cool. Great. Awesome."

Stars above, someone put her out of her misery.

To her eternal relief, the king didn't seem fazed by her horrendous lack of etiquette. He just gave her a warm, reassuring smile. "Stella has told me a lot about you."

Bloom sent a sideways glance at Stella, who looked entirely too smug for her own good.

"Hopefully all good things?"

King Radius chuckled. "Mostly."

Bloom huffed. "Gee, thanks, Stella."

Stella just winked.

The king turned back to his daughter, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so happy you're home, sunshine. The palace isn't the same without you."

Stella softened, beaming up at him. "Missed you too, Daddy."

Bloom couldn't help but smile. Despite the chaotic energy Stella radiated at all times, there was something so real about the way she melted under her father's affection.

It made her think of her own parents. On Earth.

King Radius clapped his hands together. "Come. You both must be tired from your trip. I had your rooms prepared."

Bloom blinked. Wait, what?

"My... rooms?"

Stella looped her arm through Bloom's, grinning. "Of course! You didn't think I'd let my best friend sleep in some guest suite, did you?"

Bloom had not thought about this. At all.

King Radius smiled. "You're an honored guest of the royal family, Bloom. You'll be treated as such."

And just like that, Bloom was being whisked inside the literal royal palace by a very excited Stella, leaving her no time to process the fact that she was about to spend the next few days in actual princess luxury.

Bloom was still trying to process the fact that she was in a literal palace when King Radius led her down a sprawling, sun-drenched hallway.

The entire palace was bathed in golden light, the walls lined with massive stained-glass windows that shifted colors depending on how the sunlight hit them. The floors were made of polished marble, the color of melted honey, and enchanted lanterns floated just above their heads, casting a soft, warm glow.

Even the air felt different, lighter, almost humming with magic, carrying the faint scent of the Solarian sunblossoms from the gardens and something soft and luxurious, like vanilla and amber.

Bloom swallowed. No big deal. Just staying in a palace. No pressure.

"Here we are," King Radius announced as they stopped in front of a massive set of double doors.

And by "massive," Bloom meant twice her height, gilded with sun motifs that shimmered under the golden light.

The king pushed the doors open with a graceful ease that definitely came with being royalty, revealing-

Oh. 

Bloom stepped inside, barely keeping herself from gawking. The room was huge, larger than her entire dorm at Alfea.

Sunlight streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows, which overlooked the vast gardens below, their cascading flowers swaying in the warm breeze. The bed -which could fit at least five people- was draped in soft golden sheets, embroidered with delicate Solarian constellations.

A crystal chandelier floated lazily above her, its light refracting into tiny rainbow specks that danced across the walls.

There was a vanity table lined with perfumes and delicate gold-trimmed brushes, a massive walk-in wardrobe with a door slightly ajar and-

Stars. There was a private balcony.

"I—" Bloom turned, looking at King Radius with actual panic. "This is too much."

He let out a deep chuckle, clearly amused. "Nonsense. You are a guest of the royal family, and this is how we treat our guests."

Stella grinned, flopping dramatically onto the enormous bed. "This is basic luxury, Bloom. You should see the imperial suites."

"Those exist?" Bloom asked weakly.

King Radius smiled. "They do. But something tells me you prefer something less overwhelming."

Bloom exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "I mean, it's just a little-" She gestured wildly. "A lot."

The king simply patted her shoulder, warm and reassuring. "You'll get used to it."

Bloom seriously doubted that. But still, something about his tone, about his uncomplicated kindness, made her stomach untwist just a little.

With that, King Radius turned to Stella, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "I'll leave you two to settle in. There are still a great many things to prepare before the ball."

Stella sighed dramatically. "Yes, yes, royal duties and all that."

He smiled. "Try not to get into too much trouble."

Stella's smirk was decidedly not reassuring.

King Radius gave Bloom one last nod before leaving, the doors gliding shut behind him with barely a sound.

And just like that, they were alone.

Bloom turned, glaring at Stella, who was still lounging on the bed like she owned the place, which, technically, she kind of did.

"Less overwhelming?" Bloom repeated, throwing her arms up. "This is the most overwhelming thing that has ever happened to me."

Stella snorted. "Oh, Bloom. Just wait until the actual ball."

Bloom groaned. "I'm doomed, aren't I?"

Stella grinned. "Completely."

Bloom had thought she'd seen extravagance before.

She had seen the lavish halls of Alfea, the sparkling city of Magix, even Stella's obscenely expensive wardrobe - but nothing could have prepared her for the absolute onslaught of gifts that arrived at the palace every single day.

It was insanity.

Every morning, without fail, hundreds -if not thousands- of gifts were carried into the grand receiving hall of the palace, delivered from royal courts, noble families, famous designers, interdimensional diplomats, and more than a few admirers of Solaria's golden princess.

And every morning, Bloom watched as Stella gracefully accepted them all like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Bloom, on the other hand, was not handling it well.

"Stella," she whispered, eyes wide as yet another ridiculously over-the-top present was unveiled before them. "What. The actual. Hell."

Stella, lounging on a gold-trimmed chaise, sipping something fizzy out of an elegant crystal glass, barely blinked. "What do you mean?"

Bloom gestured wildly to the newest arrival - a literal golden Pegasus, standing in the center of the grand hall, shimmering wings folded elegantly at its sides.

"A golden Pegasus?!" Bloom hissed.

"From the Royal House of Lysendria," Stella mused, inspecting her nails. "Queen Vaelora has a soft spot for extravagant gifts."

"Extravagant? Stella, that's an actual living creature."

"Yes, and a very well-bred one," Stella noted, tilting her head. "I think I'll name him... Radiance."

Bloom pressed her fingers to her temples. "You're actually keeping it?"

"Of course! He's stunning." Stella clapped her hands, and a royal stable-hand immediately led the magnificent creature away, the Pegasus practically glowing in the sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows.

Bloom groaned. "This is madness."

Stella smirked. "This is Solaria."

And that was only the beginning. The next few days were a parade of absolute absurdity.

Bloom witnessed the arrival of a tiara made of crystallized sun-fire, enchanted to glow brighter when the wearer was in a good mood, sent by Lady Seraphine of the Luminous Isles; a handwoven tapestry depicting Stella in various heroic and dramatically exaggerated poses, courtesy of Duke Aldred of House Vientis (a not-so-secret admirer of hers).

Then a massive enchanted mirror arrived, able to change its reflection to show the most flattering lighting at all times, sent by the Duchess of Miradell, a famous socialite known for her vanity and an entire waterfall's worth of liquid stardust, gifted by the Celestial Mages of Aurion, said to be infused with ancient magic that could enhance one's beauty.

By the third day, Bloom had developed a permanent headache from all the unnecessary grandeur.

"This is too much." She groaned, flopping onto Stella's absurdly soft bed, letting the silk sheets swallow her whole.

Stella just twirled a sun-shaped pendant around her fingers, her eyes scanning another unrolled scroll of well-wishes from some noble family.

"You say that like you wouldn't enjoy receiving a mountain of gifts," she teased.

Bloom muffled a scream into a pillow. "Seriously, though," she said, rolling over to glare at Stella, "how are you not losing your mind?"

Stella sighed dramatically, tossing the scroll aside. "Oh, I am. But you know what would makes me feel better?"

Bloom lifted a brow.

"I think of Brandon."

Bloom groaned. "You miss him that much, huh?"

"Desperately."

It was true. As much as Stella was enjoying the attention, there was a level of stress that came with it. The upcoming ball, the expectations, the constant need to be flawless - it was a lot, even for someone like Stella.

And Brandon had a way of calming her down, of handling her dramatic tendencies without diminishing her sparkle. He knew exactly when to indulge her and when to ground her.

Bloom had to admit, she missed him too.

She missed all of them.

Flora's quiet support, Musa's sarcastic remarks, Tecna's logical breakdowns of why sending golden pegasi as gifts was completely inefficient, and Layla's exasperated groans every time Stella did something particularly over the top.

Bloom could already picture Layla crossing her arms and shaking her head. "This is ridiculous. Who even needs a mirror that changes the lighting for them?"

Stella, Bloom thought dryly. Obviously, Stella. She sighed, staring up at the beautifully carved ceiling.

"Just a few more days," she murmured.

Stella flopped onto the bed beside her. "Think we'll survive until then?"

Bloom smirked. "I sure hope so. Otherwise, I'll be buried under a mountain of sun-fire tiaras before I even make it to the ball."

Stella grinned. "At least you'd go out fashionably."

The palace was too quiet without Stella.

Bloom had spent the last few days drowning in extravagant gifts, keeping up with Stella's whirlwind of emotions, and dodging royal attendants who had an alarming talent for appearing out of nowhere with fabric samples and jewelry options for the princess's ball.

But today, for the first time since she arrived, Bloom found herself alone.

Well, not entirely alone - Solaria's palace was never truly empty. Servants bustled in the distance, the faint melody of a harp drifted from somewhere deeper in the castle, and the golden sunlight filtering through the massive windows made everything feel alive.

But without Stella chattering beside her, dragging her into some new crisis ("Bloom, do you think my third backup dress is too golden? Is that even possible? Wait, don't answer that!"), Bloom suddenly had free time.

And she wasn't sure what to do with it.

Stella had been whisked away by her royal advisors for some very important meeting ("Boring official princess stuff, Bloom. You don't want to be there- I barely want to be there!"), which left Bloom with the perfect excuse to do some exploring.

She started with the halls she already knew, wandering past the sun-drenched corridors leading from her and Stella's rooms. The palace was vast, with entire wings Stella hadn't even mentioned yet, and she soon found herself in the royal portrait gallery.

It was a long, arched hall, bathed in golden light. Tall windows stretched along one side, flooding the space with warmth, and the other wall was covered in enormous, gilded frames - each holding a portrait of Solaria's past rulers.

Bloom stepped forward, awed.

The paintings were breathtaking, centuries of history captured in oil and magic. Some of the older portraits shimmered faintly, enchanted to preserve the colors and keep the images lifelike. As Bloom moved, she swore the eyes of certain figures followed her, watching in quiet judgment from their places in history.

Stella had told her that, after the ball, her own portrait would be added to this very hall - painted and displayed for generations to come.

No pressure. Bloom's gaze drifted over the collection until she found one she recognized.

King Radius had been painted in his youth, golden-haired and striking, dressed in the rich blues and golds of Solaria's royal colors. His crown gleamed atop his head, but what stood out most was the confident smirk curling at the corner of his lips - a smirk that looked suspiciously familiar.

Stella definitely inherited that.

Bloom smiled, stepping closer. The detail was exquisite - so much so that the king's silver-blue eyes almost seemed alive. As if he might step forward at any moment and start speaking.

A shiver ran down her spine. Wait... could he?

Some portraits were enchanted to speak or offer wisdom, depending on the level of magic woven into the canvas. But before Bloom could test that theory, something else caught her eye.

A painting beside King Radius's. This one was different.

It was smaller than the others - not tiny, but certainly less imposing than the grand portraits of Solaria's kings and queens. The frame was still gold, still royal, but the painting itself...

It was of a woman. She had golden curls and soft eyes, and her expression was gentle, almost wistful. She wasn't wearing a crown, but her dress shimmered golden, sunbursts woven into the fabric like stardust.

Bloom's stomach twisted. She didn't need to ask. She knew who this was.

Queen Luna. Stella's mother.

Bloom swallowed. Stella didn't talk about her much. The queen had been estranged from King Radius for years now, living on a different part of Solaria, away from the palace. It was a complicated, painful subject, one that even Stella - so effortlessly open about most things - preferred to avoid.

She took one last, lingering glance at the portrait of King Radius and Queen Luna and then, with a small sigh, she turned on her heel.

The soft sound of her shoes echoed in the grand hall as she walked away from the portraits. There was no grand plan in her mind - no destination in particular - just the desire to see something new, something unexpected.

The halls of the palace felt alive in their own way - alive with history, alive with the slow and steady pulse of the royal family's legacy. The marble floors shimmered beneath her feet, the walls adorned with tapestries depicting heroic deeds and grand battles.

As she walked, she couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before she truly knew the palace, how long before the halls stopped feeling so grand and intimidating.

After a few more turns down unfamiliar corridors, Bloom paused in front of a pair of double doors at the end of a narrow hallway. The golden handles gleamed in the soft light that spilled through the tall, arched windows.

Her curiosity piqued, Bloom pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

The ceiling stretched impossibly high, its entire surface swirling with galaxies, nebulae, and distant stars that pulsed with soft light. It was as if the very fabric of space had been woven into the dome, shifting and changing with every movement.

And below it, floating above the smooth marble floor, was the Magical Dimension itself.

Bloom took a slow step forward, awe flooding her chest as she took in the massive display. Suspended in midair, rotating in a perfect, slow cycle, were the galaxies and planets that made up their world. Each star twinkled, each world glowing faintly, as if this room held the very pulse of the cosmos itself.

She walked further inside, her gaze sweeping over the planets she recognized. Solaria, of course, gleamed like a miniature sun, its golden aura casting soft light over the nearby celestial bodies. Andros, Layla's home, shimmered in deep blues and teals, its vast oceans swirling with currents that moved in real-time.

Every world had its own energy, its own unique glow.

It was mesmerizing.

Bloom turned in slow circles, taking it all in - the slow orbit of planets, the way certain stars flared and dimmed, the sheer scale of it all. Some of the galaxies extended beyond the Magical Dimension, into places unknown, their edges tinged with a mysterious silver mist.

But then-

Her steps slowed. A chill crept down her spine.

Because there, tucked between the bright glow of Eraklyon and the soft shimmer of Melody, was a planet unlike the others.

Or rather, what was left of it.

A sphere of ice and darkness.

Bloom's heart clenched as she stepped closer.

Domino.

Unlike the other planets, Domino's image was fractured - its once-rich colors were faded, its edges dimmed with frost. The sphere still rotated, still hovered alongside the others, but its light was faint, flickering like a dying ember.

Bloom swallowed hard.

She raised a hand, hesitating before letting her fingers hover just above the frozen image. Unlike the warm glow of Solaria or the vibrant pulse of Zenith, Domino was cold.

For a long moment, she just stood there, staring at the broken remains of a world she had never known.

The home of the Great Dragon. The lost kingdom.

Her fingers brushed just a few inches above the surface, barely touching the edge of the ice that surrounded the planet's broken form. As she did, a strange sensation washed over her. It wasn't a physical touch - it was something else. A connection.

A memory, almost.

She saw flashes. Fragments of life. A city that had once stood tall, sparkling towers gleaming beneath a blue sky. The laughter of people, the warmth of the sun, the hum of magic coursing through every living thing.

Then, the flashes shifted, turning darker, colder. A storm of shadows. Cracks in the sky. The destruction of the planet. The disappearance of the people who had once lived there. The memory of fire - not her fire, but something far older, far more ancient.

The Great Dragon's rage.

Bloom staggered back, her chest tightening. She felt her breath quicken, her heart pounding in her chest. The memories - no, they were visions - flooded her, consuming her for just a moment before they faded, leaving only a cold emptiness.

She pressed her palm to her forehead, trying to push away the overwhelming sensation. Her entire body felt heavy with the weight of what she had seen and felt. How had she connected with it? What was that? She had never felt anything like it before, the pull of Domino's broken spirit, as if the planet itself recognized her presence.

As the strange connection began to fade, she found herself staring at the dim planet again, her throat tight.

She took another step back from the floating sphere of Domino, a shiver running down her spine. The warmth of Solaria and its radiant energy felt distant, and the cold, almost hollow aura of Domino was seeping into her skin.

She shook her head, trying to clear the fog that had settled over her mind. There had to be some explanation. Maybe it was the power of the room, the connection to the universe. Maybe the magic had simply overwhelmed her senses.

But no. There was something more.

The Great Dragon. The fire. The rage. The destruction.

It's just a feeling, she told herself, a strange feeling. It doesn't mean anything.

Bloom looked at the floating image of Domino once more, the broken remnants of the planet spinning slowly in the vast space. All the other planets surrounding Domino - they were alive with their own energy, their own stories, but none of them felt like Domino.

Bloom inhaled slowly, forcing herself to steady her racing heart. The vision had left an ache in her chest, an unsettled knot she couldn't untangle.

She didn't belong to Domino. Or did she?

The idea seemed absurd, yet, a part of her couldn't shake the connection. A whisper of something deeper, a thread pulling her back to that fractured sphere.

"No," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head again. "That doesn't make sense."

She turned and started walking toward the exit, her footsteps feeling heavy as she moved away from the center of the room, away from the cold pull of Domino.

She needed a library. Yes, that made sense.

A palace of this size had to have an extensive library. If there were answers to be found, that would be the place to start. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe the Hall of the Universe simply had some kind of magical properties that made her imagination run wild. But if there was even the smallest chance that what she had seen meant something, she wanted to know.

So, Bloom straightened her shoulders and set off down the halls.

The Solarian palace was grand, a sprawling labyrinth of golden corridors and tall, arched windows that let in the afternoon light, casting long, shimmering beams across the marble floors.

The problem? She had no idea where the library actually was.

After several minutes of wandering through unfamiliar halls, passing by towering columns and gliding past courtyards filled with enchanted flora, she was beginning to wonder if she should have just asked someone for directions.

Finally, after turning yet another corner, she found herself in front of a set of massive double doors, carved from deep mahogany and inlaid with golden filigree. A symbol was etched into the center - an open book surrounded by sunbursts.

Bingo.

Bloom hesitated for only a second before pressing her hands against the doors and pushing them open.

The library was... breathtaking.

It was a vast chamber, stretching high into the domed ceiling where glass skylights let in streams of golden light. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, climbing so high that enchanted ladders hovered in place, ready for use. Chandeliers of floating crystal orbs cast a warm glow over the polished floors, and there were dozens of plush chairs and velvet reading nooks scattered throughout.

Bloom inhaled deeply. Now, this was exactly what she needed.

She moved forward, her fingers trailing along the spines of books as she scanned the titles. Some were about Solaria's history, some about general magic, others about politics, astronomy, enchanted artifacts - everything one could imagine.

But she needed something specific.

Her fingers tightened into a fist. Where would she even begin? A place like this had to have a cataloging system, right?

Her gaze swept over the towering shelves, and for a moment, she wondered if she should have asked someone for help after all.

But no, she could figure this out.

She had started with volumes about the Hall of the Universe, hoping to find something, anything, that explained the visions she'd seen. If there was some enchantment woven into the chamber, an old spell that caused illusions or connected people to the planets in some way, it would be written down somewhere, right?

Apparently not.

The books about the Hall spoke of its history, of how it had been built centuries ago as a way for Solaria's scholars to study the cosmos. There were descriptions of how the display updated in real time, reflecting the movements of the stars and planets as they shifted through space.

Some theories suggested the hall was infused with ancient celestial magic, but nothing hinted that it could show visions or drag someone into memories that weren't their own.

Which meant whatever had happened to her wasn't normal. That was an unsettling thought.

The books about the Hall were useless, so she moved on to her next search: Domino.

If the vision had come from the planet itself - some kind of lingering magic or echo of the past - then maybe there was more to learn about it.

Finding books on Domino was easy. There were a lot of them. She pulled them from the shelves one by one, stacking them in neat piles before diving in.

The history of Domino was well-documented, even here in Solaria. These books spoke of its golden age - the shining kingdom, the powerful magic that ran through its land and people, the prosperity that had made it one of the most beloved planets in the entire Magical Dimension.

She read about the royal family, about how the rulers of Domino had always been powerful magic-wielders and about the Nymphs of Magix, their abilities tied to the Great Dragon itself.

And, of course, she read about its fall. That part was familiar. Too familiar. The same stories, the same records she had already seen in Magix's public library.

The Three Ancestral Witches, in their hunger for power, had set their sights on Domino, desiring the Great Dragon's flame. But they had failed to take it. And in their fury, they had destroyed everything instead.

Bloom clenched her jaw as she skimmed the words. The planet had been lost, buried beneath an eternal winter, its people gone. Some texts called it extinction. Others called it an annihilation. The Witches had wiped the kingdom from existence, leaving behind only ruins and ice.

And that was it. That was always it.

No records of survivors. No records of what had happened to the royal family. No mention of whether anyone had escaped.

She frowned, flipping through the pages again, but it was the same as always. No new answers. Just the same tragic tale, repeated and repackaged in different books.

Bloom exhaled, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her temples.

So she had visions of Domino, and she had felt something when she touched its frozen image in the Hall of the Universe. But why?

She wasn't from Domino. Or was she? There was no logical reason why she should have any connection to a long-dead planet. And yet, she had felt something.

Bloom sighed, rubbing her tired eyes as she flipped to the next page of the tome in her hands. The book was thick, bound in deep violet leather, its golden lettering worn from age. The title read: The Three Ancestresses: Origins of Darkness.

She wasn't sure what she was hoping to find -some tiny detail, some hidden piece of information that would explain why she had seen what she had. But so far, it was just more of the same: warnings of their power, their insatiable greed, their destruction of Domino.

Her thoughts were a haze of ice and fire, fragments of visions lingering in the back of her mind. She barely even noticed the growing darkness outside the library windows, the golden hues of sunset slipping into the deep blue of evening.

She had no idea how long she had been sitting there.

And she might have stayed there even longer, if it weren't for the sudden slam of the library doors swinging open.

"Bloom!" A very familiar voice.

Bloom startled so hard she nearly dropped the book. She barely had time to blink before someone crashed into her, wrapping her in a tight, warm hug.

"Flora?" she gasped, barely able to see past the mess of soft curls in her face.

"Flora, let her breathe," another voice laughed.

Bloom turned just in time to see Musa grinning at her, arms crossed, looking far too amused by the situation.

She pulled back, her face breaking into a wide smile. "You guys made it!"

"Of course we did," Flora beamed. "Did you lose track of time? It's already evening!"

Evening? Bloom blinked, glancing toward the grand windows. Sure enough, the sky outside was darkening into deep indigo, the first stars already peeking through the glass.

"Oh," she muttered.

Musa smirked. "Yeah, oh. We've all been here for a while. Well, except for Layla - she'll be arriving with the Andros entourage tomorrow."

Bloom's eyes widened. "Wait, everyone's here?"

Flora nodded. "Tecna and Stella are waiting for us! They wanted to come find you, but Stella's caught up with some royal stuff, and Tecna got distracted trying to figure out how many chandeliers there are in the palace."

Bloom couldn't help but laugh. That sounded exactly like her.

"Well, you're just in time to save me," she said, closing the book in her hands. "I was starting to go cross-eyed from all the reading."

Flora giggled. "Come on, we've barely seen the palace yet! It's huge. I swear we got lost twice on the way here."

Musa nodded. "Seriously, who needs this many corridors?"

Bloom grinned. "Stella said there's a rumor that half the palace staff still don't know where all the rooms are."

That earned a round of laughter, and before Bloom could protest, Flora and Musa each grabbed an arm and dragged her out of the library.

It wasn't until they were well past the massive doors that she realized she was still holding the book about the Three Ancestral Witches.

"Wait- the book-"

"You can return it tomorrow," Musa teased.

She barely had time to glance at the title in her hand before they were already out of the library's golden-lit halls and into the grand, sprawling corridors of the palace.

Bloom frowned slightly, glancing down at it. She hadn't meant to take it with her.

But as Flora and Musa pulled her further down the halls, their laughter echoing through the palace, she figured - what's the harm in keeping it for one night?

Yes, she'd return it tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The palace was chaos.

Every inch of the golden halls seemed alive with purpose. Jewel-toned banners of Solaria's crest had been draped over balconies, chandeliers gleamed with the light of enchanted crystals, and the palace gardens had been transformed overnight into a dazzling wonderland of glowing flora and cascading waterfalls. An entire orchestra had arrived before breakfast and was already rehearsing in the grand ballroom, their music echoing through the corridors.

Bloom had known it would be extravagant, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer spectacle of it. For the past few days, the palace had been a flurry of activity, but nothing compared to this.

It was all glamourous, excessive - completely Stella.

And at the heart of it all, the princess was losing her mind.

"Oh stars, I feel sick." Stella paced back and forth across her chambers, her golden robe fluttering behind her as a small army of stylists and dressmakers tried -and failed- to get her to sit still. "What if I trip? What if my tiara falls off? What if I sweat too much and my makeup smudges? What if I sweat so much that my tiara slides off and I trip at the same time?"

"Then you'll be remembered as the princess who made an incredibly dramatic entrance," Musa said from her perch on the chaise lounge, lazily twirling a lock of hair.

Flora hummed in agreement as she inspected a delicate Solarian flower tucked behind Stella's ear. "I think the palace could use a little excitement."

"I am the excitement," Stella declared, then gasped. "What if Brandon doesn't think I look pretty enough?"

Bloom groaned from where she was sprawled across Stella's bed, already exhausted from her best friend's theatrics. "Stella, if Brandon ever thinks you're not the most beautiful girl in the room, I'll personally set his hair on fire."

Stella blinked. Then brightened instantly. "You do love me."

"Obviously," Bloom snorted, rolling onto her back dramatically. "Not enough to endure another hour of you questioning your own perfection, but enough to commit minor arson on your behalf."

Stella sighed, placing a hand over her heart. "This is why you're my best friend."

"Excuse me," Musa interjected, mock-offended. "I thought I was your best friend."

"We're all her best friends," Flora said with a soft laugh, smoothing out a few stray curls that had escaped Stella's perfectly styled updo.

"Exactly!" Stella clapped her hands together, nearly smacking a poor stylist in the face. "Which means it is your duty to make sure I look flawless tonight."

Tecna, who had just entered the room with an air of exasperation, adjusted her glasses. "Statistically speaking, you've already spent forty-three minutes panicking over your appearance. That is approximately thirty-six minutes longer than necessary, given that you look exactly how a Solarian princess should."

Stella placed both hands on her hips. "I appreciate the numbers, Tecna, but this isn't just about looking princessy. This is about looking like the princess. The heir to the throne. The most beautiful girl of Solaria, no-" she waved a hand dramatically- "the entire Magical Dimension."

"You already are," Flora said sweetly.

Stella grinned, preening. "I know, but I need extra assurance."

Musa groaned. "Stars, help us. It's going to be a long day."

Bloom, already feeling lightheaded from the sheer amount of perfume swirling in the air - floral, citrus, something musky, something that smelled suspiciously like molten gold - decided she needed fresh air before her lungs staged a rebellion.

With a dramatic sigh, she pushed herself off Stella's bed and made her way to the balcony.

The soft Solarian breeze was an instant relief, sweeping away the overwhelming mix of fragrances that Stella had been dousing herself in for the past hour. Bloom inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with clean air, the scent of sun-warmed marble and distant flowers soothing her senses.

Below, the palace's grand landing platform stretched out in all its extravagant glory, glowing under the late afternoon sun. 

It was a spectacle of wealth and status - gilded carriages, winged chariots pulled by enchanted creatures, and ships sleek enough to belong in a high-tech Zenithian parade. Nobles stepped out in shimmering gowns and tailored suits, dripping in rare gems, their entourages scurrying to carry their excessive luggage behind them.

Bloom shook her head. Only on Solaria.

The soft sound of footsteps behind her made her glance over her shoulder.

Musa and Flora had joined her, both looking equally relieved to escape Stella's perfume cloud. The balcony door remained cracked open behind them, just enough that they could still hear Stella inside, now dramatically debating whether her gown needed even more sparkle.

Musa propped her elbows on the railing, lazily scanning the arrivals below. "If I ever become rich, someone please slap me if I decide I need to arrive somewhere in a flying carriage pulled by crystal griffins."

Bloom smirked. "You're assuming you'd even want to attend these kinds of events."

Musa fake-gasped. "How dare you. Are you saying I don't enjoy unnecessary extravagance?"

Flora, ever the diplomat, stifled a giggle. "It's just... not exactly your style."

Musa snorted. "Exactly. Now, that- " she nodded toward a nobleman stepping out of a carriage so encrusted with diamonds that it hurt to look at in direct sunlight, "-is overkill."

Bloom squinted. "How does he move in that outfit? That coat is basically an entire chandelier."

Flora tilted her head. "Maybe it doubles as armor?"

Musa chuckled. "Or maybe he's just hoping to blind his enemies with sheer shininess."

They dissolved into laughter, the absurdity of Solarian nobility providing endless entertainment.

"Look at that one," Musa said, nodding toward the courtyard below, where a noblewoman emerged from a gold-encrusted carriage. "Her dress has so many ruffles it looks like she's being eaten by a very fancy sea monster."

"She's from the House of Marquessa," Flora supplied. "They're known for their... elaborate fashion."

Bloom squinted. "Are those... peacock feathers? On her shoulders?"

Musa leaned forward, eyes wide. "Wait, look behind her. There are actual peacocks following her."

Bloom and Flora stared.

"Maybe they think she's their queen," Flora mused.

"Or their hostage," Bloom muttered.

The next carriage arrived, this one drawn by four crystalline unicorns that shimmered like sunlight reflecting off ice. The door swung open, revealing an elderly nobleman in deep blue robes, followed by-

"Is that a miniature unicorn?" Musa wheezed, barely containing her laughter.

Bloom gawked. "Why is it wearing a cape?"

Flora, ever the kind one, clasped her hands together. "I think it's adorable."

Bloom just shook her head, unable to hold back her laugh. "This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen."

But despite the amusement, a part of her couldn't ignore the growing nerves coiling in her stomach. There were so many people. So many important people.

And tonight, she would be standing among them.

She'd never been to an event this grand. Sure, Alfea had its fair share of fancy parties, but nothing like this. This was a royal event. An entire dimension would be watching.

Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, already having a suspicion who it was, Sky.

I'm so sorry. I won't be able to make it this afternoon like I promised. My father insisted I accompany him. I'll see you tonight. I need to talk to you. 

Bloom stared at the message, rereading it twice.

She should be upset. She'd been looking forward to seeing him, to having a few quiet moments together before the ball. But as she read his words again, she realized something unsettling.

She wasn't actually that disappointed. She should have been. A few weeks ago, she would have been.

But now? The feeling barely registered. She wasn't sure what that meant. And she didn't want to think about it.

Flora must have noticed her expression, because she gently nudged Bloom's arm. "You okay?"

Bloom hesitated, then shrugged. "Yeah. Just... taking it all in."

Musa smirked. "It's a lot to take in."

They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the chaos of nobility unfold below.

And from inside, Stella's voice rang out again, "Where is my diamond hair comb?!"

Musa groaned. "We should go back in before she sends out a kingdom-wide search party."

Flora sighed but smiled. "I think we've delayed the inevitable long enough."

Bloom took one last deep breath of fresh air, then turned to follow her friends back inside - back into the whirlwind of perfume, jewels, and one very dramatic princess.

Hours had passed quickly, and Stella was finally satisfied enough with her appearance. 

The princess had spent far too long fussing over every last detail, ensuring that her golden curls were arranged just so and that her gown shimmered with the perfect balance of elegance and opulence. It had been an exhausting process, for everyone involved.

And, of course, she hadn't let Bloom go until she was satisfied with the work her attendants had done on her as well.

Bloom barely had a say in the matter.

Every time she had tried to slip away, Stella had waved a perfectly manicured hand, dismissing the notion with an exaggerated gasp. "Absolutely not! You're my best friend, and my guest of honor! You have to look stunning, Bloom! Flawless!"

And so, after what felt like an eternity of being primped, brushed, and dusted with shimmering powders, Bloom was finally allowed to retreat to her own chambers.

Her hair and makeup had been done beautifully, even she had to admit it. Her fiery locks had been woven into an elegant up-do, a few soft curls left loose to frame her face in a way that felt effortless. Her makeup was light but enchanting, warm golds and soft peach hues highlighting her features, making her blue eyes shine with an almost otherworldly glow.

The hard part was over. Now, all that was left was getting dressed.

Bloom pushed open the door to her chambers, exhaling as she stepped inside. 

The quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of the last few hours - the flurry of attendants, Stella's endless fussing, the sheer energy of preparing for the most extravagant event of the year. Here, in the stillness of her own space, she could finally breathe.

But as she moved further inside, she stopped. For a moment, Bloom could only stare.

Because spread out across her bed like a vision from another world, was the most breathtaking gown she had ever seen.

The dress, the one she had tried on in that boutique weeks ago, the one she had wanted but could never justify buying.

It took her a moment to move. To even process what she was looking at. But when she did, stepping forward with hesitant, disbelieving steps, her fingers reached out before she could stop them, ghosting over the fabric.

The gown was a deep sapphire blue, like the night sky wrapped around her. Its fitted bodice shimmered with golden embroidery and delicate embellishments, cascading like scattered stardust.

The V-shaped neckline framed her collarbones and shoulders with regal elegance, while sheer, weightless sleeves draped like moonlight, shifting with her every movement, almost like wings.

The skirt flowed effortlessly, pooling like liquid midnight, adorned with celestial patterns of silver and twinkling embellishments. And behind it trailed a sheer gossamer train, weightless and luminous under the chandelier's glow.

Just like she remembered.

Her breath hitched.

There was only one person who could have done this. 

Stella. It had to be Stella.

Her heart twisted. Because she had offered to buy it for her back then, had insisted even, but Bloom had refused. She could never accept such a lavish gift, not even from her best friend, not even for something this beautiful.

But then... this was Stella's night. And the princess, for all her theatrics, would have made sure everything was perfect.

But Stella wouldn't ignore her wishes. Not like this. Or would she?

Bloom took a deep breath, trying to settle the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

She couldn't accept this. Not from Stella, not from anyone. It was too much. The gown was magnificent, yes - almost otherworldly in its beauty - but it wasn't hers to take. Not with the guilt already settling in her stomach. 

Bloom turned her back to the bed and looked around the room. There was no way she could wear this. Not even for an event as grand as this one.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, her hands shaking slightly as she moved toward her wardrobe. She had made up her mind. The other dress - the one she had purchased on her own - was simple, modest, but she had bought it herself.

Bloom rifled through the closet, pulling hangers aside, searching for the familiar fabric. But her fingers met only empty space. She shuffled through the closet again, this time with more urgency, but still... nothing. The dress was gone.

Her heart skipped a beat. No. This couldn't be happening.

She turned on her heel, her pulse quickening as her eyes darted across the room, looking for anything that would explain the sudden disappearance. The room had been perfectly intact when she arrived. She knew she had placed it there, but now...

A sense of panic began to seep in, her chest tightening with each passing second. Where could it have gone? There was no way it had just vanished. She wasn't imagining it - she had seen it, touched it, hanged it in the closet with care.

Bloom's mind raced. Could someone have taken it? The thought was absurd. No one in the palace would dare take something so simple. But then again... this was the night of the princess ball. And Stella had pulled strings to make sure Bloom had everything she needed, even when Bloom had turned down her extravagant offer.

Stella... The very thought of her best friend buying something so expensive made Bloom's stomach twist in knots. She was already feeling overwhelmed by the sense of duty and expectation hanging over her.

Her gaze once again fell on the gown on the bed, its fabric shimmering under the lights, silently urging her to make a choice. It was beautiful. Too beautiful. And it belonged to her.

The knot in Bloom's stomach tightened as she walked slowly toward the gown, her fingers once again grazing its surface. Maybe this was fate. Maybe the universe was telling her she had no choice but to wear it.

Bloom stood in silence for a long moment. The weight of the decision pressed heavily on her chest, but in the end, it wasn't really a decision at all. She had no choice. 

If Stella had really done this - gone to all this effort - and the last thing Bloom wanted to do was ruin the moment for her friend.

But the sense of unease gnawed at her, a knot in her stomach that wouldn't loosen. She wanted to confront Stella, to ask her why, to demand an explanation. But she knew that the princess was already gone, probably on the other side of the palace by now, meeting with her father. 

The last thing Stella needed was a confrontation with her best friend, not today, of all days.

No, Bloom knew, if she made a scene, it would only steal the attention away from the one person who mattered tonight. And for all her theatrics, for all the pomp and circumstance that surrounded the event, Bloom knew one thing for certain: the night was about Stella. 

It was her time to shine, to stand in the spotlight as the future of the kingdom, a vision of elegance and grace.

And so, Bloom did the only thing she could. She pushed aside the swirling mix of emotions and focused on what had to be done.

She slipped into the gown, its fabric cool and luxurious against her skin, the golden embroidery catching the faint light of the room. For a moment, Bloom barely recognized herself.

The gown hugged her body in all the right places, accentuating her curves with effortless grace. The skirt cascaded to the floor in gentle waves, the delicate trail behind her whispering with every movement.

Delicate golden chains traced the curve of her waist, their glimmering strands catching the light with every subtle shift of her body. From these chains, tiny stars, suns, and half-moons - so meticulously crafted - dangled down from the fabric, swaying like whispers of the universe. 

Every shift of the fabric was met with the soft, delicate jingle of the tiny charms. 

She stepped toward the mirror, and the reflection that greeted her was of a woman she could hardly believe was her own. 

The soft glow from the chandelier caught the shimmering stardust pattern of the gown, making her feel like she was wrapped in the night sky. The sapphire blue seemed to pull the light in, almost alive, as if the stars themselves were woven into the very fabric.

Taking one final, steadying breath, Bloom turned away from the mirror and made her way toward the door. There was no point in resisting any longer. She would wear the gown tonight. For her best friend, who had only wanted to give her something beautiful, something that would make her feel like she belonged in this world of wealth and privilege.

As she stepped out into the hallway, the sounds of the palace began to filter through the walls - the chatter of attendants, the soft strains of a string quartet in the distance, the low murmur of excitement rising in the air.

Bloom's breath caught in her chest as she stepped through the grand doors of the ballroom, unable to fully grasp the sheer magnitude of the scene before her.

The entire ballroom stretched out before her like something from a dream, as if it were suspended between two worlds - one of gleaming, ethereal beauty and the other of unimaginable wealth. The ceiling soared high above, a vast expanse that seemed to disappear into the stars themselves. 

Glittering chandeliers, each the size of a small palace, hung from the rafters, their crystals refracting the light into a million rainbows that danced across the marble floors. Soft, golden light bathed the entire room, casting everything in a warm, enchanting glow.

The walls were lined with towering columns made of gleaming white stone, adorned with golden accents, and festooned with delicate garlands of flowers that seemed to bloom with magic. Lavish tapestries depicting the kingdom's history hung from the walls, each one more vibrant and intricate than the last, telling tales of victory, magic, and glory.

The air was filled with the sounds of music - an orchestra of impossibly talented musicians, their instruments creating a symphony that seemed to echo the pulse of the universe itself. The violins and cellos soared, weaving a delicate tapestry of sound, while the soft percussion added a rhythm that made the floor beneath Bloom's feet feel like it was alive.

The scent of rich, decadent food filled the room - fresh fruit, spices, and delicacies from every corner of the magical world. Long tables were laden with silver platters of roasted meats, delicate pastries dusted with gold, and crystal goblets filled with wines so rare that they could only be found in the hidden vaults of the kingdom's deepest cellar. 

The air hummed with the low murmur of guests, their laughter and conversation blending with the music into a singular, harmonious sound.

The guests themselves were no less extraordinary. Nobles from every corner of the magical dimension had gathered in the heart of the kingdom, their faces adorned with sparkling jewels and their robes flowing like liquid starlight. 

Some wore masks, their identities hidden behind delicate filigree, while others simply basked in the grandeur of the evening, their expressions regal and serene. The energy in the room was a mix of excitement and reverence, as if everyone knew they were witnessing something truly special.

"Bloom!" a voice rang out, pulling her from her thoughts. 

She turned, and there they were - her friends, already gathered near one of the towering pillars at the edge of the room. Each of them was dressed in gowns that could have rivaled the stars themselves.

Layla stood out among them, her gown a deep, forest green, adorned with delicate golden vines that seemed to grow and shift with her movements. A tiara of emeralds sparkled in her dark hair with every movement. 

She must have arrived earlier with her parents and the royal entourage of Andros, looking every bit the princess she was. Despite the formality of her attire, there was a lightness in her demeanor, a warmth that made her stand out amidst the sea of opulence.

Beside Layla was Flora, in a gown of soft pink silk, her pink dress blooming with tiny petals of green thread that caught the light as she moved. Her laughter was like a song, and her eyes sparkled with the excitement of the evening. 

"You look stunning," Flora said, her voice soft but warm, as she swept her arm around Bloom's waist in a quick hug.

Tecna stood next to her, wearing a sleek, modern creation with sharp, clean patterns that caught the light like the glimmering pixels of a screen. 

"This place is incredible," Musa said, her gown a brilliant shade of turquoise that seemed to ripple with every step she took. She had a natural grace about her, a quiet elegance that made her stand out even in this sea of extravagant beauty. 

Bloom smiled as she joined them, feeling a sense of relief wash over her as she realized that, despite the grandeur of the night, she wasn't alone. Her friends were here, and together, they made everything seem a little more bearable, a little less overwhelming.

As they chatted and laughed, their voices blending with the music, Bloom's eyes scanned the room, searching for one person in particular. 

Sky. She hadn't seen him yet, and she had hoped to find him, to share a moment before the night got even more chaotic.

Her eyes darted over the sea of faces, scanning every corner of the ballroom. The glittering nobles, the noblewomen in their towering heels, the lords with their perfectly tailored jackets. 

And then she found him.

Sky stood a little ways across the ballroom, talking with his parents - King Erendor and Queen Samara - and a handful of other nobles. The presence of Eraklyon's royal family was commanding, and Sky, though still dressed in formal attire, appeared more restrained among the others. His face was serious and his posture straight.

Bloom's heart beat a little faster as she watched him. She knew, deep down, that she should approach him, to speak to him. But something held her back. The scene before her was too grand, too overwhelming, and Sky was surrounded by his family and high-ranking nobles. There was no place for her to simply step in and steal his attention.

So she remained where she was, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned away, unwilling to intrude on the royal conversation. 

The big moment was fast approaching, and all eyes were starting to shift toward the grand staircase at the far end of the room. The orchestra began to play a softer, more regal tune, signaling the arrival of the evening's star.

And then, Stella appeared.

The crowd held its breath as the princess descended the staircase, her gown shimmering like liquid gold, her crown gleaming with the radiance of a thousand stars. She moved with a grace that seemed to stop time, her presence bending the very air around her. 

Every step she took was met with hushed reverence, and Bloom couldn't help but stare in awe at her friend, now standing in the center of it all.

Bloom held her place among her friends, watching Stella's descent into the spotlight, the music swelling in the background. 

When she finally reached the bottom of the staircase, the crowd erupted into applause, but it wasn't just for her beauty - it was for what she represented: the future of Solaria, the future of their kingdom.

Bloom watched with pride, her heart swelling for her friend. Stella had worked so hard for this, and now, standing before everyone, she was everything the kingdom had dreamed of in a princess. She had always been a force of nature, but tonight, she was the embodiment of Solaria itself.

The applause died down as Stella smiled graciously, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on her father, King Radius , who stood waiting at the center of the ballroom. He was regal in his royal attire - his golden crown gleaming, his cloak flowing behind him like a symbol of his rule. His eyes softened as he looked at his daughter, a proud smile tugging at his lips.

Stella's gaze locked with his, and without a word, she moved toward him, her steps light, her every movement graceful and deliberate. The crowd parted before her like the sea before a goddess, their applause continuing in quiet waves, their reverence growing.

When Stella reached her father, they exchanged a brief, tender look. And then, with a deep, respectful bow of his head, King Radius offered his hand to his daughter. With a smile, Stella placed her gloved hand into his, and the orchestra's music shifted to something grander, more triumphant.

The ballroom seemed to come alive with the rhythm of their dance. As father and daughter moved together across the floor, their steps in perfect harmony, Bloom couldn't help but be swept up in the beauty of the moment. 

The laughter and chatter of nobles, dignitaries, and guests mixed with the soft rustle of elegant gowns and the tapping of polished shoes on the marble floor. The night had taken on a magical rhythm, a perfect dance of celebration, and Bloom found herself caught in the whirl of it all.

But the center of attention, as always, was Stella.

The princess had been swept into the arms of her father, who danced with her as though she were the very sun he ruled over. And when King Radius finally released his daughter, Brandon stepped in, twirling his princess around the dance floor.

As the night unfolded, Bloom could feel the rhythm of the evening settling around her like a warm embrace. Slowly, her friends began to drift away.

First, Flora excused herself, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she made her way toward Helia. He was waiting for her by one of the balcony doors, his quiet presence a calming contrast to the noise of the crowd.

Next, Musa, as expected, was swept away by Riven. But to Bloom's surprise, Riven, who often had a reputation for being a little too reckless, was unusually well-behaved tonight. He was almost gentlemanly in his demeanor, his hand firmly placed on Musa's waist as they glided across the dance floor in time with the music.

Layla, too, was swept into a new direction. Her parents had introduced her to a handsome young man from Andros -a duke, no less- with a charming smile making it impossible for Layla to refuse his request to dance. Though the princess had smiled politely, Bloom could tell she had no choice but to indulge her parents' wishes, especially with someone as important as the Androsian heir.

Tecna and Timmy had also wandered off a little farther away from the main crowd, speaking in hushed tones, likely discussing some sort of technological innovation, as they often did.

And just like that, Bloom was left standing alone, watching as one by one, her friends drifted to their respective partners.

She let out a quiet breath, hugging her arms lightly around herself as she glanced around the grand hall. She turned slightly, eyes scanning the crowd, looking for the one person she had waited to see tonight.

She had spotted Sky earlier that evening, but not beyond the brief moment she'd seen him standing with his parents, deep in conversation with other nobles. She hadn't approached him then, not wanting to interrupt whatever royal matters he had been discussing. But now, alone amidst the glittering throng, she found herself searching for him.

And as if the universe had heard her thoughts, he appeared before her.

Sky always had a way of commanding attention, not just because he was the Crown Prince of Eraklyon, but because of the quiet strength he carried. His golden hair was perfectly styled, his formal attire crisp, the deep navy of his suit accentuating the sharp blue of his eyes.

But there was something else, just beneath the surface. His expression was composed, but there was tension in the set of his jaw. A hesitance in his stance.

"Bloom," His voice was warm when he spoke. "You look beautiful."

It was a simple statement, and yet something about the way he said it made Bloom pause. There was a restraint in his voice, as if he was holding something back.

"Thank you," she said softly, tilting her head as she studied him. "I was starting to wonder if I'd see you tonight."

Sky hesitated. Just a flicker of a moment, but Bloom noticed it.

"I wanted to find you sooner," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "But... there's something I need to talk to you about."

Something about the way he said it sent a flicker of unease through her.

Sky was many things - loyal, strong, brave - but he was rarely nervous. And right now, standing before her in the middle of a grand ballroom filled with laughter and music, he looked exactly that.

Bloom frowned slightly, her fingers instinctively curling around the fabric of her gown.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

He glanced around as if suddenly remembering they were surrounded by dozens of nobles, all caught up in their own conversations and dances. Then, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"Can we go somewhere more private?" His blue eyes searched hers, almost pleading. "Just for a moment?"

Bloom frowned, her confusion growing. "Of course."

Sky exhaled as if relieved, then gently took her hand, ready to lead her away from the crowd.

But before they could take even two steps, a voice - sharp, melodic, and undeniably poised - cut through the air like the chime of a crystal bell.

"Oh, Sky! There you are, dearest. I was looking for you."

Bloom froze. The grip of Sky's hand on hers stiffened slightly before he quickly released it, turning just as a figure approached them with effortless elegance.

A young woman glided toward them, her gown shimmering like a thousand rubies. Her hair was spun gold, cascading down her back in soft, perfect waves, and her eyes - a striking, unnatural shade of orange - gleamed with amusement as they landed on Sky.

Sky's posture had changed the second she spoke - his shoulders had gone rigid, the careful, unreadable mask slipping over his face once more.

The girl's full lips curved into an almost saccharine smile as she stepped closer, touching Sky's arm lightly.

"I believe you promised me a dance?" she said smoothly, tilting her head. "Or have you been too busy... entertaining?"

The way she said it - subtle, but with a precise level of condescension - made Bloom's stomach twist.

Sky took a breath before responding, his voice carefully measured.

"I was just-" He glanced at Bloom, almost as if he hated that she was witnessing this. "I was just about to step away for a moment."

"Oh, but you can't now," the girl sighed, her fingers still resting lightly on his arm. "Not when everyone is waiting. Your parents are expecting you to be by my side, after all."

Bloom blinked. What?

The girl finally turned her full attention to Bloom, offering a smile so perfect it felt rehearsed.

"You must be Bloom," she said, her voice sweet as honey, and just as thick. "It's so lovely to finally meet you."

The words should have been friendly. They should have been polite. But something in the way she said them sent a cold feeling trickling down Bloom's spine.

Sky remained silent. And that silence?

It told Bloom everything.

The girl stepped closer, her red gown shimmering beneath the chandeliers, and extended a delicate, bejeweled hand - as if she were bestowing a great honor.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," she said smoothly, her voice a melody laced with something sharp underneath. "I'm Princess Diaspro of Isis, Sky's fiancée."

For a moment, Bloom could only stare, her mind scrambling to catch up with what she had just heard.

Fiancée? No. That wasn't right. That couldn't be right.

Sky had told her about this - about his childhood betrothal, a political arrangement made before he'd had any say in it. But he had also told her that it had been ended. That it was nothing more than a relic of his past.

So why was Diaspro standing here, looking at her with the cool confidence of someone who knew she had the upper hand?

The girl in red smiled, slow and deliberate, amber eyes glittering with something that wasn't entirely pleasant. She had the air of a cat who had just cornered a mouse and was enjoying watching it squirm.

"Oh dear," she said lightly, tilting her head just so. "You didn't know, did you?"

Bloom swallowed, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral despite the storm raging inside her.

"I knew," she said, her voice steady. "Sky told me about his betrothal. He also told me it was over."

Diaspro let out a small, delicate laugh, covering her lips as if she found the whole situation utterly charming.

"Oh my," she sighed, "that's adorable."

Bloom stiffened.

Sky, who had remained silent until now, finally took a step forward.

"Diaspro," he said, his voice tight. "That's enough."

But the princess ignored him, her gaze locked onto Bloom with something that almost resembled pity.

"You really think an engagement like ours could just end?" She shook her head, golden curls catching the light as she sighed. "That's not how royal politics work. My family and Sky's? We've been tied together for generations. A simple word from him doesn't change that."

Bloom didn't respond. She couldn't. Because as much as she wanted to deny it, to turn to Sky and demand he confirm that Diaspro was lying, she could see it written all over his face.

The hesitation. The tension in his jaw. The silent war in his eyes.

This wasn't a lie.

This wasn't a cruel joke, or some desperate scheme on Diaspro's part.

This was real.

Diaspro was telling the truth.

And that realization cut her.

It wasn't just that he had kept this from her. It was that he had lied. He had looked her in the eyes, held her in his arms, whispered reassurances that she had believed without question.

And all along, he had known.

Had he been waiting for the right moment to tell her? Had he planned to at all? Or had he simply hoped she'd never find out? That he could keep her and his duty, balancing them like two halves of a life that could never truly exist together?

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her gown, nails digging into her palm. A hot, bitter emotion surged inside her - not just pain, not just betrayal, but something else.

Something like relief.

And that was when the second realization struck, sharp and sudden, like a bolt of lightning through her chest.

This should have destroyed her.

But it didn't.

She felt numb.

No, more than that, she felt free.

And then, like a door unlocking in the depths of her mind, another memory surfaced. One she had tried to bury for weeks.

Heat. Strong hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against a body that was not Sky's. The way he had held her like he was drowning and she was the only one keeping him afloat. A voice, low and ragged with desperation, whispering words she had no right to hear.

She could still feel the phantom touch of his lips against hers, still hear the way his voice had broken when he whispered her name. Lips brushing against hers, not soft, not hesitant, but hungry.

A fire unlike anything she had ever known roaring to life inside her, magic thrumming through her veins like a symphony reaching its crescendo.

Bloom shivered, her breath catching as the memory hit her like a wave, crashing through the carefully constructed walls she had built in her mind.

It hadn't been just Sky who had been dishonest. She had been too.

Because she had kissed him, Professor Valen. And she had never told Sky about it.

She forced herself to look up.

Sky was still standing there, staring at her, his expression tight with guilt, as if he wanted to explain. But what could he possibly say? The truth was already laid bare between them, raw and ugly beneath the chandeliers' golden light.

And then there was Diaspro.

The princess stood poised, a picture of effortless arrogance, watching the scene unfold with clear satisfaction. She didn't need to say anything else, she had already won. The way she tilted her head, the way her lips curled at the edges... it was the look of a woman who knew she had put her rival exactly where she wanted her.

And maybe a few weeks ago, Bloom would have let her. Maybe she would have lashed out, let her temper burn bright, let her hurt show.

But now? Now, she just felt tired.

Because what was she really fighting for? A love built on half-truths? A boy who had kept secrets? A relationship that, if she was being honest, had been slipping through her fingers long before this night?

A relationship she had already betrayed with another man's kiss?

A bitter smile curled at the corner of her lips. "Well," she said softly, voice steadier than she expected. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Sky flinched as if she had struck him. "Bloom, please... it's not-"

"Not what?" she interrupted, tilting her head. "Not what it looks like?" Her gaze flickered to Diaspro, still standing there with the patience of a queen indulging commoners with her presence. "Because it looks pretty clear to me."

Diaspro hummed, clearly delighted by how easily this was unfolding. "You really are quite composed," she mused. "I must say, I was expecting more of a scene."

Bloom turned to her fully now, her smile sharpening. "And give you the satisfaction? Never."

The princess's eyes flashed, her lips parting as if to retort, but Bloom didn't wait to hear it.

Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away, her celestial gown flowing behind her like a midnight tide.

Sky called her name, but she didn't stop. Not this time. Because for the first time in a long time, she wasn't sure she wanted to be his anymore.

Chapter Text

Bloom moved through the grand ballroom in a daze, the sounds of music and laughter fading into a dull hum at the edges of her awareness. Gilded chandeliers cast their glow over the sweeping marble floors, the scent of fresh roses and spiced wine lingered in the air, and yet - she felt like she didn't belong here anymore.

The weight of the night pressed down on her shoulders, but not in the way she had expected. There was no heartbreak, no crushing sorrow, no storm of emotions clawing at her chest.

Only relief. A strange, quiet kind of freedom. And wasn't that the most damning thing of all?

She let out a slow breath, steadying herself as she turned her gaze to her friends.

Stella was still in the center of the ballroom, a vision of golden radiance as she twirled in Brandon's arms, her laughter ringing through the air like chimes in the breeze. It was her night, and Bloom refused to ruin it with the weight of her own burdens.

Flora and Helia were nowhere in sight, but she didn't doubt they had found some quiet balcony to escape to. They always had a way of slipping into their own little world, away from the noise.

Layla, ever the dutiful daughter, was locked in conversation with a man Bloom didn't recognize, but she knew exactly what that meant. Another suitor. Another noble her parents had deemed worthy.

Musa and Riven were heading toward the exit, sneaking away as they so often did. Riven's hand was resting against the small of Musa's back, guiding her through the crowd, and for once, there was no tension between them. No heated argument. Just a quiet understanding.

And Tecna was exactly where she had been before, standing with Timmy in the same corner of the ballroom, speaking in hushed tones. Their world was calculations and theories, logic and soft smiles exchanged between words only they truly understood.

Bloom's lips pressed together.

These were her best friends. They were the people who had been by her side through everything. And yet, she didn't belong here with them tonight.

I'm sorry. The words whispered through her mind like a farewell, meant only for herself.

She wished she could tell them. Wished she could explain that she wasn't leaving because she was sad, or heartbroken, or because she needed to cry in some darkened corridor.

She was leaving because she was done. With this night. With the lies. With pretending.

She turned toward the massive double doors at the far end of the ballroom, the air feeling lighter with every step she took. No one called after her. No one noticed her slipping away.

And she was glad.

The night air was cool against Bloom's skin as she stepped onto the palace patio, exhaling slowly as she put distance between herself and the glittering spectacle inside. The muffled echoes of music and laughter barely reached her ears now, swallowed by the quiet hush of the royal gardens.

This was what she needed - fresh air, silence, space.

She trailed down the stone steps, letting the soft rustle of her gown fill the quiet. The golden chains at her waist swayed with each movement, the tiny sun, moon, and star charms whispering against the fabric like a celestial lullaby. The cool night breeze lifted the sheer gossamer train of her dress, letting it ripple behind her like a veil of midnight mist.

Here, surrounded by the scent of blooming jasmine and the glow of lantern-lit pathways, she finally felt like she could breathe.

But then, she felt it.

That prickle at the base of her spine. That awareness slithering over her skin like liquid heat. She wasn't alone.

She turned sharply-

And there he was.

Leaning lazily against a marble column, arms crossed, watching her with a smirk that was both infuriating and devastatingly wicked.

Valen.

The breath caught in her throat.

Moonlight bathed him in silver, accentuating the sharp, perfect lines of his face - the strong jaw, the high cheekbones, the grey eyes that gleamed with something dark and hungry. 

His white dress shirt hung slightly open, exposing tantalizing glimpses of sculpted muscle, the fabric stretched just enough across his broad shoulders beneath the black coat that did nothing to soften his presence.

And then, there were the  pants. Those damned black pants that clung to his form in a way that made her mouth go dry. They disappeared beneath knee-high leather boots, making him look even taller, more imposing.

A man who shouldn't be here. A man who didn't belong in a place like this. Yet somehow, he made the palace seem like an unworthy backdrop for him.

Bloom swallowed hard.

He was watching her, eyes dragging over her form in an unhurried, deliberate way, taking in every shimmering detail of her gown. His gaze dipped lower - to the golden chains at her waist, where the tiny charms swayed with every step she took.

His smirk deepened.

Bloom's breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay composed, lifting a brow. "Lurking in palace gardens now? That's a new hobby."

Valen's smirk deepened as he pushed off the column, slow and deliberate. "Hardly. But I do have a fondness for beautiful things." His golden gaze dragged over her - slow, unhurried, scorching. "And tonight, you happen to be the most beautiful thing here."

Bloom's stomach flipped despite herself. Damn him. Bloom cursed the way his words hit her like a physical blow. She wasn't supposed to feel like this - not for him, not now. And yet, she couldn't deny the way his gaze made her heart race, made her skin heat and her pulse spike.

She crossed her arms, tilting her head in defiance. "False flattery? From you? I must be dreaming."

Valen took another step closer, his scent - spice, smoke, and something darker - filled her senses, dragging her deeper into his orbit. He leaned in just enough that she could feel his presence surrounding her, intoxicating.

"Who said it's false?" His voice was a seductive rasp now, brushing against her ear like velvet.

Her lips parted, but before she could throw a retort, his eyes flicked down. The way his eyes lingered on the delicate golden chains at her waist, the way they swung with her movements, sent a pulse of heat straight to her core.

He was looking at her in a way that made her feel exposed - not just physically, but emotionally, too. Like he could see right through her, into her very soul.

Her pulse quickened as his fingers hovered just above the fabric of her gown, as if savoring the sight of her, of the effect she had on him.

"So," he murmured, his voice rough with something she couldn't quite place. "That's how it looks on you."

Her spine straightened, her breath caught in her throat. "What?"

Valen didn't answer immediately. Instead, he moved his fingers in the air just inches from the silk of her dress, as though he were caressing her without touching. The air between them thickened with heat, and Bloom couldn't seem to break the spell he had over her.

"Your dress," he finally said, his voice dipped low, almost possessive. He took a step closer still, invading her personal space, leaving her with nowhere to retreat. "I knew it would suit you. But this..." He trailed off, voice lowering further, a thread of something dangerous weaving through his words. "This is even better than I imagined."

Her heart stopped. Her entire body went still.

She stared at him, the words settling into her bones like a slow-burning ember.

Not Stella. Not some generous mistake.

Him. He had bought it.

This ridiculously expensive, breathtakingly extravagant gown, he had given it to her.

Her lips parted, her mind racing. Why?

Valen merely watched her reaction, clearly entertained by the storm of emotions flickering across her face. "You're welcome, by the way," he drawled.

Bloom exhaled sharply, forcing herself to gather the frayed edges of her thoughts. "You-" She huffed, shaking her head, trying to find the right words. "Why would you do that?"

He smirked, stepping even closer, his presence like a gravitational pull she wasn't sure she could resist. "Because I wanted to see you in it."

The way he said it, so simple, so honest, yet dripping with something that made her ache-

Her breath stalled, and she hated how smug he looked as he watched the realization dawn on her face.

"You-" She exhaled sharply. "You really bought this?"

Valen hummed, tilting his head slightly. "What is it that makes you doubt me? The sheer audacity of it?"

Bloom scowled, irritated with herself for feeling so affected by him. "The price tag."

He chuckled, slow and deep. "You wound me, darling."

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way that damned word sent a shiver down her spine. "I would've never accepted it if I had known."

"But you did." His voice was silk and sin, a low purr that sent a wave of heat rushing through her. "You're wearing it."

She clenched her jaw. "That's not the point."

Valen leaned closer, his body just a whisper away from hers. He was so close now, she could feel the warmth radiating off him. "If it makes you feel better," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "I didn't expect a thank you."

Bloom huffed, crossing her arms tighter, but she couldn't shake the way her pulse had quickened, the way the distance between them had disappeared, replaced by something primal and undeniable. "Good," she replied, forcing herself to sound unaffected. "Because you're not getting one."

He stepped closer again, just enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze.

"Tell me," Valen murmured, "have you danced tonight?"

The question was a sudden, unexpected shift in the air. It pulled her focus, sharp and intense. Bloom blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

His grey eyes glittered with a predatory gleam as he repeated, each word slow and deliberate. "Have you danced?"

For a moment, she froze, unsure how to answer. She hadn't. Not since she'd arrived.

"No," she finally admitted, voice almost a whisper. "I haven't."

A flicker of something dangerous passed through his expression. His lips curled into a smile that was no longer playful, but something darker and more lethal. His eyes held hers, locking her in place as if he could feel the pulse of her thoughts.

"Good," he said, the word dripping with a dangerous satisfaction, as if it pleased him to know she hadn't been swept away by anyone else.

Before she could even process what was happening - before she could move, think, react - Valen was upon her. His movement was a blur of lethal precision, every inch of him exuding control and raw, unrestrained power.

His hand shot out and caught hers, not with tenderness, not with softness, but with firm, possessive certainty. His fingers closed around hers, the heat from his touch sparking a jolt of desire that ran through her like wildfire.

"Dance with me, Bloom."

It wasn't a request. It wasn't even a suggestion. It was a command, delivered with such authority, such intent, that Bloom felt the weight of it settle over her like a heavy blanket. She couldn't escape it. She didn't want to.

The air between them thickened, charged with an electric tension that she could almost taste. His grip tightened, pulling her closer into his orbit, dragging her into a space where resistance felt impossible.

For a heartbeat, she did nothing. Staring up at him, feeling the heat between them like a magnetic force pulling her in. And there was not a single part of her that wanted to fight, to break free from his grasp.

This. This was were she belonged. 

Bloom opened her mouth, but no words came. The fire in her chest burned hotter, and with a flick of his wrist, he closed the gap even more, moving them together until the world outside seemed to fade away.

"This dance is mine, darling," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Bloom arched a brow, even as her pulse quickened. "There's no music out here."

His lips curled. "Do you need music?"

"No," she breathed, the word falling from her lips like an invitation she couldn't take back.

 It hung in the air between them like an invitation she couldn't take back. The moment she said it, she realized just how much she wanted it. Wanted him. The air between them thickened, becoming almost unbearable.

He moved then, a fluid, deliberate motion that closed the distance between them, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pulling her in just enough to feel the heat of his body against hers. 

She swallowed hard, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she felt the brush of his chest against hers, and every nerve in her body screamed to stay right where she was.

Valen's hand on her back was like a fire, steady, yet searing. His touch was not demanding, but there was no mistaking the quiet command in it. His fingers, warm and strong, rested on her waist, and she could feel his thumb moving in small, gentle circles against her skin. 

It was a touch that wasn't meant to comfort. It was a touch that set her on edge, every nerve ending alive, aware of every slight movement, every shift of his body.

His breath was a whisper against her ear as he leaned in, his lips just a hair's breadth from her skin. "I don't need music to know how to move with you, darling," he murmured, his words sending a jolt of heat straight to her core. 

Bloom's breath hitched as Valen's words washed over her, low and velvety, like a secret meant only for her. His hand on her waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. 

The heat of his body pressed against hers, and she could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat, a counterpoint to the erratic flutter of her own.

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, her defiance warring with the undeniable pull of his presence. His grey eyes were dark now, stormy with an intensity that made her knees weak. There was no smirk, no teasing glint - just raw, unbridled desire that mirrored her own.

"You're awfully confident," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, though it trembled with the effort to sound unaffected.

Valen's lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. It was sharper, more dangerous. "Confidence," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her, "comes from knowing exactly what I want."

Her breath caught as his hand slid lower, his fingers brushing the curve of her hip. The touch was light, almost casual, but it sent a shiver racing down her spine. She could feel the tension in him, the restraint he was barely holding onto, and it thrilled her in ways she couldn't -wouldn't- admit.

"And what is it you want?" she asked, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.

His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, he didn't answer. 

Instead, he moved, guiding her into a slow, deliberate step. There was no music, but the rhythm between them was undeniable, a silent, pulsing beat that only they could hear. His body moved with hers, every step, every turn, perfectly in sync, as if they had done this a thousand times before.

"You," he said finally, his voice rough, almost guttural. The word hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. "I want you, Bloom darling. Every breath, every thought, every heartbeat. I want it all."

Her chest tightened, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She wanted to look away, to break the intensity of his gaze, but she couldn't. She was trapped, not by his hands, but by the sheer force of his will, by the way he looked at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

"You can't have me," she whispered, though the words lacked conviction. They sounded more like a challenge than a refusal.

Valen's lips curved again, and this time, there was a hint of that wicked smirk she both loved and hated. "Can't I?" he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. His hand slid up her back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, until his fingers brushed the nape of her neck. "You're here, aren't you? In my arms, wearing the dress I gave you, looking at me like you want this just as much as I do."

Bloom's lips parted, but no words came out. He was right, and they both knew it. She could feel the truth of it in the way her body responded to him, in the way her breath quickened and her skin burned wherever he touched her. 

She wanted this. Wanted him. But admitting it out loud felt like surrendering, and she wasn't ready to do that. Not yet.

Valen seemed to sense her hesitation. His hand tightened at the base of her neck, his thumb brushing against her pulse point, sending another jolt of heat through her. 

"You don't have to say it," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "I can feel it. Every time you look at me, every time you try to pretend you don't want this. I can feel it, Bloom. And it's driving me mad."

His words sent a thrill through her, a mix of fear and exhilaration that made her head spin. She wanted to push him away, to regain some semblance of control, but her body betrayed her, leaning into him instead. Her hands, which had been resting lightly on his shoulders, slid up to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair.

Valen's breath hitched, a rare break in his composure, and it sent a surge of power through her. 

She smiled, a slow, teasing curve of her lips, and leaned in until her mouth was just a breath away from his. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her. The tension between them was unbearable, a coiled spring ready to snap. But instead, he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

And with that, he spun her into another step, his movements sharper, more deliberate. The dance became a battle, a push and pull of wills, each of them trying to outmaneuver the other. 

His hands were everywhere, burning through the fabric of her dress, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Her body responded in kind, arching into his touch, her movements fluid and deliberate, designed to drive him as mad as he was driving her.

The tension between them had reached a fever pitch, a taut wire ready to snap. Bloom's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as Valen's hands tightened on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. His gaze burned into hers, dark and unrelenting, and she could feel the heat of his body searing through the fabric of her gown.

For a moment, neither of them moved. 

The air between them was electric, charged with a desire so potent it felt like a living thing, coiling around them, pulling them together. Bloom's lips parted, her chest rising and falling with the effort to breathe, to think, to resist the pull of him.

But resistance was futile.

Valen's hand slid up her back, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck. His touch was firm, possessive, and it sent a shiver racing down her spine. His other hand remained at her waist, anchoring her to him, leaving no room for escape. Not that she wanted to escape. Not anymore.

"Bloom, my darling," he murmured, her name a low, rough sound that sent a thrill through her. His breath was warm against her lips, his voice a velvet rasp that made her knees weak. "Tell me to stop."

She knew it was a test, a challenge. He wanted her to admit it, to say the words, to give him permission. But she couldn't. Not with words. Instead, she rose onto her toes, closing the distance between them until her lips were a breath away from his.

"I won't," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she couldn't say. That was all the invitation he needed.

Valen's lips crashed down on hers with a searing intensity that stole her breath away. The kiss was anything but gentle - it was raw, desperate, and utterly consuming. His mouth moved against hers with a hunger that mirrored her own, his hands tightening on her as if he feared she might slip away.

Bloom's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life as the world around them dissolved into nothing. There was only Valen - his taste, his scent, the feel of his body pressed against hers. His kiss was a wildfire, burning through every barrier she had tried to erect, leaving her exposed and vulnerable in the best possible way.

She kissed him back with equal fervor, her hands sliding up to cup his face, her fingers brushing against the rough stubble along his jaw. He groaned against her lips, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to her core. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her in a way that left no doubt about his intentions.

It was a kiss that spoke of possession, of desire, of something else that neither of them was ready to name. It was a kiss that left no room for doubt, no room for hesitation. It was a kiss that promised more, so much more.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they struggled to regain their composure. Valen's hands were still on her, his grip firm but not painful, as if he couldn't bear to let her go.

"Oh, Bloom," he murmured again, his voice rough with emotion. His thumb brushed against her cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture that made her heart ache. "You have no idea what you do to me."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her lips still tingling from the intensity of his kiss. "Then show me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Valen's eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her again. But instead, he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a way that felt almost protective. "Careful what you wish for, darling," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Because once I start, I won't stop."

Bloom's breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't. Not when every fiber of her being was screaming for more. "I don't want you to stop," she said, her voice trembling.

"Then you're mine," Valen's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. "And I don't share what's mine."

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, and the world faded away once more.

Valen's kiss was slower this time, but no less intense. It was as if he was savoring her, memorizing the feel of her lips, the taste of her breath, the way she melted into him. His hands roamed her back, tracing the delicate lines of her spine through the fabric of her gown, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Bloom's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to erase any remaining distance between them.

But just as the kiss deepened, as the heat between them threatened to spiral out of control, Valen pulled back. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling as he stared down at her with eyes that burned like molten silver. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, swollen from his kisses, and a low, possessive sound rumbled in his chest.

"You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, his voice rough and raw.

Bloom's lips curved into a faint, teasing smile, though her own breath was far from steady. "You started this," she reminded him, her voice soft but laced with challenge.

"And I'll finish it," he shot back, his tone dark with promise. But instead of kissing her again, he stepped back, putting a sliver of space between them. His hands lingered on her waist for a moment longer before he released her entirely, leaving her feeling oddly cold in the absence of his touch.

Bloom blinked up at him, her chest still heaving, her mind struggling to catch up. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion and a hint of frustration.

Valen's lips curved into that infuriating smirk she both loved and hated. "Testing my self-control," he said. "And yours."

She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're insufferable."

"And you're still here," Valen said, his voice low and velvety. He took a step closer, his presence enveloping her like a shadow, his eyes never leaving hers. "Still looking at me like you want more."

Bloom's breath hitched, but she refused to back down. She tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze with a defiance that only seemed to amuse him further. "Maybe I'm just waiting to see if you'll actually follow through on all that talk," she shot back.

Valen's smirk deepened, and he closed the distance between them in one fluid motion. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering against her cheek. "Careful, darling," he murmured, his voice a dark, seductive whisper. "I might just take that as an invitation."

Her pulse quickened, but she held her ground, her eyes locked on his. "Oh, it is."

Valen's gaze dropped to her lips, and she could see the battle raging behind his eyes - the struggle between his desire and his self-control. It thrilled her, knowing she had this effect on him, knowing she could unravel him just as easily as he unraveled her.

But then, to her surprise, he stepped back again, his hands sliding into his pockets as if he hadn't just been moments away from kissing her senseless. "You're playing a dangerous game, Bloom," he said, his voice calm, almost casual, but with an undercurrent of something darker. "And I'm not sure you're ready for the stakes."

Bloom's eyes narrowed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Don't patronize me," she said, her voice sharp. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Do you?" he asked, his tone infuriatingly calm. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're trying to provoke me into something you're not ready to handle."

She took a step closer, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "You don't get to decide what I'm ready for," she said, her voice low and fierce. "You don't get to dictate this."

Valen's expression shifted, the amusement fading as something darker, more intense, took its place. He closed the distance between them in an instant, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her against him. 

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Dictating?"

Bloom's breath caught, but she refused to look away. "Isn't it?"

For a long moment, they stood like that, locked in a battle of wills, the tension between them so thick it felt like a physical force. 

And then, slowly, Valen's grip on her waist loosened, his hands sliding up to cradle her face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks as he looked down at her with an intensity that made her heart ache.

"I'm not trying to control you, Bloom," he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. "I'm trying to protect you. From me. From this." He gestured between them, his expression unreadable. "Because once we cross this line, there's no going back. And I need to know you're ready for that."

Bloom's chest tightened, her anger fading as his words sank in. She searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, any sign that he was playing her. But all she saw was raw honesty, a vulnerability she hadn't expected from him.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "And I'm not afraid of this."

Valen's eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her again. But instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You should be."

Before she could respond, he stepped back, releasing her completely. The sudden absence of his touch left her feeling unmoored, adrift in a sea of emotions she couldn't quite name.

"We'll continue this another time," he said, his voice calm and controlled once more. "When you're not so... distracted."

Bloom blinked, her mind struggling to process his words. "Distracted?" she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "You're the one who-"

But he was already walking away, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed as if they hadn't just been on the verge of something life-altering. Bloom stared after him, her frustration warring with the lingering heat of his touch.

"Valen," she called after him, her voice sharp.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder with that infuriating smirk. "Yes, darling?"

Bloom's jaw tightened, her anger boiling over. She took a step toward him, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. "Don't you dare walk away from me," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Not after that."

Valen turned fully to face her, his smirk widening. "After what, exactly?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock innocence. "I'm not sure I follow."

She stopped just short of him, her chest rising and falling with the effort to keep her composure. "You know exactly what," she shot back, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. "You don't get to- to kiss me like that and then just walk away like it was nothing."

His expression softened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make her breath catch. "It wasn't nothing," he said quietly, his voice losing its teasing edge. "And that's the problem."

Bloom blinked, thrown by the sudden shift in his tone. "What are you talking about?"

Valen closed the distance between them in two long strides and reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a gesture so tender it made her heart ache. "You think I don't want this?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "You think I don't want you? Every second I'm with you, Bloom, I'm fighting myself. Fighting the urge to take what I want, consequences be damned."

Her breath hitched, her resolve wavering under the weight of his words. "Then why are you fighting it?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Because I care about you," he said, his voice breaking on the words. "More than I should. More than I ever thought I could. And if I let myself have you, if I let this-" He gestured between them, his hand trembling slightly. "If I let this go any further, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop. And I can't- I won't- risk hurting you."

Bloom stared at him, her chest tightening with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite name. She wanted to be angry, to lash out at him for pulling away, for making her feel so exposed. But all she could feel was the raw honesty in his words, the vulnerability he was showing her for the first time.

"You're not going to hurt me," she said softly, her hand reaching up to cover his where it rested against her cheek. "Not unless you walk away now."

Valen's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he searched her face. For a moment, she thought he might give in, might let go of whatever was holding him back. But then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed her.

This kiss wasn't gentle or tender. It was fierce, almost desperate, as if he was trying to pour every ounce of his longing, his fear, his desire into it. His hands slid into her hair, holding her in place as his lips moved against hers with a hunger that left her breathless. Bloom kissed him back with equal intensity, her hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, refusing to let him go.

But just as quickly as it had started, it ended. Valen pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite name. He stared at her for a long moment, his chest rising and falling as if he'd just run a mile. 

And then, without a word, he stepped back, releasing her completely.

Bloom stared at him, her lips still tingling from the intensity of his kiss, her mind struggling to catch up. "Valen," she said, her voice trembling. "Don't-"

But he was already walking away, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders tense. He didn't look back, didn't say a word. He just kept walking, disappearing into the shadows of the garden as if he hadn't just shattered her world with a single kiss.

Bloom stood there, her chest heaving, her heart pounding in her ears. She wanted to chase after him, to demand an explanation, to make him stay. But something held her back - something in the way he'd kissed her, like it was both a promise and an apology.

And as the cool night air wrapped around her, she realized with a sinking feeling that he was right. This wasn't nothing. It was everything. 

And that was exactly why he'd walked away.

Chapter Text

Valtor stood in a void. 

An endless expanse of darkness and swirling smoke, the kind of place that seemed to breathe and slither around him, alive in its own sinister way. It was a realm he recognized all too well, one carved into the deepest corners of his mind, a place he had not willingly visited in centuries.

And then, the voices came.

"Valtor..."

A sing-song whisper, sweet as poison. The first voice, the eldest of the Three Ancestresses, Belladonna, curled around his name like a snake.

"Valtor... have you missed us?" Another voice, shrill and cold. Liliss. Always the cruelest with her barbed mockery.

"Our beautiful creation," crooned the third, Tharma, her tone lilting with false affection.

Their laughter followed, a discordant symphony of taunts that echoed through the void, scraping against his mind like claws. It was a sound he had long since learned to endure, but never to forget.

"Leave me," Valtor growled, his voice a dark rumble that vibrated through the smoke. His grey eyes burned with fury, a spark of defiance flaring in his chest. "You hold no power over me."

The laughter swelled.

"No power?" Belladonna cooed, the smoke swirling into the vague shapes of three shadowy figures. "Oh, but we are your power, Valtor. Without us, you are nothing. We made you."

"And now look at you," Liliss hissed. "A puppet tangled in his own strings."

"A slave to a little flame," Tharma added, her voice a cruel whisper. "Tell us, Valtor, do you still think you can control her?"

Valtor's jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. He would not let them see his anger, his... fear. No, not fear. Not for them.

"She's a means to an end," he said coldly, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. "Nothing more."

The Ancestresses howled with laughter again.

"A means to an end," Belladonna repeated mockingly. "Is that what you call the way you look at her? The way you hold her?"

Valtor's heart thundered in his chest. He willed himself to stay calm, but the dream -no, the nightmare- was clawing deeper into his mind, pulling at threads he didn't want unraveled.

"We see it, Valtor," Liliss purred. "The way your heart races when she's near. The way your precious control slips like sand through your fingers."

"You're not manipulating her," Tharma sneered. "You're burning for her."

"Pathetic," Belladonna spat, her voice curdling with disdain. "Our perfect creation, reduced to a lovesick fool."

Valtor's rage surged, dark fire crackling at his fingertips. The void trembled at his fury, but the Ancestresses' voices only grew louder, circling him like vultures.

"Enough!" he roared, his magic flaring into a violent burst of light and fire.

The laughter faded, but the smoke remained, cloying and suffocating.

In the silence that followed, Belladonna's voice whispered one final time, soft and deadly.

"You'll destroy her... or she will destroy you. Either way, Valtor, you have already lost."

And then, the void collapsed.

Valtor jolted awake, his body tense, his skin slick with cold sweat. The room was dark, save for the dying embers in the hearth. His heart still thundered, his breath uneven.

Bloom. Her name slipped into his thoughts like a flame licking at dry wood.

Damn them.

Damn the Ancestresses.

And damn himself for knowing, deep down, that there was truth in their cruel words.

Valtor sat in the dim light of his chambers, the echo of the Ancestresses' laughter still ringing in his ears. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to push the memory of Bloom from his mind. But it was no use. She was everywhere.

He hadn't meant to kiss her in the gardens of the Solarian palace.

It had started with a whisper of magic, like a brush of fingers against her wrist - meant to unnerve her, to remind her of the danger he posed. But the moment she turned to face him, the soft glow of the garden lights casting a halo around her, Valtor's carefully laid plans had unraveled.

Her lips - soft, warm, and tasting faintly of honeyed wine - had met his in a clash of fire and shadow. Her body, pressed against his, fit so perfectly, too perfectly, as though the universe itself had conspired against him. His hand had found the small of her back, fingers splayed wide, holding her there -too long, too tightly- until the fragile thread of his control finally snapped.

And then he had seen it. The look in her eyes when he finally tore himself away. It had sliced through him like a blade.

"She's a means to an end," he repated to himself, his voice low and harsh, as if saying it aloud would make it true. "Nothing more."

But the words felt hollow, even to him. 

He had told himself that lie a thousand times, but it was becoming harder to believe. Every time he saw her, every time she looked at him with those defiant, fiery eyes, he felt something shift inside him. Something dangerous. Something he couldn't control.

He stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged animal. 

The memory of their kiss in the gardens of the Solarian palace burned in his mind like a brand. Her body had been so soft against his, her lips so sweet, so willing. And for a moment, just a moment, he had let himself forget who he was, what he was supposed to be. He had let himself want her, not as a pawn in his game, but as something more. Something real.

But then he had pulled away. He had seen the hurt in her gaze, the confusion, and it had cut him deeper than he cared to admit. He had told himself it was for the best, that he couldn't afford to let her get too close. 

But the truth was, he was afraid. Afraid of what she made him feel. Afraid of what it meant.

The Ancestresses' voices echoed in his mind, taunting him. "You're not manipulating her. You're burning for her."

He slammed his fist against the wall, the impact sending a sharp pain through his hand. He welcomed it, used it to ground himself. He couldn't afford to be weak. Not now. Not ever. 

But the image of Bloom's face wouldn't leave him. The way she had looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of longing and betrayal, haunted him. He had seen that look before, in the eyes of others he had used and discarded. 

But with Bloom, it was different. It hurt. 

"You'll destroy her... or she will destroy you."  Belladonna's words echoed in his mind, cold and unrelenting. He knew she was right. He had always known. 

Bloom was a flame, bright and beautiful, but flames had a way of consuming everything in their path. And he was already too close to the fire. 

He turned to the window, staring out at the night sky. The stars were hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, the world shrouded in darkness. It suited his mood.

He had always been a creature of darkness, of shadows and secrets. He had built his life on lies and manipulation, on the careful cultivation of power. He had never needed anyone, never wanted anyone. Not like this.

But Bloom was light and fire, passion and defiance. She was everything he wasn't, and everything he couldn't have. And yet, he couldn't stay away.

He clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening. He couldn't afford to let her distract him. He had a plan, a purpose. And if that meant pushing her away, if it meant breaking her heart - and his own - then so be it.

But even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. He was already lost. And the worst part was, he didn't care.

He turned away from the window, his mind made up. The next time he saw her, he would be stronger. Next time, he wouldn't let her get under his skin.

But deep down, he knew it was already too late. Bloom had already gotten under his skin. She had already taken root in his heart, and no amount of denial or distance would change that.

He couldn't help but wonder if he was strong enough to resist her. Or if, in the end, he would let her burn him to ashes.

Because Valtor hadn't even planned to go to Solaria.

He had told himself it wasn't necessary. That he could carry out his plan without stepping foot in that gaudy palace, without once laying eyes on her. He had been content -no, satisfied- with the knowledge that she would be the most radiant person at that ball, as if she wasn't already the most radiant person in every room she entered. He hadn't needed to see her. He didn't want to see her.

And yet...

The magic sphere had glowed to life, swirling with its arcane energy, and before he even realized what he was doing, his hand had skimmed over the surface. A simple spell. A glimpse. Nothing more.

But then, there she was.

Standing in the heart of the Solarian ballroom, wrapped in that sapphire dress - the one he had chosen with reckless, unthinking impulse. It clung to her like it had been sewn from the very night sky, golden chains glimmering against her skin with every graceful move she made. Her fire was dimmed, carefully contained beneath layers of silk and jewels, but Valtor could still see it. Feel it. That untamed spark that lit her from within.

She was a flame in a room full of cold stars.

And he... he was a moth.

The portal to Solaria opened before he could talk himself out of it.

It had been easy enough to slip into the palace unnoticed. Illusions were second nature to him, shadows as familiar as his own skin. He didn't need to make his presence known; this was a night for schemes, not confrontation. 

His other plan had already been set into motion weeks ago and was now in full swing.

The prince of Eraklyon hadn't been difficult to manipulate. Too blinded by his own feelings of duty, too tangled in the threads of his father's expectations. 

King Erendor had never approved of his son's relationship with Bloom, still fuming over the broken engagement to the princess of Isis. 

Valtor had merely... pushed the right buttons. Stoked old fires. Whispers in the dark, suggestions that fed the king's bitterness, and soon enough, the engagement to that insufferable, grasping creature, Diaspro, had been restored.

It had all gone perfectly.

Until it didn't.

Because Valtor hadn't accounted for the way Bloom would react.

He had expected heartbreak, maybe even anguish. He had imagined her crumbling beneath the weight of the boy's betrayal, the light dimming in her eyes, the fire flickering out as her precious prince chose duty over love.

But that wasn't what he saw.

Instead, he saw relief.

A flicker of it at first, there and gone so quickly he might have missed it if he hadn't been watching her so intently. But then it settled into something even more dangerous: freedom. As though a weight had been lifted from her, as though the end of her fight for Sky was not a tragedy, but a release.

Valtor's jaw had tightened as he watched her, his fists curling at his sides.

She wasn't broken.

She wasn't mourning.

She was... free.

And it infuriated him more than he could explain. Because it wasn't just fury that coiled within him like a living, breathing thing. It was something darker. Something more dangerous.

Want.

Her resilience, her strength - it did more than spark his anger. It set fire to something else entirely. The way she lifted her chin, the quiet curve of her lips when she thought no one was watching, like she had finally slipped out of chains Valtor hadn't realized she was wearing.

It aroused him.

Not in the simple, fleeting way beauty did. No, this was deeper. More primal.

She was untouchable. Unyielding. A flame he couldn't extinguish, no matter how hard he tried.

And gods help him, it only made him want her more.

Valtor paced the length of his chamber, the dying embers in the hearth casting long shadows against the walls. But he forced those thoughts away with the icy precision he had mastered over centuries. There was no time for distraction. No time for her.

He had to focus.

The plan. His original plan. The one that did not involve stolen kisses or sapphire dresses or the way Bloom's fire seemed to burn through the very core of him.

The Company of Light. The last remnants of the old order that had once dared to stand against him. They were all that mattered now.

Three of them remained. Or rather, one.

Saladin was already out of the picture. His sudden and mysterious disappearance had been easily explained away - a prolonging diplomatic mission, the magical realm's politics as tangled and tedious as ever. 

No one questioned it too deeply. No one suspected Valtor's hand.

Headmistress Griffin had been harder to remove, but now she was gone as well. The Magical Council had been all too willing to arrest her, especially after Valtor had carefully planted false evidence implicating her in forbidden dark magic practices. She was a formidable sorceress, yes, but now she rotted in a prison cell, her voice silenced, her power contained.

But even that was only temporary. 

Griffin wouldn't breathe for long. Soon, she would be dead - an unfortunate accident, a sudden illness, or perhaps something more untraceable. It didn't matter how. After all, she was now an enemy of the Magic Council, and no one would dare risk that witch speaking the truth about what really happened during the Fall of Domino.

That left only Faragonda.

The headmistress of Alfea had always been the most troublesome of the three. Too clever, too cautious - always one step ahead, always too difficult to manipulate outright. She still possessed evidence Valtor desperately needed, secrets she had kept hidden since the fall of Domino.

He had used her absence wisely. With Faragonda away, he had scoured her office, leaving no spell uncast, no lock unbroken. 

The Hall of Enchantments had yielded nothing but dusty artifacts and forgotten spells. The Magic Archive, hidden beneath layers of protection, had given him brief satisfaction. He had seen Alfea's piece of the Codex, pulsing with arcane energy, practically begging to be taken.

But Valtor hadn't touched it. Realix held no interest for him. Not anymore. He wasn't after the Codex.

And yet, despite all his efforts, he had found no proof of what Faragonda had really done during the fall of Domino. No evidence of the choices she had made, the actions she had taken while the royal family burned and the planet was swallowed by ice.

It gnawed at him.

His hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms. He needed to break Faragonda. To extract the truth from her, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but raw, exposed secrets.

And then... then he could finally rid himself of the Company of Light once and for all.

So why, why, was his mind still circling back to Bloom? To the way her lips had tasted, to the heartbreaking look in her eyes when he had pulled away?

Valtor's fire flared, a dark pulse rippling through the air.

Focus. Faragonda first. And then, Bloom.

Chapter Text

The sun was a cruel thing.

It filtered through the high windows of the dormitory, casting long golden rays across the stone walls, warming the room in a way that felt almost mocking. Bloom lay still, staring at the ceiling, her heart beating an erratic rhythm against her ribs. Sleep had been a fleeting luxury, slipping through her fingers the moment her head had hit the pillow last night.

Or maybe it was this morning. It was hard to tell.

The princess ball felt like a fever dream - a whirlwind of silk and jewels, of forced smiles and shallow curtsies. But after all the glitter and pretense, there had been him.

Valen.

A shadow where there should have been none, standing in the palace gardens like a whisper of a storm, dark and dangerous, his presence as out of place as midnight at dawn. No explanation, no apology, only a single sentence that echoed in her mind like a curse.

"I want you, Bloom darling. Every breath, every thought, every heartbeat. I want it all."

The words had been velvet and fire, a confession and a threat all at once. They had slid under her skin, lodged in the hollow of her throat, and now they refused to leave.

She should have confronted him how he had even gotten into the palace, how he'd managed to bypass the royal guards, the magical wards - but she hadn't. Not then. All she'd been able to think about was the way his gaze had slid over her, taking her in from head to toe, as if he had every right to do so.

Bloom clenched the bed-sheet in her fists, a sharp breath escaping her lips. 

It was infuriating - the way he had looked at her, like the world had shrunk down to just the space between them. Like the layers of silk and diamonds she wore were for him and him alone. 

He didn't belong there, not in Solaria, not in the palace, yet he had stood there as though the night itself had bent to his will, as though the stars themselves conspired to let him slip into her world, just long enough to ruin her.

And then, the dance.

The way his hand was already on her waist, his other hand capturing hers, their bodies too close yet not close enough. She remembered the way his fingers had pressed into her back, firm yet delicate, the brush of his lips near her ear when he murmured something too soft to hear but too loud to forget. 

He had moved like sin, like temptation given form, and she had followed - willingly, stupidly.

And the kiss...

Her eyes squeezed shut. Stars, that kiss.

It hadn't been gentle, hadn't been sweet. It had been a claim - fiery and unrelenting - leaving her breathless, dazed, and desperate for more. His lips had crushed against hers, fierce and unyielding, a promise and a punishment all at once. 

And she had kissed him back, helpless against the pull of him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her heart a wild drumbeat against her ribs.

There had been no space between them, no air, no reason - just heat and hunger, sharp and sudden, like a star exploding inside her.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

Gone, while she was still reeling, still burning, still standing in that empty corner of the garden with her lips swollen and her heart shattered.

Bloom sat up abruptly, pushing the tangle of sheets away. She hated him. She hated him for leaving her there, for making her feel like this, burning and aching in ways she didn't want to name. He had stolen into her night like a phantom, whispered words that unraveled her, and then disappeared before the dawn.

But worse than the hate, far worse, was the wanting. The raw, undeniable want coiling in her stomach, leaving her pulse racing and her thoughts a tangled mess.

Because for all his cruelty, all his impossible, infuriating arrogance - Valen had wanted her too. And Saints help her, but some twisted, reckless part of her liked it. 

Bloom snapped from her spiraling thoughts when the door to the room suddenly burst open.

"Bloom!" Stella's voice practically rang with excitement as she flounced into the room, her golden hair catching the morning light like a halo. She didn't just enter - she exploded into the space, a flurry of sunshine and energy, her smile so wide it threatened to outshine the very sun she wielded. 

"Where in the world were you last night? I looked everywhere for you after the ball ended! I was this close to sending out a royal search party!"

Bloom blinked, jolted out of her thoughts. "Stella, I-"

But Stella wasn't listening. She was too busy practically vibrating with excitement, her words tumbling over each other in a breathless, animated rush. "You are never going to believe what happened! It was right at the end of the ball... Oh, Bloom, it was so dramatic! The music was dying down, everyone was saying their goodbyes, and then-"

She stopped, throwing her hands into the air for emphasis, her bangles jingling wildly.

"-the chandelier fell!"

Bloom blinked again, certain she'd misheard her. "Wait, what? The chandelier fell?"

"Yes!" Stella said, her voice a mixture of horror and glee. "One of those massive, enchanted ones that float above the ballroom. I guess the spells keeping it up couldn't handle the strain of all that magic in one place, or maybe the enchantments were just old... Either way, it started to crack and swing, and before anyone could react, it came crashing down."

Bloom's heart stuttered. "Was anyone hurt?"

Stella's expression softened into something more serious, but only for a moment. "It was going to land right on my father. Right there, in the center of the ballroom. He didn't even see it coming."

Bloom's stomach twisted. "Stella..."

"But I got to him in time!" Stella interrupted, her smile fierce and proud. "I saw it happen, and without even thinking, I just- I threw myself forward, grabbed him, and teleported us both out of the way just before the chandelier hit the ground. The whole ballroom was gasping. It was like something out of a movie!"

Bloom's eyes widened. "Stella, that's- You saved your father's life."

"I know," Stella said, her voice uncharacteristically soft for a brief moment. "And then... something happened. Something big."

Bloom leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

Stella's face lit up, her golden eyes practically glowing. "Bloom... I earned my Enchantix."

For a heartbeat, the room was silent.

Then Bloom shot to her feet. "You what?"

"I did it!" Stella exclaimed, twirling in place as if to prove some transformation had occurred. "After I saved my father - there was this surge of magic inside me, like nothing I've ever felt before. It was powerful and ancient, and I just knew - I just knew I had unlocked Enchantix. I could feel my wings change, my magic shift."

Bloom's heart pounded, a mix of pride and awe swelling in her chest. "Stella, that's... incredible. I'm so proud of you."

Stella beamed. "It's everything I've been working toward, Bloom. And it's just the beginning. Imagine the things I can do now, the spells I can master. I feel stronger already."

Bloom reached for her friend's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "You deserve this, Stella. You really do."

Stella's excitement was infectious, but as Bloom's heart swelled with pride for her best friend, a knot of unease twisted in her gut. She didn't know why, but there was something about this moment that didn't sit right with her. Something that nagged at her mind, like a puzzle with a piece missing.

Before she could delve deeper into her swirling thoughts, Stella bounced up, all energy and sunshine. "Anyway, the others are waiting for us at breakfast!" she declared, tugging Bloom out of the bed.

"Breakfast?" Bloom blinked, still half in the haze of sleep and half lost in her own mind. "But it's nearly lunch-time."

Stella giggled, her golden hair flowing around her like a radiant halo. "Well, it is, but you know, when you're surrounded by fabulous friends, breakfast tends to turn into an all-day affair." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Besides, it's not every day you get to show off your shiny new wings!"

Bloom couldn't help but smile. Stella's exuberance was like sunlight breaking through clouds, even if her mind was still drifting between the reality of the ball and the growing unease she couldn't shake. "Let's go then."

The two girls left the room, heading toward Stella's private balcony where their friends had already gathered. The morning sun bathed everything in a warm, golden glow, but for Bloom, it felt like a stage for something far darker brewing just beneath the surface. Still, she shoved those thoughts aside as they reached the balcony.

"Stella!" Flora exclaimed, rushing to give her friend a hug. "We heard everything. You did it! You really did it!" Her voice held a mix of pride and awe, her face radiating with genuine joy for Stella.

"Enchantix!" Layla's voice was full of wonder, her green eyes alight with excitement. "You really unlocked it, huh?"

Tecna nodded with a small smile. "I didn't see the actual moment, but my computer picked up the surge of magic. It was almost... overwhelming."

Musa, on the other hand, just smirked, her tone playful. "And now that you've got that shiny new power, we're all going to need to watch out for you, huh?"

Stella laughed, the sound carefree. "I'll try not to take over the world just yet." But there was a certain pride in her voice, something fierce and confident.

Bloom stood at the edge of the group, watching her friends surround Stella, excitement and love pouring from each of them. Her chest tightened, but she didn't understand why. She was happy for Stella. So why did it feel like something was wrong?

"Okay," Stella said, her eyes gleaming as she prepared to show them all the fruits of her hard work. "Are you ready to see the full transformation?"

The others nodded eagerly, each of them hanging on her every word. They had all heard about the heroic act and the magical surge, but seeing it for themselves was a whole other thing.

Stella raised her arms, closing her eyes for a brief moment, as if calling upon the magic inside her. The air around them shimmered, and in a flash of gold and light, her transformation was complete.

Her wings appeared first: glowing, ethereal, and radiant, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shift with the light. They were delicate but undeniably powerful, the kind of wings that could carry her to the highest heights - or strike down anything that threatened those she loved. Her outfit had also transformed, now a blend of gold, white, and hints of sapphire, mirroring the elegance and grace of her Enchantix form.

A collective gasp filled the air as her friends marveled at the transformation. "Stella, you look... amazing," Flora whispered, eyes wide.

"I can feel the magic inside me," Stella said, her voice hushed with reverence. "It's like I'm connected to something ancient. It's overwhelming, but also... freeing."

Musa leaned forward, her eyes sharp and assessing. "I knew you had it in you, Stella. There's something different about you now."

Tecna, ever the pragmatist, analyzed the transformation with a thoughtful look. "It's powerful magic, but with great power comes great responsibility. Make sure you control it, Stella."

Layla grinned. "That's the least of our worries. You're unstoppable now, girl."

Bloom stood off to the side, her heart filled with pride for her best friend. But still, there was something unresolved within her. She tried to push it down, tried to let herself enjoy the moment, but her thoughts kept circling back to her own lack of understanding.

How could she ever earn Enchantix? Stella had done it by saving someone she loved, someone from her home world. But Bloom... she didn't even know where her home was. She didn't know who she was, really.

That thought, that uncertainty, gnawed at her. She felt like a puzzle with pieces scattered across different worlds, and no one could help her find them.

As the others continued to shower Stella with compliments and admiration, Bloom's smile faltered for just a moment, before she masked it with a soft laugh. She didn't want to rain on Stella's parade, but the weight of her own unresolved questions made her feel distant, almost invisible.

As Stella basked in the glow of her friends' praise, Bloom couldn't stop the gnawing ache in her chest. 

Her thoughts kept returning to the night before - to Valen, his touch, his kiss, the way he'd claimed her in a way that felt both dangerous and intoxicating. A part of her hated him for it, for making her feel like that, for making her want something she couldn't have. But another part of her, a part that scared her more than she was willing to admit, craved him.

Her chest tightened at the thought, and she blinked rapidly, trying to shove those feelings back down. She didn't have time for that. Not right now. Not with Stella shining so brightly, so full of joy.

Stella turned toward Bloom then, her golden eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Okay, okay, enough about me!" She waved her hands dramatically, her voice light and teasing. "You still haven't told us where you were last night. You disappeared during the ball, and I looked everywhere for you!"

Bloom froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her stomach dropped as her gaze flicked to the other girls, all of them waiting for her answer. She felt like she was sinking into the floor. She hadn't prepared for this, hadn't even thought about it. What was she supposed to say?

She couldn't exactly tell them that she had spent the night tangled in the arms of their professor, kissed senseless by a man who had no business even being there, the way his lips had tasted like fire. It was ridiculous, terrifying, and wrong. They wouldn't understand.

But she couldn't just say nothing. She had to say something.

"I... I broke up with Sky," Bloom said, her voice coming out soft and uncertain.

Her friends looked at her with surprise, the room going still for a moment before they all reacted.

Flora's brow furrowed. "What? Bloom, I thought you two were-"

"He wasn't honest with me," Bloom interrupted, her throat tight. The words felt wrong in her mouth, like a betrayal of something she didn't even know how to explain. "He is still engaged to Princess Diaspro, and I found out the truth last night."

Musa looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh Bloom, I... I can't believe he kept that from you." Her voice softened with sympathy. "You must be heartbroken."

Layla added in a quieter tone, "You deserve better than him. I'm sorry, Bloom."

Tecna, ever analytical, tilted her head. "That's a huge betrayal, Bloom. It must have been a lot to process."

The words echoed in Bloom's head, but they didn't match what she was feeling. The guilt gnawed at her stomach, eating her from the inside. She had to hold it together, pretend that everything was as it seemed, pretend that she was devastated by Sky's betrayal. 

But the truth was, she wasn't.

No, the real betrayal wasn't Sky's. She had already betrayed him, long before the truth had come to light. The real betrayal had been weeks ago, in a quiet office of Alfea, where her lips had met Valen's in a kiss that was both reckless and intoxicating. 

That was the part she couldn't tell her friends, the part that gnawed at her, the part she couldn't escape no matter how much she tried.

She hadn't been angry with Sky. She hadn't even truly felt hurt. Not when she saw the truth of his engagement, not when everything fell apart.

No, what she felt was relief - sweet, almost euphoric relief. Because when the truth came out, when Sky's secrets were finally exposed, it meant she didn't have to lie anymore. She didn't have to pretend to feel something she didn't.

Bloom blinked. Why didn't she feel the same way they did? Why wasn't she devastated, broken-hearted over Sky? He had betrayed her. He had lied to her. And yet, all she could feel was a strange sense of peace.

Her friends, ever supportive, didn't see the truth behind her words. They believed what they wanted to believe: that Bloom had been hurt, that she was suffering, that she needed their comfort.

But they didn't know the real Bloom. The Bloom who, deep down, was grateful for the way things had ended. Grateful that she could finally walk away from something that had been nothing more than an illusion. Grateful that she could stop pretending, stop fighting for something that wasn't meant to be.

"Yeah," Bloom said, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. "It's... it's been hard." 

Her friends didn't need to know the truth, right? 

It was better to let them believe what they wanted to believe. She was the girl they knew, the girl who had been heartbroken by Sky's betrayal, the girl who had trusted him only to be hurt in the end.

But as she forced a tremulous smile and met their eyes, something inside her recoiled. The truth lingered, a dark shadow in the corner of her mind that refused to be ignored.

It wasn't Sky's fault, she knew that. He was just a person, flawed like anyone else. It was her fault, too. She had been living in a world of half-truths, building something on a shaky foundation. And she had been just as dishonest as he had.

Her stomach twisted, and she quickly forced the thought away. She couldn't go down that path now. Not when her friends were looking at her, waiting for her to break, waiting for her to be vulnerable.

"Don't worry about me," Bloom said, her voice steady again, her smile more convincing this time. "I'll figure it out. I always do."

Stella tilted her head slightly, her expression soft but searching. "You don't have to do it alone, Bloom. We're all here for you, no matter what."

"I know," Bloom said quickly, the words almost automatic. "I'm lucky to have you all."

Her friends looked at her with concern, but they didn't press. They never did. It was one of the things Bloom loved most about them. They always respected her space, always gave her the time she needed to process things in her own way.

For now, she smiled and nodded, letting her friends think they were helping, when in reality, they couldn't see the truth buried deep inside her.

I need something to shift the mood, Bloom thought suddenly, the idea sparking like a match.

"Oh, Stella," Bloom said, her voice breaking the quiet like a breath of fresh air. "I actually have something for your birthday. I forgot to give it to you yesterday."

Stella looked up at her, her bright smile flickering with curiosity. "For me? Oh, Bloom, you didn't have to-"

"No, I really wanted to," Bloom interrupted, feeling a surge of warmth in her chest. 

With a flick of her fingers, a soft warmth spread through her palm as the gift materialized in front of her. The simple, heartfelt package shimmered with a faint glow, the love behind it evident in its delicate, handmade wrapping.

Stella's eyes widened in surprise as Bloom handed her the gift, the carefully wrapped package feeling warm in her hands. "I know it's not much," Bloom said with a soft smile, her heart thumping with a little nervousness. "But I hope you like it."

With a quick tug of the twine, Stella began unwrapping the gift, her fingers delicately peeling away the paper. When the last corner was freed, she gasped softly, her face lighting up with wonder. 

In her hands was a small, hand-painted jewelry box, its surface adorned with intricate designs of flowers and vines that seemed to dance across the wood. The box shimmered with shades of gold, blue, and lavender, and tiny iridescent gemstones sparkled like morning dew on the petals.

 Stella's fingers traced the detailed artwork, and for a moment, she was silent, completely enchanted by the beauty of the box.

Bloom had spent hours in the art studio of Alfea over the past few weeks, painstakingly painting the box and then lining the inside with soft velvet to make it feel like a treasure chest, even if it wasn't worth much monetarily.

"I made it for you," Bloom said, her heart pounding in her chest. "I thought... I thought it could be a place to keep your special things. Like your ring, or any little memories you want to hold onto."

Stella gasped softly, her hand hovering over the box as if she were afraid to touch it. The others had fallen silent too, watching the exchange with quiet interest. Bloom felt a nervous flutter in her stomach.

Stella's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she carefully lifted the box, turning it over in her hands. She didn't say anything for a long moment, and Bloom's breath caught in her throat. Did she like it? Was it too simple? Too... imperfect?

Finally, Stella spoke, her voice soft, full of emotion. "Bloom, this is... this is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me." She looked up, her golden eyes meeting Bloom's. "It's not just a box - it's you, Bloom. It's your heart, and that's what makes it so perfect. I love it."

Bloom let out the breath she had been holding, a smile breaking out across her face. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, like the sunlight that had filtered through the windows earlier, making everything feel lighter.

"I'm glad you like it," Bloom said, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't know what else to give you, but I thought this was something I could do."

"You're amazing," Stella said, pulling Bloom into a hug. "This is just... it means so much to me. You've always been there for me, and now, this gift... it's like a piece of you that I can carry with me."

Bloom hugged her back tightly, the weight in her chest lifting for the first time that morning. She had given something of herself, and that had been enough. It always had been.

As they pulled away from each other, Stella looked down at the box again, her fingers tracing the designs on the lid. "I'll keep this with me always," she said softly, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "And whenever I look at it, I'll think of you, Bloom. My best friend."

Tears welled up in Bloom's eyes, but this time, they weren't tears of guilt or sorrow. They were tears of something softer - something like love. Love for her friends, love for Stella, love for the connection they shared.

"I'm really glad we have each other," Bloom whispered, her voice full of tenderness.

The room seemed to soften around them, the air filling with the warmth of shared laughter and closeness. The tension that had lingered for so long seemed to dissipate, replaced by something more comforting, more real.

Musa leaned in, her voice light and teasing. "Okay, okay, you two! We're all emotional now, aren't we? But I have to admit, Bloom, that's one heck of a gift! You really outdid yourself."

Layla nodded in agreement. "It's beautiful. You've always known how to make something from the heart, Bloom."

Tecna gave her a small smile, adjusting her glasses as she added, "It's not about the cost of the gift, it's about the thought behind it. And clearly, you put a lot of thought into this."

Bloom felt a warm flush spread across her cheeks at the praise, but Stella's reaction had been worth more than any compliment. The sincerity in her eyes, the way she had held the box close to her chest as if it were more precious than anything.

Stella leaned back and wiped at her eyes, laughing softly. "You all make me so emotional, I swear."

Flora reached out, taking the box gently from Stella's hands. "Can we all see it?" she asked, a gentle smile on her lips.

"Of course," Stella said, handing it over. "But be careful, it's my most prized possession now."

For a brief moment, the swirling chaos of Bloom's emotions seemed to still. There was only this: a room full of friends who loved her, and a gift that had come straight from the heart.

Chapter Text

The bright lights of the Mirror of Sacrifice shimmered in front of Bloom, casting an eerie glow over her surroundings. 

It was that time again. After a week of rest in Solaria, she was back at Alfea, ready to face the second semester of her final year.

Stella had already set the bar impossibly high, being the first to earn her Enchantix. Her success had sent ripples of ambition through the student body. Everywhere Bloom looked, fairies whispered about their own tests, their hopes for transformation.

And now, it was her turn.

The Mirror of Sacrifice had finally been repaired after Bloom had broken it during her first test run. Back then, her test had gone horribly wrong. No impossible choice. No painful dilemma. Just the echo of a baby's cry and the looming presence of a creature made of shadows, bent on ending the child's life.

She remembered the panic of having to save the baby, the rush of magic that had surged through her when she intervened. 

She had saved the child. That part was clear.

She had no idea why the test had played out that way, but after she knew what burned inside her, the power of the Great Dragon. 

Now, she stood in front of the mirror once more. And this time, she was ready.

Professor Palladium and her friends stood a short distance away, watching with a mix of worry and encouragement. Stella gave her a reassuring nod, golden hair catching the light, while Flora murmured something soft, something hopeful. Musa, Layla, and Tecna kept their gazes fixed on the mirror, their faces a blend of excitement and concern.

"You've got this," Stella whispered, her voice warm and sure.

Bloom tried to smile back, but her fingers trembled as they hovered above the mirror's surface.

She took a steadying breath. The moment her fingertips grazed the rippling glass, the world shifted.

When she entered the mirror for the first time, she had been denied a test. No challenge, no trial - only an empty, destructive scene. 

A burning palace - a place half-destroyed, as though time itself had forgotten it, with no soul in sight. No answers. Just a hollow feeling that haunted her dreams.

The light of the Mirror of Sacrifice faded, and Bloom was once again inside the ruins of the palace. 

Flames crackled, roaring through the broken windows and smoke-filled air. Ashes swirled in the air like lost memories, and the ground beneath her feet was scorched and crumbling. The same devastated place, the same heat that burned her skin - yet no matter how many times she had entered this vision, it never seemed familiar enough.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat. The throne room. She knew it was in there, hidden in the rubble, just waiting to be uncovered. The sight from her first trial had stayed with her. 

So, she began to move. Her boots echoed against the cracked stone as she walked down what had once been a grand hallway. Yet, no matter how many rooms she entered, the throne room was always just out of reach. She felt as though she was running through a maze of decay, each turn and each door leading her to more destruction, but no answers.

The rooms were eerily empty. They held no life, only the remnants of what had once been. The flames seemed to grow more intense the longer she wandered, crackling with fury, as though they were mocking her inability to find what she sought.

Then there it was, in the distance. The massive doors stood ajar, the same vision she had witnessed in her first trial. The flames twisted and curled through the broken windows like serpents, casting dark shadows over the remnants of a once grand hall. 

But as Bloom's heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickened with the realization that something was off. The air was heavier, the heat more suffocating.

She stepped forward, her boots crunching on the blackened floor, and she felt the pull, like she was compelled by something other than reason.

But as she passed through the grand hall, moving through the desolate space, she saw no sign of the child. No sign of the shadow creature. The wailing cries that had echoed in her first trial were nowhere to be heard.

And then-

A scream. 

A sound so raw, so filled with agony, that it twisted the air around her.

Not the cry of a baby, but the terrifying, desperate scream of a woman. It was sharp and filled with anguish, sending a shiver down her spine. It came from far off, reverberating through the ruins.

Bloom froze, her heart tightening. The sound echoed off the walls, as if the palace itself mourned in pain. Her mind raced. She had never heard this scream before. It was alien, but familiar. Like a memory clawing its way out from deep within her, something she had forgotten but couldn't escape.

Bloom's heart thudded in her chest. Her instincts screamed at her to go toward the sound, and she took off, racing through the burning palace. The air was thick with smoke, the heat so intense it felt as though the flames themselves were following her. 

But she didn't falter. Her power surged within her, keeping the fear at bay.

She turned corners, pushed through crumbling doorways, and moved faster than ever. But the screams seemed to be echoing from every direction, her mind spinning as she tried to pinpoint their source.

She pushed open yet another door, her pulse roaring in her ears. 

The chamber inside was untouched by the chaos. The stark contrast of this opulent room made Bloom's stomach turn. The gold accents, the velvet curtains, the ornate furniture - it all seemed like a strange opposition to the devastation outside.

And there, in the center of the room, was a bed.

At first, Bloom could only make out the outline of a figure. But then, as she approached, the woman's screams grew louder, more desperate. The woman's fiery red hair clung to her pale skin in sweat-drenched strands, her face twisted in unbearable pain.

The sight of the woman froze Bloom in place.

There was blood everywhere - on the sheets, on the floor - pooling around the woman's body as she writhed in pain, her hands gripping the edges of the bed as though she were fighting for her very life. Her breaths were shallow, gasping, and her face was twisted in agony.

"Stop! Please! I can't... I can't... hold on..." The woman cried, her voice cracking with desperation.

The realization hit Bloom like a thunderclap.

This woman - this terrified, bleeding woman - was giving birth.

The woman's body shook violently, her hands gripping the bed's edge with such force that her knuckles turned white. Her lips parted in silent screams, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.

Her body trembled with each contraction, the pain nearly drowning out her thoughts.

"Just... just a little longer..." the woman whispered through gritted teeth, her voice barely audible over the weight of her cries. Her face was streaked with sweat and tears, but there was something about her... something in the way she clung to life, to this moment, that made Bloom's chest tighten.

But even as the woman continued to scream, her cries growing weaker, Bloom knew something was terribly wrong. The blood, the endless blood, and the woman's weakening state. 

The child had to come soon.

The woman's grip on the bed tightened, her body quivering with the final push. Her breath came in a strangled sob as she pressed her child into the world. The silence that followed was almost unbearable.

The baby was quiet. Too quiet.

Bloom leaned in closer, her heart racing, her pulse pounding in her ears. The woman's body, limp with exhaustion, trembled as she cradled the small form in her arms. But there was no cry, no wail of a newborn, just the soft weight of silence that filled the room.

A pang of dread shot through Bloom, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the cold fingers of death creeping into the air. Something was terribly wrong.

The woman's hands were trembling as she carefully cradled the tiny bundle to her chest. Her voice broke as she whispered through tears, her words so soft, so fragile. "No... No, please... my little girl..." 

She rocked the baby gently in her arms, but still, there was no sound. No life. Just silence.

Bloom's heart shattered for the woman, but she couldn't move, couldn't speak. It was as though she were frozen in time, watching helplessly as the scene played out before her.

The woman's sobs grew louder, her body heaving with the weight of her despair. "My little girl... my little girl..."

Bloom's breath caught in her throat. She couldn't understand why it felt so familiar. The woman's pain was so raw, so real. The anguish, the sorrow - it was as though she could feel it too.

"Why didn't you... you have to live." The woman held her baby close, rocking back and forth, her voice a broken whisper. "You have to survive..."

Bloom wanted to help, wanted to do something to make it all better. But there was nothing she could do. No magic. No power. No way to stop the suffering from unfolding before her.

She watched as the woman held the tiny body against her chest, her fingers gently stroking the baby's face, as though she could will life back into her. Her tears dripped onto the child's fragile form, staining its tiny, still face.

The woman continued to rock back and forth, whispering in a voice thick with grief, "I'm so sorry... my little blossom, I'm so sorry... I couldn't protect you."

And then, from somewhere deep within her heart, another sound broke through. A different voice.

A woman's voice. Soft but powerful.

"Bloom..."

Bloom's entire body froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she turned instinctively toward the voice. The woman with the child was still there, her face streaked with tears, unaware of the presence behind Bloom, that someone else had appeared.

A figure. A radiance. It filled the room with a soft, golden glow, and as the light parted, Bloom saw her clearly.

The figure was luminous, shimmering with an ethereal glow that surrounded her like an aura of light. She stood tall, her features delicate and serene, with long flowing hair that seemed to ripple like water. She had wings, delicate, translucent, glistening in the dim light of the ruined chamber.

Bloom knew her immediately. It was Daphne.

Daphne's presence was so overwhelming, it felt as though she filled the very air itself. She looked at Bloom with eyes filled with wisdom, sorrow, and love, as though she had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"Find me," Daphne said, her voice a gentle melody that seemed to echo in Bloom's soul.

For a brief moment, Bloom felt the world around her disappear. The walls of the room, the grieving woman, the bloodstained sheets - everything faded, leaving only Daphne standing before her. It felt as though time itself had slowed to a halt.

Daphne's voice was soft, but it carried a weight of urgency, a sense of fate tied to every syllable.

 "Find me at the lake..."

Bloom's heart thundered as Daphne's figure, glowing with an ethereal light, began to fade, like mist slowly being pulled away by an unseen wind.

The words echoed in Bloom's mind, a whisper that felt more like a command, threading itself deep into her thoughts. She took a step forward, reaching out as if she could grab hold of Daphne's fading form, as if stepping closer would stop her from vanishing entirely.

"Wait!" Bloom's voice cracked, raw with desperation. "Please, wait!"

But Daphne was already slipping away, her shimmering light dissolving into the cold air.

And then-

The world around her unraveled.

The grieving woman holding her silent child... gone.

The blood-soaked bed, the tattered silken sheets... gone.

The entire royal bedchamber - the smoke, the ash, the burning ruins of the palace- it all disintegrated like sand in the wind. One moment it was there, so painfully real, and the next, it was nothing but darkness.

Bloom stumbled forward, expecting to touch stone or fire or something, but her foot met only solid ground.

And then... light.

Not the soft, golden glow of Daphne, but the cool, familiar light of Alfea.

The Mirror of Sacrifice stood before her, smooth and unyielding. Its glassy surface reflected only her own stunned expression, wide-eyed, breathing hard, a tear she hadn't realized she'd shed streaking down her cheek.

She was back. And the vision was gone.

Her heart was still racing, her mind still reeling. The images of the woman and the silent child clung to her memory - the blood, the sorrow, the unbearable silence after the birth - all of it still burned behind her eyes.

And then there was Daphne. The voice that had haunted her dreams for weeks. The glowing figure who had looked at her with a strange mix of sorrow and hope.

"Find me at the lake..."

Bloom swallowed hard, her hands still trembling at her sides. She had so many questions, so many pieces of a puzzle she didn't yet understand.

But one thing was certain... she had to find Daphne.

The moon hung high above Alfea, casting a pale silver glow through the windows of the dormitory. 

The soft rustling of the wind against the glass was the only sound in the room, aside from the slow, steady breathing of the other fairies fast asleep in their beds. But Bloom lay awake, staring at the ceiling, Daphne's voice echoing in her mind.

"Find me at the lake..."

It hadn't left her thoughts for a moment since she'd stepped out of the Mirror of Sacrifice. The vision had melted away so quickly. And then, in a blink, Bloom had found herself back in the simulation chamber, standing in front of the mirror's smooth surface.

She had felt hollow. Dazed. A quiet, gnawing ache settled in her chest, not just from what she'd witnessed but from the lingering sense that there was something more. Something unfinished.

Professor Palladium had been the first to speak when she emerged, his usually calm voice tinged with concern. "Bloom... are you alright? How was the test?"

Her friends had gathered around her too, each wearing a matching expression of worry. They had been tested by the Mirror of Sacrifice as well, knew about how it crafted intense trials meant to push fairies to their limits, forcing them to make the ultimate choice - the choice that would prepare them for their Enchantix transformation. 

It had happened to others before. It was supposed to happen to her. But once again, it hadn't.

Just like last time, there was no test. No choice. Only a vision.

Bloom had tried to answer Palladium, tried to explain, but the words never came. What could she possibly tell them? That she'd seen a woman drenched in blood holding a lifeless child? That Daphne, the nymph who haunted her dreams, had appeared again, only to disappear just as quickly?

In the end, she said nothing. She simply shook her head, offering a quiet, "I... I don't know."

Her friends exchanged uneasy glances, but Professor Palladium didn't push for answers. With a concerned nod, he'd told her to rest and that they would speak again soon. The others, though clearly still worried, had no choice but to leave for their next class. 

The rest of the day had passed in a blur.

And now, in the stillness of her room, Bloom felt more awake than ever. The memory of Daphne's voice gnawed at her like a flickering candle in the dark.

"Find me at the lake..."

What lake? Why had it sounded so familiar?

Bloom squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to remember. There was something, a memory, hazy but persistent. She'd read something about a lake months ago, back when she'd first begun researching the guardians of the Dragon Flame.

She remembered pouring over ancient texts in Alfea's library, desperately searching for any clue about the magical force that lived within her. She had read about the nymphs who had wielded the Dragon Flame before her, and finally found out about Daphne. And somewhere, in the sea of old words and half-forgotten legends, there had been a mention of a lake.

But which one?

The harder she tried to grasp the memory, the more it seemed to slip away, like water running through her fingers.

"Think," Bloom whispered into the quiet room. "Think."

She sat up in bed, her blanket pooling around her waist, the soft moonlight casting faint silver lines across her skin. 

A lake...

The answer was there. Just out of reach.

Bloom clenched her fists, her heart pounding. She had to figure this out. Daphne's voice had been too urgent, too real. This wasn't just another vision. It wasn't just a trick of the Mirror of Sacrifice.

Daphne wanted her to find her.

And then it struck her, a passage about the Nymphs of Magix.

"Many of the Nymphs of Magix came from Domino, the sacred land where the Dragon's Flames first took root. It was said that no force in existence could match the power of a Domino-born nymph, for their bond to the Flame was strongest of all. Yet, their true home - their sanctuary - rests in the heart of Lake Roccaluce, a place of enchantment where the water glimmers with magic as ancient as the nymphs themselves."

Lake Roccaluce.

The name shimmered in Bloom's mind like a half-forgotten dream. Could that be the lake Daphne had spoken of?

The name pulsed like a heartbeat, as though it had been buried deep within her all this time, just waiting for the right moment to surface. It wasn't far, a few miles from the city of Magix.

Close enough that she could reach it if she flew there. And Bloom couldn't wait. Not anymore.

She'd waited long enough, for answers, for clarity, for something more than whispers of a lost nymph and cryptic visions of a past she didn't understand. Tonight, she would find the lake. She would find Daphne.

The clock on Bloom's nightstand ticked softly, the small golden hands slicing through the silence of the dormitory. 3:17 AM.

Her heart pounded in her chest, matching the steady rhythm of the clock, as she slipped out of bed. The floor was cold against her bare feet, but she moved quietly, careful not to wake her friends.

The hallway was silent, an ocean of shadows and moonlight. Every creak of the wooden floorboards beneath her feet sounded deafening, but Bloom pressed forward, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. 

Down the stairs. Past the glowing sconces lining the walls. Through the front entrance, a place that felt strangely grand and foreboding in the dead of night.

Alfea loomed behind her as she stepped onto the path leading to the main gates. She hesitated only once, her gaze flickering back to the towering spires and shimmering windows, a part of her wondering if she should turn around.

But Daphne's voice tugged at her like an invisible thread, pulling her forward.

The gates were closed but not locked. They never truly were. This was a school of magic, after all, and protection came in the form of enchantments, not mere iron bars. Bloom slipped through the small opening and into the wild beyond.

Once outside, she let out a slow breath, steadying herself.

Then, with a flicker of magic, her wings unfurled - shimmering petals of fire and light that cast a soft orange glow against the dark forest. The familiar warmth of her Dragon Flame surged through her veins as she lifted off the ground, rising above the treetops.

The air was crisp against her skin as she soared higher, her wings beating a steady rhythm. From above, the landscape unfolded like a shadowy quilt, rolling hills, dense forests, and the distant twinkle of Magix's lights. She angled westward, her heart a wild drum in her chest.

It didn't take long before the forest began to thin, and the magic in the air grew thicker. It prickled against her skin, not hostile, but watchful. Alive.

And then she saw it.

A break in the trees. A silver shimmer beyond the dark trunks.

Lake Roccaluce.

It spread out before her like a mirror, the surface smooth and glassy, reflecting the star-pierced sky. The water seemed to glow faintly, an ethereal radiance pulsing beneath its surface, as though the lake itself was alive, breathing with ancient magic.

A chill ran down Bloom's spine.

She had found it.

Bloom hovered above the lake for a moment longer, her gaze fixed on the silver surface below. Then, slowly, she descended, her feet brushing the soft, damp grass at the water's edge. The air was thick here, not with mist, but with magic, the kind that felt older than the stars above.

She took a cautious step forward, her heart pounding, and whispered into the quiet night.

"Daphne...?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then the water rippled.

Bloom's breath hitched as a soft golden light began to shimmer from beneath the surface. It grew brighter and brighter, until the light broke free of the water entirely, rising like a glowing mist.

And there she was. Daphne.

She was radiant, yet ghostly - a transparent figure draped in flowing robes that seemed to be made of pure light. Her long hair floated around her like liquid gold, and though her form was delicate. She wasn't fully here, like she was caught between realms, a being of both presence and absence.

But her eyes softened when they met Bloom's.

"Bloom," Daphne said, her voice a whisper of wind and water, "You found me, sister."

The word struck Bloom like a thunderclap. The word sister. It echoed in her mind, a sound she wasn't sure was real. Her heart stopped for a beat as confusion and disbelief tangled within her chest.

Bloom's body went still. Sister. The word echoed inside her, trembling in the air between them. She felt a jolt in her chest, a surge of emotions colliding with her confusion. Her mind refused to make sense of it.

Sister? She couldn't breathe. Her mind couldn't keep up. She had waited so long to find the guardian of the Dragon Flame, the one who had come before her. But this, this was something else entirely.

"You... you're my sister?" Bloom asked, her voice shaking, barely a whisper. Her thoughts tangled in a whirlwind, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Daphne smiled, the soft glow around her pulsing like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. "I know this is overwhelming, Bloom. I wish I could be here with you fully, but I can only be a reflection of what you need to see."

 "But... how?" Her voice cracked as her mind grasped for answers, for a thread of understanding. And this, this was too much.

Daphne's expression softened. The golden light around her seemed to grow fainter, quieter, as if she were giving Bloom space to understand, to absorb what she had just said. "It's not easy to explain, but I will try. It's time, Bloom. It's time for you to know the truth."

Daphne's figure wavered, her gaze turning inward, as if remembering a time long ago, a distant and painful moment that Bloom could never have known. "Our mother, Queen Marion, was pregnant with you when the Ancestresses attacked Domino. The kingdom was under siege, and our people were torn apart. But amidst the chaos, our mother's labor began. It came too soon. Too early for you to survive."

Bloom's breath caught in her throat.

Daphne's voice lowered, almost a whisper. "You were too small. Too weak to survive, Bloom. The healers tried to save you, but there was no strength in you. You weren't ready for the world yet, and our home was already broken. The Ancestresses had poisoned it. You... you slipped away."

Bloom could feel each word resonating deep within her, a connection she couldn't explain. Her birth. She had been there, in some sense. She had witnessed it.

The vision she'd had in the simulator came rushing back, vivid and sharp.

"No... No, please... my little girl..."

It felt like the earth had shifted beneath her feet. This woman wasn't just anyone. She was a mother - and Bloom realized, with an overwhelming wave of emotion, that this was her mother. The woman in the vision was Queen Marion, her own mother, and the child in her arms was her.

"I'm so sorry... my little blossom, I'm so sorry... I couldn't protect you."

The tears that had once been just a distant ache fell freely down Bloom's face. She was that baby. She was the child the woman had clung to, the child who hadn't survived.

But she had.

Bloom's throat constricted. She had seen it. She had witnessed her own birth, her own death. Her mother's agony, her refusal to give up on her child, the desperate hope that she would somehow breathe life back into the still form cradled in her arms.

A sob tore from Bloom's throat, as if the weight of that moment had only just reached her heart.

The visions that had once felt so distant, so foreign, now made sense. She had seen the pain of her mother. The terror. The heartbreak. She had felt her mother's grief, as if it had become part of her, woven into the very fabric of who she was. 

"But how- ," Bloom choked, "How am I alive?"

Daphne's form seemed to flicker, her golden light growing dimmer, as though the energy surrounding her was being drawn into Bloom's heart, making the weight of her words even more profound.

"I couldn't let you go, Bloom," Daphne whispered, her voice fragile, as if carrying the burden of her past. "I gave you my flame, the Heartstone. The first flame of the Great Dragon." She paused, the words heavy, the gravity of her sacrifice sinking deeper into the silence between them. "The Heartstone has the power to create life, and to restore what is lost."

Bloom's chest tightened. The Heartstone. The very flame that had breathed life into all things, the source of creation itself. 

"But you gave it to me," Bloom breathed, her mind struggling to grasp the enormity of the revelation. "You... you gave me the Heartstone. You gave up your life for mine."

Daphne nodded, her translucent eyes shimmering with an emotion Bloom couldn't fully name. "I had no choice. You were too small, too weak. If I had let you go, the darkness would have claimed you before you ever had a chance to fight. So I gave up my flame, my very essence, to breathe life back into you."

Bloom felt a shiver run down her spine. The dragon, the Heartstone, her very existence... it was all woven together in a tapestry of sacrifice and love. She had been saved by the very force she was destined to protect. But at what cost?

Daphne's voice wavered, but she pressed on, each word like a thread weaving through time. "And when your heart beat again, fragile, but alive... I knew I couldn't keep you there. The Ancestral Witches have sensed you, felt the flicker of your magic, and they would have snuffed you out before you could even cry."

A tear, weightless and glowing, slipped down Daphne's cheek, vanishing before it could touch the ground. "So I opened a portal... to Earth. It was the only place far enough, hidden enough. I sent you there, hoping - praying - that the distance would protect you. That you would have a chance to grow, to be safe, even if it meant I would never see you again."

Her voice broke.

"You... you are the reason I survived," Bloom whispered, the tears still flowing freely down her face. "You gave everything. You gave up your life. How could you do that for me?"

Daphne's eyes softened, and there was a tenderness in her gaze that made Bloom's heart ache. "Because you are my sister. Because you are the one who will carry the flame forward when I can no longer protect it. You are the one who will ensure that the Dragon Flame burns brightly, for you are its keeper."

Bloom's heart ached as the weight of Daphne's words settled upon her, a truth that felt like it was both too much to bear and yet so undeniably who she was. Her mind swirled, trying to grasp the enormity of the revelation. 

"But how... how could you let go of everything? How could you give up your flame, your life, just for me?" Her voice broke, the agony of Daphne's sacrifice hitting her in waves.

Daphne's form seemed to flicker again, the golden light around her dimming just slightly, as though the very act of explaining the past drained her in ways Bloom couldn't fully comprehend. Yet, her gaze never faltered, her eyes filled with love that transcended the distance between them. 

"It wasn't about giving up, Bloom. It was about saving what mattered most. You. The world needed you. You were meant to carry the flame forward, to protect it, to let it burn in a way that no one else could."

Bloom's chest tightened, and she wiped her eyes, trying to steady her breath. 

"I don't know if I can do it, Daphne," Bloom whispered, the vulnerability raw in her voice. "I don't know if I'm strong enough. What if I fail? What if I can't protect it? What if I can't protect anyone?"

The weight of her destiny felt suffocating in that moment. The sense of duty, the power, it all seemed like a dream just out of reach.

Daphne's golden light brightened slightly at her sister's words, and she took a step closer. "You don't have to carry it alone, Bloom," she said softly, the assurance in her voice unshakable. "The Dragon Flame is not just a burden. It's a part of you."

Daphne's form seemed to shimmer even more, as though her very presence was starting to fade, like the last remnants of daylight slipping beneath the horizon. "Bloom, I can't stay in your world. My time has passed, and I can only guide you from here, from the edges of this realm. But you... you will carry the flame now. It's yours."

A sharp, bitter grief twisted in Bloom's chest as she took a step forward, desperate to hold onto Daphne, to keep her here just a little longer. "But I don't understand! I don't understand everything you've given up. I don't know if I'm ready to bear this... this burden. Please, don't leave me again."

Daphne's expression softened even more, and a deep sadness filled her eyes. "You are never alone, Bloom. Not anymore." Her voice wavered as she spoke, the golden light surrounding her flickering like a candle fighting against the wind. 

"You've always had me, even when you didn't know it. I'm part of you, and you are part of me. The Heartstone... the Dragon Flame... we are bound together by the very essence of life itself."

Tears streamed down Bloom's face as she stepped closer, as if trying to hold onto the impossible. But Daphne was slipping away, her figure dissolving into the light, leaving only her voice lingering in the air.

"You've always had me, even when you didn't know it," Daphne's voice echoed softly. "I'm part of you, and you are part of me."

Bloom stumbled back, her chest tight, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The weight of it all crashed down on her, a suffocating, unbearable truth. 

She was alone again. No longer in the warm glow of Daphne's presence, no longer in the comforting embrace of a sister she had just found, only to lose again.

A broken sob tore from Bloom's throat, her body trembling with the force of her grief. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the ground, hands clutching at the earth beneath her as if trying to hold onto something real, something solid. But there was nothing but the emptiness left in the wake of Daphne's departure.

She had learned so much, and yet she felt more lost than ever.

Chapter Text

The hours stretched on in a blur, each minute feeling like an eternity.

Bloom lay on the cold ground, her face buried in her hands, her heart shattered into countless pieces. The world had grown distant, as if the very air itself had thickened with grief.

Daphne was gone - her sister, the one person who had known her before her birth, the one who had given her life - and Bloom was left alone with nothing but the weight of a promise she wasn't sure she could keep.

She cried for Daphne, for the love she had just discovered and the bond she'd lost in the blink of an eye. Her sobs were raw and uncontrollable, deep, guttural wails that seemed to come from a place she hadn't known existed within her. She cried for the sister who had given up her flame, her very essence, so that Bloom could survive.

For the way Daphne's light had filled her heart with hope, only to vanish into the ether.

She cried for her mother, Queen Marion, the woman whose face she had only seen in fleeting visions and memories. The one who had fought for her life, whose grief had bled into her own heart, the woman who had died without ever knowing that her little daughter would somehow come back to life. Bloom could almost feel her mother's touch, the desperate whispers of love, the aching sorrow of loss.

A scream tore from Bloom's throat, a piercing sound of anguish that seemed to echo through the silent expanse. It was a scream of hopelessness, of a loss so profound that it threatened to swallow her whole.

And then, she cried for her father.

The king who had fallen, her protector who had never had the chance to meet his youngest daughter, whose kingdom had been torn apart by the Ancestresses. Her heart ached for him, the man whose name she barely knew.

She cried for the family she would never have, for the life that was stolen from them before it ever had the chance to begin.

And she cried for Domino. For the kingdom that had been destroyed on the day she was born.

The images flooded her mind - flashes of burning cities, of bloodshed and ruin. The streets of Domino, once filled with life, now nothing more than a graveyard of ashes and memories. The faces of her people, all gone.

She could almost hear their screams, feel their fear, their pain. It was as though the destruction of her home had become a part of her, a heavy weight she could never shake.

How could she ever forgive herself?

Her kingdom was gone. Her people were gone. The last living memory of Domino was the destruction that had occurred before she ever had the chance to stand among them. The last member of the royal family was left alone, floating in a world where nothing seemed to make sense.

And then, as if a final wave of grief was all it took, she cried for herself.

She was the last. The last of Domino's bloodline, the last of the royal family, the last of her people. It felt as though the world was crushing down on her. The weight of loss was unbearable, and the loneliness that followed was suffocating.

What did it even mean to be the last?

The enormity of it pressed into her chest, a vice grip she couldn't escape. There was no one left to share her burden, no one to turn to who truly understood the weight of her existence. She was the last of the last, the only one left to carry the memories of a people who no longer existed.

The last one who held the legacy of Domino's royal family in her hands.

As the first light of the new day filtered through the trees, Bloom's gaze slowly lifted, her eyes swollen red and exhausted from hours of crying. The tears that had soaked her face were now dried, leaving only the quiet, aching remnants of a sorrow too vast for words.

And yet, with all that grief, Bloom knew she couldn't stay in the depths of it. She couldn't allow herself to drown in despair. The pain in her chest hadn't lessened, but she knew that she had to return to Alfea.

The thought wasn't comforting; it didn't offer any sense of relief or closure. But it was necessary. She couldn't stay in the place of her grief, lost in the memory of a family she would never have.

Daphne's last words echoed in her mind. "You are not alone."

Bloom stood slowly, her legs shaky beneath her, as she wiped the remnants of tears from her face. She was alone now, truly alone in a world that felt empty, but Daphne's spirit lingered within her, a small flicker of warmth in her chest.

She couldn't deny it. The Dragon Flame pulsed inside her, the very essence of life and fire that was hers to protect.

But what good was a flame without purpose?

She could still hear Daphne's voice, "You will carry the flame forward. You are its keeper."

That was her purpose. It was her duty, even if she didn't fully understand it. The flame was hers now, and it was up to her to ensure its survival. But more than that, it was her only connection to the people of Domino. To her sister, mother and father. To her kingdom.

She inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over her like a mantle. It would be difficult. The path ahead would be filled with challenges - challenges she was ill-prepared for. But there was no other choice.

For her family. For the people she had never known.

Bloom turned away from the spot where Daphne had disappeared, the spot where she had just lost the last piece of her past. She couldn't look back. She wouldn't.

It was time to take her place in this new world she was a part of, even if she still felt like an outsider. She couldn't let herself stay in the shadow of her grief. She had to honor the legacy she had been given.

With a final, shaky breath, Bloom began her journey back, the sun rising higher in the sky, casting a golden glow over the land.

But there was another feeling she couldn't shake.

It had been simmering for months now, lingering just beneath the surface, something that had only become clearer with time. It wasn't just the Dragon Flame, the grief of her past, or her shattered kingdom that weighed on her heart.

There was a nagging thought, an unease, and an undeniable pull toward someone.

It was the last period of the day and the air in Professor Valen's classroom was thick. 

Bloom sat at her usual desk, her quill hovering uselessly above a blank parchment, her heart pounding in a rhythm she couldn't steady. 

It had been a few days since their last encounter - since their second kiss - and yet, the phantom of his touch still lingered on her skin. The way his hands had tangled in her hair, the way his lips had crushed against hers with a desperation that left her reeling.

And then he'd walked away.

The door to the classroom creaked open, and Professor Valen strode in, his black coat sweeping behind him like the shadow of a storm. The class fell silent, every eye snapping to him as if by instinct. He paused at the front, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.

"Today," he began, his voice smooth, his tone as calm as a cool breeze before a storm, "we're going to revisit something from the last semester."

"Magic," Valen's voice, smooth as silk, slid through the air, drawing every eye in the room to him, "is not simply an extension of our will. It is, in many ways, a mirror." His gaze, steady and unreadable, flicked briefly to Bloom before gliding past her. "It reflects our desires, our fears, even those we dare not speak aloud."

The words hung there, a delicate thread of meaning laced with something deeper, something unspoken. The classroom was silent, but Bloom felt the sudden shift in the air, the way his voice seemed to curl around her like smoke, refusing to dissipate.

It was a concept he'd taught them before. She remembered their earlier discussions, how she had challenged him on it with the boldness that often earned his infuriating, subtle smiles.

"So, you're saying magic has a mind of its own?" she'd asked, back then.

Valen's lips had curved into that faint smile, the one that never quite reached his eyes. "I'm saying magic is an extension of the mind. If you are at war with yourself, your magic will be too."

But today, today those words felt heavier. They no longer spoke of abstract theories. Not to her. Not to him.

Her throat tightened.

And she remembered how his voice had broken when he'd said, "I care about you. More than I should." How his hands had trembled against her skin, not from fear, but from restraint. The kind of restraint that now seemed to echo in every syllable he spoke.

Valen's voice cut through her thoughts again. "We like to believe we control magic. That with enough discipline, enough study, we can bend it to our will. But magic, like emotion, does not simply disappear because we wish it away." He paused, his fingers lightly tracing a glowing rune he'd conjured in the air, the movement so delicate it was almost a caress. 

"When we suppress our emotions, magic responds. It coils tighter, becoming unpredictable. Dangerous." His voice dipped just a fraction lower. "The more we fight what lies within us, the more it struggles to break free."

Bloom's quill slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the desk. Heads turned, including Stella's, who blinked at her with a frown, but Bloom kept her gaze fixed on Valen. His lips twitched - was that the ghost of a smile? - but the moment passed as quickly as it came.

But her heart was a traitor, beating against her ribs like it wanted to escape. She could still hear him in her mind:

"Every second I'm with you, Bloom, I'm fighting myself. Fighting the urge to take what I want, consequences be damned."

And now... now he was standing there, speaking of suppressed emotions and untamed magic, his voice a dark caress against her already raw nerves.

He was talking about control.

He was talking about them.

"Magic doesn't simply react to what we consciously feel," Valen continued. "It responds to what lies beneath the surface. The things we lock away. The truths we refuse to face."

Stella shifted beside Bloom, her foot lightly tapping against hers under the desk like a silent question, What's going on with you?

Bloom didn't dare respond.

Her hand tightened around the edge of her desk. His words struck like a match to dry kindling, igniting everything she'd been trying so hard to bury.

"The truths we refuse to face."

The way she'd kissed him back with equal desperation. The way she'd begged him-"Don't walk away." The way his touch had seared her skin long after he'd left.

"Tell me," Valen said suddenly, his gaze locking onto hers like a snare. "What happens when we refuse to acknowledge a feeling, a need?" 

His question was directed at the class, but Bloom felt the weight of it press against her like a hand on her throat. She swallowed hard, her lips parting but no words came. A moment of silence.

Then, defying the wild drum of her heart, she spoke. "It doesn't vanish," she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm within her. "It simmers beneath the surface. Until it explodes."

Valen's jaw tensed, his knuckles whitening ever so slightly as he gripped the edge of his desk. "It doesn't vanish," he echoed, his voice a low rumble. "It festers. It grows. Until it becomes something we can no longer control."

Musa's pen scratched to a stop on her parchment, and Flora glanced between Professor Valen and Bloom, her brows knitting ever so slightly.

Bloom tilted her chin up just a fraction, her words like a blade cloaked in silk. "So the solution would be... to confront it. To stop pretending it isn't there."

The air between them went razor-sharp, an unspoken battle of wills unfolding in plain view of their classmates, the obliviousness slowly cracking as her friends exchanged confused looks.

Valen's gaze darkened, his lips parting like he was on the verge of saying something, something reckless and honest, but he caught himself. 

"In theory," he said at last, his voice like a distant thunder, "acknowledging it is the first step. But control is still necessary. We cannot allow ourselves to be ruled by what burns within us."

"Even if what burns within us is the truth?" Bloom countered, her meaning threading just beneath the surface.

His nostrils flared, his body impossibly still. "Especially then."

The air crackled between them, an unspoken conversation playing out in the space where words dared not tread. Every syllable, every carefully chosen metaphor, felt like a blade dipped in honey - sweet, but lethal.

And Bloom knew that he was warning her. And maybe... warning himself.

Stella's fingers gripped Bloom's arm lightly, a subtle squeeze, a silent: What the hell was that?

The classroom seemed to close in around her, the air thick with the weight of their exchange.

Bloom could feel her pulse pounding in her temples, the silence between them stretching far too long. It was like a veil had been pulled over everything - their classmates, the lesson, even the distant hum of the world outside the classroom. 

Nothing mattered except for the unspoken words hanging in the air, the dangerous tension that neither of them could shake.

Valen's gaze lingered a fraction too long, his eyes grey pools that threatened to swallow her whole. He was standing at the front, the rest of the room oblivious to the silent battle they were waging, but Bloom could feel it in every beat of her heart.

Stella's grip on her arm tightened again, pulling Bloom back to the present. She could feel her friend's questioning stare, could almost hear the unspoken demand: What are you doing? What is going on?

Bloom opened her mouth to respond to Valen, but the words caught in her throat. How could she answer him when everything she wanted to say seemed to spiral into something she wasn't ready to face? 

Instead, she nodded stiffly, her hand still gripping the edge of the desk as if it could anchor her in place.

"You're right, Professor" she said, her voice low but steady, the calm surface of her words betraying the storm churning beneath them. 

Bloom finally turned her head to Stella, breaking the moment. Her friend's eyes were wide with confusion, but there was something else there too. Concern.

But before she could respond, Valen cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Let's refocus, shall we?" His words were measured, almost too calm, and yet there was a razor-sharp edge to them that sent a ripple of discomfort down Bloom's spine. "Magic, like emotion, requires control. But the question remains, what we haven't discussed last semester, what happens when we lose that control?"

Bloom's quill trembled in her hand as she turned her gaze back to the parchment in front of her, not wanting to meet Valen's eyes again. She couldn't bear it. Not now. Not when every word he spoke seemed to cut closer to the truth she'd buried deep inside her.

Valen spoke again, this time with a touch of steel in his voice. "We all carry pieces of ourselves we'd rather leave behind, but magic doesn't forget." He let the words settle, each one laced with an underlying warning. "Magic is not forgiving. And neither are our emotions."

The class had resumed scribbling notes, but it felt like the rest of the world had faded away. It was just her and Valen in that moment, standing on the precipice of something they couldn't turn away from, no matter how hard they tried.

Valen's gaze never left her. 

It was as if he was waiting for her to speak, for her to challenge him. But the words she needed to say wouldn't come. She was caught between two worlds - one that was safe, controlled, where she could bury everything she felt, and another that was chaotic, wild, where the truth was raw and untamed.

Valen, sensing her struggle, took a small step forward. "Magic does not care for our excuses," he said quietly. "It doesn't care if we hide from it. It simply is."

Bloom's breath hitched in her throat, and the weight of the words Valen had spoken crashed over her like a tidal wave. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

Without warning, Bloom pushed herself away from the desk, the legs of the chair scraping loudly across the floor. The sharp sound seemed to snap through the thick silence that had settled in the classroom, drawing startled glances from her classmates.

Stella's hand shot out, grabbing her arm as she stood, confusion and concern etched into her face. "Bloom?" she asked, "Are you alright?"

But Bloom didn't answer. She couldn't.

Her feet moved on their own, the impulse too strong to resist. She couldn't stay in that room with the weight of Valen's words suffocating her, with the burning tension between them that threatened to tear her apart.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that drowned out everything else as she darted for the door. She could feel Valen's eyes on her as she moved, could feel the quiet weight of his gaze tracking her every step. 

It was like he was calling to her, trying to draw her back into the storm of everything they'd been avoiding, but Bloom refused to look back.

She yanked the door open with a force that made it bang against the wall. Her heart raced, the pulse in her temples pounding harder with each breath she took, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.

Outside, the corridor was empty, the distant murmur of other students' voices echoing down the hall. Bloom didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to be as far from the classroom, from Valen, as possible.

She rounded a corner and kept walking, her footsteps echoing in the empty hall.  She finally came to a halt, standing in a small alcove by the window, staring out at the distant landscape beyond the castle walls.

Her hands trembled at her sides as she pressed her forehead against the cool glass. She closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. What was she doing?

Bloom's breath came in slow, measured gulps, but it did nothing to steady the wild rhythm of her heart. The air inside the castle felt too thick, too suffocating, each stone wall pressing closer and closer.

She needed air. She needed distance.

Without another thought, Bloom turned from the window and pushed through the corridor, her pace quickening with every step. The empty halls seemed to echo her urgency, each footfall a quiet thunderclap against the polished floors. When she finally reached the grand doors that led outside, she shoved them open, the cool afternoon breeze crashing over her like a wave.

The corridors of Alfea seemed a world away as she walked deeper into the vast gardens, the grounds stretching out before her like an endless sea of green and color. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, the sweet fragrance mingling with the earthy undertones of the soil beneath her boots.

She needed to be alone. She needed to think.

The vibrant gardens seemed to be alive with soft whispers of the wind, the rustling of leaves in the trees, and the delicate flutter of butterflies dancing in the sunlight. But to Bloom, everything felt muffled, as though the world was far away, and she was suspended in a quiet bubble of her own thoughts.

Her footsteps were slow and heavy, her mind spinning with everything that had happened. The pull between them. The way his words had settled deep inside her, making her question everything she thought she knew about herself, about control, about what she was capable of feeling.

She walked aimlessly, her gaze never straying from the ground, too lost in thought to notice the beauty around her. The manicured hedges, the sparkling fountains, the occasional birds perched in the trees, none of it seemed to matter in the moment.

Bloom stopped near a stone bench under a large oak tree, the shade offering a brief respite from the sun's warmth. She sank onto the bench, her hands trembling as she clasped them in her lap.

And then, without warning, the image of Valen's face flashed before her eyes. The way his voice had trembled when he spoke, the intensity of his gaze, the way he'd reached for her, as if he, too, was struggling to keep control.

"What happens when we refuse to acknowledge a feeling?"

She closed her eyes, pushing the image away, but the pull of him was still there. The pull between them was undeniable, and it was only growing stronger the longer she tried to ignore it.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, though she hadn't even realized she was on the verge of crying. She wiped it away quickly, angry at herself for letting weakness show, but she couldn't stop the tremor in her chest. It felt like everything she'd tried to bury was rising to the surface, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it all locked inside.

The sky above had deepened to an inky blue, streaked with the last tendrils of sunset, but the colors felt muted, lifeless. Everything did.

Because somewhere between the chaos of the last few days, the unraveling of her carefully constructed world, Bloom had lost her footing.

The desire she felt for Professor Valen was no longer something she could brush off as a fleeting crush or a dangerous curiosity. It was more than that, darker and deeper, like a flame that burned too hot, too fast, threatening to consume her entirely. 

Every word he spoke seemed to touch a part of her she didn't want to acknowledge. Every glance, every subtle shift in his voice, felt like an unspoken promise, or a warning.

And the worst part? She wanted him. Despite the lines drawn between them, despite the rules, despite the threat it posed to everything she was supposed to be.

But that wasn't the only fracture in her life.

Sky. The boy she'd once thought she loved. The break-up had been a slow unraveling, not the heart-shattering agony she'd always assumed love would leave in its wake. It should have hurt more. It should have broken her.

Instead, it had felt like a quiet sigh, a chapter closing with a whisper instead of a scream.

And maybe that was the cruelest revelation of all: she hadn't loved Sky the way she'd convinced herself she did. Maybe she'd been chasing the idea of love, the illusion of something safe and simple, because that was what she thought she was supposed to want.

But real desire? Real longing?

It wasn't safe. It wasn't simple.

It was standing in a sun-lit classroom, locked in a silent battle of words and glances with a man who made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, both terrified and desperate to jump.

Why did her heart race faster at the mere thought of Valen's voice? Why did her skin burn when she remembered his fingers brushing hers, or his lips pressed against hers in a kiss that still lingered like a ghost on her mouth?

Her feelings for him weren't just dangerous. They were undeniable.

But even that wasn't the worst of it. Like a final cruel twist of fate, Daphne had shattered what little foundation Bloom had left.

She wasn't just Bloom from Earth. She wasn't just another fairy learning to control her magic. She was the youngest daughter of the royal family of Domino.

A princess of a kingdom that no longer existed, a kingdom burned to the ground by dark magic before she'd even learned to walk and was now buried beneath ice and snow.

Her family was gone. Her home was gone. A life stolen before it could even begin.

And all that remained was her; a girl who had spent her entire life believing she was ordinary, only to find out she carried the weight of the Magical Dimension on her shoulders.

She was the guardian of the Dragon Flame.

The most powerful force in the entire Magical Dimension burned within her, ancient and untamed, a magic so great it had made her a target before she could even walk.

She was a living flame, a force of creation and destruction.

And suddenly, everything made sense. Why her magic felt so wild, so uncontrollable at times, why Valen's words in class had struck so deeply: 

" Magic responds to what lies beneath the surface."

What lay beneath Bloom's surface wasn't just emotion, it was an inferno.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves above her, and Bloom hugged herself tightly, as if she could hold all the broken pieces together.

The garden felt too silent now. Too still.

Then, she heard footsteps. Soft but deliberate, crunching over the gravel path.

Bloom's heart lurched, every muscle in her body tensing. For a split second, she thought - dreaded, and hoped - it was Valen. That he had followed her, that the magnetic pull between them had drawn him out of the classroom just as it had driven her away. 

But she knew who it was before she even turned.

Stella.

"Bloom?" The voice, full of concern, reached her before the familiar figure appeared in the garden. 

Stella's face was framed with worry, her eyes wide as she took in Bloom's disheveled state. "What's going on? You've barely said a word since this morning and you acted so strange during class. Are you okay?"

Bloom swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat refused to go away. Should she tell Stella? Should she let her in on the mess swirling inside her? It felt like too much. Too much to explain, too much to understand. The last thing she wanted was to burden Stella with the mess she'd made of everything.

"I just... I needed a moment," Bloom said, her voice strained. She couldn't look at her friend, couldn't meet the worried gaze that was now directed at her with such intensity. "I'm fine. Really."

Stella didn't buy it, of course. "No, you're not fine," she said, her tone soft, like she was trying to reach her through the storm raging in her mind. "What's going on with you, Bloom. You can tell me."

There was no point in lying, not to Stella. She was her best friend, and Stella knew her better than anyone. But Bloom still hesitated, unsure how to put what she was feeling into words. How could she explain what had happened in that classroom, what was happening between them, when she couldn't even understand it herself?

Stella took a step closer, her hand gently touching Bloom's arm. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever this is, we'll figure it out together."

Bloom met Stella's gaze for the first time, her own eyes filled with uncertainty. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. 

How do you explain that you're falling for someone you know you shouldn't? That you're caught between a need for control and feelings that threaten to consume you?

Before Bloom could say anything, however, the soft echo of more footsteps reached her ears, and another familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Bloom?" The voice, smooth and low, made her stiffen immediately. Sky.

Chapter Text

The air around them stilled.

Bloom's heart clenched, not out of longing or heartbreak, but out of sheer discomfort. She hadn't prepared herself for this. 

Sky's voice, so familiar yet distant now, hung between them like a thread about to snap.

Stella's hand tightened briefly on Bloom's arm. She didn't turn immediately. Her jaw stiffened, and Bloom could feel the protective energy radiating off her friend, a silent shield between her and Sky.

"What do you want?" Stella's voice was sharp, a blade hidden beneath a velvet tone. She didn't step aside, didn't move away from Bloom.

Sky hesitated, the gravel shifting under his feet. "I just want to talk to Bloom. Alone."

Bloom could sense Stella's anger simmering beneath the surface. The memory of Sky's betrayal, his hidden engagement to Diaspro, the way he'd strung Bloom along with half-truths and broken promises, still echoed in her friend's mind. 

To Stella, Bloom was the one nursing a shattered heart, and the last thing her friend wanted was to leave her alone with the boy who had caused it.

"You have some nerve," Stella sneered, crossing her arms. "After everything you did, you really think you get to demand time alone with her?"

"Stella," Bloom said softly, placing a hand on her friend's arm, "it's okay."

Stella's head snapped to her, golden hair catching the light like a cascade of silk. "Is it? Because I really don't think it is."

"It is," Bloom repeated, a calmness settling in her voice, though a storm still raged within her. "I can talk to him."

The words felt strange. Not because she wanted to speak to Sky, but because she realized just how detached she was from the situation. The ache she'd expected to feel, the heartbreak Stella assumed she was battling, simply wasn't there. She wasn't angry. She wasn't sad.

Sky wasn't the reason her heart was a mess.

Stella searched Bloom's eyes, looking for cracks, for pain, for anything that might explain this unexpected calmness. When she found nothing, only a quiet resolve, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'll... give you both some space," she murmured, her voice full of quiet support. "But if you need me, just shout."

Bloom's lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile. "I know."

With one last withering glance at Sky, Stella spun on her heel, her golden aura practically crackling as she stalked back down the garden path. It wasn't until her figure disappeared around the bend that the silence fell again.

Bloom folded her arms, keeping the distance between herself and him. "What do you want, Sky?"

His gaze softened and she saw the hurt behind his blue eyes. "I just... I needed to see you. To explain."

Bloom's heart didn't race. Her breath didn't hitch. And as Sky searched her face for a flicker of the girl he once thought loved him, the girl who had, for a time, all Bloom could think about was how much had changed.

Sky shifted his weight, his hands clenching at his sides before finally raking through his golden hair, a nervous habit Bloom used to find endearing. Now, it just made her stomach twist with discomfort. Not because she longed for him, but because she didn't.

"I never meant for you to find out that way," Sky said softly, his voice tugging at the silence like a frayed thread. "At the ball... Diaspro showing up... It wasn't how I wanted you to know."

Bloom's arms remained folded, her chin lifting just slightly. "But I did find out. And you didn't stop her from saying any of it."

Sky flinched at the quiet sting in her words. "I didn't want to hurt you. I swear I didn't."

There was a time when those words would have undone her, when the simple thought of Sky wanting to protect her heart would have been enough to forgive him. But that time was long gone.

"But you did," Bloom replied, the words coming not from a place of pain but of cold, hard truth. "Not just because you were engaged, Sky. But because you didn't tell me. You let me believe we were building something honest, something real, while you were keeping something that big from me."

He closed his eyes briefly, like the weight of her words physically hurt him. "I didn't have a choice," he muttered, the frustration bleeding into his voice. "It wasn't like I wanted this, Bloom. The king... my father- he gave me no say."

Bloom's expression didn't soften. "And you didn't think I deserved to know?"

Sky's shoulders sagged. "I thought I could fix it first," he admitted. "I thought if I could find a way to break it off again, I wouldn't have to hurt you at all."

The word again hung in the air like smoke, a cruel reminder that this wasn't the first time Sky had kept something from her, that their relationship had always teetered on a foundation of half-truths and carefully worded promises.

"But you didn't fix it," Bloom said quietly. "Because your father reinstated the engagement."

Sky's jaw tightened. "Yes. A few weeks ago. He told me it wasn't up for discussion this time. That if I wanted to inherit the throne, I had to marry Diaspro. No arguments, no negotiations."

And there it was, the truth that had been staring Bloom in the face since that night at Stella's ball.

Sky's sense of duty, his loyalty to his kingdom, his father, his future as king... they would always outweigh anything he felt for her.

He could love her, yes. Maybe he had. Maybe, in some way, he still did. But it would never be enough.

Because Sky's heart was bound by duty first. And love, for him, would always come second.

The realization settled deep into Bloom's bones. And it didn't hurt, not like she once feared it would. It freed her.

"I understand now," Bloom said softly, the calmness in her voice taking even her by surprise.

Sky blinked, clearly expecting anger, heartbreak - anything but this eerie, steady acceptance. "Understand what?"

"That you and I were never going to work," she replied. "Not really. Because no matter how much we cared about each other, your duty will always come first. It has to. And I need more than that. I deserve more than that."

Sky opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that he had fought for her, that he had wanted more for them, but the words died in his throat.

Because he knew she was right.

And so did Bloom.

Sky stood there, looking at her with a mix of confusion and helplessness, like a man on the edge of a cliff, realizing that even if he jumped, it wouldn't change the distance between them. He could feel the coldness spreading between them, like an invisible wall rising up, blocking out the warmth they once shared.

"I never wanted this," he whispered, the words almost breaking as they left his lips. "I never wanted to hurt you, Bloom. You have to believe that."

But Bloom's expression didn't change. She didn't look angry. She didn't look sad. She looked... resigned. As though she'd already grieved the loss of something she'd never truly had.

"I believed you," she said quietly, her voice steady, but there was a tremor underneath it, like she was holding herself together by sheer will. "I believed in you, Sky. But you never really believed in us, did you? You never really believed we could make it work."

Sky's jaw clenched. "It wasn't that simple, Bloom," he said, the frustration building now. "My father... he wouldn't let me just walk away. It wasn't my choice. It never was."

"And yet," Bloom said, the words cold as ice, "you never considered that I might deserve to know. That I might deserve to have a say in what was happening between us."

Sky took a deep breath, trying to control the rising tide of emotion. "You think I didn't want to tell you?" he asked, his voice rising a little. "You think I didn't want to tell you everything, Bloom? You think this is easy for me? I didn't want any of this. But what was I supposed to do?"

The words came out before he could stop them. The truth, unfiltered, raw, had spilled out. "You were always too busy for me."

Bloom froze. Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, Sky thought he saw something flicker in her gaze - surprise, maybe even hurt. But it quickly vanished, replaced by something colder.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice low, defensive now.

Sky's chest tightened as the words spilled out. "I mean that you were always wrapped up in your life, in your school-work, in your endless excuses. I was always the afterthought, the last thing on your mind. You had no time for me, ever." 

His voice cracked slightly as the frustration mounted. "It was always something with you, Bloom. Always an excuse. Always something that kept you away from me."

Bloom's eyes narrowed. "I always made time for you when I could, Sky," she said. "But I have responsibilities too. I have my own life to lead, my own things to take care of."

Sky shook his head, the bitter laugh escaping before he could stop it. "Responsibilities? Is that what you call it?" He sneered, the jealousy, the resentment, starting to seep into every word he spoke. "You were too busy for me, Bloom. Too busy with everything else. Your responsibilities always came first. But never me. Never us."

A look of shock flashed across Bloom's face, but before she could respond, Sky was already going on, the floodgates opening as he let the resentment take hold of him.

"Do you know how many times I sat there, waiting for you to text me back, to call me, to even acknowledge me?" He took another step closer, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

 "And every time, it was the same thing: 'Sorry, I have school-work,' or 'Sorry, I can't today, I have training.' And you know what? I waited. I waited, and I told myself it was okay. But it wasn't, Bloom. It wasn't. You shut me out, and you don't even realize it."

Bloom's breath hitched, and for a second, Sky almost thought he saw guilt flicker across her face. But that didn't matter. Not anymore. She had to understand what she'd done. She had to understand the weight of everything she had left him to carry alone.

"Every time I tried to tell you how I felt, you were somewhere else. And then you come here, acting like you're the only one who's been hurt. Like you're the only one who's been ignored. You never saw me, Bloom. You never saw how much I needed you," Sky said, his voice thick with frustration.

Bloom opened her mouth to speak, but Sky wasn't done. His mind was racing now, the words tumbling out, faster and faster, until they were all he could hear.

"Do you know how hard it is, Bloom? To have someone you love so much, someone you need, constantly telling you they don't have time for you? Constantly putting you second? While all along, you're supposed to stand there and pretend it's fine? Pretend it doesn't eat you up inside?"

Sky's breath came quicker now, his chest heaving as the anger in him continued to burn, flaring higher and higher. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the frustration threatening to break him.

"And don't get me started on how you always ran to him-"

The moment the words left his lips, he could see it - the tension that passed through Bloom's body. Her eyes narrowed instantly, her arms tightening across her chest. He could see the change in her, the shift in her posture, like a wall had just slammed up between them.

He felt it then, too, the rising jealousy, the heat of it twisting in his gut. Valen. He hadn't said his name yet, but it was there, hanging in the air between them like a poisoned arrow.

"You were always with him, Bloom," Sky continued, his voice bitter. "You were always with that professor of yours. Every time I was waiting for you, you were with him. Training. Talking. Discussing magic. And you were always so happy to talk about it. Always so excited when you came back from your lessons with him. But where was the excitement for me? Where was the happiness when you were with me?"

Bloom's face turned red now, her eyes flashing with something between anger and defensiveness. "What are you trying to say, Sky?" she asked, her voice low but laced with tension.

Sky took a step forward, his voice thick with the edge of his own hurt. "I'm saying you were never there for me when I needed you. You were always too busy with him. Always so focused on your training. On your studies. You couldn't even find time to care about what was happening between us."

Bloom's eyes flashed, her breath catching in her throat. She was no longer the quiet, steady presence she had been a moment ago. Her expression was one of pure fire, her hands balled into fists at her sides as she took a small step toward him, the anger in her eyes matched by the tightness in her jaw.

"You think I was never there for you?" Her voice was low, controlled, but it carried a dangerous edge. "You think I was too busy with him?" She spit the words out, venom laced in every syllable. 

"You don't know what I've been through, Sky. You don't know what it's been like trying to keep everything together while you sit on your throne of duty and pretend that you're the only one with responsibilities! Don't you dare make this about Valen, Sky. This is about you, about us, and you failing to see me, failing to hear me, failing to try."

Sky's breath caught in his chest. Her words were like a slap, but they didn't stop him. He wasn't backing down. Not this time. Not after everything he had been holding in.

"You don't get it," Sky said, his voice growing louder, more desperate. "I was waiting for you, Bloom. I waited so long for you to see that I needed you. I tried to make you understand, but it was always something else. Always work, always Valen, always your damn training." 

His fists clenched at his sides. "And then, whenever you did show up, you were always so distant, like you were somewhere else, talking about him, like he was the one who really saw you."

Bloom's eyes narrowed, but Sky could see the shift in her, the wall she had built around herself, the pain that wasn't far beneath her surface. She was seething now, and he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't hold back the words that felt like a wound opening inside him.

"Maybe that's why you could never make time for me. I wasn't enough for you, was I? Not in the way he was. Not in the way he could understand all the things you really wanted. He was always there to fill in the gaps that I couldn't, wasn't he?"

Bloom's lips parted, and for a moment, Sky thought he saw something flicker in her expression, something that made his chest tighten. Was it guilt? Was it regret? For a heartbeat, he thought she was going to break down, but instead, she squared her shoulders and stepped forward.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she said, her voice icy now. "No idea what I've had to fight for. No idea how hard it's been to even be here. I didn't ask for this, Sky. I didn't want to be stuck between you and your duty. But you... you made it clear that your father and your kingdom came first. You made it clear that I was never going to be enough for you, so don't stand there and act like I was the one who pushed you away."

Sky's throat tightened, a lump forming as her words landed squarely in his chest. He tried to keep his cool, but the anger was flooding his veins, each word that had been buried now spilling out uncontrollably.

"You never gave me a chance, Bloom," he whispered through gritted teeth, his voice raw with emotion. "Every time I needed you, you were too busy. Every time I reached out, you pulled away. And then you went to him to-"

But before he could finish, something changed in the air. Sky's body stilled, his voice cutting off mid-sentence as a dark, foreboding presence filled the space behind Bloom.

That chill in the air that signaled the arrival of someone who didn't just command attention, he demanded it.

Sky froze.

For a brief moment, the words hung on the edge of his lips, but they wouldn't come. His focus sharpened on the shadow looming behind Bloom, a dark presence that settled into the space like a storm cloud. 

He could feel it - the cold rush of jealousy and something darker, a gut-deep sense of protectiveness, possessiveness.

"Sky," Bloom said, her voice suddenly quieter, the fight momentarily leaving her as she noticed the shift in his demeanor. "What's-"

Before she could finish, Sky's eyes darted over her shoulder, meeting the gaze of the figure standing there like a shadow. 

Her brows furrowed, lips parting as if she were about to ask him what had happened, but before she could speak, she turned her head slowly, her movement almost hesitant, like she felt the shift in the atmosphere as well.

The man was just behind Bloom, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, straight, unyielding, as if he were carved from stone. 

But it wasn't his stance that made Sky's blood run cold. It was the look on his face, the coldness in his eyes that was trained firmly on the prince. The promise of violence was there, though unspoken.

 That deadly, unblinking stare, focused on him like a predator sizing up its prey. It wasn't a look of threat, but of something far worse - disdain, superiority. Like Sky wasn't even worth the effort.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice suddenly tight, a warning edge creeping in as she looked up at Valen.

Valen didn't respond. He simply kept his eyes locked on Sky, the weight of his gaze heavy enough to crush any semblance of confidence Sky had left. There was no need for words between them. The message was clear.

Bloom looked between them, realization dawning on her. She swallowed, steadying herself as she straightened her back.

Sky's anger was still there, but now there was something else shifting in him. A different kind of heat. It was as though Valen's mere presence had drawn out every raw, vulnerable feeling Sky had kept buried. 

The jealousy, the anger, everything mixed into a whirlwind that left him seething but unable to move, unable to break free from the tension thickening the space around them.

Valen didn't move. He didn't need to. His mere presence, like a looming storm cloud, spoke volumes.

But the dark glint in his eyes never wavered, and Sky realized that Valen wasn't there to intervene. He wasn't there to defend Bloom. Not physically, not verbally. No, it was something far more unsettling.

He  was watching him. Watching him with the calm of someone who knew he didn't need to do a thing to put Sky in his place. His silence said everything. 

And in that moment, Sky knew the truth.

Bloom didn't need him. Not in the way he wanted. And Valen knew that. He understood it in a way Sky never could.

Sky's jaw clenched. His fists curled at his sides, and though every part of him screamed to lash out, to challenge Valen, something held him back. The presence of the man, standing there without moving, was enough to stifle his every instinct. 

It wasn't just that he was physically imposing. No, it was something in the way he was.

The stillness in Valen's eyes, the sense that he was untouchable - untouched by Sky's words, untouched by Sky's anger - was a reminder Sky didn't want to face. He was no longer the one who could dictate the course of events between him and Bloom.

He didn't have to be told. He could see it. He could feel it. He had lost.

And in that moment, as Valen's gaze cut through him like ice, Sky understood. She was already protected. Already whole.

Bloom was stronger than he ever gave her credit for. She didn't need his apologies. And she definitely didn't need him.

The silence stretched between them, unbearable and suffocating. 

Sky could feel the weight of Valen's gaze on him, sharp and unyielding, like the weight of the world itself pressing down on him. 

For the first time in a long while, Sky felt small. Not in the way he had when he was a child - no, this was something different. It was the crushing realization that everything he thought he knew about Bloom, about their relationship, was wrong.

He opened his mouth, trying to force out the words that were still bubbling up inside him, but the words felt foreign, heavy on his tongue. Valen's presence, silent and stoic, made it impossible to speak. It was like the air had thickened, become almost suffocating, and he could barely breathe through the tension.

Bloom was still standing there, her eyes flickering between Sky and Valen, her posture rigid, but not defensive. She didn't seem afraid, but her shoulders were tense, the lines of her body betraying her frustration. 

And she didn't step back. She didn't need to. She was no longer trying to fight him, not the way she used to.

Valen's gaze didn't shift, didn't falter. 

There was a stillness to him, a calmness that was infuriating. It wasn't that Valen was ignoring Sky, it was that he didn't care about the prince. 

And it stung more than anything Sky had ever experienced. Valen wasn't even trying to prove something. His silence was a declaration of superiority, a reminder of everything Sky had been blind to.

Bloom shifted slightly, but it was enough for Sky to see that she wasn't just standing there because she felt obligated. She was standing there because she had control. And that realization hit Sky harder than anything else.

"You've already made your choice, Sky," Bloom said, her voice calmer now, quieter. "And so have I."

Her words pierced the air like a dagger, and Sky's heart twisted. The finality in her tone made it impossible to ignore. She wasn't going to fight him anymore. She wasn't going to defend herself or apologize. This... this whole mess between them had been decided long before now.

Each word she spoke seemed to fall on him like a weight, like bricks slowly stacking on his chest, crushing him under their pressure. He had nothing to say, nothing to respond with. He had tried to blame her, tried to place everything on her, but in this moment, it was clear. 

He had been wrong.

He wasn't angry anymore. He was hollow. Empty.

"I didn't want to be in this position, Bloom," he finally whispered, his voice quieter than he expected. "I didn't want to be the one who messed everything up. But I... I thought I could fix it. I thought we could fix it."

Bloom's gaze softened slightly, but her resolve remained. She didn't reach out to him. She didn't need to.

"It's not about fixing, Sky," she said softly. "It's about letting go. And accepting that sometimes, we're not meant to be."

Sky's chest tightened as he looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of hope, any sign that maybe - just maybe - he could fix it. But there was nothing. Her eyes were clear, unclouded, as if she had already made her peace with everything.

And then, as if he had forgotten Valen was still there, Sky's gaze flicked back to the other man. The man was still standing just behind Bloom, his expression unchanged. Still stoic. Still silent. 

But Sky saw something in the way he stood, something that made his chest ache with an understanding he didn't want to acknowledge.

Valen wasn't here to intervene in their argument. He wasn't here to protect Bloom, at least not in the way Sky had feared. He wasn't here to fight for her. He didn't need to. He had already accepted that Bloom was capable of standing on her own. 

No, Valen's presence was a reminder of everything Sky had failed to understand about her, about them.

Bloom wasn't his. She had never been.

And in that quiet realization, Sky's last shred of anger, his last desperate hope that he could fix everything, shattered.

He was standing in front of Bloom, and he was powerless to change the course of what had already been decided. The prince who had once been so sure of everything was now lost, standing in the wreckage of a love that had never really belonged to him.

Valen's eyes finally flicked away, looking at Bloom for just a second, as though offering his silent understanding. And then, without a single word, Valen turned, stepping back, disappearing into the shadows.

And Sky knew that Bloom didn't need saving. She never had.

Chapter Text

The door to Valen's office slammed open, the sound echoing off the stone walls like a crack of thunder. Papers on his desk rustled from the force, a nearby inkwell teetering dangerously close to the edge.

The sudden noise didn't seem to faze Valen, though. He remained seated, his dark gaze slowly lifting from the thick tome spread open before him.

"Bloom," he said evenly, his voice calm, almost too calm given the firestorm that clearly radiated from her.

She didn't bother with pleasantries. Her hands were still trembling from the confrontation with Sky, her heart still racing, though whether it was from anger, frustration, or something deeper, she couldn't tell.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded, stepping further into the room and slamming the door shut behind her.

Valen leaned back in his chair, the worn leather creaking softly under his weight. His arms crossed over his broad chest, but his expression remained unreadable, a mask of cold indifference that only infuriated Bloom more.

"I'm going to need you to be more specific," he replied, his tone infuriatingly neutral.

"Don't play dumb with me," she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension thickening the air. "Just now, in the gardens. You didn't say a word, Valen. But you glared at Sky like you were daring him to make a move."

A flicker of something passed through Valen's dark eyes, something too quick for Bloom to place, but it was gone before she could latch onto it.

"I didn't say anything because there was nothing for me to say," he answered. "It was your fight, not mine."

Bloom's jaw tightened, her frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface. "You didn't have to say anything," she growled. "You stood there like some dark angel of vengeance, just waiting for him to cross the line. You wanted him to feel small, didn't you?"

Valen's lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corner, not quite a smirk, but something close enough to make Bloom's blood boil.

"The prince felt small all on his own," Valen replied, his voice soft, almost a whisper. "I didn't have to do anything."

Bloom's fists clenched at her sides. "That's not the point. I didn't need you there, hovering behind me like you were waiting for a chance to step in."

Valen's gaze darkened. "I wasn't hovering."

"Then what would you call it?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. For a moment, Bloom thought Valen wouldn't answer at all. But then, finally, he spoke.

"I was making sure he remembered who you are," he said, his voice quiet but unyielding. "I didn't intervene because I knew you didn't need me to. You never have. But I wasn't going to let him forget that he lost, either."

The words struck a nerve, sharp and deep. Bloom's breathing hitched for a moment, the heat of her anger twisting into something else, something she didn't want to name.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," she whispered, though her voice lacked the bite it had moments ago.

Valen stood then, moving around the desk with a slow, measured grace until he was just a step away from her. His towering presence should have felt threatening, but it didn't. It never did.

"I know," he said softly. "But that doesn't mean I won't stand behind you while you do."

Bloom blinked, caught off guard by the quiet intensity in his words. She should have pushed him away, should have reminded him again that she didn't need his protection, but the words wouldn't come.

Valen didn't move, didn't blink. For a moment, Bloom thought he might finally crack, that the carefully constructed wall of indifference would shatter.

But then, his gaze softened, though the fire still smoldered beneath the surface.

"I think," Valen said quietly, "that he doesn't see you the way you deserve to be seen."

Bloom's heart pounded. "And you do?"

A beat of silence.

"I see you, Bloom," Valen said at last. "I always have."

Her chest ached at the weight of his words, but she didn't know if it was from anger, from confusion, or from something else entirely.

The room felt too small now, the air too thick. She took a step back, needing distance, needing space, needing to breathe.

"This isn't about you and me," she whispered. "This is about Sky. About what you did back there."

Valen's expression didn't change. "If you say so."

Bloom's fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles turning white. "Don't do that," she snapped, her voice shaking now, not from fear, but from the fury bubbling just beneath her skin. "Don't brush this off like it's nothing. Like he's nothing."

Valen tilted his head slightly, his gaze unrelenting. "I'm not brushing anything off," he said smoothly. "I'm simply acknowledging the truth. He doesn't see you, Bloom. Not the way you want him to. Not the way you need him to."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. "And you think you're any better?"

His jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. "I know I am."

Silence. A heavy, unbearable silence.

Bloom felt like the floor might crack beneath her feet. "You don't get to decide that," she said, her voice lower now but no less fierce. "You don't get to stand there and act like you know what I need, like you know me better than he does."

Valen stepped forward, just a fraction, but it was enough to make the air between them feel electric. "Don't I?" he asked softly. "Who is the one standing in front of you now, Bloom? Who is the one you came running to. Not him. Me."

Her breath caught. "I didn't run to you," she shot back. "I came here because you crossed a line. Because you stood there, and made everything worse."

"I didn't make anything worse," Valen countered, his voice dangerously calm. "I didn't say a word. I didn't lift a hand. I simply watched. It was the prince who spiraled, not me."

Bloom shook her head. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't have to say anything. To show him that he had lost me. And like you were the one who already had me."

Valen's eyes darkened, a flicker of something raw and unfiltered breaking through his mask. "I didn't have to make him feel that way," he said, voice rougher now. "He already did."

Her heart lurched. "That's not-"

"Yes, it is," Valen cut her off, stepping closer, his voice quiet but razor-sharp. "He saw it, Bloom. The way you looked at me when you realized I was there. The way you didn't flinch, didn't move away. And it terrified him."

Bloom felt the heat rising to her cheeks, her head spinning. "This isn't about us," she said again, more desperate this time, like saying it enough would make it true. "There is no 'us.' There never has been."

Valen's gaze burned into hers. "Then why are you here?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

"If there's no 'us,'" Valen went on, voice softening but still dangerously intense, "then why are you standing here, in my office, fighting me like this? Why did you come storming in the second the prince left. Like you had something to prove, not to him, but to me?"

Bloom's mind was a whirlwind. She hated this. The way he could unravel her with a few carefully chosen words. The way he could pick apart her defenses and expose the very things she didn't want to admit.

"I came here," she said, voice hoarse, "because you pushed him. Because you stood there like you were waiting for him to break."

Valen's voice was quiet, but it cut through her words like a knife. "And he did, didn't he?"

Her throat closed up. She didn't answer.

Valen stepped back then, his expression unreadable once more, the fire in his eyes dimming, but not gone. Never gone.

"If there truly is no 'us'," he said softly, "this wouldn't bother you so much."

Bloom opened her mouth, ready to lash out, to deny, to deflect, but the words died on her lips.

Because the worst part was... He wasn't wrong.

But the anger surged back just as quickly, burning away the flicker of doubt. Her chest heaved as she forced herself to breathe, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade.

"You think you know me so well, Valen?" she hissed, stepping forward this time, the distance between them evaporating. "Then you should remember what happened in the gardens of Solaria."

Valen's jaw tightened, a flash of something - pain? - crossing his features, so brief it was almost unnoticeable. Almost.

"I remember," he said, his voice rougher now.

"Good," Bloom snapped. "Because I remember too. I remember how you looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. And then you left."

His eyes darkened, his stoic mask wavering just enough for her to see the storm beneath.

"I left," Valen said quietly, "because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have stopped."

Her heart stuttered - a cruel, traitorous thing - but she didn't let herself dwell on the meaning behind his words.

"Don't twist this," she fired back. "You made a choice that night, Valen. You made it clear that whatever this is, whatever it could have been, wasn't enough for you."

Valen's gaze flickered to her lips for the briefest second before locking onto her eyes again. "It was never about it not being enough," he said, his voice rougher now, "it was about it being too much."

The air between them crackled with unspoken words, unspoken wants, and all the things they could never say aloud.

Bloom's head spun, but she forced herself to stand her ground. "You don't get to do this," she whispered. "You don't get to act like you care now, not after you were the one who walked away."

Valen's voice was a low rasp. "Then why are you still here, Bloom. Fighting me like none of that ever mattered."

Her vision blurred at the edges - from anger, from confusion - but she refused to let him see it.

"I'm here because you crossed a line," she said, her voice cracking just a little. "Not because of us. Because of Sky. Because you watched him fall apart like it was some sick game."

Valen didn't flinch, but his silence said enough. And Bloom hated that a part of her, a very small, very dangerous part, wasn't just furious at Valen.

It was furious at herself. For still caring. For still wanting him.

"Let your anger out," Valen's gaze didn't waver, his voice low and rough. "Attack me."

Bloom blinked. "What?"

"You're angry," he said, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "I can feel it. Your magic... it's clawing at the surface. So attack me, Bloom. Let it out."

Her heart pounded. "We're in your office, Valen. Not the training hall."

His lips curved into a dark, almost taunting smile. "I don't care. Burn the whole place down if you want. Just show me what you're feeling."

The air between them seemed to spark, her Dragon Fire rising in response to the challenge, and for the briefest moment, Bloom considered it.

She fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But Valen's words, his challenge, stirred something deep within her, something primal and untamed.

Her Dragon Fire surged, a molten wave of power that threatened to spill over, but she held it back, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

"You want me to attack you?" she hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Valen's smile widened, a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes as he spread his arms wide, inviting her to strike. "Do your worst, darling."

With a roar that echoed through the room, Bloom unleashed her Dragon Fire. Flames erupted from her hands, spiraling toward Valen in a torrent of searing heat.

But Valen was ready. His dark magic surged to life, a swirling vortex of shadows that absorbed the flames, extinguishing them before they could reach him. The clash of their powers sent shockwaves through the room, rattling the windows and scattering papers from his desk.

Bloom didn't let up. She advanced, her movements fluid and deliberate, her fire twisting and curling around her like a living thing. She sent another blast of flames, this time aiming low, forcing Valen to leap back to avoid the scorching heat.

He countered with a wave of dark energy, tendrils of shadow lashing out like whips. Bloom dodged, her body moving on instinct, but one of the tendrils grazed her arm, leaving a faint, icy burn in its wake.

Bloom's hand trembled, the fire at her fingertips pulsing in time with her heartbeat, a steady, furious thrum. The flames didn't lash out, not yet, but they coiled around her fingers, waiting, breathing.

Valen stood a few feet away, his dark magic simmering like liquid shadow, the air around him rippling with an unnatural chill. His gaze burned into her, challenging, daring.

"Come on, Bloom," Valen's voice was a low rasp, almost a whisper. "You're not giving me everything you have."

Her jaw clenched. "Oh, shut up."

She let a stream of Dragon Fire spiral from her palm, not a wild blaze but a thin ribbon of molten gold, precise and deadly. It danced through the air, a living serpent of flame, winding towards Valen's chest.

His shadow magic surged in response, a wall of black mist twisting into existence between them. The two forces clashed, light and dark hissing as they met, the magic crackling and spitting like a storm caught mid-battle.

Valen didn't flinch, but Bloom saw the way his muscles tensed, his fingers flexing as if he was seconds away from unleashing something far darker.

"Is that all you've got?" His smirk was a blade, sharp and cruel.

Bloom stepped forward, her flames still hovering in the air like a golden halo. "I'm not going to destroy your office."

His dark magic pulsed. "I told you, I don't care."

Her fire flared, for a brief second burning white-hot, and Valen's shadows recoiled as if they felt the heat.

The flames twisted and roared, forming a ring of fire around them both. It didn't touch the walls or the furniture, not a single scorch mark, but it moved with a life of its own, circling like a predator.

Valen's eyes flickered with something dangerous. Not fear. Fascination.

"Better," he murmured.

Her heart pounded louder. "You think this is a game?"

"No," Valen said, his voice low. "I think this is you, Bloom. The real you."

Her fire surged higher, but it didn't burn anything it wasn't meant to. The flames curved away from the shelves, the desks, even from Valen himself, though they licked dangerously close to his skin. A deadly dance, perfectly controlled.

Valen's magic responded, his shadows unfurling like dark wings behind him, stretching to meet her fire. They didn't attack. They waited. Just like him.

The magic between them crackled, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate. Bloom's mind screamed to step back, to smother the fire, to end whatever this was, but her heart wouldn't listen.

Valen took a slow step forward. The fire parted for him, letting him come close enough that Bloom could feel the cold of his magic against her skin.

"Tell me," he said, voice like smoke. "Are you angry because of what I did to the prince? Or because of what I did to you?"

Bloom's flames flared, a sudden flash of heat that sent his shadows rippling back, but still, not a single thing burned.

Her voice was a rasp. "Don't flatter yourself."

Valen's smirk deepened. "Too late."

They stood there, fire and shadow coiling and twisting around each other, so close their magic touched, so close their lips nearly did too.

But the only thing that burned... was the space between them.

The fire parted for him, but just barely. His presence loomed larger than it had any right to, his magic brushing against her skin like an uninvited lover, cold and unsettling, yet strangely inviting.

"You're close, Bloom," he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp. "I can feel it. You want to let go. You want to feel it again."

Her breath caught in her throat. He was right.

"Don't tell me what I want," she whispered, her voice rough with the weight of something she couldn't deny.

Valen's lips quirked, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, but I know exactly what you want."

And just like that, everything in the room shifted. The tension between them snapped, raw and electric, like the brush of flames against skin.

Without warning, she surged forward, the fire in her palm flaring as if it had a mind of its own, crackling and snapping in the space between them. Valen responded instantly, his shadow magic snapping out, twisting around her wrist, pinning her in place with the cold weight of it.

His grip on her was firm, but not painful, just enough to hold her in place.

His shadows tightened around her wrist, dragging her closer, until they were almost chest to chest, their magic a wild storm around them. She could feel his body against hers, the heat of her fire clashing with the cold of his darkness.

He leaned in, his lips brushing just under her ear, voice a seductive rasp. "Darling, let me feel everything."

The words sent a shock through her, and for a moment, she almost lost herself. The flames pulsed, wild and uncontrolled, desperate to break free, to engulf everything in its path.

Her magic surged with a force that knocked the air from her lungs. The fire exploded in all directions, a wave of molten gold. Valen's shadow magic surged to meet hers, but the collision of the two forces - fire and darkness - shook the room with a violent force.

For a moment, they were lost in the fury of their magic, both of them barely holding on, their faces inches apart as the world around them shattered into light and shadow.

Bloom's heart pounded, each beat a battle in itself, her chest heaving with the effort of holding back the storm inside her.

But Valen was everywhere. His shadows wrapped around her, pinning her in place, dragging her closer, until they were chest to chest, so close she could feel the cold of his magic seeping into her bones, even as her own fire flared around them like a dangerous halo.

He was pushing her. Challenging her. And despite everything, despite the fury in her blood, despite the tension straining her control, she wanted... wanted it. Wanted him.

His shadows tightened, the cold bite of them contrasting with the heat in her veins. And then he touched her.

And that was the final snap. Her control shattered.

The next moment, Valen's hands were on her neck. Not harshly, but with a deliberate, almost tender grip, his thumbs brushing against the delicate skin beneath her jaw, tilting her head back with an ease that sent a shiver down her spine.

His gloves were cold, and yet, she felt the warmth of his fingers radiating through them, and it made her entire body burn with a need she had been ignoring.

She wanted him to hold her, to control her, to keep her close.

For a moment, everything was still. The fire at her fingertips, the shadows around them, the world beyond them... it all faded. She could feel his breath against her skin, could sense the pull between them, like the earth itself was bending around them, waiting.

His lips hovered just above hers, the brush of his breath teasing, his dark eyes locked onto hers with a challenge that seared through the haze of her magic. She felt her body tremble, the need for him so overwhelming it made her knees weak.

"Tell me, Bloom, my darling," Valen whispered, his voice a delicious rasp that sent a shiver down her spine, "Do you want to burn me?"

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was thick with everything she had been fighting. "I don't want to burn you, Valen," she said, her voice low, just for him. "I want to burn with you."

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She couldn't stop it, not anymore. With a fierce, burning need, she crashed her lips into his.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, like two souls that had been starved of each other for too long.

Her magic flared to life in the kiss, surging, wild and uncontrolled, as if the fire inside her finally matched the inferno that had been smoldering between them. His shadows swallowed her, pulling her deeper into the kiss, his hands still holding her, but now his touch was no longer cold, it burned.

Their lips moved together with frantic. She could taste the tension in him, the raw desire he'd been hiding behind his smug smirks and teasing words. She kissed him harder, with all the anger, all the frustration that had been building between them, but also something else. Something hotter. Something delirious.

Valen responded in kind, his mouth claiming hers with equal fervor, his kiss searing, his tongue tracing the line of her lips with such intensity that it made her knees buckle, but he held her up, his body pressing closer, the heat of their magic mixing, clashing, and finally melding.

The fire she'd been holding back burned in her chest, a heat so fierce it made her skin tingle, but it wasn't just the power that made her heart race. It was him. His kiss, his touch, the pull of him that she couldn't fight anymore.

She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging him closer, her body arching into his, heat pooling between her legs in a way that made her breath hitch. Her fire was alive, roaring at the edges of her control, but it didn't matter anymore. She wanted him to feel it. Wanted him to know the power of it, the heat, the wild, dangerous desire that had been simmering for so long.

Valen's growl against her lips sent a shiver down her spine, and he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to her back, pulling her even closer, the world around them fading as if nothing else mattered.

It wasn't about power anymore. It wasn't about fire or magic. It was just them. Just this kiss.

And for once, Bloom didn't hold back. She let herself feel everything - the raw, searing heat, the pulsing desire that had been building for so long, the magnetic pull between them that neither of them could deny.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, their faces were mere inches apart, their lips swollen, their breaths ragged.

Valen's eyes burned with something dangerous, something she knew all too well. But there was something else there now too. Satisfaction.

His lips quirked upward, his gaze dark and knowing, as if he could taste the storm inside her, feel it swirling just beneath the surface. He didn't speak right away.

Instead, he pressed his forehead gently against hers, his breath warm and heavy, mingling with hers in the space between their lips.

"You can't deny it," he whispered, the words both a promise and a challenge, thick with desire. "Not anymore."

Bloom's heart pounded against her rib-cage, each beat echoing the wild thrum of their magic. Her body still buzzed with the remnants of the kiss, the heat that had pooled in her veins now spreading everywhere, leaving her weak and dizzy.

She didn't know whether to curse him or pull him in closer, and the confusing mixture of emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

She shoved against his chest, just enough to put space between them, though it was only a moment before she was drowning in his presence again.

"I hate you," she spat, the words bitter on her tongue. She could feel the lie crawling out of her, but she needed to say it, needed him to believe it, to give her back some of the control she was losing.

Valen's lips twitched with a devilish smirk, and his voice dropped lower, rougher. 

"You lie so beautifully, my darling," he breathed, his hands sliding to her waist, pulling her back against him with effortless strength.

Her breath caught, the lie no longer holding the weight it once had. His touch felt like fire and shadows, and everything inside her screamed to let go. To stop fighting. But the war raged on inside her, a battle she wasn't sure she could win.

"You hate that you want me," he murmured, his lips grazing her earlobe before he kissed the sensitive skin of her neck. "You hate that no matter how hard you try to fight it, your body betrays you."

She couldn't speak, couldn't move, her body betraying her in ways she couldn't explain. The heat inside her, the fire, it wasn't just magic anymore - it was desire.

Valen's lips hovered above hers, teasing, daring her to take the next step, daring her to admit the truth. "Say it, Bloom," he murmured, his voice like silk and smoke. "Say you want me."

He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in a slow, steady rhythm. For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of everything between them hanging heavy in the air.

"You're mine, Bloom," Valen murmured, the words like a quiet promise, thick with something more.

She felt his hands slide down her arms, his fingers brushing against her skin with a tenderness that felt completely out of place, given the storm that had just passed between them.

Her breath caught, her mind reeling from the kiss, from the emotions swirling inside her. She didn't know what to say, what to do.

Bloom's hands trembled as she pulled away slightly, trying to put some distance between them, but it was useless. She was already too far gone. Her mind screamed for clarity, but her body... her body betrayed her, heart and soul tangled in the storm they had just created.

"I don't belong to you," she breathed, though even she could hear the doubt in her own voice. But she needed to say it. She needed to keep that sliver of defiance, that last thread of control.

But Valen didn't flinch. Instead, his smirk deepened, his hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her back against him with gentle insistence.

"Say that again," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice low, seductive. "But this time, I want you to mean it."

Bloom's heart raced, every beat louder than the last, a steady rhythm of resistance and surrender fighting inside her.

The air between them crackled with energy, charged with the fire of their magic and the undeniable pull between them. Her hands were still trembling, her breath unsteady, and yet, as much as she tried to push against him, the storm inside her raged, tugging her closer to him with every passing second.

His fingers, warm and sure, traced the curve of her waist, and she felt the raw power in his touch, the dark intensity that simmered beneath the surface. She closed her eyes, struggling to find her footing, her words caught in her throat.

The heat between them was suffocating now, the shadows of his magic pressing down on her, weaving through her own flames like they belonged together.

"I don't belong to you," she repeated, more quietly this time, though the words felt hollow on her lips.

Valen chuckled softly, a dark sound that made her pulse skip. His hands moved to the back of her neck, tilting her head to meet his gaze, his eyes alight with something dangerous, something tempting. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her skin, and she could feel the heat building between them once again.

"Say it again, darling," he urged, his voice low, dripping with something almost indulgent, as if he was savoring her struggle. "Make me believe it."

She could feel the weight of his words, could feel how they dug into her, how the truth she had been holding onto - her pride, her defiance, her freedom - was slipping away, little by little. She was sinking, and no matter how hard she fought, she didn't know if she could stop it.

His lips brushed against her neck, and a tremor ran through her, her body betraying her again. Her fire swirled, fierce and untamed, but it wasn't enough to push him away. Not now.

"I don't belong to you," she whispered, though it was weak, her voice barely audible.

Valen didn't stop. He kissed her neck again, slowly, as if savoring every moment. The soft press of his lips was more tormenting than any words he could have spoken, his touch igniting something inside her that she couldn't control, something that made her pulse race and her breath hitch.

"Bloom, my darling," he breathed, his voice raw, "You're mine, just as much as I'm yours. You can fight it all you want, but in the end, it's inevitable."

Her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to block out the intensity of his words, the deep, aching truth of them that made everything inside her twist with something dangerous, something far too real. The part of her that had always fought so hard against him was crumbling, dissolving in the heat of this moment.

But she couldn't let go. She couldn't give in completely, not yet.

"I don't belong to you," she rasped, the last shred of defiance clinging to her like a lifeline.

Valen's lips found hers again, silencing her, quieting her fight.

It was a kiss that spoke of possession and longing, of promises and challenges. His hands slipped to the back of her head, holding her steady as the kiss deepened, as he pulled her closer, impossibly closer, until she could feel his heartbeat against her own.

When they broke apart, her chest heaving, her mind dizzy, Valen's expression was a mix of satisfaction and something darker, something that made her stomach tighten with both fear and anticipation.

"You're still lying to yourself, Bloom," he whispered, his voice like smoke, thick with the heat of everything they had just shared.

Her breath caught, and she couldn't find the words to respond. She wanted to argue, wanted to fight, but her body wasn't listening. And she wasn't sure she wanted it to.

His thumb stroked the side of her face, and for a moment, everything felt like it might slip into something softer, something more intimate than she'd ever imagined.

But then, just as quickly, he pulled away, releasing her with a sharp breath. "You don't admit it yet, Bloom," he said, his voice quiet but commanding. "But soon. We both know it."

He stepped back, the space between them suddenly feeling like an ocean.

Bloom stood there, her heart pounding, her body burning with the aftershocks of their touch. She wanted to chase after him, wanted to close the distance between them, but she stayed still, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

"You will come to me when you're ready," Valen said, his voice a quiet promise, before he turned and walked away, his figure dissolving into the shadows, leaving her standing there, breathless, alone in the aftermath of everything that had just happened.

Chapter Text

The days since the confrontation with Sky and the explosive moment with Valen had passed in a strange, quiet blur. 

Too quiet, almost. Like the world around Bloom was holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

Her friends had been gentle with her, overly so. They spoke in hushed tones when they thought she couldn't hear, throwing each other meaningful looks whenever she entered a room. 

Stella had taken it upon herself to be Bloom's constant shadow, always ready with a warm smile or a comforting touch on her arm. Layla had kept offering to train with her - a way to release her "heartbreak energy," as she had put it. 

Even Musa and Tecna, not ones for overt displays of affection, had made sure to remind Bloom, more than once, that they were there for her. Always.

They thought she was grieving the end of her relationship with Sky.

In a way, she was. But not for the reasons they believed.

Her relationship with Sky had been a slow unraveling long before their confrontation. The fight that day - his accusations about Valen, about her priorities, about her heart - had only torn the last fragile threads apart. 

It had hurt, yes. But not in the way a love lost should have hurt.

No, what had kept Bloom awake at night since then, what had burned behind her ribs like an untamed flame, was Valen.

The memory of his touch, his kiss, his voice - a low rasp threading through her mind like a spell she couldn't break. The way he had provoked her, challenged her, and then kissed her like he was claiming her, like she was his and he was hers, and there was no line between anger and desire. 

It had been a storm - violent and chaotic - but now that the storm had passed, Bloom was left in the uneasy silence.

Valen, too, had kept his distance.

Not that it mattered. Because even when he wasn't near her, Bloom could feel him. His presence haunted the edges of her awareness, his gaze a lingering heat against her skin, a flame she couldn't put out. 

He didn't speak to her beyond their usual professor-student exchanges - sharp, clipped words about magical theory or elemental control - but his silence spoke louder than any lecture ever could. 

And sometimes, when he thought she wasn't looking, she felt him watching her. Not with the cold detachment of a mentor, but with the smoldering intensity of something much more dangerous.

Maybe she should have been afraid. Maybe she should have wanted to run.

Instead, Bloom found herself standing at the edge of something unknown, and rather than stepping back, she kept inching closer.

And in the quiet of those days, she had finally allowed herself to think. 

Not just about Valen. About everything else as well.

Her birth, how the truth of her origin had shattered her world and yet, somehow, pieced her together in ways she hadn't expected.

Her sister, Daphne - a bond discovered too late, yet burning with a fierce love that grew stronger with each passing day.

As the days passed, Bloom realized that the silence around her wasn't just the world waiting.

It was her. Waiting for the moment she would finally step into the fire and stop pretending she didn't want to burn.

And that's the reason why, when she saw Headmistress Faragonda on her way to the library, the words left Bloom's lips before she could stop them.

"Miss Faragonda," she said, her voice steadier than she felt, "do you have a moment?"

Faragonda turned, the soft lines around her eyes crinkling ever so slightly as she regarded Bloom with a quiet sort of kindness. "Of course, Bloom," she said gently. "Is something the matter?"

Bloom's heart pounded, her pulse an erratic rhythm beneath her ribs. She hadn't planned this, hadn't even thought about what exactly she wanted to say, only that the weight of everything had grown too heavy to carry alone.

"I-" Bloom paused, her fingers tightening around the worn edges of her textbook. "I need to talk to you. About... something."

Faragonda studied her for a moment, her gaze as sharp as it was soft, and then gave a small nod. "Come," she said, turning on her heel. "Let's go somewhere more private."

The walk to the headmistress's office was a blur. Bloom's mind spun with everything she wanted, needed, to say.

Once inside the office, Faragonda gestured for Bloom to sit. The room smelled of old books and fresh tea, the walls lined with ancient tomes and softly glowing artifacts. It was a space of knowledge, of history, and Bloom immediately felt more at ease than she had just moments ago. 

The headmistress settled into the chair across from her, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Speak freely, Bloom," she said, her voice calm, steady. "What's on your mind?"

For a long moment, Bloom didn't speak. The words pressed against the back of her teeth, desperate to escape, but she didn't know where to begin. Every tick of the ancient clock on the wall seemed to echo louder than it should, each second pulling at the tangled mess inside her.

Finally, she drew a shaky breath.

Bloom's fingers tightened around the hem of her skirt, knuckles pale. "I don't really know where to start," she admitted, her voice a whisper.

Faragonda gave a soft nod, a silent invitation to go on.

Bloom swallowed. "After... after we found out about the Dragon Flame - during my first test in the simulator - I started researching it. About the flame. About the Great Dragon."

Faragonda's expression didn't change, but there was a shift in the air, a slight weight settling between them. "That is only natural," the headmistress said softly. "Understanding the source of your power is part of understanding yourself."

Bloom nodded, a thread of confidence stitching itself into her words. "At first, it was just curiosity. I wanted to know why I was different, why my magic felt so..." She hesitated, searching for the right word. "Alive. But the more I read, the more I realized there was so much I didn't know. Not just about the Dragon Flame, but about the ones who came before me."

Faragonda's gaze sharpened ever so slightly. "The Nymphs of Magix."

Bloom's heart pounded at the name. "Yes," she breathed. "I found out that they were the guardians of the Dragon Flame. That the last guardian was a princess." She paused, her throat tight. "Daphne of Domino."

Faragonda's expression remained calm, but Bloom caught the flicker of something in her eyes -sadness, perhaps, or even guilt. "Daphne was a great protector," Faragonda said quietly. "A princess not only of Domino but of immense courage and strength. She bore the Dragon Flame with honor, just as you do now."

Bloom's chest tightened, her voice trembling as she continued. "But it's not just about what I've read, Faragonda. It's... it's about what I've been seeing. For months now, I've been having these dreams. Dreams about Daphne."

Faragonda's brow furrowed slightly, her hands folding neatly on her desk as she leaned forward, her full attention now on Bloom. "Dreams? What kind of dreams?"

Bloom's gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers twisting nervously. "At first, they were just flashes. I'd see her standing in this... this endless field of light, her hair flowing like water, her eyes so full of sadness. She'd call my name, but I could never reach her. I'd wake up before I could even try." 

She paused, her voice cracking. "I didn't know what they meant. I thought maybe it was just my mind trying to make sense of everything - of the Dragon Flame, of my powers, of who I am. But then..."

Faragonda's voice was firm. "But then what, Bloom?"

Bloom looked up, her eyes glistening with tears. "During the second test in the simulator, I saw her again. This time, it wasn't just a dream. It felt real. She was there, standing in front of me, clearer than she's ever been. And she... she spoke to me."

Faragonda's expression shifted, a flicker of surprise breaking through her calm demeanor. "What did she say?"

Bloom's voice was barely above a whisper. "She told me to find her. She said, 'Find me at the lake.' And then, just after I woke up, I remembered something. Something I'd read in one of the books about the Nymphs. It said that their true home was at the bottom of Lake Roccaluce."

The room fell silent, the weight of Bloom's words hanging heavily in the air. 

Faragonda's gaze softened, a deep sadness settling in her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. For a long moment, she said nothing, her fingers steepled in front of her as she seemed to gather her thoughts.

"Lake Roccaluce," Faragonda finally said, her voice hard. "It is a place of great power, Bloom. A place where the veil between worlds is said to be thinnest."

Bloom hesitated, her fingers twisting tighter in the fabric of her skirt. 

She could feel Faragonda's eyes on her, impatient and piercing, as if the headmistress already sensed there was more to the story. The air in the room felt heavier now, charged with unspoken words. Bloom took a deep breath, her voice barely audible as she finally spoke again.

"That's... not everything," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Faragonda's eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "Oh?" she said, her tone calm. "What else is there, Bloom?"

Bloom swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. "I... I went to the lake. A few days ago. I couldn't wait. I had to know if she was really there."

Faragonda's eyes widened, her composed demeanor faltering for the first time. "You went to Lake Roccaluce? Alone?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Bloom nodded, her cheeks flushing with a mix of guilt and defiance. "I had to, headmistress. I couldn't ignore her call anymore."

The room seemed to grow colder, the weight of Bloom's confession pressing down on them both. Faragonda leaned forward. "Bloom, Lake Roccaluce is a place of immense magic, but it is also dangerous. You shouldn't have gone alone. What if something had happened to you?"

Bloom's voice trembled, but she held her ground. "I know it was risky, but I couldn't wait. And... and I'm glad I went. Because when I got there... I found her. Daphne. She was there, waiting for me. She was real."

Faragonda's expression softened, though her displeasure was still evident. "What happened when you saw her?"

Bloom's breath hitched, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words. How could she explain something that still felt so surreal, so life-altering? She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to speak.

"She... she talked to me," Bloom finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "She told me things... things I never could have imagined. Things that change everything."

Faragonda's gaze was steady, but there was a flicker in her eyes - anticipation, perhaps, or even fear. "What did she tell you, Bloom?"

Bloom's throat felt dry, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Faragonda could hear it. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage, and when she opened them again, her voice was stronger, more resolute.

"She told me... she told me that she's my sister," Bloom said, the words hanging in the air like a spell. "And that I'm... I'm the last member of the royal family of Domino."

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Faragonda's face went pale, her usual composure shattered as she stared at Bloom, her lips parting slightly as if to speak but no words came out. For a moment, it seemed as though the room itself had frozen, the weight of Bloom's revelation settling over them like a storm.

"Your... sister?" Faragonda finally managed, her voice barely audible. "The royal family of Domino?"

Bloom nodded, tears welling in her eyes as the reality of it all crashed over her once more. "Yes. Daphne said that our mother, Queen Marion, was pregnant when the witches attacked Domino. She went into labor during the chaos, and..." 

Bloom paused, her voice faltering as she struggled to say the words. "And I am that child. I was born on the day Domino fell."

Faragonda went completely still, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she seemed unable to speak, her eyes locked on Bloom's as if seeing her for the first time. "Marion was pregnant," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I... I remember that. But I thought... I thought the child had died with her."

Bloom nodded, her heart aching at the pain in Faragonda's voice. "So did everyone else. But Daphne saved me. She used the last of her power to send me away, to Earth, to keep me safe. She told me that our mother... that she..." 

Bloom's voice broke, and she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. She couldn't tell Faragonda the full truth, not yet. Not about being stillborn, not about the Heartstone, not about Daphne's ultimate sacrifice. That was a secret she wasn't ready to share.

Faragonda leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of her desk as if to steady herself.

"Bloom, this changes everything. If you are the child of Marion and Oritel, then you are not just the last member of the royal family... you are the rightful heir to the throne of Domino."

Faragonda rose from her seat, her movements slow and deliberate as she rounded the desk and placed a gentle hand on Bloom's shoulder. 

Bloom looked up at Faragonda, her vision blurred by tears, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. The weight of Faragonda's words settled heavily on her shoulders, but the warmth of the headmistress's hand grounded her, reminding her that she wasn't alone.

"I don't know if I can do this," Bloom whispered, her voice trembling. "I've spent my whole life thinking I was just... ordinary. And now... now I'm supposed to be the heir to a kingdom that doesn't even exist anymore."

Faragonda's expression softened, her eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and resolve.

"Bloom, you are anything but ordinary. You've faced challenges that would have broken others, and you've done so with courage and strength. You've carried the Dragon Flame within you, not just as a power, but as a responsibility, and you've never shied away from it. That is the mark of a true leader."

Bloom shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "But I didn't know, Faragonda. I didn't know any of this. I didn't know about Domino, about Daphne, about my parents... I didn't even know who I really was."

"You don't have to have all the answers right now, Bloom. This is a journey, and it's one you don't have to take alone. You have your friends, your family, and me. We will help you every step of the way."

Bloom's breath hitched, and she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "But what if I'm not enough? What if I fail them... fail Daphne, fail my parents, fail Domino?"

Faragonda's gaze was steady, her voice firm but kind. "You are enough, Bloom. You always have been. And you won't fail them. You carry the Dragon Flame, the very essence of creation and life. And you have already proven, time and time again, that you are capable of incredible things."

Bloom's chest tightened, and she looked down at her hands, the faint glow of her Dragon Flame flickering at her fingertips. "I just... I don't know where to start."

Faragonda smiled gently. "You've already started, Bloom. By coming here, by sharing this with me, you've taken the first step."

She took a deep breath, her voice soft but steady as she looked up at Faragonda. "I want to learn. I need to understand... everything. About my family, about Domino, about what happened that day."

Faragonda's expression shifted, a shadow passing over her features as if a memory had surfaced, unbidden. She hesitated, her hands clasping tightly in front of her. "Bloom, some things are... difficult to revisit. The fall of Domino was a dark day, one that many of us would rather forget."

Bloom's heart ached at the pain in Faragonda's voice, but she couldn't let the moment pass. "I know it's hard," she said gently. "But I need to know. Daphne told me some of it, but... she couldn't tell me everything. And I think... I think you were there that day, weren't you?"

Faragonda's eyes widening slightly before she looked away. For a moment, she seemed to retreat into herself, her usual composure faltering. "Yes," she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was there."

Bloom's chest tightened, her hands trembling as she reached out instinctively, then pulled back, unsure. "Will you tell me about it? Please? I need to know what happened. Not just for me, but for them..."

Faragonda was silent for a long moment, her gaze distant, as if she were staring into the past. When she finally spoke, her voice was heavy with emotion. "It's not an easy story to tell, Bloom. And it's not one I've shared with many. But... if you're ready to hear it, I will tell you."

Bloom nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm ready."

Faragonda took a deep breath, her hands clasping tighter as if to steady herself. "The day the three Ancient Witches attacked Domino was a day of unimaginable horror. They came without warning, their power unlike anything we had ever seen. The skies turned black, and the air was filled with the screams of the innocent. Your parents, King Oritel and Queen Marion, fought bravely to protect their people, but the witches were relentless."

Bloom's breath hitched, her eyes glued to Faragonda's face as the headmistress continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I was there as part of a delegation from Magix. We had come to discuss an alliance, to strengthen the bonds between our worlds. But when the attack began, there was no time for diplomacy. We fought alongside the people of Domino, but it wasn't enough. The witches were too powerful."

Tears welled in Bloom's eyes as she listened, her heart breaking for the parents she had never known, for the sister who had sacrificed everything to save her. "What... what happened to my parents?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Faragonda looked away, her voice clipped. "Your father, King Oritel, fought valiantly to protect your mother and the people of Domino. But the witches... they overwhelmed him. Your mother, Queen Marion, was pregnant with you at the time..." 

Faragonda took a moment to compose herself, before she said. "The witches showed her no mercy."

Bloom's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought back tears. "And Daphne?"

Faragonda's expression softened, a flicker of admiration breaking through her grief. "Daphne was a warrior, Bloom. She fought with everything she had to protect her people and your parents. But in the end, even she couldn't stop the witches. And then... she was gone."

The room fell silent, the weight of Faragonda's words hanging heavily in the air. Bloom's chest ached with a mixture of grief and gratitude - grief for the family she had lost, and gratitude for the sister who had given everything to save her.

"I didn't know," Faragonda said softly, her voice filled with regret. "I didn't know that Marion's baby had survived. None of us did. We thought... we thought you were lost with your parents and Daphne. If I had known, I would have done everything in my power to find you, to bring you back."

Bloom's tears spilled over, and she reached out, taking Faragonda's hand in hers. "You couldn't have known," she said gently.

Bloom's voice trembled as she continued, her grip on Faragonda's hand tightening. "I want to know more. Not just about my parents and Daphne, but about everything. About the witches.... and... what was the curse that destroyed Domino?"

Faragonda's hand tightened around Bloom's. For a long moment, neither spoke, the only sound in the room the soft, steady rhythm of their breathing.

Then, in a voice that seemed to carry the weight of centuries, Faragonda finally broke the silence. "There's more you need to understand, Bloom. It wasn't just an attack on Domino... it was an assault on the very heart of magic itself."

Bloom's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Faragonda's gaze drifted to the window, as though she could still see the frozen ruins of Domino in her mind's eye. "The three Ancestral Witches were born of the darkness. They were powerful sorceresses who coveted the Dragon Flame, the very source of the Great Dragon's power. That flame, Bloom, is more than just magic. It is life, creation, and the essence of the universe itself."

Bloom's heart raced. "The Great Dragon rests on Domino," Bloom whispered, "Is that why the witches attacked?"

Faragonda nodded solemnly. "Yes and no. They believed that by seizing the Dragon Flame, they could reshape the universe to their will. But they knew the flame was guarded by Daphne, the last nymph of Domino and the rightful guardian of the Dragon Flame. Your sister."

Bloom swallowed hard, her mind spinning. "So they came for the Dragon Flame... and for Daphne?"

Faragonda's lips pressed into a thin line. "Their magic was dark, ancient, and relentless. It corrupted everything it touched."

Bloom's heart raced as she listened, her mind painting vivid images of the battle. "But the books said the Company of Light defeated the witches. You were part of that, weren't you?"

Faragonda nodded, her expression grim. "Yes, I was. The Company of Light was formed in desperation, a union of the most powerful magicians across the realms. Your parents fought alongside us, as did Daphne, but even together, it was a brutal and devastating battle. The witches were not just powerful... they were cunning. They knew how to exploit fear, how to turn hope into despair."

Bloom's voice was barely a whisper. "What happened to the Ancestresses? How did they... did they fall?"

Faragonda sighed, "We gave everything we had to drive the witches back. But before we could banish them back into the darkness, they unleashed a terrible curse."

Bloom closed her eyes, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it spoken aloud. "The curse that froze Domino."

Faragonda's voice broke like a whisper of wind through snow. "Yes. As they vanished into the void, they called upon the coldest, most lifeless magic imaginable. It swept across Domino like a storm, freezing everything in its path. The land, the people, the very air... all of it was encased in ice and snow. No life could survive it. No warmth, no magic, just endless winter. It was their final act of vengeance."

Tears blurred Bloom's vision. She had read of the frozen wasteland of her home-world in the books, but hearing the story from someone who had lived through it - someone who had fought beside her family - made it all the more real.

Silence settled between them again, but this time, it was Bloom who broke it. "Headmistress... there's something else," she remembered, her voice hesitant. "In one of the books I read about the Ancestresses, there was mention of... someone. A wizard they created. His name was Valtor."

Faragonda's jaw tightened, a shadow flickering across her face. "Yes," she murmured, her tone grave. "Valtor was their creation, a dark sorcerer born of their magic, molded to carry out their every dark bidding. He was powerful, cunning, and cruel."

Bloom's brow furrowed deeper. "But... he wasn't mentioned in the accounts of Domino's fall. I thought he was part of their attack."

Faragonda's gaze grew distant again, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest of her chair. "He was there, Bloom. Valtor fought alongside the Ancestresses when they attacked Domino, but his role in the battle was cut short."

Bloom leaned forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean?"

Faragonda's gaze grew distant, as if she were reliving the events of that terrible day. "Valtor was powerful, yes, but he was also... expendable. The Ancestresses liked to use him as a weapon, a tool to carry out their will. But he was not their equal. He was a servant, bound to their commands."

Bloom's brow furrowed. "So, why wasn't he mentioned in the books? Did he vanish with the Ancestresses?"

Faragonda's voice was heavy with regret. "No, he was defeated early on. The Company of Light managed to overpower him and banish him to the Omega prison. He was sent there before the final confrontation with the Ancestral Witches, before the curse was cast. He didn't see the end of Domino. He didn't witness the full extent of their destruction."

Bloom's chest tightened, her mind racing with questions. "But... if he was banished, does that mean he's still there? In the Omega Dimension?"

Faragonda hesitated, her expression unreadable. "The Omega Dimension is a place of no return, Bloom. It was designed to hold the most dangerous beings in the universe, those who could not be allowed to roam free. Valtor was sent there, and to this day, he remains there. No one has ever escaped that prison."

Bloom's mind whirled, pieces of the puzzle clicking together. "So he didn't see what really happened," she whispered. "He was gone before the Ancestresses unleashed the curse."

Faragonda's eyes darkened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "It was not an easy victory. Valtor was a formidable opponent. But it was your father, King Oritel, who delivered the final blow, to weaken Valtor enough for us to banish him."

Bloom's breath hitched at the mention of her father. "My father... he fought Valtor directly?"

Faragonda's expression softened, a flicker of admiration breaking through her grief. "Yes. Your father was a warrior unlike any other. His courage and strength were unmatched."

"I wish I could have known him," Bloom whispered. "I wish I could have seen him fight."

Faragonda reached out, placing a gentle hand on Bloom's shoulder. "You carry his spirit within you, Bloom. His courage, his strength, his unwavering determination, they live on in you. And though you may not have known him, you honor him every day by standing tall, by fighting for what is right."

Bloom's hands trembled as she wiped the last of her tears. "Thank you, Faragonda. For telling me the truth. For believing in me."

Faragonda squeezed her hand gently. "Always, Bloom. Always."

Chapter Text

Bloom's days melted into a routine of lectures, assignments, and the steady hum of the school's usual bustle. 

Each hour seemed to race ahead of the last, like pages turning in a book she couldn't put down, no matter how hard she tried. But there was a sense of relief now, a lightness in her heart that had been absent for so long. 

It wasn't that the weight of her past had disappeared completely, but after her conversation with Headmistress Faragonda, Bloom felt like she had a clearer understanding of herself, of what she had lost, and what she still had. 

It didn't feel like she was drowning anymore. It felt more like the current had calmed enough that she could float, even if the waves of grief were still there, just beneath the surface.

And Alfea had returned to its familiar rhythm. Classes were tougher, especially for the third-years who were now preparing to graduate. 

The professors pushed them harder, expecting more as the end of the year approached, but Bloom didn't mind, even the toughest tests didn't seem as daunting as they once had.

Her newfound knowledge about her origins, her identity as the last survivor of Domino, was still a source of quiet sorrow, but it had stopped feeling like an ache. She had learned to carry it, to honor the memory of her parents, her home. 

But there was one thing that still nagged at her, a constant pull at the back of her mind, a question that lingered like an unanswered prayer.

Enchantix.

The transformation was something every fairy dreamed of, a sign of maturity, of having mastered their powers and proven their strength. Bloom had always hoped she would earn it, that she would reach that final level of fairy power. 

But Daphne's words had shattered that dream. The only way to achieve Enchantix was by saving someone from your own world. That was the key.

And now, with Domino gone, Bloom realized that she would never be able to achieve that transformation. There was no one left from her world to save.

The thought gnawed at her. For all the magic in her, for all the strength she had, there would always be a part of her that would never feel whole, a part of her that would never be able to complete the fairy journey like the others.

And it wasn’t just about power. It was about belonging. About standing beside her friends, their wings spread wide, their Enchantix forms glowing like constellations, while she remained stuck, forever a step behind.

She could already picture it: Stella radiant, Flora serene, Musa fierce, Tecna resolute, Layla unstoppable - and Bloom… incomplete.

The Dragon Flame burned within her, ancient and untamed, but it couldn’t give her what she truly wanted.

It couldn’t silence the voice in her head whispering that no matter how hard she fought, she would always be an outsider, not just to the Magic Dimension, but to herself.

Because how could she ever feel like a true fairy if she could never become one in full?

The soft murmur of students flowing out of the potionology lecture hall barely registered in Bloom's mind as she gathered her books and bag, her thoughts already miles ahead, consumed with one thing: training.

Since the start of the semester, her anxiety had been building with every passing day, especially as the promise of their next training session loomed closer. It wasn't just the pressure of getting back to her practice with him. It was the undercurrent of tension that had been simmering between them since that disastrous conversation. 

The one where, after trying to confront him about his behavior during her argument with Sky, she had only managed to explode with anger, her frustration bubbling over into a kiss that still haunted her.

Her heart hammered in her chest at the memory. 

That kiss... it hadn't been planned. In fact, she hadn't wanted it to happen at all. All she had wanted was to confront him, to make him understand how his actions had affected her, to draw some boundary between them. 

But instead, she had given in to the rush of emotions and fiery desire that Valen seemed to pull from her without effort. It had felt like an explosion in her chest - one moment filled with anger, and the next filled with an undeniable longing.

Afterward, Valen had given her the space she needed, the distance he had promised. And yet, she knew that now it was time.

Bloom paused at the door of the potionology hall, the voices of her classmates fading behind her as she glanced down at the small, folded piece of paper that had materialized in front of her just moments ago. 

The paper was simple, the ink perfectly scrawled in that annoyingly beautiful, familiar script that she would recognize anywhere.

Be in the training hall in 30 minutes. And don't be late.

She exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the edges of the paper as the words burned into her mind. There was no room for doubt. This was it. Their training would begin again. The clock was ticking, and she had no choice but to face what came next.

She knew Valen would be relentless. After all, she had defeated him twice before, before the semester break. Those victories had been hard-won, and she had known from the start that he wouldn't let them slide. 

No, he would push her harder, make her fight even more fiercely, both to prove her worth and to force her to grow. And he was good at it. Too good.

Bloom's footsteps echoed through the empty corridors as she made her way to the training hall, her heart pounding with every step. 

The note in her hand felt like a weight, a reminder of the tension that had been building between her and Valen for weeks. She couldn't shake the memory of their last encounter - the anger, the heat, the kiss that had left her breathless and confused. And now, here she was, walking straight back into the fire.

When she pushed open the heavy doors to the training hall, the first thing she noticed was the silence. The room was empty except for Valen, who stood in the center, his back to her, his posture relaxed but unmistakably alert. 

His dark coat was gone this time, replaced by a tight white shirt that clung to every muscle, every line of his toned torso. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms dusted with faint scars that told stories she was far too curious to hear. 

His pale hair was messier than usual, as though he had just woken up and couldn't be bothered to care about its perfection. The sight of him sent a familiar heat coursing through her, but she didn't give in to it.

He didn't turn as she entered, but she knew he was aware of her presence. Valen always knew.

"Took you long enough," he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the stillness of the room. 

"You said thirty minutes," Bloom's jaw tightened as she stepped further inside, letting the doors swing shut behind her. "It's been twenty-nine."

Valen finally turned to face her, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Close enough. I was starting to think you'd lost your nerve."

Bloom crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "No, unlike some people, I don't run from a fight."

The smirk on Valen's face deepened, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes - something that made Bloom's stomach twist. "Is that what you think I do? Run?"

Bloom held his gaze, refusing to back down. "You tell me. You're the one who's been avoiding me since... since that day."

Valen's expression didn't change, but she saw the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands flexed at his sides. "I wasn't avoiding you. I was giving you space. You made it pretty clear you needed it."

Bloom's cheeks flushed, but she refused to let him see how much his words affected her. "I didn't need space. I needed answers. But you're not exactly great at giving those, are you?"

Valen took a step closer, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers. "And what answers do you want, Bloom? What is it you think I owe you?"

Bloom's breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, his presence overwhelming. She forced herself to stand her ground, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. 

"You owe me the truth. About why you've been acting so... so strange. About why you keep pulling me close, just to push me away again."

Valen's smirk faded, replaced by something more serious, more intense. "Oh, really?"

Bloom's heart raced, but she didn't look away. "I think you're scared. Scared of what might happen if you let yourself feel something for once."

For a moment, Valen didn't respond. He just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then tell me," Bloom shot back, her voice rising. "Tell me what I'm missing, because I'm tired of trying to figure you out. I'm tired of this... this game you keep playing."

Valen's eyes darkened, and he took another step closer, until they were standing mere inches apart. "You want the truth, Bloom? Fine. The truth is, you're dangerous. Not because of your magic, not because of the Dragon Flame. Because of this." 

He gestured between them, his voice low and rough. "Because every time I'm near you, I can't think straight. Because every time I look at you, I forget why I'm supposed to keep my distance."

Bloom's breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening at his words. She hadn't expected that. She hadn't expected him to be so... honest. "Valen..."

But before she could say more, he stepped back, his expression hardening once again. "But none of that matters. What matters is that you're here to train. So let's stop wasting time."

Bloom stared at him, her mind reeling. She wanted to push him, to demand more, but she could see the walls going back up, the mask slipping into place. And she knew that, for now, this was all she was going to get.

"Fine," she said, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside her. "Let's begin."

Valen nodded, his smirk returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good girl."

Before she could reply, he moved.

A sharp burst of shadow magic flew at her, fast and brutal. Bloom was ready, summoning her fire, the flames erupting from her hands in an instant, meeting his shadows with an explosive collision that sent sparks into the air.

But he was already gone. A shadow, just out of her reach.

"Predictable," he muttered, barely breaking a sweat.

Bloom's heart raced, the sharp edges of his criticism stinging more than the force of his attack. She wasn't going to let him get away with this, not today. Not when everything inside her was on fire.

She launched herself forward, her fire wrapping around her body like a second skin. Her movements were fluid, fast - not quite as graceful as his, but it didn't matter. She was ready to prove something. She swung her fist toward him, flames trailing in her wake.

Valen's reaction was immediate, but not quite what she expected. Instead of dodging, he caught her wrist mid-air, his fingers closing around her arm with surprising strength. Her breath hitched as their skin made contact.

She tried to twist away, but he pulled her in with a force that sent her off balance, her body pressed too close to his. She could feel the heat radiating from him, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Her fire sputtered, forgotten in the intensity of the moment.

"Getting desperate already?" His voice was low, just above a whisper, and it made her pulse race.

Bloom's mouth went dry, and she forced herself to look up into his eyes. The smirk was still there, that damn smirk, and it made her ache in ways she couldn't explain.

"I don't need to be desperate," she said, her voice barely steady. "I'm just warming up."

Before he could respond, she drove her knee into his abdomen with as much force as she could muster. The contact sent him stumbling back just far enough for her to regain her footing.

"Better," he muttered, eyes glinting with approval. "But you're too slow."

That was all it took. Bloom's patience snapped.

She moved like a blur, swinging her fist in a flurry of fire, launching attack after attack. Valen blocked, parried, but never seemed to break a sweat. He was always one step ahead, effortlessly avoiding her strikes. Every time she thought she had him, he was already gone, slipping through her grasp like smoke.

Her frustration bubbled up, hot and wild, and before she knew it, she was unleashing a wave of fire that filled the room, scorching the air. Valen didn't dodge this time. Instead, he met her flames head-on, his magic colliding with hers, creating an explosion of heat and light that made the ground beneath her tremble.

But it wasn't enough.

She lunged at him, reaching for that opening she knew was there. His grey eyes locked with hers as he tilted his head, his lips curling into that damnable smirk.

"You've been watching me closely," he said, voice rich with amusement.

Before she could react, he was upon her again, his movements too fast for her to predict. She barely had time to react when his hand closed around her wrist once more, spinning her around with a force that stole her breath. He didn't let go this time. His grip tightened, pulling her body against his, and she swore she could feel his heartbeat matching hers, erratic and fast.

"Did you think you could outpace me?" His words were slow, deliberate, his breath warm against her ear, sending a wave of heat crashing through her.

Bloom's heart skipped a beat. Her fire flickered, dimming just slightly under the intensity of his presence. She could feel every inch of his body against hers, the press of his chest, the flex of his muscles. There was nothing gentle in his hold - it was commanding, suffocating, and she could feel every single moment of it.

"I don't need to outpace you," she breathed, managing a forced grin. "I just need one good hit."

Valen's eyes narrowed, the amusement fading from his gaze. For a moment, she thought he might push her to the ground again, but then, in an instant, he pulled back, releasing her from his grip.

Bloom barely had time to adjust before he was moving again, faster, sharper, more relentless. Each strike he sent her way felt like a challenge, an invitation to prove herself, and every fiber of her being screamed to rise to it.

The air between them crackled, thick with magic, heat. And then, when it seemed like she couldn't take it anymore, like she might explode under the pressure, she found it.

The opening.

In a swift, desperate movement, she feigned a stumble - a moment of weakness. Valen, too confident, too quick to react, lunged. He was right where she needed him.

With a surge of fire, she blasted him back, hitting him square in the chest, sending him skidding across the floor.

For a moment, there was silence.

Bloom's chest heaved with the rush of victory, but even as she stood there, eyes wide, she couldn't bring herself to feel triumphant.

Valen didn't get up right away. Instead, he stayed on the floor, chest rising and falling with exertion, his hair disheveled and pale against the torchlight. His expression was unreadable.

Then, slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Well played," he said, voice thick with something she couldn't place.

Her breath caught, heart still racing. "I told you I was warming up."

Valen's lips quirked, and his gaze dropped to her lips for just a fraction of a second, long enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"Consider me thoroughly impressed," he murmured, finally pushing himself up.

Valen's movements were slower as he rose to his feet, a faint shadow of a smile playing at his lips, but his eyes, darker than before, told a different story. The line between combat and something else entirely blurred with every second they stood there, heat crackling in the space between them.

Bloom's flames still flickered along her fingertips, but her breathing was more ragged now, not just from the exertion of the fight. Her chest rose and fell in time with Valen's, both of them caught in a storm of magic and something far more dangerous.

He took a step forward.

She didn't move back.

"Is that all you've got?" Bloom taunted, the words sharper than intended, but her voice trembled just enough to give her away.

Valen tilted his head, his smile deepening. "Careful, Bloom," he said softly. "Challenge me again, and you might not like how I respond."

Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she clenched her fists tighter to steady herself. "Maybe that's exactly what I want."

For a split second, something flickered across Valen's face before it vanished behind that unshakable mask of his. His jaw tightened, and the tendrils of shadow magic creeping along the floor seemed to darken, stretching toward her like living things.

"Then prove me you can handle it," he said, his voice rough, and suddenly, he was moving again.

Faster this time.

Bloom barely had a moment to react before he was in front of her, a flash of dark magic slicing through the air. She threw up a wall of fire, the two forces colliding in an eruption of heat and smoke. The blast sent them both skidding back, but Valen recovered first, lunging through the dissipating flames.

She twisted away just in time, the brush of his arm a whisper against her waist, too close, too much.

"Sloppy," he murmured in her ear, his voice like smoke curling against her skin.

Bloom spun, fire crackling in her palm, and aimed a strike at his side. He caught her wrist mid-motion again, his grip firm but not cruel. The contact sent a jolt through her, the clash of their magic turning the air electric.

"Stop doing that," she hissed.

"Then stop being so predictable," Valen shot back, his thumb brushing the inside of her wrist before he pushed her away.

The distance between them felt like a tether stretched to its limit, and Bloom hated how much she wanted to snap it.

Her fire roared to life again, flames licking at the ground as she poured more magic into her next attack. Valen didn't flinch. Instead, his shadows grew bolder, circling him like a storm, waiting.

"Again," he commanded, his voice low. 

Bloom's magic surged, fueled by more than just the desire to win, fueled by him. She hurled a fireball directly at his chest, but this time, Valen didn't dodge. His shadows surged forward, swallowing the flames whole, leaving only smoke curling in the air.

And then he was there, right in front of her.

Before she could react, Valen grabbed her by the waist, twisting them both around so that her back hit the training hall wall. The impact wasn't rough, but it stole the breath from her lungs.

His hand stayed firm at her hip, and his other arm rested above her head, caging her in place.

"Out of tricks already?" Valen's voice was a whisper, his face so close to hers that she could see the flecks of silver in his grey eyes.

Bloom swallowed, her flames still flickering weakly at her sides. "Maybe I'm saving my best move for last."

Valen's gaze flicked to her lips, and the air between them became something molten, something alive.

"I don't think you're ready for that," His voice was rougher now, his breath brushing against her cheek.

Her heart thundered. "Try me."

For a moment, neither of them moved, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the faint crackle of dying fire.

And then Bloom leaned forward, closing the distance between them. 

Her lips found his - fierce and unrelenting, a kiss that wasn't asking for permission but taking what she wanted.

Valen's body tensed for a split second, his grip on her waist tightening as though he was caught between pulling her closer or pushing her away. But then he gave in. 

His hand at her hip flexed, fingers digging into the curve of her body as if trying to anchor himself, while his other hand slid down her arm - a slow, agonizing trail of heat - before pinning it above her head again. His grip was firm, but there was a trembling beneath it, a quiet war between restraint and desire.

The kiss deepened, turning into something hotter, a battle of its own. 

Bloom met every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue, with a hunger that matched his. She felt the tension in his muscles, the way his body pressed against hers, every inch of him wound tight like a bowstring ready to snap. His chest heaved against hers, their ragged breaths tangling in the small space between kisses.

Her free hand found its way into his hair, twisting the soft strands around her fingers, tugging him closer. The sound he made in response - a low, strangled groan - sent a shock-wave through her, a raw, involuntary noise that spoke of surrender and struggle all at once.

And then her body shifted, just enough that her hip grazed the hardness straining against the front of his pants. It was a fleeting contact, but it shattered the last thread of Valen's composure.

He broke the kiss with a ragged exhale, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hot and uneven. "Bloom..." he rasped, her name a plea and a warning.

That sound - half growl, half groan - sent a shiver down her spine. 

It was raw, uncontrolled, and for a single blazing moment, Bloom knew she had him. Knew that Valen, the untouchable, unbeatable warrior, was completely lost in her.

And that was her opening.

Without warning, Bloom shifted her weight, using his distraction to twist out of his hold. His hand slipped from her wrist as she spun, catching him off guard. 

In a single, fluid move, she grabbed his arm, pivoted, and shoved him backward with a burst of flame that sent him stumbling into the center of the training hall.

Her fingers still crackled with fire as she straightened, a mischievous smile curving her swollen lips - lips that still tingled from the kiss.

Valen blinked, still dazed from the kiss, his chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. His usually sharp, calculating expression was gone, replaced by something wilder, something more undone.

"Well played," he rasped.

Bloom's fire blazed brighter. "Told you I was saving my best move for last."

She could see the way Valen's grey eyes burned, the way his jaw clenched as he tried to regain his composure. But she had seen it... that fleeting moment when his control had slipped, when he had been utterly, undeniably hers. And she wasn't about to let him forget it.

"You're distracted," she said, her voice low and teasing, though her own breath was far from steady. "I thought you weren't holding back."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Bloom," he said, his voice rough, edged with a warning that sent a thrill down her spine.

"Am I?" she shot back, tilting her head, her smile widening. "Or are you just mad because I'm winning?"

Bloom felt a surge of satisfaction. She had gotten under his skin, and she knew it. But then his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he took a step toward her, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.

"You think you've won?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "You think one kiss is enough to throw me off my game?"

Bloom held her ground, her flames flickering brighter as she met his gaze head-on.

Valen's gaze was like a storm - dark and brewing. His chest still heaved, his lips still parted, but it was his eyes that caught Bloom's breath in her throat. Because there, she saw a craving not yet satisfied.

Bloom didn't move, her flames dancing along her fingertips in a delicate warning. But her heart was another matter... pounding so hard against her ribs she was sure Valen could hear it.

"I don't think," she replied, her voice smooth despite the heat coursing through her veins. "I know."

His lips curled. "Cocky," he muttered, taking another step closer.

"Confident," Bloom corrected, though the space between them was vanishing, and every nerve in her body screamed at the proximity.

Valen's head tilted, his gaze dragging over her face - her still-flushed cheeks, her kiss-swollen lips, the way her chest rose and fell just a little too quickly.

"You're still burning," he said softly, his voice like a caress.

Her flames flickered, betraying her, and Valen's smirk deepened.

In a blur of shadow, he moved.

One moment, he was a step away. The next, his hand closed around her wrist, spinning her, twisting her arm behind her back. His other hand landed on her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Bloom gasped, her fire sputtering for a heartbeat before flaring hotter. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her back - the taut lines of muscle, the rapid beat of his heart.

"You fight with your emotions," Valen murmured against her ear, his breath hot and teasing. "Makes you reckless."

Bloom's pulse skittered, but she forced herself to focus, to shove past the electric hum under her skin.

"And you fight with your ego," she shot back, tilting her head just enough that her hair brushed his jaw. "Makes you predictable."

His grip tightened - not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her that he could. Enough to remind her that he was still in control.

Or at least, he thought he was.

With a sudden twist, Bloom ignited the fire at her wrist, forcing Valen to release her or risk being burned. The moment his hold faltered, she spun free, flames swirling around her like a fiery shield.

Valen barely had time to react before Bloom sent a controlled blast of heat at his feet, making him leap back.

She smiled, wide and wild.

"Predictable," she echoed.

Valen's chest rose and fell, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he were fighting every urge not to close the distance between them again. His grey eyes were pure storm clouds now, dark and dangerous, but beneath it, Bloom saw it.

Desire.

She licked her lips, watching the way his gaze followed the motion.

"This isn't over," Valen growled.

Bloom's flames flared brighter, casting a golden glow across her face.

"No," she agreed softly.

Chapter Text

Bloom sat by the window in her dorm room, watching the last of the afternoon sun dip below the horizon.

The campus outside was quiet, the students busy in their own ways, some studying, others practicing spells. It all felt so normal, so ordinary, and yet, to Bloom, it was anything but. She should have been happy, should have felt proud of all the progress she had made.

But there was a piece of her heart that couldn't shake the sadness. And then, as if the universe had decided to throw her a lifeline, a soft knock came at the door.

"Come in," Bloom called, a bit startled.

The door creaked open, and there stood Stella, her bright smile lighting up the room like a burst of sunshine. "Hey, you," she said, walking in and flopping down on Bloom's bed. "I was just thinking... you've been a little quiet lately. Everything okay?"

Bloom tried to offer her friend a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine, really. Just... thinking."

Stella raised an eyebrow, sitting up a little. "You're thinking too much. That's your problem. You know what you need? A distraction. Something fun to take your mind off of... well, whatever it is you're feeling so sad about."

Bloom let out a soft laugh, the sound barely audible. "A distraction won't change anything."

Stella's eyes softened, and she leaned forward. "Maybe not. But it might remind you that you're not alone. And that's what really matters."

Bloom glanced out the window again, her thoughts returning to Domino, to her parents, to the life she would never have. To Valen's hand on her waist, the way his voice had cracked when he said her name.

"Thanks, Stella," Bloom said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "I know I've been a little distant. I guess... I just don't know how to move on from everything."

"You don't have to move on, Bloom," Stella said, her voice firm yet gentle. "You just have to keep moving forward. We all carry our scars, but that doesn't mean they define us. You have so much more to offer. So much more to give."

Bloom smiled, a genuine smile this time, the weight in her chest easing just a little. Maybe Stella was right. Maybe moving forward wasn't about forgetting. Maybe it was just about taking the next step, even when you didn't know where the road led. 

Stella watched her carefully, too carefully. "Bloom," she said softly, "I know something's been on your mind for a while now. More than just... the usual stuff."

"The usual stuff," Bloom repeated bitterly. "You mean the ancient magical power burning inside me?"

"Yeah," Stella didn't flinch, her voice gentle but steady. "But there's something else too, isn't there?" She paused, her gaze steady. "Is it... someone?"

Bloom's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. She opened her mouth to deny it, to brush it off with a laugh, but the words didn't come. She was tired, so tired of pretending.

"Stella..." she whispered, her voice cracking just a little. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know who I'm supposed to be."

Stella slid off the bed and crossed the small space between them, placing a hand on Bloom's arm. "You don't have to have all the answers right now," she said softly. "But you can't keep this all bottled up, either."

For a long moment, Bloom didn't speak. Then, finally, she let out a shaky breath. "There is someone," she admitted, her voice so quiet it was barely a whisper.

Stella's eyes widened just a fraction, but to her credit, she didn't push. "Okay," she said gently. "And this someone... does he have anything to do with why you look like you're about to burst into flames every time you're lost in thought?"

A soft, humorless laugh escaped Bloom's lips. "It's complicated."

"Bloom," Stella said, tilting her head. "When is it ever not complicated with feelings?"

Bloom smiled, a real, fleeting smile.

But it faded quickly, replaced by a heavy sigh as she sank down onto the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Stella sat beside her, her presence warm and steady, like the sun breaking through a storm. 

Bloom knew she could trust Stella - she always had - but this... this felt different. This felt like admitting something she hadn't even fully admitted to herself.

"It's... Professor Valen," Bloom finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it more real.

Stella didn't react immediately. She just nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Okay," she said, her tone calm and measured. "I kind of figured it might be him."

Bloom's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "You did?"

Stella shrugged, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Bloom, I'm your best friend. I notice things. Like how you get this... look on your face whenever he's around. And how the two of you seem to have this... tension in the air whenever you're in the same room. It's hard to miss."

Bloom's cheeks flushed, and she looked away, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. "It's not like that," she said quickly, though even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

"Isn't it?" Stella asked, her tone gentle but probing. "Because from where I'm sitting, it kind of seems like it is."

Bloom hesitated, her mind racing. 

How could she explain this to Stella? How could she explain the way her Dragon Flame seemed to react to Valen, the way it surged and flickered whenever he was near, as if it recognized something in him? 

How could she explain the way her heart raced whenever he looked at her, the way her skin tingled whenever their hands brushed during training? How could she explain the kiss - the kiss that had left her breathless and confused, the kiss that had haunted her dreams ever since?

"It's... complicated," Bloom said again, her voice trembling. "It's not just... feelings. It's the Dragon Flame, too. It's like... it responds to him. Like it wants to be near him. I don't even know if what I'm feeling is real or if it's just the magic."

Stella's brow furrowed, her expression thoughtful. "The Dragon Flame responds to him? How?"

Bloom shook her head, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I don't know! It's like... whenever he's near, it gets stronger. More intense. It's like it's drawn to him, like it recognizes something in him. And I don't know if it's because of his magic or... or something else."

Stella was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on Bloom as she processed this. "Okay," she said slowly. "That's... definitely weird. But, Bloom, you're not just your magic. You're not just the Dragon Flame. You're you. And if you're feeling something for him, that's not just the magic talking. That's you."

Bloom's chest tightened, and she looked down at her hands, her voice barely a whisper. "But what if it's not? What if I'm just... confused? What if I'm just projecting because of everything that's happened? Because of the pressure, because of the Dragon Flame, because of... everything?"

Stella reached out, placing a hand on Bloom's arm. "Bloom, look at me."

Reluctantly, Bloom raised her head, her eyes meeting Stella's. There was no judgment in her best friend's gaze, only understanding and support.

"You're not just some puppet being controlled by your magic," Stella said firmly. "You're Bloom. You're strong, and brave, and kind, and yes, you have this incredible power inside you, but that doesn't define you. And if you're feeling something for Valen, then that's real. It's not just the Dragon Flame. It's you."

Bloom's eyes filled with tears, and she quickly blinked them away. "But what if I'm wrong? What if it's just... a mistake?"

Stella's expression softened, and she squeezed Bloom's arm gently. "Bloom, you're allowed to make mistakes. You're allowed to feel things, even if they're messy or complicated or scary. That's part of being human. And yeah, maybe this thing with him is complicated. Maybe it's messy. But that doesn't mean it's not real."

Bloom swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "Stella... I kissed him."

Silence. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw. 

"You did what!?"

"I kissed him," Bloom repeated, the confession hanging heavy in the air. "And he kissed me back. It was... intense. And then I pushed him away, literally. I used my magic. I had to."

Stella blinked again, twice, like she was recalibrating reality. "So let me get this straight. You kissed Valen - our Professor Valen - and he kissed you back... and then you set him on fire?"

"I didn't set him on fire," Bloom hissed, a flush creeping up her neck. "I just... pushed him away. With a little flame."

Stella stared at her for a long moment, then - inexplicably - she grinned. "Bloom... this is... wow."

"Wow?" Bloom repeated, incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"

"And how did that make you feel?" Stella said, still grinning.

Bloom's cheeks burned, and she looked away, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. "I don't know," she mumbled, though the memory of that moment was seared into her mind. "It was... overwhelming. I've never felt anything like it before. It was like... like my entire world shifted. For a second, I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I just... felt."

Stella's grin softened into a knowing smile. "Sounds like it was pretty intense."

"It was," Bloom admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it wasn't just the kiss. It was... everything. The way he looked at me, the way his magic felt against mine. I... I've never felt more alive than I did during that first kiss."

For a moment, there was only silence. Stella's playful smile faltered, her brows twitching ever so slightly as her brain processed the word that slipped past Bloom's lips.

First.

Bloom realized her mistake the instant Stella's head tilted, her sharp golden gaze narrowing like a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass.

"First?" Stella repeated slowly, her voice soft but edged with curiosity. "As in... there was more than one?"

Bloom's throat went dry. She opened her mouth to backtrack, to explain, but the damage was done. The slip had already unraveled the fragile thread of her secret.

Stella's lips parted, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise. "Bloom..." she began, her voice climbing a little higher. "Are you telling me there was more than just one kiss?"

Bloom's cheeks burned. "It- it's not what you think."

"Oh, really?" Stella leaned forward, her eyes wide now, a mixture of shock and intrigue dancing across her face. "Because it sounds exactly like what I think. You kissed him more than once."

There was no way out now. The truth was a wildfire, spreading too fast for Bloom to control.

"Yes," Bloom whispered, her voice barely audible. "It happened again."

Stella drew back, clutching her chest dramatically. "Again? When? Where? How?" Her words tumbled over each other in a rush. "Bloom, I need details."

Bloom groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Stella, please. This is already hard enough."

"Hard enough?" Stella repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "Bloom, you're telling me you kissed our hottest professor, more than once, and you're acting like it's no big deal? This is huge!"

"It's not like that," Bloom protested, though her voice lacked conviction. She peeked through her fingers at Stella, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning forward like a child waiting for a bedtime story. "It's... complicated."

"Complicated?" Stella echoed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, no kidding. But you're not getting out of this that easily. Spill. When was the second kiss?"

Bloom hesitated, her mind racing.

Bloom swallowed hard, her heart a wild drumbeat against her ribs. "It was after the fight with Sky," she said quickly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "A few days ago. You remember that, right? When he and I argued?"

Stella blinked, her mouth still slightly open, but she nodded. "Of course I remember. You were a mess afterward. I had to talk you down from setting your school books on fire."

Bloom laughed weakly, but her fingers twisted in her lap, her knuckles white. "Yeah, well... I saw Valen afterward. I was upset, and... it just happened again."

Technically, it wasn't a lie. 

They had kissed after her fight with Sky. She just didn't mention that it was their third kiss and that the second had happened at Stella's princess ball on Solaria. 

Because how could she explain that? How could she tell Stella that Valen had been there at all when he shouldn't have been able to step foot on Solarian grounds?

Stella's eyes widened. "Bloom, that was, like, a week ago! You've been holding out on me this whole time?"

Bloom winced. "I didn't know how to tell you. It's not exactly something I'm proud of."

Stella's mind, however, was racing down a completely different path. Her lips parted slightly, and then the realization dawned like a sudden strike of lightning.

"Wait," Stella said, her voice slower now, like she was carefully pulling the pieces together. "You kissed him again... after your fight with Sky? But Bloom... before that, you and Sky were still together. Weren't you?"

Bloom's heart stopped.

She felt the floor drop out from under her, a pit yawning wide and dark in her stomach. Stella's words cut deeper than she expected - not because they were wrong, but because they were far too right.

Bloom's heart pounded in her chest. She opened her mouth to deny it, to explain, but the truth was already out. There was no going back now.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It was... before the semester break. And I know it was wrong. I know I shouldn't have done it. But I... I couldn't help it. There was something about him, something I couldn't ignore."

Stella's brow furrowed, and she leaned forward, her gaze intense. "Bloom, are you telling me that you had feelings for Valen while you were still with Sky?"

Bloom's chest tightened, and she looked away, unable to meet Stella's gaze. "I... I don't know. Maybe. I think... I think I did."

Stella was silent for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Okay. That's... a lot to process. But I think I understand."

Bloom's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "You do?"

Stella shrugged, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Bloom, I've known you for a long time. And I've seen the way you and Sky were together. You liked him, sure, but... there was always something missing. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on."

Bloom's chest tightened, and she looked down at her hands, her voice barely a whisper. "I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to believe that I could feel something for someone else while I was with Sky. But... I think I did."

Stella reached out, placing a hand on Bloom's arm. "Bloom, it's okay. You're allowed to feel things, even if they're messy or complicated. And yeah, maybe you made a mistake. But that doesn't mean you're a bad person."

Bloom's throat was tight, her magic simmering just beneath her skin like a flame kept barely in check. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen, Stella. But... it did. And now I don't know what to do."

Stella reached out, her hand resting gently on Bloom's arm again, just as warm and steady as before, though there was a new sadness in her gaze. 

"You have to figure out what you really want," Stella said softly. "Not just what your magic wants. Or what Valen makes you feel in the heat of the moment. You have to figure out what you want, Bloom. And that's not going to be easy."

Bloom's eyes burned with tears. "I'm scared," she admitted. "What if what I want is the one thing I'm not supposed to have?"

Stella squeezed Bloom's arm gently. "Bloom, you're not supposed to have a lot of things. Like, for example, the Dragon Flame. But guess what? You have that anyway. Because you're Bloom. And if there's one thing I've learned about you, it's that you don't let 'supposed to' stop you from doing what you think is right."

Bloom let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Since when did you get so wise?"

Stella grinned, leaning back against the bed. "Since I became the most beloved Solarian princess. Comes with the crown, you know."

Bloom rolled her eyes, but the tension in her chest had eased slightly. Stella always had a way of making her feel better, even when things seemed impossibly complicated.

"But seriously, Bloom," Stella said, her tone more serious now. "You need to figure this out. You owe it to all of you to be honest about what you're feeling."

Bloom nodded, her heart heavy but resolute. "I know. I just... I don't know how to start."

Stella tilted her head, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, for starters, you could stop hiding things from me. I mean, two kisses, Bloom? Two? And you didn't think to tell me about any of them?"

Bloom groaned, throwing a pillow at Stella. "I told you about them now!"

Stella caught the pillow with ease, laughing. "Yeah, after I dragged it out of you. You're lucky I'm such a good friend, or I'd be seriously offended right now."

Bloom managed a small smile, her heart feeling a little lighter. "Thanks, Stella. For... everything."

Stella's grin softened, and she reached out, squeezing Bloom's hand. "Anytime. But seriously, Bloom. It's about time you started being honest with yourself."

Bloom sighed, her heart still heavy but resolute. "I know. And I will. I just... I need to more time."

Stella's expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on Bloom's arm. "You'll figure it out. You always do. And whatever happens, I've got your back. Always."

Bloom managed a small smile, her heart feeling a little lighter. "Thanks, Stella."

Stella grinned, leaning back against the bed. "Anytime. But Bloom... two kisses? You've been holding out on me."

Bloom groaned, throwing a pillow at her. "Shut up."

Chapter Text

The weeks flew by faster than Bloom could comprehend. 

Each morning blurred into the next, a dizzying whirl of training, classes, and stolen moments. And yet, despite the relentless rhythm of life at Alfea, there was a secret thread woven through Bloom's days, a thread that only she and Stella shared.

She hadn't told the others about what she'd confessed to Stella: her complicated and confusing feelings for Professor Valen. And Stella, to her credit, didn't push her. 

For all her boldness and flair for drama, Stella understood when to step back. She seemed to know instinctively that what Bloom needed most now was time... time to understand the chaotic storm of emotions swirling inside her.

And then, there were the private training sessions with Valen.

They continued as scheduled, three times a week, behind the closed doors of the training hall - a hidden world all their own. Each session left Bloom more frustrated and exhilarated than the last. It was an intoxicating blend of magic and combat, skill and willpower. 

Valen fought like a tempest, fluid and unyielding, but Bloom... Bloom burned like a wildfire.

There were days she'd find herself pinned against a wall, his magic pressing against hers like an invisible hand, and others where she'd drive him to his knees with a searing blast of flame. 

It was an even match, neither willing to yield, both relishing the clash. 

And every time she saw him - powerful, fierce, and breathless on the floor beneath her - it sent an unexpected shiver through her body.

Desire. Want. Something deeper and darker, something she finally wanted to name.

Today was no different.

Valen stood across from her, his white shirt clinging to his skin in places, his hair slightly tousled from dodging her latest fiery attack. Bloom swallowed hard, trying to focus, really, truly focus, but it was impossible when her gaze kept catching the way his muscles flexed beneath the thin fabric, the way a single bead of sweat rolled down the curve of his neck.

"You're distracted again," Valen said, his voice low and smooth, a quiet amusement lacing his words. "You know that's a dangerous habit for a fairy."

Bloom's jaw tightened, her cheeks burning hotter than her flames. "I'm not distracted," she shot back, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Valen's lips quirked into the barest of smirks - a cruel, beautiful thing - and he took a slow step forward. "Oh? Could've fooled me."

Her heart thundered against her ribs. He wasn't touching her, not even close, but the space between them seemed to shrink with every word he spoke. She clenched her fists, trying to ground herself in the magic still buzzing at her fingertips.

"Again," she commanded, lifting her chin defiantly. "Let's go again."

For a moment, he just looked at her like he was reading the untold words scrawled across her skin. Then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, a ribbon of dark magic lashed through the air, and the fight resumed.

It was brutal and beautiful all at once. Flames roared from Bloom's fingertips, colliding with the inky darkness of Valen's spells. The room seemed too small for the storm they conjured between them, a clash of fire and shadow.

Bloom's magic flared hotter with each passing second, fueled by a dangerous cocktail of fury and longing. Every time Valen's spell grazed her skin, every time his voice curled through the air with another teasing remark- "You're slowing down, Bloom," or "I expected more from the keeper of the Dragon Flame" -she burned brighter.

And then, in a flash of movement, she broke through his defenses. Her fire erupted in a controlled blast, and Valen was knocked back, landing hard on the floor. His chest rose and fell in quick succession, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and something far more dangerous - admiration.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Bloom stood over him, flames still dancing along her fingertips, her heart pounding a wild rhythm against her ribs. Valen's lips parted as if to speak - a quip, a reprimand, maybe something else entirely - but the words never came.

Instead, there was silence. Heavy, charged silence.

And in that silence, Bloom felt it again - that same delicious shiver running down her spine, the same ache pooling low in her stomach. Not just from the fight. From him.

Bloom's breath hitched.

But then, just as quickly, he rose to his feet, brushing invisible dust from his shirt. "Not bad," he said, his voice cool and measured once more. "But you hesitated before the final blow. Next time, don't think. Just act."

Bloom swallowed the lump in her throat, willing her flames to die down. "Again."

"Again?" Valen tilted his head as if considering her request. "You look like you're about to collapse."

Bloom's jaw tightened, her pride flaring hotter than her flames. 

"I'm fine," she snapped, though her body ached from the relentless sparring. 

Her muscles screamed with every movement, and her magic felt like a live wire beneath her skin, raw and overused. But she couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he was looking at her like that, like she was something to be conquered.

"Alright," Valen said, his voice low and smooth, like the edge of a blade. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He didn't give her time to prepare. 

One moment, he was standing across from her, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. The next, he was a blur of motion, his magic surging forward like a tidal wave of shadow. 

Bloom barely had time to raise her hands, her flames erupting in a desperate shield. The force of his attack sent her skidding backward, her boots scraping against the floor.

"Focus, Bloom," Valen said, his voice cutting through the chaos.

She gritted her teeth, her flames flaring brighter as she pushed back against his magic. But he was relentless, his attacks coming faster and harder, each one forcing her to retreat further. She tried to counter, to find an opening, but every move she made was met with a wall of darkness, his magic swallowing her flames like they were nothing.

Bloom launched herself forward, her flames roaring to life as she aimed a fiery strike at his chest. But he sidestepped with ease, his movements fluid and precise, and before she could react, his magic wrapped around her wrist, yanking her off balance.

She stumbled, her flames flickering as she tried to regain her footing. But Valen was already there, his hand closing around her other wrist, his grip firm but not painful. He pulled her closer, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"You're too distracted," he said, his voice low and steady. "And in a real fight, distraction gets you killed."

Bloom's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of his body, the way his magic seemed to pulse against hers, dark and intoxicating. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers pressing into her skin.

"Let me go," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound strong.

Valen's lips curved into a smirk, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But then he released her, stepping back with a casual grace that made her blood boil.

"Again," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Bloom didn't need to be told twice. She launched herself at him, her flames surging forward in a blazing arc. But once again, he was ready, his magic meeting hers with a force that sent shockwaves through the room. They clashed again and again, their magic colliding in bursts of fire and shadow, but no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't break through his defenses.

And then, in a flash of movement, he was behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her back against his chest. His breath was warm against her ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You always lead with your right," he said, his grip tightening as she struggled against him. "It's an easy pattern to read."

Bloom's cheeks burned, her frustration reaching a boiling point. She twisted in his grip, her flames flaring as she tried to break free. But he was too strong, his magic too overwhelming, and no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't escape.

"Let me go!" she shouted, her voice cracking with desperation.

Valen's grip loosened, and he stepped back, his expression unreadable. "You're angry," he said, his tone calm and measured. "Good. Use it."

Bloom's chest heaved as she glared at him, her flames flickering wildly around her. "I don't need your advice," she snapped, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Valen raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "Don't you? Because from where I'm standing, you're not doing so well."

Her pride stung, Bloom launched herself at him again, her flames roaring to life as she aimed a fiery strike at his chest. But once again, he was ready, his magic meeting hers with a force that sent her stumbling backward. She tried to recover, to counter, but he was already there, his hand closing around her wrist as he twisted her arm behind her back.

"Use your anger," he said, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos around them. "But don't let it cloud your judgment."

Bloom gritted her teeth, her flames flickering as she tried to break free. But his grip was unyielding, his magic pressing against hers like a weight she couldn't lift.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, her flames licking at the air around her, but no matter how fiercely she burned, Valen remained an unrelenting force. His dark magic slithered and struck like a coiled snake, each move perfectly calculated, each counter effortlessly executed.

"Again," she growled, her voice hoarse with exertion.

Valen's lips twitched and without warning, his magic surged. The dark tendrils shot forward like living shadows, forcing Bloom to leap to the side, narrowly avoiding being ensnared. She retaliated instantly, summoning a searing arc of flame that cut through the air, a blistering line of dragon fire aimed directly at his chest.

For a heartbeat, she thought she had him.

But then Valen shifted, a mere step to the left, and the flames passed harmlessly by, crashing into the wall behind him and scorching the stone.

"Too slow," he said softly.

Bloom's teeth ground together, frustration boiling over. "Stop saying that!"

She launched forward, flames swirling around her arms, her magic crackling like a storm. A barrage of fireballs rained down, fast and furious, each one hotter than the last. Valen dodged the first, deflected the second with a flick of his wrist, and sliced through the third with a blade of shadow. The room blazed with heat, the air crackling with the force of their combined power.

But no matter how hard she pushed, no matter how fiercely she fought, Valen was always one step ahead.

Her magic flared as she called forth a wall of flame, using it as both shield and weapon. She spun through it, using the smoke to mask her movements, and darted towards Valen's right side - his blind spot, she hoped.

This time, she saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Her flames struck true, knocking him off balance, sending him staggering back. His shirt clung to his skin in places, a scorch mark across his shoulder, his hair wild from the battle. For a brief, shining moment, Bloom felt a spark of triumph.

But it was short-lived.

Valen moved like liquid shadow. Before she could fully react, his magic wrapped around her ankle, yanking her off her feet. She hit the ground with a grunt, her flames sputtering out for a single, critical second. That was all the time he needed.

He was on her in an instant.

One hand closed around her wrist, pinning it above her head, while the other pressed lightly against her throat. Every nerve in her body was alight, her pulse thundering like a drumbeat beneath his fingers.

His thumb shifted, just a fraction, grazing the delicate skin of her neck. A whisper of a touch, but it sent a delicious shiver racing down her spine.

"Let me go," she said, but it came out softer than she intended, more breath than sound.

Valen's gaze flicked to her lips for a long moment, before his mouth curled into that damned smirk again. "Only because you asked so nicely."

He released her wrists and stepped back, his expression once again a mask of cool indifference. The sudden absence of his touch left Bloom's skin tingling, the echo of their battle still buzzing through her veins.

She scrambled to her feet, brushing her hair back with shaky fingers, flames simmering at her palms. "Again," she said, her voice steadier this time.

She didn't hesitate. Her flames flared to life, wrapping around her fists like molten gloves. This time, she wouldn't fall for his tricks. She wouldn't be predictable. With a flash of movement, she darted to the side, her fire lashing out in a scorching arc aimed directly at his left flank.

For a fleeting moment, she saw his brows knit together in a flicker of surprise.

Yes.

Bloom pushed forward, spinning into a fierce kick engulfed in flames. Valen deflected it with a sweep of his arm, but she didn't stop there. She summoned another wave of dragon fire, sending it roaring towards him. He leapt back, the flames licking dangerously close to his chest.

She was getting closer.

Her magic roared louder, responding to the surge of triumph in her veins. Valen was fast, but she was faster now, driven by an unrelenting need to prove herself. To him. To herself.

She saw the opening.

He was a half-step off balance, his weight shifted ever so slightly to his back foot. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible crack in his perfect defenses, but it was there.

This was her chance.

Bloom poured every ounce of her magic into her fist, the flame around it burning a brilliant gold. She launched forward, twisting her body and aiming for his chest. This would be the hit to finally knock him down, to win.

But then everything changed.

Before her punch could land, Valen moved. Not away, but forward.

In a flash of shadow, he caught her wrist mid-swing and spun her, using her own momentum to press her back against the stone wall. The impact was firm but not painful, a clash of heat against cold. 

His body pinned hers in place, one hand gripping her wrist above her head, the other braced against the wall beside her face.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat, her chest rising and falling against his. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his shirt, could feel the heat radiating from both of them. The air between them was molten, crackling not just with magic but with something something dangerous and electric.

Valen's face was so close, his lips hovering a mere whisper from hers. His breath mingled with her own, and his eyes - dark and intense - searched hers, flicking down to her lips for the briefest of moments. There was something raw in his gaze, like a silent battle between restraint and desire.

Bloom's pulse thundered in her ears, her fingers twitching beneath his hold. She wanted to close the distance, to erase the space between them, to taste the unspoken promise hanging in the air.

And she could see it in his eyes.

He wanted it too.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and his lips parted just slightly, as if he, too, was on the edge of surrender.

Then-

"I think that's enough."

The voice shattered the moment like a bolt of ice.

Bloom's heart lurched as she jerked her head toward the sound. Horror rooted her to the spot as she saw Headmistress Faragonda standing a few feet away, arms crossed. 

And yet, Valen didn't move.

His hand still pinned Bloom's wrist against the wall, his body an unyielding wall of heat pressed impossibly close to hers. The faint crackle of his shadow magic still danced along his fingertips, a dark echo of the flames Bloom had just unleashed. 

For a long, tense moment, Valen's eyes remained locked on hers, the intensity between them refusing to shatter despite the headmistress's presence.

"Professor Valen," Faragonda said again, this time sharper, more insistent. "Step away from your student."

A muscle in Valen's jaw ticked, but finally, slowly, he let her go. The absence of his touch was instant and jarring, like being yanked from a blazing fire into a freezing wind. Bloom's wrist fell back to her side, her skin still tingling from where his fingers had been moments before.

And still, she saw it.

The hesitation.

The way his hands curled into fists at his sides, as though stepping away from her required more willpower than he cared to admit.

Bloom swallowed, her mind racing for an explanation, a way to justify what had just happened. The training, the tension, the way Valen had held her so close... that it wasn't what it looked like.

"Headmistress, it's not-" she started, her voice cracking slightly, but Faragonda raised a hand, cutting her off.

"I've seen enough," Faragonda said firmly. Her gaze was stern, yet there was a flicker of something else beneath the surface - disappointment, perhaps. Or worse... concern. "This training session is over."

Bloom blinked. "But..."

"Over," Faragonda repeated, the finality in her voice a stone wall. "You will no longer be training with Professor Valen. Effective immediately."

Bloom felt the words like a slap to the face.

No more training?

Her heart lurched at the thought. She had fought so hard to get here, to push herself, to learn from Valen - to be strong enough to control her Dragon Fire. And now, with a few words, it was all being ripped away.

"Headmistress, please," Bloom protested, taking a small step forward. "This was a mistake... we were just training. I need these lessons. Valen- I mean, Professor Valen- he's the only one who understands my magic enough to-"

"No," Faragonda said, her voice firm. "From now on, I will personally oversee your private lessons."

Bloom's heart sank further.

Valen hadn't spoken a word since Faragonda entered the room, but at those words, Bloom saw it - the brief flicker of darkness passing over his face. His expression hardened, his jaw tightening just enough for Bloom to notice. For the first time since their training began, Valen seemed utterly unreadable.

But it wasn't anger. It was something colder. Bloom felt a sharp sting of panic rising within her. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair.

Faragonda's next words, however, left no room for argument.

"And," she continued, her gaze flickering briefly to Valen before resting back on Bloom, "the two of you are not to be alone together again. Ever. Do I make myself clear?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bloom's throat tightened, her protest dying on her lips. She felt Valen's presence beside her, still close enough that the heat from his magic still ghosted along her skin, but now an unbreachable wall seemed to rise between them.

"Yes, Headmistress," Bloom finally managed, though the words felt like they belonged to someone else.

"Good." Faragonda's voice was clipped. Then her gaze shifted fully to Valen. "Professor Valen, I need to have a serious word with you. In my office. Now."

For a long moment, Valen didn't move. His jaw remained tight, his expression unreadable, like a statue carved from stone. Then, with a curt nod, he turned sharply and strode past Bloom without another word.

His absence left the room colder somehow.

Faragonda watched him go, then turned back to Bloom, her expression softening slightly but still tinged with a quiet sternness. "Return to your dormitory, Bloom. We will speak again soon."

Bloom barely managed a nod. 

The reality of what had just happened pressed down on her like a stone. As Faragonda left the hall, the echo of her footsteps fading down the corridor, Bloom stood frozen, her magic still simmering quietly beneath her skin.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dormitory walls.

Bloom sat at the edge of her bed, knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the soft glow filtering through the curtains. Her dormitory felt too quiet, too still - a sharp contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling inside her.

She hadn't slept that night. How could she?

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Valen. Felt the press of his hand around her wrist, the heat of his body too close to hers, the flicker of something dark and unspoken in his gaze. Then, the cold snap of reality, Headmistress Faragonda's voice like a blade of ice slicing through the moment.

Her stomach churned at the memory.

What had Faragonda said to him? What had they discussed behind the closed door of her office after Bloom had been dismissed, and sent back to her room like a disobedient child? 

She couldn't shake the thought of Valen's silence - the way he hadn't said a single word in their defense, the way his jaw had tightened just slightly, betraying something colder than anger...

She pressed her forehead against her knees, squeezing her eyes shut. The shame of it all burned almost as fiercely as her fire. She wasn't sure what mortified her more - the fact that Faragonda had witnessed that... moment... between her and Valen, or the fact that it had happened again in the first place.

What had she been thinking?

The way his lips had hovered so close to hers, the heat of his breath against her skin - it wasn't just reckless, it was dangerous. 

And now, because of that lapse in judgment, her training with Valen was over. No more lessons. No more long days spent honing her magic with the only person who truly seemed to understand its wild, untamed nature.

And the worst part?

She wouldn't be alone with him again.

The words echoed in her mind like a cruel mantra. Faragonda had made it clear: never alone together again. A hard line drawn between them, an unbreachable wall that hadn't existed before. A punishment for something Bloom didn't even know how to name.

Her heart twisted at the memory of his face during class that morning. Magiphilosophy had gone on as though nothing had happened the day before. Valen had stood at the front of the room, his voice steady and impassive, guiding them through complex magical theories without a single slip.

But Bloom had felt it.

His gaze.

It had only happened a few times, fleeting glances that seared through her like hot iron, but they were there - burning with something unspoken, something that made her skin prickle. And yet, he hadn't addressed what had happened, hadn't spoken to her beyond his usual clipped, professional tone.

As if nothing had happened yesterday afternoon.

Bloom exhaled sharply, her breath trembling as she uncurled herself from the tight ball she'd been in. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The dormitory felt stifling, the walls closing in on her with every passing second. She needed air. She needed to move.

Grabbing her hooded coat from the back of her chair, she threw it over her shoulders and slipped out of the room, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard near the door. The hallway was empty, the other students either in class or lounging in the common areas. She didn't care where they were. She just needed to be anywhere but here.

The school grounds were bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. Bloom walked briskly, her boots crunching against the gravel path that led to the gardens. She didn't have a destination in mind; she just needed to outpace the thoughts chasing her.

But no matter how fast she walked, they caught up to her.

Valen's silence. Faragonda's disapproval. The reality of her own recklessness. It all pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"What am I doing?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

She didn't have an answer. 

The gardens were a sanctuary, a place where the chaos of her mind could quiet, if only for a moment. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze was a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. 

She wandered deeper into the garden, her fingers brushing against the petals of roses and the leaves of towering hedges. For a while, she let herself get lost in the beauty of it all, savoring the fresh air and the temporary peace it brought.

But then, she felt it. A shift in the air around her. A subtle change, like the crackle of static before a storm. Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned around.

There, standing far across the garden, was Valen.

He was as devastatingly handsome as ever, his tall frame silhouetted against the fading sunlight. His coat billowed slightly in the breeze, and his pale hair caught the golden hues of the afternoon. He wasn't close, not nearly close enough, but his presence was undeniable. He stood still, his gaze fixed on her, intense and unreadable.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat. Her first instinct was to go to him, to close the distance between them and demand answers. Why had he been silent? What had Faragonda said to him? What did he want from her now? 

But before she could take a single step, a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Bloom."

She froze, her heart pounding as she turned to see Headmistress Faragonda approaching. The older woman's expression was gentle. She hadn't seen Valen standing in the distance. Her attention was entirely on Bloom.

"Headmistress," Bloom said, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced back toward where Valen had been standing, but he was gone. Vanished, as if he had never been there at all. Faragonda hadn't even noticed his presence.

"I've been looking for you," Faragonda said, her tone soft but firm. "I think it's time we had a proper talk."

Bloom's stomach twisted, but she nodded. "Of course," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

As Faragonda led her away from the garden, Bloom couldn't help but glance over her shoulder one last time. The spot where Valen had stood was empty, the shadows of the garden swallowing any trace of him.

Bloom followed Headmistress Faragonda through the winding paths of the garden, her mind racing. The older woman's presence was calming, yet Bloom couldn't shake the unease that had settled deep in her chest. Every step felt heavier, as if the weight of everything unsaid between them was pressing down on her shoulders.

Faragonda led her to a secluded bench nestled beneath a canopy of flowering vines. The air here was sweet with the scent of blossoms, and the soft hum of magical energy seemed to pulse through the garden. It was a place of reflection, of quiet contemplation, a place where difficult conversations could took place.

"Sit with me, Bloom," Faragonda said gently, gesturing to the bench as she took a seat herself. Her voice was kind, but there was a firmness to it that made Bloom's stomach churn. She obeyed, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bench, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, until Faragonda finally broke it.

"I know this hasn't been easy for you," Faragonda began, her tone measured. "What happened between you and Professor Valen... it's complicated. And I understand that."

Bloom's throat tightened. She stared down at her hands, unable to meet Faragonda's gaze. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen," she whispered. "I just... I don't know what I was thinking."

Faragonda sighed softly, her expression softening. "Bloom, you're young. And I want you to understand that what I'm about to say comes from a place of concern."

Bloom swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I understand," she whispered, though she wasn't sure she did.

Faragonda turned to look at her, her gaze piercing. "What happened between you and Professor Valen was unacceptable. Not because of you, Bloom, but because of him. He is your teacher, and a trusted member of this faculty. He should have known better."

Bloom's heart sank. She opened her mouth to protest, to defend Valen, but Faragonda held up a hand, silencing her before she could speak.

"No, Bloom," Faragonda said firmly. "This is not your fault. You are a young woman, still learning to navigate your emotions and your magic. It is his responsibility to maintain boundaries, to guide you with professionalism and care. And he failed in that responsibility."

Bloom looked down at her hands, her cheeks burning with shame. "But... it wasn't just him," she said quietly. "I didn't stop it. I didn't say no."

Faragonda's expression softened slightly, but her tone remained stern. "Bloom, you are not to blame for this. Valen is the adult in this situation. He is the one who should have exercised better judgment. He has been here only a few months, and while his expertise in magic is undeniable, his conduct has raised... concerns."

Bloom's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "Concerns? What do you mean?"

Faragonda hesitated, as if weighing her words carefully. "Valen is a skilled magician, and while I initially believed he could be an asset to this school, recent events have made me question that decision."

Bloom's heart raced. "You're not going to fire him, are you?"

Faragonda's gaze hardened. "That is not your concern, Bloom. What matters now is ensuring that you are protected and that this kind of situation does not happen again. You are a talented young fairy with a bright future, and I will not allow anyone to jeopardize that."

Bloom felt a lump rise in her throat. "But... he's never done anything to hurt me. He's always been kind to me, even when no one else understood my magic."

Faragonda's expression softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes now. "Kindness can be deceptive, Bloom. And while I do not believe Valen intends to harm you, his actions have shown a lack of judgment that cannot be ignored. As your headmistress, it is my duty to protect you - even from yourself, if necessary."

Bloom looked away, tears stinging her eyes. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to argue, to defend Valen and the connection she felt with him.

Faragonda reached out, placing a gentle but firm hand on Bloom's shoulder. "I know this is difficult for you, Bloom. And I know you may not understand my decisions right now. But trust me when I say that this is for the best. For you, for Valen, and for this school."

Bloom nodded slowly, though her heart felt heavy. "I understand," she said quietly, though the words tasted bitter on her tongue.

Faragonda gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing. "Take some time to reflect, Bloom. And remember, I am here if you need to talk. But for now, I expect you to respect the boundaries that have been put in place. Do you understand?"

Bloom looked up at her, tears welling in her eyes. "Yes, Headmistress."

Faragonda nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Good. You have a bright future ahead of you, Bloom. Don't let anyone dim that light."

With that, Faragonda turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the garden. Bloom sat there for a long time, the weight of their conversation pressing down on her chest. She felt torn, her heart aching for Valen even as her mind replayed Faragonda's words.

She glanced back toward the spot where Valen had been standing earlier, but the garden was empty now. The shadows stretched long and deep as the sun dipped below the horizon, and Bloom couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted... something she couldn't quite name.

As she sat there, alone in the quiet of the garden, one thought echoed in her mind: 

This wasn't over. Not yet.

The next few days, Bloom threw herself into her studies, determined to distract herself from the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She attended her classes, practiced her magic with her friends, and tried to pretend that everything was normal. But it wasn't. How could it be?

Valen was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He was in the classroom, his voice steady and calm as he lectured on advanced magical theory. He was in the hallways, his presence a quiet, constant reminder of what had happened. And he was in her dreams, his piercing gaze haunting her even in sleep.

But he never spoke to her. Not really. He addressed her in class, of course, but his tone was clipped and professional, devoid of the warmth she had come to associate with him. It was as if the connection they had shared - the understanding, the bond - had never existed.

And that hurt more than anything.

Bloom tried to convince herself that it was for the best. That Faragonda was right, Valen was her professor, and the boundaries between them were necessary. But every time she saw him, every time she felt the weight of his gaze, she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. What he was feeling.

Then, on the fourth afternoon since the incident, a small scroll appeared on Bloom's desk in her dormitory, sealed with the familiar sigil of Alfea's headmistress.

Bloom,

Meet me in the training hall at sunset. It's time we resumed your lessons.

Headmistress Faragonda

Bloom's heart lurched as she read the words, the simple message carrying a weight far greater than its ink and parchment suggested. She hadn't trained with Faragonda since the disastrous session at the beginning of the semester, before Valen had taken over her magical instruction. 

Back then, Bloom had been a mess. She couldn't even summon her Dragon Flame, let alone control it.

But that was months ago.

Now, thanks to Valen's grueling lessons - the sparring, the physical combat, the relentless pushes to her limits - Bloom was stronger. More confident in her magic. And yet...

She wasn't sure what to expect from Faragonda.

When the sun began to dip below the horizon, Bloom found herself standing outside the vast double doors of the training hall. Her pulse fluttered in her throat. 

This was different from training with Valen. There would be no heated gazes, no sudden bursts of shadow magic meant to knock her off her feet, no whispered taunts daring her to push harder.

But what would there be?

She stepped inside.

The hall was bathed in a soft golden light, the walls alive with ancient runes that glowed faintly in response to the fading sun. At the center of the room stood Headmistress Faragonda, her long silver hair swept back, her robes flowing elegantly around her. 

She wasn't intimidating in the way Valen was. There was no dark intensity in her presence, but there was an undeniable power about her, an aura of quiet authority.

"Good evening, Bloom," Faragonda said, her voice warm but firm. "I trust you received my message."

Bloom nodded. "Yes, Headmistress."

"I thought it was time we picked up where we left off," Faragonda continued, moving gracefully to a circle of glowing symbols etched into the floor. "Although I suspect you've changed quite a bit since our last session."

Bloom swallowed. "I have."

Faragonda's gaze softened, but only slightly. "Show me."

Bloom blinked. "What?"

"Show me your Dragon Flame," Faragonda said simply. "No duels, no combat, just your magic. Let me see the control you've gained."

Bloom exhaled slowly, planting her feet firmly on the ground. This was different. Valen had always forced her to pull power from the heat of battle, to summon her flame through adrenaline and instinct. Faragonda was asking for something else entirely.

Calm and focused.

She closed her eyes, reaching deep within herself - not for the rush of fire, but for the steady burn at her core. The Dragon Flame wasn't just wild power. It was ancient and patient, a roaring inferno and a steady ember at once. Bloom let that balance settle over her, until she felt the familiar spark ignite.

When she opened her eyes, her palms were alight with golden fire, flickering softly but without the wild, untamed edges they once had. The flames danced gracefully, curling around her fingers like an extension of her own will.

Faragonda watched quietly, her expression unreadable.

"Good," she finally said. "But control is not just about summoning, Bloom. It's about restraint."

With a flick of her wrist, Faragonda conjured a sphere of shimmering blue magic, floating a few feet above Bloom's head. "Hit it," she instructed. "But don't destroy it."

Bloom furrowed her brow. Valen had never asked for restraint. He'd told her to burn brighter, hotter, harder.

Taking a steadying breath, she focused her flame into a single thread, sending a thin stream of fire toward the sphere. The moment it touched the glowing orb, Bloom pulled back, willing the flames to dissipate before they could scorch through the magic. The sphere wavered but remained intact.

Faragonda smiled softly. "Again."

With a wave of her hand, Faragonda summoned a series of glowing orbs, each one pulsing with a different color. They floated in the air around Bloom, moving in a slow, deliberate pattern.

"These orbs represent different magical energies," Faragonda explained. "Your task is to extinguish them using your Dragon Flame. But be careful, each orb requires a different approach. Some will respond to brute force, while others require finesse."

Bloom nodded, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the orbs. She raised her hand, sending a burst of flame toward the first orb. It flickered and went out, but the second orb absorbed the flame, growing brighter instead.

"Careful," Faragonda warned. "Not all magic can be overpowered. Sometimes, you need to adapt."

Bloom took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She focused on the second orb, this time sending a smaller, more controlled flame. The orb dimmed and then went out, and Bloom felt a small surge of satisfaction.

The third orb was trickier. It moved faster, darting around the room as if trying to evade her. Bloom chased it with her flames, but it seemed to absorb every attack. Frustration bubbled up inside her, but she forced herself to stay calm.

"Think, Bloom," Faragonda said, her voice calm but firm. "What is this orb trying to tell you?"

Bloom frowned, her eyes narrowing as she watched the orb. It wasn't just moving randomly. It was following a pattern. She focused on its movements, trying to predict where it would go next. When she finally saw the pattern, she sent a precise burst of flame, hitting the orb just as it changed direction. The orb flickered and went out.

Faragonda nodded approvingly. "Good. You're learning to adapt. That's important."

Bloom felt a small surge of pride, but it was short-lived. The fourth orb was larger and brighter than the others, and it pulsed with a strange, almost menacing energy. Bloom raised her hand, sending a burst of flame toward it, but the orb absorbed the flame and grew even larger.

"This one is different," Faragonda said, her voice calm but serious. "It's not just resisting your magic. It's feeding off it. You'll need to find another way to defeat it."

Bloom frowned, her mind racing. If her flames only made the orb stronger, what could she do? She thought back to her training with Valen, to the moments when he had pushed her to think outside the box, to use her magic in ways she hadn't considered before.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth in her chest. Instead of sending out a burst of flame, she concentrated on pulling the energy back, drawing it into herself. The orb pulsed brighter for a moment, but then it began to dim, its energy draining away. Bloom opened her eyes and sent a final, controlled burst of flame, extinguishing the orb completely.

Faragonda smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "Well done, Bloom. That was impressive."

Bloom felt a small surge of pride, but it was tempered. Training with Faragonda was going to be very different from training with Valen.

The orbs disappeared in a flash of light, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air, and Bloom let out a slow, steadying breath. The room was quiet again - no crackling flames, no pulsing magical spheres - just the soft hum of runes lining the walls of the training hall.

Faragonda studied Bloom for a long moment, her serene expression unreadable. Then, with a graceful flick of her wrist, the headmistress summoned a new kind of magic. This time, swirling ribbons of golden energy spiraled into existence, forming a delicate, twisting maze of light.

"Your next task," Faragonda said, "is precision."

Bloom blinked. "A maze?"

"Not just any maze," Faragonda replied softly. "This one reacts to magic. The ribbons are made from an enchantment designed to detect even the slightest fluctuation of energy. If you let your magic flare too wildly, the maze will collapse. If you lose focus, it will shift and reconfigure itself."

Bloom's stomach tightened. This was nothing like sparring with Valen - no battles of strength or firestorm of spells. This was delicate, intricate work.

"Your Dragon Flame must remain steady, Bloom," Faragonda continued. "Thread a single flame through the maze and reach the center without disturbing the magic. It requires absolute control, not power."

Bloom nodded slowly. She could do this. She had to.

Summoning a thread of golden fire to her fingertips, she approached the maze, the heat of her magic licking the edges of the glowing ribbons. The flame was steady, for now, but as soon as she began to weave it through the first spiral of light, the ribbons rippled in response.

Too strong.

Bloom bit her lip and pulled back, shrinking the flame until it was no larger than the flicker of a candle. The ribbons calmed, returning to their slow, hypnotic twist.

She moved carefully, guiding the flame with the smallest movement of her fingers. Every time the fire flared even slightly, the maze reacted, shifting the paths and causing the glowing walls to tremble.

"This is impossible," Bloom muttered under her breath, beads of sweat forming at her temple.

"It is not," Faragonda replied, her voice calm but firm. "It is about balance, Bloom. Your magic is a part of you. It listens to your heart, your emotions. If you push too hard or feel too much, it will rebel. You must guide it, not command it."

This was the opposite of Valen's training strategies. She took a slow breath, steadying herself. She wasn't here to fight the maze. She was here to move with it.

Her flame softened, no longer a roaring dragon, but a gentle whisper of heat. With newfound focus, Bloom guided the tiny thread of fire through the maze, watching as the ribbons remained still, accepting the controlled flow of magic.

Inch by inch, she moved forward.

The maze twisted and reformed as she went, but Bloom adjusted, allowing her magic to bend and adapt, her movements fluid and unhurried. It was like a dance, a delicate balance between control and surrender.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bloom reached the center.

The golden ribbons shimmered one last time before vanishing in a gentle pulse of magic.

Bloom's knees felt weak, but a spark of pride ignited in her chest.

Faragonda smiled, the warmth in her expression more pronounced now. "You are beginning to understand," she said softly. "Strength is important, Bloom, but true mastery lies in control."

Bloom wiped her hand across her brow. "I've never trained like this before."

Faragonda's gaze softened. "That is because Professor Valen taught you to be a warrior, and you have grown powerful under his guidance. But there is more to magic than battle. It is not only a weapon. It is also an art."

Bloom's heart twisted at the mention of Valen, but she pushed the feeling aside.

"Now," Faragonda continued, summoning a new set of glowing symbols in the air. They formed an interwoven pattern of runes that pulsed with a soft, silvery light. "Let us move on to the next lesson. I will teach you how to channel your Dragon Flame through these runes without igniting them. It requires subtlety and, more importantly, patience."

Bloom squared her shoulders, the ache in her muscles forgotten.

Chapter Text

The weeks that followed felt a strange, delicate balance, like walking a tightrope between longing and discipline.

Bloom continued her training with Headmistress Faragonda, and while the older woman's methods were vastly different from Valen's, the contrast was anything but comforting.

Under Faragonda's stern gaze, Bloom's Dragon Flame no longer felt like a part of her, it felt like a threat that needed to be contained. 

Where Valen had encouraged her to embrace the raw intensity of her magic, Faragonda seemed determined to confine it, to lock every spark of flame behind an invisible wall.

It was like trading a sword for a pair of shackles. Every movement had to be measured, every flicker of fire carefully reined in.

Faragonda's training was rigid.

She didn't teach Bloom to weave flames into intricate shapes or use them to heal, and there was no mention of versatility or creativity. 

Instead, every lesson was about suppression. How to douse a fire before it grew too wild. How to shrink a flame to a whisper of itself. How to build a magical "box" in her mind, a mental prison to trap the Dragon Flame if it ever threatened to spiral out of control.

"You are not here to explore your power, Bloom," Faragonda said more than once. "You are here to control it."

There was no warmth in those words, only firm authority.

Bloom tried to protest, tried to explain that the Dragon Flame wasn’t just about destruction, that she'd felt its creative energy before. But each time, Faragonda shut her down with a look that brooked no argument.

"This fire is unpredictable," the headmistress said during their third session. "And so are you. Until you prove that you can master it completely, there will be no talk of its 'potential.' Your magic is a storm, and a storm must be contained."

Bloom swallowed her frustration. 

She didn't want to be reckless, but this constant restraint made her feel like a caged animal. Every time she summoned her fire, she felt the weight of Faragonda’s expectations pressing down on her - smothering, not guiding.

There were moments when the Dragon Flame pulsed against her control, a wild heartbeat drumming under her skin. She wanted to let it breathe, let it move, but the invisible chains Faragonda had wrapped around her magic held it back.

As the weeks passed, Bloom didn't feel more confident, she felt smaller. Her flames no longer roared. They flickered. Her magic no longer danced, it obeyed.

One afternoon, the headmistress had conjured an array of delicate crystal flowers, each one a masterpiece of fragile magic, so intricate they looked as if they might shatter from the slightest touch.

"Your task," Faragonda had said, "is to use your Dragon Flame to heat these crystals until they glow... but not a single petal is to break."

Bloom had stared at the flowers, then at the fire coiling in her palm, and for a brief moment, she wished Valen were there. 

She missed the way he'd stand too close behind her during training, his voice a dark whisper in her ear as he pushed her harder, challenged her further.

She missed him.

Not just the training. Him.

The sarcastic remarks, the teasing, the way his hand would linger on her wrist a second longer than necessary after correcting her form. The way his gaze would burn hotter than her Dragon Flame, searing her skin with unspoken promises.

But those days were gone.

Now, Valen was a shadow, ever present but untouchable. 

They saw each other in Magiphilosophy class, exchanged stiff words about magical theories and elemental principles, and nothing more. His voice was calm, distant, and every time Bloom caught him looking at her, just a flicker of a glance, he would quickly avert his gaze.

She knew why. Headmistress Faragonda had made herself very clear. If she even suspected that there was something more than professional between them, Valen would be gone.

So Bloom kept her distance. She followed every rule. She was polite, respectful - the perfect student.

And Valen was the perfect professor.

It was excruciating.

But Bloom threw herself into her new training, though it felt less like mastering her magic and more like caging it. Slowly, she began to see the results - not in the form of bold new spells or dazzling displays of power, but in smaller, stricter ways.

She learned how to summon a flame so faint it barely flickered, holding it steady until it was little more than a warm ember hovering at her fingertips. She practiced containing her fire in tight, rigid shapes, straight lines, and closed circles, never anything wild or unpredictable.

Faragonda made her focus on reinforcing spells, not with the Dragon Flame's raw strength, but by siphoning off only the smallest sliver of its power to strengthen barriers and lock protective wards in place. It wasn’t about pushing limits, it was about pulling back, again and again, until Bloom’s magic felt more like a whisper than a roar.

It was a side of magic she'd never explored before, not delicate, but restrained. Not elegant, but controlled.

And for a while, the constant effort of keeping her fire in check was enough to dull the restless ache in her chest.

Until everything fell apart...

It was a crisp afternoon when the news broke. Bloom had just finished lunch with Stella and the others when the buzz of whispered rumors began to spread through the hallways of Alfea.

"Headmistress Faragonda is missing."

The words struck Bloom like a thunderbolt.

Missing.

No one knew exactly what had happened. All anyone could say was that Faragonda had left the castle the night before - alone - and hadn't returned. There was no note, no message, no trace of magic to follow. She had simply vanished.

Panic rippled through the school like wildfire.

The professors scrambled to maintain order, but the fear was palpable. Alfea had always felt like a sanctuary, a place of safety and learning, but now that sense of security was unraveling.

And in the midst of the chaos, Bloom felt a familiar presence.

Valen.

He was standing at the edge of the crowd, his jaw tight, his dark eyes locked onto the spot where Headmistress Faragonda usually stood during morning announcements. His expression was a storm - controlled, but only just. The muscle in his jaw twitched, and his hands were clenched at his sides.

For the first time in days, Bloom let herself look at him, really look at him, without fear of who might be watching.

There was no fear in his eyes, no panic, no uncertainty. 

Just a simmering tension that seemed to radiate from him like heat from a forge. His posture was rigid, his shoulders squared, and his jaw clenched so tightly she could see the faint outline of his muscles beneath his skin. He looked like a predator poised to strike, his grey eyes scanning the room with a sharp, calculating intensity.

For a moment, Bloom forgot about the chaos around her. She forgot about the whispers, the fear, the gnawing worry in her chest. All she could see was Valen, standing there like a shadow amidst the chaos. 

She wanted to go to him. But she couldn't. Not here, not with so many eyes watching. Not when Faragonda's warning still echoed in her mind.

Instead, she forced herself to turn away, to focus on the voices around her. Stella was clutching her arm, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced by wide-eyed worry. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Bloom admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But we need to stay calm. Panicking won't help anyone."

Stella nodded, though her grip on Bloom's arm didn't loosen. The other Winx girls huddled close, their faces pale with worry. Even Musa, usually so composed, looked shaken.

Bloom's mind raced. Faragonda wouldn't just disappear. She was too powerful, too careful. Something, or someone, had taken her. But who? And why?

Her gaze flicked back to Valen, who was now speaking quietly with Professor Palladium. The two men's expressions were grim, their voices too low for her to hear. Valen's hands moved as he spoke, sharp and deliberate, and Palladium nodded, his face etched with concern.

Bloom's stomach twisted. 

Before she could dwell on it further, Miss Griselda's voice cut through the chaos. "Students, please return to your dormitories immediately. Classes are canceled for the day. We will keep you updated as we learn more."

The crowd began to disperse, but Bloom lingered, her eyes still on Valen. He turned, his gaze meeting hers for the briefest of moments. There was no warmth in his eyes, no reassurance, just that same simmering tension, like a storm waiting to break.

And then he was gone, disappearing into the throng of students and teachers.

Bloom's chest ached as she turned to follow her friends back to the dormitory. She didn't know what to feel - fear, worry, confusion - it all swirled inside her like a tempest. 

Hours later, Bloom found herself pacing the length of her dorm room, her mind racing. 

Her friends had tried to distract her, to keep her from spiraling into worry, but it was no use. She couldn't stop thinking about Faragonda - about where she might be, about what might have happened to her.

The night dragged on like a heavy fog, thick with unanswered questions and gnawing worry. 

The dormitory was quiet now - not quiet enough - and Bloom could hear the soft, restless shuffling of her friends in their rooms, each of them trying, and failing, to find sleep. But Bloom didn't even bother trying.

She paced.

Back and forth, over and over, the pattern of her steps worn into the carpet by the weight of her thoughts. Her mind was a whirlwind, a storm that refused to settle.

She stopped by the window, staring out at the darkened grounds of Alfea. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the gardens and the towering spires of the school. It was a beautiful night, but Bloom felt no peace. 

Her thoughts kept circling back to Faragonda. 

Vanished without a word, leaving no trace.

The words echoed in her head, louder with each repetition. The headmistress wasn't just a figure of authority at Alfea. She was a symbol of stability, a beacon of strength. 

If someone as powerful as Faragonda could disappear so easily...

The thought sent a chill down Bloom's spine.

She stopped pacing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, the silence of the room pressing against her ears. 

The faint flicker of her Dragon Flame buzzed beneath her skin, a restless heat responding to the turmoil inside her. It had been this way all day... like her magic was waiting for something, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck her.

Faragonda wasn't the first to disappear.

Bloom's breath caught in her throat. There had been two others.

Bloom's breath caught as the realization washed over her. Months ago, Sky had told her that Headmaster Saladin of Red Fountain had gone on a diplomatic trip and never returned. And then there was Headmistress Griffin of Cloud Tower, who had been arrested after stolen, dangerous artifacts were found in her possession. 

At the time, Bloom hadn't thought much of it. But now... now it all seemed connected.

Her heart pounded.

Three names. Three powerful leaders. And not just any leaders, but the last remaining members of the Company of Light. And now, all three of them were gone.

The realization hit her so hard she stumbled back. It couldn't be a coincidence. It was too precise, too deliberate.

Bloom's heart raced as the pieces began to fall into place. This wasn't a coincidence. Someone - or something - was targeting the members of the Company of Light. 

The Company of Light - the legendary group of heroes who had once united against the greatest darkness the Magic Dimension had ever known - was being dismantled.

Piece by piece. Person by person.

Saladin had gone missing first, months ago. It had seemed strange at the time, but Red Fountain had assured everyone that there was no reason to panic.

Then Griffin was locked away in a prison cell, disgraced and dishonored. Bloom had never truly believed the accusations, but the evidence had seemed damning enough.

And now Faragonda was simply gone.

Her legs gave out, and she sank onto the edge of her bed, her heart hammering against her ribs.

This wasn't random. It was a pattern.

Someone was taking out the last members of the Company of Light. But why?

Her thoughts spiraled, each more terrifying than the last. Was it revenge? A warning? Or was something far worse looming on the horizon?

There was one answer. One she didn't want to say out loud.

The Ancestresses.

The three Ancestral Witches, the dark sorceresses that the Company of Light had once defeated, had not been destroyed, merely banished. Locked away, but never gone. Bloom's breath hitched. Who else could it be but them? They had the motive, the hatred, the desire for revenge against the very people who had bested them.

The room seemed colder now.

Her mind spun, scrambling for a solution, a plan, anything. She needed information - anything she could find about the Ancestresses - their magic, their banishment, their potential return.

The library.

But the thought soured the moment it crossed her mind. There was no way she'd get there unnoticed. With Faragonda's disappearance, the school would be locked down. Every hallway would be watched, every entrance guarded. Sneaking into the library now was impossible.

Bloom clenched her fists, frustration boiling inside her. She needed answers, needed them now.

And then, like a spark catching dry wood, a memory surfaced.

Weeks ago - no, months - back when she had visited the Solarian library. She had been searching for answers then too, and she'd found a book about the Ancestresses. But before she could read further in it, Flora and Musa had dragged her away to explore the palace.

She had never returned the book.

Her heart pounded faster.

Bloom leapt to her feet, her mind racing. If she hadn't returned it, that meant-

She scrambled to her closet, shoving aside piles of clothes and trinkets, tearing through drawers and shelves. Her room was a whirlwind of movement, books and papers tossed aside until-

There.

A thick tome lay at the back of the shelf, its cover worn and cracked with age. The title gleamed in dark, silvered lettering:

The Three Ancestresses: Origins of Darkness.

Bloom clutched the book to her chest, her breath ragged.

This was it. This was what she needed.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, the weight of the book heavy in her hands. The cover was worn, the edges frayed, but the title still gleamed in the moonlight streaming through the window. She opened it carefully, the pages crackling with age, and began to read.

The first page was a detailed illustration of the three witches - tall, imposing figures cloaked in shadow, their eyes glowing with malevolent power. Bloom's stomach twisted as she studied their faces. They looked ancient, their features sharp and cruel, their expressions filled with malice.

Her gaze drifted down to the text.

"The Ancestral Witches were not merely practitioners of dark magic; they were the harbingers of chaos, the architects of destruction. No one knows from where the witches came - only that they emerged from the void, a place of pure darkness, drawn by an insatiable hunger for fear and power."

She had read all of this before. This was the story she knew - the one told in every history book, repeated in every lesson about the Fall of Domino. The Ancestresses had descended upon her home-world like a storm, casting Domino into eternal winter, slaughtering those who opposed them, and hunting the power they desired most: the Great Dragon's Flame.

Her Flame.

Bloom's fingers brushed absently over her chest, where she sometimes imagined the Dragon Flame simmered beneath her skin, even when dormant. The witches had wanted the Flame more than anything, had razed her planet to the ground in their quest to possess it.

None of this was new.

She exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling inside her. She had hoped for something, anything, that might explain the disappearances of Faragonda, Saladin, and Griffin, something to link the witches to what was happening now.

But so far, there was nothing.

The same old stories, the same warnings.

She moved to close the book, her thumb sliding under the edge of the next page, and then she saw it.

A single word, bold and unmistakable, stamped like a dark brand across the title of the following chapter:

Valtor. 

The name sent a shiver down her spine.

The dark sorcerer created by the Ancestral Witches themselves.

She had read about him in other books - fleeting mentions, cautionary footnotes about the creature born of darkness and magic, a being the witches had molded from their own essence. A powerful wizard designed to serve them in their relentless pursuit of power.

Faragonda had told her, too, during one of their private talks. Valtor had been defeated, locked away in the Omega Dimension - a frozen wasteland where even the most dangerous creatures of the Magic Dimension could not escape.

Incarcerated. Forgotten.

But something about the way his name was written here, so bold and ominous, made her pause. 

Bloom's heart raced as she turned the page. The chapter on Valtor was longer than she had expected, the text dense and detailed. She leaned closer, her eyes scanning the words.

"Valtor was not born, but made. Created by the Ancestral Witches as a vessel for their darkest magic, he was imbued with a fraction of their power and a singular purpose: to bring chaos to the Magic Dimension and to claim the Dragon Flame for his creators."

Bloom's stomach churned. She had known that Valtor was a creation of the witches, but the way it was described made him sound more like a weapon than a person. A weapon designed to destroy.

She read on, her pulse quickening.

"Valtor's power was unparalleled, his mastery of dark magic rivaling even that of the Ancestral Witches themselves. He was cunning, ruthless, and utterly devoid of mercy. His very presence was said to corrupt the land, twisting it into a reflection of his own darkness."

She blinked, the words blurring for a moment.

"But like all things touched by darkness, Valtor's power quickly grew beyond their control. He was a being born from their magic, but with his growth came his own desires - desires to overthrow the very witches who had created him. Valtor's ambitions knew no bounds. He saw the Ancestresses as nothing more than obstacles to his own goals. He longed to become more than their servant."

The words made Bloom's stomach turn. Valtor was a puppet, yes, but a puppet that had outgrown his strings and sought to sever them. He had once been loyal, but now he sought to twist everything to his own desires. 

He no longer wished to be their instrument.

He longed to be the hand that wielded the blade.

The next passage made her blood run cold.

"The Ancestresses, realizing their mistake in creating such a powerful being, sought to destroy Valtor before he could unmake their plans. But Valtor was clever, and he had learned the ways of manipulation and betrayal. He turned against them, seeking to claim their power for his own."

He had fought them. His own creators. What kind of being could dare to betray the very witches who had shaped him from their own magic?

Bloom's hands trembled on the book's edges.

"With his betrayal, the witches' dark influence over the realms faltered, and they turned their sights toward Domino - seeking to claim the Dragon Flame as their own. This act would lead to the downfall of their creation, and to the cataclysmic events that would alter the course of history forever."

Valtor's betrayal had forced the Ancestresses to redirect their fury.

Unable to control their rebellious creation, they had instead sought the one force that could secure their reign once and for all: the Dragon Flame.

Bloom's mind spun. The witches' attack on Domino hadn't just been a strike against her home - it had been an act of desperation. A way to grasp an even greater power after their own weapon had turned against them.

And Valtor...

Valtor hadn't just been their puppet. He had been the spark that ignited the war.

Bloom's breath hitched as she turned the page, her heart still racing from what she'd just read. Valtor's betrayal, his defiance of the witches who created him, the spark that had led to the fall of Domino. She needed more - more answers, more clues - anything to help her understand the dark web that seemed to be tightening around her.

But the moment her eyes fell upon the next page, everything stopped.

Her heart. 

Her breath. 

The world.

The book nearly tumbled from her hands, her vision swimming as a wave of pure, unrelenting horror crashed over her, dragging her down into its merciless depths.

There, sprawled across the parchment in dark, elegant ink, was a picture of him.

Valtor.

His image was striking, frozen yet alive in its cruel beauty.

A long maroon coat flared out at his sides, the lavender inner lining catching a ghostly shimmer beneath the candlelight. Gold pins gleamed over the folded cuffs, intricate and precise, a sharp contrast to the dark indigo gloves encasing his hands.

Hands that, Bloom suddenly realized with sickening clarity, she had felt.

On her skin.

He wore a violet vest over a white ruffled shirt, every layer of his clothing regal, as if power itself was woven into the very fabric. His pants were a deep violet, tucked neatly into greyish knee-high boots, the sharp lines of his figure both elegant and menacing.

But none of that mattered.

None of it.

Because the face staring back at her - cold, proud and impossibly handsome - was the same face that had haunted her thoughts for weeks.

It was the face of Professor Valen.

Bloom's world tilted.

The man who had challenged her in training, who had circled her like a dark flame, his voice a blade against her resolve as he pushed her to the edge of her magic. 

The man whose hands had lingered a second too long on her waist, whose fingers had brushed along her wrist, igniting more than just her fire. 

The man whose knuckles had grazed her jaw, his touch a silent promise, his gaze burning hotter than any spell.

The man she had kissed.

The man she had wanted to kiss again.

The man who had unraveled her, bit by bit, until she was lost in the heat of him, until his voice was the only sound she heard, his touch the only thing she felt.

Her stomach heaved.

The world spun violently, and Bloom stumbled back from the desk, a broken, strangled sound ripping from her throat, somewhere between a sob and a scream.

"No... no, this can't be-"

Her fingers flew to her lips as if trying to wipe away the memory of his kiss, of the way his mouth had hovered so close to hers, the way his touch had burned a path along her skin, leaving her breathless and wanting.

The ghost of his hands, trailing down her arm, steadying her by the waist, fingers grazing the curve of her neck as he tilted her chin, their faces a breath apart.

Her skin crawled.

The man she had trusted.

The man who had set her aflame.

The man she had fallen for.

He wasn't Valen at all.

It was Valtor.

It had been Valtor all along.

A sob clawed its way up her throat, but she swallowed it down, her entire body trembling. The betrayal burned hotter than her Dragon Flame, searing through her chest, leaving her hollow and broken. The pain wasn't a clean cut. It was a jagged, searing wound, twisting deeper and deeper with every thought.

He had touched her, he had touched her, and she had let him.

Worse... she had wanted him to.

She had ached for him.

She had dreamed of him.

And now, she knew the truth.

Valen didn't exist.

He never had.

It had always been Valtor - a monster, a traitor, the very being responsible for the ruin of her home, the death of her people... the destruction of her family.

Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, the book sliding from her fingers and landing with a dull thud beside her.

Her heart pounded, not with fury, but with utter devastation.

She couldn't breathe.

Everything inside her shattered.

The man she loved was the monster she hated.

Bloom didn't move.

She couldn't.

She was frozen there on the floor, staring at the book as though the ink might bleed off the page and swallow her whole. The name, Valtor, seemed to pulse in her mind, louder than her own heartbeat, louder than the ragged sound of her breathing.

Her vision blurred, but she couldn't tell if it was from tears or the unbearable weight of realization.

He had lied to her.

From the very beginning.

Every touch, every whispered word, had been a lie.

The man who had circled her like a predator during training, his voice a dark promise in her ear, was never guiding her to strength. He was testing her, measuring her power, peeling back her defenses layer by layer - not to help her control the Dragon Flame, but to see how close he could get.

How far he could push her.

The way he had pressed her against the stone wall during their last session, his hand pinning her wrist above her head - the heat between them scorching, unbearable - that hadn't been a slip of control. It had been intentional.

Calculated. He had studied her like a weapon he intended to wield.

Bloom clutched her chest, as though she could physically hold herself together, but her heart - oh Stars, her heart - felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

The way he looked at her...

Those stolen moments, when his dark gaze had drifted to her lips... had that been real? Had any of it been real? Or was he simply toying with her, watching with cruel satisfaction as she fell deeper and deeper into whatever it was that had been building between them?

And their kisses -

Bloom's stomach twisted violently. She shot to her feet and staggered to the other side of the room, away from the book, as though distance alone could unmake the memories burning through her mind.

She had kissed him. She had let herself want him.

The way his hand had curled around the small of her back, the way his mouth had hovered just close enough to steal her breath... all while he was Valtor.

The same Valtor who had betrayed the Ancestresses.

The same Valtor who had led the witches to Domino... who had destroyed her home, who had stood by as they slaughtered her people, her family.

The man responsible for everything she had lost... was the same man who had touched her so tenderly.

The room tilted again, and Bloom pressed a hand against the wall, her magic roaring beneath her skin - wild, untamed, like her Dragon Flame could feel the betrayal too, like it was begging to be unleashed.

Had he known?

Of course, he had.

Valtor had known exactly who she was from the moment they met. He had known she was the Keeper of the Dragon Flame - the last princess of the world he had helped destroy.

And still... he had touched her.

Still, he had kissed her.

Was it all part of some plan? To get close to her, to manipulate her, to twist her feelings so he could break her apart, just like he had broken Domino?

Or was it something worse?

Had he enjoyed it?

The thought shattered something deep inside her.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, a sob tearing from her throat - raw and broken, a sound that tasted like betrayal and heartbreak all at once.

Because she had wanted him.

Not just once. Not just during their kisses.

But every time his hand brushed her shoulder during a lesson, every time his voice dipped too low when he spoke her name, every time he had called her darling, every time his dark eyes burned into hers like he was fighting something... or feeding it.

She had wanted him, and he had known.

He had used it.

Bloom's knees buckled again, but this time she didn't catch herself. She crumpled to the floor, curling in on herself as the full weight of the truth crushed her.

The man she had been falling for wasn't a man at all.

He was a monster.

A monster who had already taken so much from her - her family, her home, her past - and now, without her even realizing it...

He had taken her heart.

And there was nothing left to give.

Chapter Text

Bloom didn't know how long she stayed crumpled on the floor, arms wrapped around herself like she could hold the pieces of her shattered heart together. 

Time didn't seem to move. The room felt frozen, the silence too thick, too suffocating. The only sound was the jagged rhythm of her breathing, broken by the occasional sob she couldn't bite back.

Her mind wouldn't stop spiraling.

It kept replaying everything - every moment, every glance, every touch.

The way his hand would brush the small of her back during training, the way his gaze would darken whenever their sparring matches grew too close, too heated. How his voice, always low and rough, would soften - just barely - when he said her name.

"Bloom. My darling."

Her name had always sounded different on his lips, like a secret, like a promise.

But now... now she could hear the lie in every whisper.

He hadn't been fighting his desire for her... he had been playing her.

Twisting the connection between them into a weapon - to what end, she didn't know. To manipulate her? To control the Dragon Flame? To destroy her from the inside out?

Her stomach twisted. She felt sick. Used.

And what hurt the most was that he had won.

Because she had let him in.

Bloom squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. She could still feel him, still feel Valtor, the ghost of his touch on her skin. His hand on her wrist, firm but never cruel, guiding her magic. His palm grazing her hip when he moved behind her during a lesson.

The way he had looked at her.