Far from the bustle of the courtyards, Arya stood at the edge of the aquamarine pool, the scent of mineral water sharp in the air. This was the domain of Hydromancy, the ancient discipline of bending water to one's will. Droplets danced in the air around her as she raised her palms, trying to control the thin ribbons of water that twisted at her command.
Elijah stood beside her, guiding her movements with quiet patience. His presence was steady, grounding. "Don't force it, Arya. Water doesn't obey through strength—it responds to rhythm. Breathe with it."
Arya exhaled slowly, the ribbon of water gliding across the surface of the pool like silk. For the first time, it felt right. She smiled faintly, her eyes catching Elijah's. "I think I'm getting it."
But the calm didn't last.
The heavy oak doors slammed open, and laughter spilled into the chamber. A rush of heat followed as Ryu, Xavier and the other classmates entered, both clad in their sparring gear. Their steps carried the spark of fire with them—Pyroflame Dominion, the legacy of their bloodline.
The water in the pool rippled uneasily at their presence.
"Training in secret, are we?" Xavier called cheerfully, already dropping his cloak on a bench. "Or just trying to outshine us fire-born?"
Arya stiffened. Ryu's gaze had already found her, silver eyes glinting like molten steel. His lips curved in that infuriating, confident half-smile. "Didn't know you had lessons this hour. If I'd known, I'd have come sooner."
Elijah stepped forward, his jaw tightening. "This is the Hydromancers' schedule. You're disrupting."
Xavier rolled his eyes. "Relax, Water Prince. It's not like the pool's yours alone."
Ryu didn't answer Elijah—his attention was still on Arya. "Show me," he said softly, voice like a challenge. "How far have you come?"
Arya hesitated, caught between pride and nerves. She lifted her hands, calling the pool into motion. The water rose in shimmering arcs, spiraling into the air. But just as she steadied it, Xavier—playful as ever—sent a spark of fire flickering too close.
The heat clashed with the water's rhythm. Arya gasped, her focus snapping. The water fell abruptly, her foot slipping on the slick tiles.
She tumbled backward into the pool—her head striking the edge with a sickening crack.
"Eli!" she heard herself call, though her voice was faint, already muffled by the water rushing into her ears.
"ARYA!"
Elijah dove in instantly, hauling her to the surface. His fury erupted like a storm as he turned on Ryu the moment Arya coughed weakly in his arms. "This is your fault!" His voice thundered across the chamber, water streaming from his hair. "You barged in, distracted her, and now—"
Ryu didn't let him finish. He shoved Elijah aside without hesitation, his face sharp with a fear he never allowed others to see. "Move."
"Eli—" Arya tried to speak, but Ryu was already lifting her into his arms.
"Don't waste time shouting," Ryu snapped, his composure cracked into urgency. "She needs the infirmary."
Xavier stood frozen, guilt flickering across his face for once, while Elijah's hands curled into fists. His eyes burned with rage, but what stung worse was the way Ryu didn't even glance at him—only at Arya, cradled as though nothing else mattered.
The doors slammed shut behind them as Ryu carried her away, his stride fierce and unyielding.
And in the shadows of the corridor beyond, Chloe—one of Misha's loyal circle—watched it all unfold. A sly smile tugged at her lips.
"Strange," she murmured, recalling the whispered tidbit she'd overheard days before. "Our little Arya acts strange at the taste of pineapple… and now she nearly drowns in her own element."
She leaned against the wall, already imagining Misha's triumphant smirk when she returned.
"Yes… she'll want to hear this immediately."
---
The infirmary smelled faintly of herbs and enchanted salves. Arya stirred, wincing at the dull throb in her head. A soft glow from the healing crystals above bathed the room in pale light. She wasn't alone.
Ryu sat at her bedside, silver hair tousled, his cloak draped carelessly over the chair. His arms were crossed, but his eyes… his eyes hadn't left her since she woke.
"You should rest," he said quietly.
Arya blinked at him, lips parting to speak—but the door creaked open before she could answer.
"Well, well," a honeyed voice floated in, smooth and bright as poisoned wine. "Our darling princess is awake."
Misha glided into the room, golden curls cascading over her embroidered gown, Chloe at her heels like a shadow. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who owned every room she stepped into.
Arya stiffened. "Misha."
"My, what a fright you gave us," Misha said sweetly, moving closer to the bed. Her eyes flickered, noting Ryu's posture by Arya's side, the way his presence wrapped around her like silent armor. Her smile sharpened. "I rushed here the moment I heard. Imagine, the forgotten princess nearly drowning… how tragic."
Ryu's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Misha leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. "You know, secrets don't stay hidden forever. The academy has eyes everywhere. Isn't that right, Chloe?"
Chloe smirked knowingly, her gaze darting to Arya. "Exactly."
Arya felt her stomach twist, but Misha only clasped her hands dramatically, as if brushing it aside. "But enough gloom. What you need is rest, laughter, and a little… distraction. Which is why I've decided to invite a select group of us to my family's lakeside villa this weekend. Fresh air, good company, and of course… no tedious professors hovering."
Her gaze lingered on Arya, then slid to Ryu. "I do hope you'll come. Both of you."
Arya hesitated. Misha's smile didn't waver, but beneath the surface Arya could feel it—a trap dressed in silk and sugar.
Ryu's voice cut through the silence. "She's still healing. She doesn't need—"
"Oh, but she does," Misha interrupted smoothly, her tone deceptively light. "What better way to recover than surrounded by friends? Don't be selfish, Ryu."
Arya looked between them, her pulse quickening. There was no refusing Misha without drawing suspicion—or worse, more attention.
Misha straightened, satisfied with the tension she'd left in the air. "Good. Then it's settled. I'll send word of the details. Don't be late."
As she swept from the room, Chloe lingered just long enough to murmur in Arya's ear:
"Secrets always slip out, princess. Always."
And then they were gone, leaving Arya with a pounding head and a heart full of dread.