She could've forced him to move.
She should have.
But Ayra didn't.
Instead, she sat somewhere else — far enough not to seem bothered, close enough to still feel his silence humming beside her like a spell that hadn't been spoken yet.
No one said anything.
No one dared.
Even the professors hesitated when they saw the shift in seats. Whispers sparked between students like static, but no one questioned Ayra. And certainly, no one questioned him.
Because no one knew him.
Not his name.
Not his background.
Not why the enchanted record scrolls didn't list him when searched.
He was just there now. Unexplained.
And somehow… untouchable
Ayra spent the rest of that lecture half-listening, half-burning. She stared ahead, but her mind drifted. Her fingers tapped out invisible spells on the desk. She hated the feeling crawling beneath her skin — the itch of unpredictability, of losing her grip on the room's center of gravity.
He had taken her seat.
He had looked away.
He had spoken only three words.
And somehow, it felt louder than any scream
Later that evening, Ayra stood on the balcony of her tower suite, overlooking the fog-draped courtyards of Velaria. The night wind was cold, but she didn't move. The stars were dim, like they were watching something quietly unfold.
She told herself she wasn't thinking about him.
But her magic was restless. The runes beneath her skin pulsed faintly, reacting to something deeper — something she couldn't name.
She'd dealt with rivals before.
She'd crushed egos. Shattered pride.
She knew how to handle power when it challenged her.
But this wasn't power.
This was presence.
Still. Silent. Steady.
Like a river running beneath ice.
She replayed that moment in class again — the way he looked up, those eyes like rain sliding down glass. Not warm. Not cold. Just distant.
And yet, in that distance… she saw something.
Something that made her heartbeat slow, then quicken again
That night, Ayra didn't sleep early.
She sat on her window ledge, barefoot and unreadable, as the mist rolled in like soft breath across the stones. Her candles flickered, books open but untouched. Her room felt smaller somehow, even though it hadn't changed.
Somewhere in the floor below, he existed. Quietly.
Reading. Breathing. Not thinking of her at all.
And maybe that was the part she hated most