Lyra hadn't planned to go.
She stood in front of her closet,fingers resting on the strap of her bag, staring at clothes she barely wore,neutral colors,simple lines.Things meant to help her disappear into rooms rather than announce her presence.
"Lyra," Talia said from behind her,voice already dancing with excitement,if you say no one more time,I'm dragging you out myself.
I said I was tired,Lyra replied calmly.
Talia scoffed"You're always tired you can be tired at a party."
Lyra turned slightly...Why does there have to be a party?
"Because it's the first official week," Talia said, pulling on earrings. "And because the Literature Society sponsors are throwing it. Which means free drinks, free food, and—" she wiggled her brows "—interesting people."
Lyra stiffened...Sponsors?
Talia grinned. "Relax.,you don't have to talk to anyone. Just show your face. Ten minutes."
Lyra hesitated.
She didn't like crowds,noise blurred her thoughts,too many people made it hard to track exits, intentions, shifts in mood.
But she also knew saying no too often drew attention.
"Fine," she said quietly. "Ten minutes."
The party was already loud when they arrived.
Music spilled out of the student center hall, bass vibrating through the floor. Lights flashed softly—nothing wild, just enough to blur edges and soften faces. Laughter echoed everywhere, layered over overlapping conversations.
Lyra immediately regretted agreeing.
Talia disappeared within minutes, pulled into a group of friends she seemed to collect effortlessly. Lyra hovered near the edge of the room, nursing a drink she had no intention of finishing.
She scanned the exits automatically.
And then she felt it.
The shift.
The way attention tilted, conversations bending subtly toward one point.
Kael Draven stood near the center of the room.
He looked infuriatingly at ease—dark shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to suggest effort without actually making one. A girl laughed at something he said, her hand resting comfortably on his arm. Another leaned close, whispering into his ear.
He smiled.
Not the faint, controlled one Lyra had seen before.
This one was effortless. Disarming. Dangerous.
Her chest tightened.
So this is what they mean, she thought.
She didn't feel jealousy—not exactly. It was something colder. A reminder.
This is his world. Noise. Attention. Choice.
Lyra took a step back, then another.
She didn't notice Kael's gaze flick toward the edge of the room until it settled—briefly—on her.
Their eyes met.
His smile didn't fade.
But something in his posture changed. Subtle. Controlled.
Lyra looked away immediately.
That was enough.
She set her cup down untouched and slipped through the side doors, breathing easier the moment the music dulled behind her.
Outside, the night air was cool, calming.
Lyra leaned against the stone wall, closing her eyes for a moment. Her heart wasn't racing—but her thoughts were.
She hated how aware she felt. How seen.
Footsteps approached.
She straightened instinctively.
"Leaving already?"
Kael's voice was calm, unhurried.
"I don't like crowds," Lyra said, not turning around.
"I noticed."
She glanced at him then, arms folding loosely across her chest. "You seem to thrive in them."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Appearances are useful."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he agreed. "But it's an honest one."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"I didn't expect to see you there," he said.
"I didn't expect to go," Lyra replied.
Another pause.
"You left quickly."
"I do that."
Kael studied her, gaze thoughtful rather than intrusive. "You don't owe anyone your presence."
Something about the statement startled her.
"I know," she said softly.
She stepped away then, ending the conversation before it could stretch into something else.
"Goodnight, Kael."
"Goodnight, Lyra."
He didn't follow.
Later that night, her room felt quieter than usual.
Talia returned buzzing with stories Lyra half-listened to, nodding at the right moments. When the room finally fell silent again, Lyra pulled out her notebook.
Her pen hovered longer than usual.
Dear Stranger,
I saw you surrounded tonight.
You looked comfortable there.
I wasn't.
I don't know why that matters to me, and I don't like that it does.
Distance feels safer when it's chosen.
Tonight reminded me why I prefer it.
— L.
She closed the notebook gently.
Across campus, Kael stood alone in the dark, party noise fading behind him as he read the letter.
Madame Selvara's presence brushed against the edge of his awareness.
"You're walking a narrow line," she said quietly.
Kael folded the letter. "I'm not crossing it."
"Be careful," Selvara warned. "Humans don't need blood to bleed."
His jaw tightened.
"I know."