Chapter 37 – Loneliness

  Kaelin had noticed the shift between Lena and Zephyr long before either of them had the courage to say anything aloud. It was subtle, manifesting in lingering glances, in the way their personal space blurred as if an invisible thread had drawn them closer. It wasn’t obvious, in fact most people probably wouldn’t have picked up on it. But Kaelin had spent enough time in their company to recognize the undercurrents beneath the surface.

  They were together now, officially. Not that the distinction mattered. The dynamic between them had changed, leaving Kaelin on the periphery, an observer rather than a participant.

  She told herself it didn't matter, that she had no reason to care. But as the days passed, the feeling gnawed at her, an unshakeable feeling that something had changed at a fundamental level.

  Lena still smiled at her the same way, still tried to involve her in the same harebrained schemes, but it was impossible to ignore how her attention always seemed to drift back to Zephyr. Inside jokes that had once been shared between the three of them had, at some point, evolved into something exclusive to just the two.

  Zephyr, for his part, remained unchanged – still insufferably confident, still naturally gifted at everything he attempted, still unreadable when he chose to be. But when he looked at Lena, there was something softer in his expression, something Kaelin had never seen directed at herself.

  That was fine. It wasn’t like she had wanted that from him. The very idea was absurd.

  She pushed the thought away as she navigated the academy halls, weaving through the clusters of students buzzing with anxious energy.

  The upcoming End of Year exams dominated every conversation, whispers filled with speculation and dread. If you failed these tests, your time at the academy was over. In the world of magic, a failed student of the Royal Magic Academy has a worse time than someone who never made it in at all.

  By the time she reached the homeroom, most of the seats were already occupied. Her gaze instinctively flickered toward the back of the room, where Lena and Zephyr sat with their heads tilted toward one another, their conversation laced with quiet laughter. Kaelin hesitated. For a fleeting moment, she considered joining them.

  But then Lena reached out, her fingers brushing Zephyr’s wrist in a casual yet intimate gesture, and something in Kaelin recoiled.

  Instead, she took a seat near the middle of the room, schooling her expression into something impassive. A familiar sensation curled in her chest – not quite jealousy, but a hollow ache, a reminder of how easily things changed. They hadn’t abandoned her, not exactly, but she could feel the distance stretching between them, widening with every shared moment she wasn’t a part of.

  Professor Alden entered a moment later, his mere presence suffocating the remaining whispers. Known for his ruthless pragmatism, he wasted no time, dropping a stack of parchment onto the desk with a dull thud.

  “The End of Year exams will take place in two weeks,” he announced without preamble. “This year, they will be conducted in teams of two.”

  A ripple of murmurs swept through the room. Kaelin barely registered them, her mind already whirring. Teams of two? That was unusual. The academy prided itself on fostering both individual, and team strength. Being tested in a group too large for solitary growth, and too small for proper strategies and teamwork seemed like a waste of time.

  Alden continued, unfazed by the shift in atmosphere. “Your partners have been assigned by your homeroom instructors based on compatability. Or in this case, lack thereof. For you all, the person who did the choosing… was me. There will be no appeals, no switching.” He lifted the list and began reading off names.

  Kaelin forced her breath to remain steady. Where would she go? She hadn’t had much contact with the other people in her class since the beginning of the year. The majority of them had tried their best to stay away, and the rest had succeeded. Any of them was as likely as the other, unless…

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  “Kaelin Crown and Kana Elysion.”

  The words landed like a punch to the face.

  She stiffened, fingers curling against the edge of her desk. Kana. Of all the possible choices, they had paired her with the one person in the academy who had every reason to despise her.

  A murmur rippled through the room, a few lingering glances cast her way. Everyone knew what had transpired during the Thread Trials.

  Kaelin had killed Kana’s best friend, Daniel, in the final duel.

  It hadn’t been premeditated she still wasn’t really sure how she had that much power. Her memories of the moment had been gone the moment she regained consciousness… but she could guess.

  The battle had been brutal, an unforgiving display of skill and desperation, and Kaelin had done what she needed to survive. But intentions meant little in the face of cold reality.

  She had walked away from the arena. Daniel hadn’t.

  The duel had been sanctioned, a formalized test of ability, yet that didn’t erase the weight of what had happened. Kana hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her since.

  Kaelin could still recall the way she had looked at her, Daniel laid in her arms, raw fury barely restrained beneath the surface of her skin.

  The academy preached discipline, but no set of rules could erase the kind of grudge that came from watching a friend fall.

  And now she was expected to work with Kana as though none of it had ever happened.

  A cold weight settled in her stomach. She risked a glance toward the back of the room, where Lena and Zephyr remained immersed in hushed conversation, both unaware of what had just happened, and unconcerned by their own pairing.

  Had she ever truly been a part of their world, or had she merely occupied a space that was now being filled by something stronger? A bond she couldn’t compete with?

  At what point had she become an afterthought?

  She wrenched her gaze away, jaw tight. It didn’t matter. None of it did. She hadn’t come to this academy to make friends; she was here to prove herself. And if that meant facing Kana, then so be it.

  At least in battle, there was no room for pretence. No need for false smiles or carefully chosen words. In the arena, things were simple.

  And Kaelin had always been pretty good at surviving.

  ***

  Later, Kaelin found Kana seated at the far end of the cafeteria, isolated by choice rather than circumstance. Unlike most students, who gathered in loud, buzzing groups, Kana occupied a table alone, picking at her food with disinterest.

  The academy was a place of constant movement, of shifting alliances and power plays, but Kana had always carried herself with the confidence of someone who needed no one. Now, in the wake of the exam announcement, her solitude seemed deliberate. A wall erected before anyone could even consider approaching.

  Kaelin hesitated for only a moment before she squared her shoulders and strode forward. Whatever bitterness lingered between them, they were going to have to work together. Avoiding the conversation wouldn’t change that.

  Kana didn’t look up when Kaelin stopped beside the table, her focus seemingly fixed on the half-eaten meal in front of her. It wasn’t until Kaelin cleared her throat that Kana finally acknowledged her, gaze flickering up with the kind of sharpness that made it clear she’d rather be anywhere else.

  “What do you want?” Kana asked, voice clipped.

  Kaelin didn’t flinch, though she could feel the tension rolling off Kana in waves. “We’re partners. Figured we should talk.”

  Kana let out a short, humourless laugh. “Talk? About what?”

  Kaelin’s fingers tightened slightly at her sides, but she forced herself to keep her tone level. “The exams. We don’t know what they’ll entail yet, but if we’re going to be working together, we should at least establish some kind of understanding of each other’s abilities.”

  Kana’s expression was unreadable, but the set of her shoulders betrayed her irritation. “That’s unnecessary.”

  Kaelin arched a brow. “How do you figure?”

  Kana stabbed a piece of fruit with her fork and twirled it between her fingers. “Because I don’t intend to rely on you.”

  The words were light, almost flippant, but Kaelin caught the weight beneath them. The unspoken resentment, the simmering disdain that Kana was too controlled to voice outright. She wasn’t surprised, not really. But some part of her had hoped that Kana, pragmatic as she was, would at least be willing to put personal feelings aside.

  “That’s a mistake,” Kaelin said evenly. “Like it or not, we’re in this together.”

  Kana finally set her fork down, folding her hands neatly on the table. When she spoke again, her voice was eerily calm. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Neither did I.”

  Kana studied her for a long moment, as if weighing whether it was worth the effort to continue the conversation. Eventually, she exhaled through her nose and pushed her tray aside. “I’ll handle my end. You handle yours. That’s all there is to discuss.”

  Kaelin clenched her jaw. It wasn’t unexpected, but the sheer finality in Kana’s tone made something in her chest twist.

  She had fought too hard, survived too much to let something as petty as personal animosity get in her way. If Kana wanted to act like she could go through this alone, fine. Kaelin would make sure she saw just how wrong she was.