Moonlight poured through the arched windows of the Illusion Tower, casting long, slanted shadows across its ancient marble floors. In the tower's inner sanctum, where only the most elite illusionists of the Academy were allowed, Selene stood alone. The silence was absolute—every layer of sound peeled away by arcane wards she had set herself. It was her world now.
Her sanctuary.
And the air thrummed with obsession.
Selene's fingers moved delicately through the air, weaving threads of shimmering mana into complex symbols. Each rune hovered for a moment before embedding itself in a growing lattice of illusion magic above a crystal basin.
Her violet eyes were half-lidded, unfocused in the physical world—focused instead on the vision within the spellwork.
It was him.
Kael Stormborn.
Again.
She had seen it a thousand times already, yet she still watched. His form as he wielded Veyrion, lightning arcing from his blade, his transformation into that terrible, divine hybrid. Dragon and man. Mortal and god.
The memory replayed like a sacred text—his power, his fury, his resolve. He was perfection wrapped in chaos.
Selene's breath caught as the moment of his transformation played out, slowed by her spell. She could see the flicker in his eyes—the agony of the power awakening and the resolve with which he embraced it.
She smiled faintly, brushing a lock of silver hair behind one pointed ear.
"You endured it," she whispered to the illusion. "You became something more. Just like I knew you would."
Around the basin, other illusions stirred—figures she had recreated in obsessive detail. Rynn, standing close beside Kael, touching his arm, laughing at his jokes. Another student leaning in a bit too close during spellcraft drills. A noble girl from the House of Elvanir offering him a favor after a duel.
Selene's smile vanished.
With a wave of her hand, each illusion shattered into a thousand motes of light. Only Kael remained.
"They don't understand you," she said, her voice sharp. "They see your strength, your bloodline, your fame—but they don't see you."
She walked toward a worktable covered in parchments. Each page bore drawings of Kael—his face, his sword, his dragon form. Some were sketched in charcoal, others painted with unnerving precision. One was a full portrait: Kael kneeling in front of her, a chain of violet light connecting them at the heart.
"Only I see what you need," she murmured.
She picked up a page marked in red ink: a diagram of Kael's magical aura, annotated with obsessive notes. The phrases repeated—"volatile but receptive," "unclaimed bond potential," "soul resonance: probable."
Selene had long known that Kael's dragon blood made him unstable. Dangerous. That was why the others feared him, why the Council watched him so closely.
But not her.
She didn't fear the storm.
She loved it.
And storms needed anchors.
Needed her.
She turned and moved to a massive illusion mirror that hung on the wall. Its surface shimmered before forming a perfect image of Kael as he currently was—training in the courtyard, sweat glistening on his skin, a calm expression hiding the pressure he lived with.
Selene reached out, touching the glass.
"I could take it all away from you. Just say the word."
Her fingers glided down the mirror's surface.
In her mind, she replayed their duel—the official exam where they had met. She had conjured a hundred illusions, bent reality around him in layers. But Kael had cut through them with that blade of his, piece by piece. And when their eyes met in the center of that arena, she had felt it.
The connection.
Something ancient. Magnetic.
And when he had stood over her, victorious, his hand extended to help her up—something inside her snapped. Not in hate. Not in humiliation.
In need.
"You chose her that day," she said to the mirror. "You spoke to her after the duel. You gave her that look—the one that should've been mine."
Selene's eyes flashed.
"But I forgive you."
She stepped back from the mirror and turned to a locked cabinet. With a soft incantation, it opened, revealing a crystal vial filled with golden essence—Kael's residual mana, siphoned during the duel.
Just a drop had been enough to weave dreams into his sleep.
To give him visions.
Of her.
A ballroom made of stars. A quiet garden where only their voices existed. A world where Rynn never existed at all.
Selene clutched the vial close to her chest.
"I'll show you, Kael," she said softly. "Not just illusions, but truth. The truth of what we are."
She moved to the center of the room again and began a new ritual. The glyphs appeared faster this time—raw instinct driving her. She wasn't merely creating another dream.
This would be an anchor.
A seed.
A tether from her magic to his heart.
And once it was planted… he would feel her. Hear her. Crave her presence in the silence.
Selene bit her lip, drawing blood, and whispered an offering into the air.
"Let him feel me. Let him long for me."
The basin pulsed. The spell ignited.
And across the Academy, in his dorm, Kael stirred in his sleep, a faint whisper echoing through his dreams.
Come to me sweetheart.