{IRIS}
"After manifestation," Thornwick continued, "you will be required to contain your arcane within a defined boundary. Those boundaries will be marked. Crossing them, even unintentionally, will be considered failure."
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"And finally," he said, his gaze sharpening, "you will disperse your arcane completely. Cleanly. Residual energy will be noted."
Clean release was the hardest part. Anyone could summon power. Letting it go without backlash was another matter entirely.
"Pairs will be assigned," Thornwick added. "You will observe each other. Learn from mistakes—yours and theirs."
That was when I felt it.
A presence.
Cold. Heavy. Familiar.
I didn’t need to turn around to know Morgana was watching.
She stood several paces away, posture relaxed, smirking evilly. Her red hair fell loosely over her shoulders, framing a face that was beautiful in a sharp, dangerous way. There was no nervousness in her stance—only anticipation.
Her arcane was infamous—even among the higher years.
The Hollowgrave vampire noble bloodline had long been etched into history as the wielder of necromancers Legacy of the highest order. Grave-callers. Bone-weavers. Keepers of rites that were never ant to be spoken aloud beneath the sun. Their power was ancient, restrained, and steeped in death itself.
But Morgana Hollowgrave was different.
She did not just summon the dead.
She could also summoned fire as her arcane magic.
Not ordinary fla, nor even the conjured heat that novice fire arcane users struggled to shape during their early lessons.
Morgana wielded a dark fire—an arcane conflagration that devoured rather than illuminated. A fla that burned cold and left nothing behind, not even ash.
It could scorch vampires, tear through werewolves, and reduce creatures far older than both to nothingness.
It was said that even professors tread carefully around her.
Our eyes t across the training hall.
Only for a breath.
Her lips curved—just slightly.
Trouble.
"All right," the professor announced, his voice cutting sharply through the murmurs, "the board has finalized the pairings. You will all work with assigned partners. This ensures fairness—and prevents anyone from relying too heavily on familiar alliances."
A ripple of unease traveled through the room.
"I expect discipline," he continued. "You will remain within your designated circles and maintain arcane control until I dismiss you. Anyone who fails will compensate with double training before the weekend—or risk being left behind."
I swallowed.
I prayed—quietly, desperately—to whatever goddess still listened to girls like .
Please. Anyone but her.
Please don’t let it be Morgana.
Please don’t let be paired with—
I turned when the hologram over the sky finished pairing students, my heart pounding in my ears.
And I stopped breathing altogether.
Because I saw who I paired with.
My eyes instantly went to the man standing a few ters away from —tall, still, and indifferent.
Golden hair that caught the torchlight like molten tal. Ruby eyes that reflected nothing at all. And that cold, distant air that only noble vampires possessed—the kind that reminded you they were predators long before they were students.
Sol Evernight.
My stomach dropped.
Our eyes t.
I turned away instantly, as if that alone might sever the invisible tension coiling between us.
Even without looking, I knew.
He was walking toward .
"Are you Iris Snow?"
I forced myself to turn.
There was no emotion in his gaze—only polite disinterest. His voice was smooth, controlled, as though speaking to required no more effort than reciting a list.
As though this pairing was nothing but a chore he had been forced into.
I nodded.
"Let’s get on with it, then."
He turned and walked toward the center of the Do.
I followed. I didn’t know why my legs obeyed so easily when the rest of wanted to flee.
I glanced around, hoping—irrationally—for rescue.
Caroline was paired with Morgana.
Of all people.
Jay, anwhile, had been partnered with Vince Moonfall. He looked positively delighted, already leaning too close to the young werewolf, grinning and whispering sothing that made Vince recoiled in disgust.
At least soone was enjoying this. But I hope Jay knew what he was doing. Werewolves weren’t exactly built for patience and control.
As for ...
I didn’t know what would happen.
Sol and I stopped at the far edge of the formation, at least ten ters away from the others. I felt eyes on —sharp, assessing, tinged with curiosity and envy—but all I felt was dread curling low in my chest.
I didn’t want to be partnered with him.
Not because he had done anything.
But because he was a vampire.
And worse—he was part of Morgana’s circle.
"All right," the professor said, pacing slowly as he observed us. "Once your summoning circles appear, you may begin. Do not cease arcane activity until I instruct you to do so."
The floor beneath us glowed faintly.
A pentagram etched itself into the stone, lines burning with controlled arcane magic.
"You will contain your arcane within the circle," the professor warned. "Failure to do so will result in additional training. Twice as hard."
He was still speaking when Sol activated his arcane.
Darkness answered him.
Shadows gathered around his feet first—thin, obedient tendrils that slid across the stone like living things. They rose slowly, coiling around his fra as though they belonged there.
Control was never Sol Evernight’s weakness. That much I could see.
The shadows remained perfectly within the boundary of the circle, not a single strand crossing the glowing line.
I couldn’t look away.
The Evernight noble bloodline carried the Legacy of Darkness—a power inherited through the first, refined through generations. Sol’s arcane did not simply summon darkness.
It amplified it.
It was as though his very soul had been shaped to house it.
Just like Morgana.
Just like the future heads of their respective houses were ant to be.
"Aren’t you going to start too?"
I flinched at his voice and looked up.
He was watching now—not with irritation, but with that sa distant neutrality.
"I can’t say anything about your arcane if you don’t show it," he said calmly.
My throat tightened.
How was I supposed to explain that I couldn’t feel it?
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