By dawn, the blood sigil had stopped glowing, but Elara could still feel it beneath her skin — like a parasite dreaming beneath the surface.

Kael hadn’t slept. He stood at the edge of the chamber, staring into nothing. His hands were wrapped in bloodstained cloth from where he’d drawn the protective runes. His mind wasn’t on the sigil anymore. It was on the voice Elara had described. A voice older than the glyphs. A voice that remembered her.

He had a terrible suspicion, one he didn’t dare speak aloud.

“Kael,” Elara whispered, “tell me what you're hiding.”

He looked at her, and for the first time since she’d met him, Kael seemed… fragile.

“I think you were born under an Oath Star.”

Elara blinked. “What?”

“Oath Stars,” Kael repeated. “Rare celestial alignments. They don’t just influence magic… they forge destinies. Mages born beneath them are tethered to ancient forces. And they always — always — get pulled into the Great Pattern.”

“You mean prophecy.”

“I mean tragedy,” he said quietly.

Silence fell between them.

She reached for his hand. “Then let’s break the pattern.”

Later that day, an emergency Council session was announced. The reason: two students — Elara and Kael — were suspected of harboring forbidden magic.

The accusation had a signature: Caden Varrow.

Kael’s old rival.

In the marble chamber of the Council, five mages sat in elevated chairs, their robes marked by age and power. Caden stood at the center, his golden hair and polished demeanor hiding the venom in his voice.

“She was caught with a blood sigil,” he said. “Kael was seen performing binding magic without sanction. That makes them both unstable — and dangerous.”

Kael stepped forward. “If we’re so dangerous, why are we still here?”

A murmur passed through the Council.

Caden’s lip curled. “Because no one wants to provoke the Blackfire line openly.”

That name — Blackfire — turned the room colder. Everyone had heard the legends. They just never expected to face one.

Elara stood, heart pounding. “If I’m dangerous, it’s because someone made me this way. Someone branded me in the night and sent a puppet to kill me. And Caden knew exactly when to bring it to the Council.”

Caden’s smugness cracked. “Are you accusing me of—”

“I’m saying you’re a coward who lets others do your dirty work.”

Gasps echoed.

Kael smiled faintly. “Bold move.”

The head of the Council, Archmage Virell, raised a hand. “Enough. We will not expel a student based on hearsay. However… you will be watched.”

And just like that, they were dismissed — their fate undecided but their enemies named.

That night, Kael and Elara stood on the roof of the North Spire, the academy lights twinkling beneath them.

“Elara,” Kael said, turning to her, “this path we’re on… it only leads deeper. Into darker places.”

“I know.”

“You could still walk away.”

She looked up at the stars. “I think I was marked long before the blood sigil. Maybe even before I came here.”

“And if I lose control?” Kael asked. “If the Blackfire in me wins?”

She stepped closer. “Then I’ll bring you back.”

He looked at her like she was both salvation and doom.

And then, with the wind howling around them, he kissed her — fierce, unspoken, desperate.

The kind of kiss that made prophecies tremble.