The reflection shimmered to life in the old contact mirror, runes pulsing dimly in the candlelight.

Lance stood before it with his arms crossed, jaw tight, body still humming with post-class static. His skin felt too tight. His thoughts were louder than his breath.

The sound of Renee’s voice, the weight of her growl — a growl — still lingered like heat on his neck.

And then came Samira’s image.

Poised, still, wrapped in her usual icy calm, her silver-threaded cloak casting a faint gleam across her shoulders.

“You’re late,” she said flatly.

“I had class,” Lance replied.

“I heard.” Her eyes sharpened. “And I also heard she stepped in again.”

Lance stiffened slightly. “Yeah. She did.”

“And?”

“She helped me stabilize the dragon force. Again.”

Samira’s mouth thinned. “She shouldn’t be able to.”

“Well, she did.”

A pause.

Samira’s voice dropped into something more serious. “You need to find out where she’s keeping them.”

Lance blinked. “Keeping who?”

“The dragons, Lance.”

He frowned. “You’re still on that?”

“She knows too much,” Samira hissed, all control vanishing for a split second. “The things she told you — about energy storage, force memory, mana rhythm — are ancestral secrets. No human, no shifter outside the bloodlines, should ever speak them.”

“She could’ve read them—”

“No,” she cut in. “That knowledge isn’t recorded. Not anywhere public. Not even in restricted military records. The only people who carry it are born with it… or have lived beside dragons themselves.”

Lance went quiet.

Then asked, carefully, “You knew all of that?”

Samira didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

“How?”

“My family studied dragons for centuries,” she said. “Long before their extinction. We tracked their patterns. Researched their cycles. Watched them burn down empires and heal kingdoms in equal breath.”

“You’re a witch.”

“Yes. A witch who has spent her life buried in the knowledge your kind was born to wield.”

That struck deeper than she may have intended.

Lance’s voice cooled. “Then why didn’t you ever help me?”

A long pause followed.

Her eyes didn’t shift.

“I don’t owe you anything, Lance.”

His jaw locked.

“I already saved your life once,” she continued. “That was more than enough.”

Something cracked inside him.

Not loudly — not all at once — but it splintered through the years of obedience, secrecy, and quiet faith he’d given her.

“You let me feel like I was defective,” he said, his voice lower now. “You watched me spiral, and you did nothing.”

“I did what I had to,” she replied.

“No,” Lance said. “You did what kept me in your pocket.”

Samira’s face hardened. “Don’t start questioning loyalties just because a girl with clever words made you feel special.”

“She didn’t manipulate me.”

“She’s a Nosfera. Everything she does is strategic.”

Lance shook his head slowly. “She didn’t ask me for anything. She just saw what I was and didn’t flinch.”

Samira stared at him through the mirror, expression unreadable.

“She destroyed Salem,” she said after a pause as if it were her final argument. “You remember what I told you.”

He did.

But the words felt smaller now out of place.

“And you’re the only one still saying it,” Lance said. “No one else seems to know. Or care. Or confirm.”

“You think the truth needs witnesses?” she asked.

“I think it needs proof.”

He stepped back from the mirror.

“She helped me,” he said softly. “You used me.”

The mirror flickered.

Samira didn’t speak again.

But her eyes said enough.

When the mirror finally darkened, the silence left in its wake felt heavier than any spell.

Lance felt like he’d stepped off the leash for the first time.

And he wasn’t sure what frightened him more:

The woman who’d held it...

Or the one who’d set him free.

***

One month.

That’s how long Sylus had been stationed at Arcane Academy, standing in rooms where his mate existed and yet never seeing so much as a door open toward him.

Every attempt to talk to her professionally was met with cold efficiency. Every effort to soften his demeanor came off as awkward silence or, worse, simmering rage.

Renee hadn’t just stayed distant — she’d pulled further.

And Sylus? He was circling emotional implosion.

He hated it.

This is why he sat on the edge of his brother’s desk, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“I need help,” he muttered.

Sirius leaned back in his chair and blinked. “Wait—what? Repeat it. Slower.”

“Don’t push it.”

“No, no, I just want to savor it. Sylus Drakareth Vezmera, prince of nightclubs, actually said I need help. This is a beautiful day. Let me bask.”

Sylus rolled his eyes. “Focus. I need you to arrange something. With Renee.”

Sirius’s eyebrows rose slowly. “You want me to set up a date with your mate?”

“She won’t speak to me. She ignores me in every room. I make things worse just by existing. You’re her friend. She likes you. Maybe if you invite her…”

Sirius made a humming sound. “Okay. That’s doable. But I’ll have to invite Chris too. I was friends with him first, and calling just her to my place would raise a few brows. Including hers.”

Sylus grunted. “Fine. Whatever it takes.”

Sirius’s smile turned devilish. “So what I’m hearing is… double accidental setup?”

Sylus groaned. “Please don’t say it like that.”

“Then don’t beg for matchmaking from someone who owns scented candles and a playlist for this exact moment.”

It didn’t take long.

Sirius invited Renee and Chris over under the believable excuse of “Let’s catch up; I miss you two; I got new booze.” That was how they all ended up in Sirius’s loft — casual furniture, old books stacked under potted plants, mood lighting he planned.

Renee stepped in, immediately eyeing Sylus at the corner of the room.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re here.”

Sylus stood up straighter instinctively. “Unfortunately.”

“Charmed as always,” she muttered, walking past him.

Chris, meanwhile, flopped dramatically onto Sirius’s couch. “You better have something good. I canceled a nap for this.”

Sirius handed him a drink. “Apple cider with mana fizz.”

Chris blinked. “That’s oddly domestic. Are you dying?”

“Only of secondhand tension,” Sirius said with a grin. “Now—hey, can you come with me quickly to the shop? I forgot the cinnamon.”

Chris narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you cook?”

“I don’t. But I garnish like a legend.”

He looked from Sylus to Renee. Then back. Then sighed dramatically.

Sirius clapped his back. “He’s harmless unless you bite first.”

“I’m not worried about him,” Chris hissed. “I’m worried about her. If she gets annoyed enough, this loft will be rubble.”

Renee didn’t deny it.

Chris turned and gave her a long look. “Do I need to stay?”

Renee sighed. “I’ll survive. For now.”

Chris turned back to Sirius. “Two things of cinnamon, and you’re paying.”

“Deal.”

As they left, Chris glanced over his shoulder one last time. “I swear if I come back and find you both in magical ICU—”

“We’ll leave you a note,” Renee replied dryly.

Then the door closed.

And the silence fell.

For five whole minutes, they didn’t speak.

Renee sat on the couch, arms crossed, legs tucked elegantly under her.

Sylus leaned against the kitchen counter, fiddling with a glass, trying not to stare. Her scent filled the room. She always smelled like charged air and crushed mint and—

Damien.

He stiffened.

Then his hand clenched—and the glass shattered in his palm with a sharp crack.

Renee jumped slightly, frowning. “Seriously?”

Sylus turned away, jaw tight. “You smell like him again.”

“Excuse me?”

He didn’t look at her. “Your scent. It’s layered. I can smell everything. You know that, right? And I’d appreciate it if people washed after they screw before walking into someone else’s home.”

The silence thickened instantly.

Renee blinked.

Slowly.

Then stood.

“Oh, I see,” she said flatly. “The king of whores suddenly discovered shame. That’s rich.”

Sylus turned his head, his tone sharp. “What did you just call me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Sorry. I meant to say, Your Royal Highness, King of Whores. Better?”

His jaw flexed.

He stepped away from the glass shards and walked toward the hallway, growling low in his throat. “Unbelievable.”

He disappeared without another word.

Renee folded her arms, breathing through her nose.

Moments later, the door opened.

Sirius and Chris stepped in with two small paper bags and an air of impending dread.

Sirius froze instantly. “What did he do?”

Renee was already picking up her coat. “You know, I’d love to catch up sometime. Maybe in a place that doesn’t come with spontaneous insults and emotional constipation.”

Chris looked at Sirius. “Told you.”

Renee paused at the door. “Next time, pick a better setup.”

She left.

Chris walked into the kitchen, looked down at the shattered glass, then raised an eyebrow.

“So… drinks went well, huh?”

Sirius groaned and tossed the cinnamon onto the table.