Night at Spectrum Academy wasn't quiet.
The stars above shimmered in fractured colors, reflected in every windowpane like liquid prisms. The whole building seemed alive — humming faintly, breathing with its students' dreams.
Lyra Solen stood at the edge of the Luminara Courtyard, staring into a training sphere that floated before her. Inside it, light shifted and flickered like a restless heartbeat.
She'd failed again.
Every time she tried to focus her power, the light either shattered or dimmed — never steady.
Her hands trembled as faint golden trails faded from her skin.
From behind her, a low voice broke the silence.
"You're holding your breath again."
Lyra turned. Draven Veyl stepped out from the shadows of a prism tree, flame-colored eyes soft in the moonlight. His usual smirk wasn't there — only quiet understanding.
"You watching me now?" she teased, forcing a laugh.
"Hard not to. You glow like a lantern when you're angry," he replied.
Lyra's laugh cracked into a sigh. "Maybe I'm just not meant to control it."
Draven walked closer, stopping just a breath away. "Light isn't meant to be controlled," he said quietly. "You guide it. Same as fire."
He lifted his hand — a flicker of crimson dancing over his palm.
"Fire isn't destruction," he whispered, letting the flame swirl near her light. "It's life when you understand the rhythm."
Their auras met — gold and scarlet intertwining in midair, spinning like two living stars. For a heartbeat, the courtyard pulsed with warmth. The trees reflected that glow, colors rippling through their leaves.
And then —
the ground beneath them vibrated.
A deep, resonant hum rose from the crystal floor. The same light that surrounded them bent, folded, and suddenly shot downward into the cracks below.
Lyra gasped. "What was that?"
Draven narrowed his eyes. The air carried a faint whisper, echoing through the ground.
"…The Vault stirs… the forgotten awakens…"
They exchanged a look — no words, only the cold weight of knowing this wasn't normal.
From the shadows, high above the balcony, Headmistress Veyra Lys watched them quietly.
The prism at her wrist glowed faintly — the same pulse as the Vault deep beneath the Academy.
"So it begins again," she murmured.
Down below, Lyra and Draven still stood in silence, their lights fading slowly into the night — neither realizing that the color they'd just created together… wasn't in the Academy's spectrum at all.