The sun slanted through the tall windows of the main lecture hall, casting a warm glow across rows of polished wood. Lyra sat near the back, notebook open, trying desperately to concentrate on Professor Hayward's lecture about ancient literature.
Focus, Lyra. Invisibility first, survival second.
But it wasn't that easy. Every now and then, her gaze wandered toward the front of the room, where Kael Draven leaned casually against the podium—impossibly tall, his black blazer perfect, hair slightly tousled, eyes scanning the room like he owned it. Even in class, he had that aura: confident, sharp, untouchable.
Stop noticing him. Blend in. Survive.
The lecture droned on, but Lyra's thoughts kept drifting. Then, suddenly, a ripple of laughter echoed from the rows behind her. A group of students whispered—too loudly to be ignored—about Kael and his rumored side girl. One of them mimed a dramatic swoon, another rolled her eyes.
Lyra's cheeks warmed. She tried to shrink further into her seat.
"Not again," she muttered under her breath.
Talia, sitting beside her, noticed immediately. She elbowed Lyra gently, whispering with a grin, "Relax, I've got you."
Before Lyra could protest, Talia leaned back and casually launched into a loud, exaggerated story about a library mishap—a dropped tray of cinnamon rolls that had "attacked" an unsuspecting freshman. Students nearby laughed, forgetting Kael and the gossip entirely, while Lyra sank back into relief.
"Thanks," Lyra whispered, her voice soft. Talia just winked and returned to doodling in her notebook, her shield unwavering.
Kael's eyes, however, were not on the cafeteria gossip. They were on Lyra.
Across the hall, he noticed the subtle way she flinched when the whispers erupted. Her shoulders tightened, notebook pressed to her chest. A dark crease appeared between his brows. Protective? Probably. Jealous? Almost certainly.
Cassian, meanwhile, leaned against the edge of the room, smirking knowingly. Kael's subtle shift didn't escape him. "Careful," Cassian murmured to the other two, Riven and Seren, "she notices more than she lets on."
Kael's gaze sharpened. A flicker of irritation crossed his features before he allowed himself to relax, though only slightly. He wasn't about to make a scene—at least, not here.
After class, Lyra made her way to the courtyard. She hoped for a quiet moment to write, but fate—or Kael—had other plans.
Cassian was already there, leaning casually against the fountain, eyes scanning the courtyard until they landed on her. "Lyra," he said smoothly, stepping closer, "you always look so… concentrated when you write. It's kind of… intimidating."
Lyra blinked, caught off guard. "I… I'm just… trying to focus," she murmured.
Cassian's smirk widened. "Hmm. That's what I thought. Mind if I sit?"
Before she could respond, Kael appeared, moving silently but deliberately beside Lyra, placing himself subtly between her and Cassian. The motion was almost imperceptible, but it was deliberate. Protective, yet restrained.
Lyra's stomach flipped. She could feel the tension radiating from him—he wasn't speaking, wasn't touching her, but his presence alone said stay away.
Cassian raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Interesting dynamics," he murmured, sliding back slightly but still keeping her in view.
Kael's jaw tightened, a subtle warning, though his voice remained controlled. "Focus on your work."
Lyra wanted to laugh at the absurdity—the silent battle, the jealousy, the tension—but instead she hugged her notebook a little tighter, feeling the warmth of safety from Kael's proximity, and a faint thrill she couldn't explain.
Later, in the quiet safety of her dorm, Lyra opened her notebook, letting the day's chaos spill onto the page.
Dear Stranger,
Today was… chaotic. Public embarrassment narrowly avoided, thanks to Talia, and I am grateful. But I felt him. Kael. The way he moved, the slight tension in his posture, the subtle crease between his brows. Protective. Jealous. Both. I cannot tell yet.
Cassian continues to test boundaries. He smirks too much, moves too close, and makes everything… complicated. And still, I find myself watching, noticing, thinking.
It is exhausting, this awareness. And yet, addictive. Dangerous. Perhaps I am already caught in the web of attention he weaves without realizing it.
I will continue to write, to observe, to measure my reactions. But… my pen faltered for a brief second. I am curious. More than I should be.
Lyra.
Kael, walking back toward his own dorm that evening, replayed the day in his mind.
She noticed, he thought, eyes narrowing. Not just my presence… she saw the tension, felt it. That's… dangerous. And yet… intriguing.
The memory of Lyra clutching her notebook, the way her gaze flicked to him in the courtyard—he had never felt anything quite like this. He didn't allow himself to care.
But he did.
A dark flicker of worry ran through him. Not for the gossip, not for the teasing—but for her. Someone else might underestimate her. Someone else might hurt her. And he wouldn't forgive it.
A faint shadow of movement caught his attention—a figure in the distance, poised and elegant, just enough to remind him of Madame Selvara. Her presence was never overt, but he always felt the subtle tug of her expectations, the unspoken warning of consequences if he faltered. He tightened his shoulders, drawing himself up straighter. He would protect Lyra—within limits, on his terms.
Lyra, meanwhile, sat cross-legged on her dorm bed, reading over her own words again. She felt flushed, alive, her emotions spinning between embarrassment, curiosity, and a growing awareness of the storm that surrounded her.
Talia plopped down beside her, nudging her gently. "You're glowing. Don't lie, something happened."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Maybe… just observing."
Talia's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Mm-hmm. Keep telling yourself that. But just so you know—whatever's happening, I've got your back."
Lyra leaned back, pen hovering over her notebook. Yes, she was careful, aware, calculating—but she also felt something new: a thrill. Danger, attention, protection, and a strange sense of belonging.
For a girl who had sworn to stay invisible, this was… intoxicating.