I stepped back into the academy, the grand doors closing behind me with a low, echoing creak. Silas was taking far too long, and my patience had worn thin. The corridors stretched before me like a labyrinth, twisting and turning with no end in sight. I stopped a few students along the way, asking for directions to Vivienne's office. Most responded with odd glances, their eyes flicking briefly over my clothes before pointing me in the right direction.
It turned out I was in the wrong wing entirely—far from where I needed to be. Typical.
"Ah! Sir Gray!"
The sudden voice made me turn. Navee was hurrying toward me, her footsteps quick and light against the polished floors. Her face broke into a nervous smile as she stopped before me, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Hello," I said, doing my best to match her politeness.
She gave me a small, formal nod. "Hello to you as well, Sir Gray. It's nice to see you again!" Her voice came out in a squeak, and she immediately winced, letting out a small, embarrassed noise.
I smiled awkwardly, unsure how to respond. "I suppose… me too?"
Her cheeks flushed, but she grinned at my awkwardness.
"I take it you're looking for Sir Gael?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
I nodded silently.
"Well," she continued, scratching her cheek with a sheepish smile, "he's still in Ms. Vivienne's office. I don't think they're finished yet, so you'll probably have to wait out here."
I glanced toward the closed door at the end of the hallway. They certainly were taking their sweet time. Just what could Silas and Vivienne be discussing that required such a lengthy conversation?
"Um!" Navee's voice pulled me from my thoughts. She shifted nervously, her cheeks now a deeper shade of red. "Would you like to see my work?" she asked, almost shyly, taking a hesitant step closer.
"Your work?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
She nodded quickly, excitement lighting up her face. "I work with plants! I have a greenhouse just beyond the courtyard walls. Right now, I'm conducting research on how plants respond to different kinds of spells."
"Biology?" I murmured aloud, my curiosity piqued.
Her eyes lit up even more. "Oh, is that what you call it? It's close to that, I suppose, but instead of science… I use magic." She smiled, clearly proud of her craft.
I let out a small chuckle. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see it."
Her excitement was contagious. "Really? Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "Come this way!"
As we walked, Navee led me through the courtyard, waving to a few students who passed by. They returned her greetings with cheerful nods, though I caught a few curious glances cast in my direction. Eventually, she stopped near the far wall, where bushes grew thick and wild. With a quiet hum, she knelt down, pushing aside some of the greenery to reveal a narrow opening partially hidden by tangled branches.
"So this is what you meant by 'beyond the wall,'" I said, crouching down to follow her through the gap.
She moved carefully, her movements practiced, before straightening up on the other side and dusting off her knees. "Sorry for making you crawl through all that," she said with a soft giggle. "There isn't much space inside the walls anymore. The greenhouse was built long before the walls were, and it ended up being forgotten. I stumbled across it a few years ago."
I straightened up and looked ahead. The greenhouse stood in the clearing, its glass walls and roof weathered with age. Vines crept up its sides, and wildflowers grew in colorful patches around its base. The structure looked as though it had been swallowed by time itself, yet there was something enchanting about it.
"Wow," I murmured, taking in the sight.
Navee beamed at my reaction, motioning for me to follow her inside.
The interior was cleaner than I expected. Sunlight streamed through cracks in the glass roof, casting dappled patterns on the floor. Butterflies flitted lazily through the air, their delicate wings glowing in the golden light. Tables lined the walls, each one covered with potted plants and tools. The air smelled fresh—earthy and faintly floral, with a hint of something sweet and unfamiliar.
"So, is this what you've been working on?" I asked, stepping beside her.
She nodded, her gaze fixed on the table in front of us. At its center stood a large flower unlike any I had ever seen. Its petals shimmered like mirrors, catching the sunlight and refracting it into a rainbow of colors. The effect was mesmerizing, like holding a piece of a dream in your hands.
"What flower is this?" I asked in awe, reaching out to touch it. The petals were smooth, almost glass-like, and bent gently beneath my fingers.
Navee giggled beside me. "It's a new kind of flower I'm creating," she said. Her voice was filled with pride as she ducked down to retrieve a wooden box from beneath the table. It clattered softly as she set it down, revealing stacks of neatly organized papers.
"I call it Arcus," she said, smiling brightly.
I glanced back at the flower, its reflective petals catching the light in a way that seemed almost magical. "What does it do?"
I ask in interest as Navee hums. "Arcus is a type of flower that holds memories"
I tilted my head, curiosity sparking. "Memory?" I repeated, watching as Navee hummed softly, her expression thoughtful.
"Yes, memory," she said, her voice as calm as the still air around us. She stepped closer to the flower, her fingers brushing delicately along its shimmering petals. "Arcus holds onto the things it sees."
I blinked, taken aback. "Holds… memory?" I turned my gaze back to the flower. Now that I looked closer, I noticed something unusual—a faint reflection of Navee on the petal's surface, almost like a mirror. But when I shifted and leaned in, my own reflection wasn't there.
Navee tapped her chin, her brows furrowing slightly. "It seems like it doesn't work for vampires, though. Hm."
I let out a dry chuckle. "So, this is... what? Some kind of magical camera?"
Navee giggled, her laughter light and warm, the sound filling the room. "You could say that. Arcus can 'remember' anything it sees that moves. Whether it's a swaying flower, a fly, a person, or even an animal, it stores the motion in its petals."
As if to demonstrate, she gently plucked one of the flower's gleaming petals. It shimmered in her hand, catching the sunlight. She held it up for me to see, and there, embedded in its surface, was an image—a butterfly, its wings gently fluttering, the same one I had noticed earlier. The movement was so lifelike it was as though the petal itself was alive, replaying the moment it had witnessed. Slowly, the image began to dim, fading into nothingness.
"Amazing," I murmured, unable to take my eyes off the petal. "Do the petals grow back?"
Navee nodded, though there was a sheepish look on her face. "It takes about two weeks for a petal to regenerate, so I try not to pluck too many at once." She laughed awkwardly, her gaze darting to one corner of the greenhouse. I followed her line of sight and saw an empty pot overflowing with discarded petals. The sight made me huff a small laugh.
"You've been testing it a lot, haven't you?"
Her blush deepened, but she smiled sheepishly. "I get carried away sometimes."
I glanced back at the flower, its delicate beauty masking the incredible magic it held. "But this is incredible," I said again, the awe clear in my voice.
"You really think so?" Navee's voice softened, and when I turned to her, I saw a faint pink tint coloring her cheeks.
I nodded firmly. "Absolutely. You've created something extraordinary."
Navee's gaze flickered downward, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "Plants aren't exactly well-regarded in the magical industry," she admitted quietly. "Most people focus on flashy spells, complex enchantments, or combat magic. No one thinks plants are worth the effort."
"That's ridiculous," I said, shaking my head. "What you've done here is amazing. A flower that can hold memories? That's revolutionary. Who knows? Maybe next time you'll create one that can mimic voices." I paused, grimacing slightly. "Though, now that I think about it, that might be a little creepy."
Navee giggled at that, her nervousness melting away for a moment. "You're not wrong. A talking flower might be a step too far."
"There's always room for improvement," she added, sighing softly. But then, she turned to me with a bright, excited grin that lit up her entire face. "Still, I'm just getting started. There's so much more I want to do."
Before I could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind us.
"Navee? Sebastian? So this is where you've been hiding."
I turned to see Silas standing in the doorway of the greenhouse, his arms crossed and a faint smirk playing on his lips. His silver hair caught the sunlight streaming in from above, and his sharp eyes flicked between Navee and me with mild amusement.
Navee let out a startled squeak, nearly dropping the petal she'd been holding. "Sir Gael!" she stammered, her composure unraveling in an instant. Her calm demeanor was replaced with a flustered panic as she fumbled to straighten up.
Silas raised a brow, his smirk widening. "Didn't think you'd make a move here, Navee," he teased lightly, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm.
I shot him a tired glare. "Really?"
Navee, meanwhile, was reduced to a stuttering mess, her face burning bright red as she waved her hands in frantic denial. "I-I—! It's not like that! I was just—!"
Silas chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction he'd gotten. Then, with a wave of his hand, he shifted his attention back to me. "Anyway, it's time to head home. Sorry it took so long."
I gave a small nod. "It's fine." Turning back to Navee, I offered her a smile. "Thank you for showing me this. It was... incredible. I'm glad I got to see it."
Navee's eyes widened at my words, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her expression softened into something almost shy. "Oh, you're welcome," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
As we turned to leave, I caught Silas giving me an odd look out of the corner of my eye. His brow was slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a faint line as though he was holding back some comment.
Weird.
—
I managed to make it home before my sister, which was a rare victory in itself. Deciding to take advantage of the quiet, I retreated to my room, tossing my bag to the floor and collapsing onto my bed. My limbs still felt heavy from the trip, even though we technically teleported.
Warping always left me drained. The sensation of being pulled through some invisible thread, only to snap back into place, was something I couldn't get used to. It wasn't just the physical toll—it was the stories. Silas loved to share them, his smirk sharp and amused as he recounted how, in the old days, some mages lost their organs mid-warp because their circles were improperly drawn.
"Make sure your warping circle is perfect," he'd said with a grin that was far too casual for a topic like that.
The thought still made me shudder.
I was half-asleep, sprawled across my bed, when my phone buzzed against the blanket. Groaning, I fumbled around until my fingers found it, blinking at the screen to read the message.
[Hey! I hope you got home safe!]
A small smile tugged at my lips despite myself. Silas always had this way of checking in that seemed casual on the surface but carried a strange weight beneath it. He was odd like that.
[I did.]
His reply was instant.
[Good ^^. Anyways, I sent a package to you~]
I raised an eyebrow at the screen, sitting up slightly. [What package?] I typed back, my curiosity piqued.
No sooner had I hit send than the doorbell rang, followed by the unmistakable sound of my sister Torie yelling from downstairs. My head snapped up. When did she get home? I scrambled off the bed, leaving my phone behind as I made my way out of my room and down the stairs.
The sight waiting for me in the living room stopped me cold. A white box sat on the coffee table, the lid already off. Torie stood next to it, holding up something that made my stomach drop: a juice box. A very familiar juice box.
"Seb, is this yours?" she asked, her tone casual, though her brow was raised in suspicion.
A strangled noise escaped my throat as I practically flew down the stairs, snatching the juice box out of her hands. "That—That's mine! Y-Yeah… th-thanks," I stammered, my voice breaking in a way that made my face burn. I shoved the juice box back into the box, slamming the lid shut as if that would erase the last thirty seconds.
Torie gave me an odd look, her arms crossed. "Alright, no need to get all antsy. But at least you look better now." She reached out to ruffle my hair, her smile teasing as I let out an awkward laugh and a shaky, "Yeah."
Her eyes lingered on the box for a moment longer, curiosity flickering across her face, but thankfully, she didn't press. I didn't give her the chance. Clutching the box tightly, I bolted back up the stairs, nearly tripping over my own feet in my rush. I didn't stop until I was safely in my room, the door shut and locked behind me.
For a moment, I just stood there, catching my breath. Then I finally set the box down at the edge of my bed and grabbed my phone.
[What the hell, Silas? My sister could have drunk that!] I typed furiously, my fingers flying across the screen.
His response was almost immediate and, infuriatingly, consisted of nothing but a string of emojis: laughing faces, a drop of blood, and a thumbs-up.
[Sorry hehe!]
"Sorry, my ass," I muttered, throwing my phone onto the bed with a growl. His "apology" felt about as genuine as a politician's promise.
I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as my heart rate slowly returned to normal. The thought of Torie—human Torie—drinking what was in that box made my stomach churn. I didn't even want to imagine the fallout of something like that.
After a moment, my gaze drifted to the box. My irritation began to ebb, replaced by something else. Hunger. My throat felt dry, parched in a way water couldn't fix.
Sitting up, I pulled the box closer, prying the lid open again. A neat row of juice boxes stared back at me, their plain white packaging unassuming except for the faint red symbol on the side. I grabbed one, turning it over in my hands. A straw clung to the side. It felt absurdly normal for what it was.
With a sigh, I sat cross-legged on the floor, stabbing the straw into the top. The first sip was like a shock to my system—cold, rich, and oddly satisfying. A soft sound of relief escaped my throat as I drank, the dryness in my mouth melting away. It wasn't just the taste; it was the way it made me feel, like a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying had been lifted.
Silas wasn't wrong. I was malnourished. It was hard to notice back then, but now that I have more access to blood. I guess I really am.
I think with the next training session I'll get from Shira, I'll be able to catch up faster. Hopefully…
I shuffle back toward the box tucked near the corner of my bed, taking note of the twenty—no, at least twenty—juice boxes crammed inside it. Only then do I notice something odd: the boxes look a little bigger than before. Or is it just my imagination? Either way, my stomach already feels stuffed from the one I'm halfway through now, and I can't bring myself to finish the rest of it.
A strange warmth spreads through my body, settling beneath my skin. I glance down at my hands, turning them over as if to confirm what I'm feeling. My skin looks… healthier. Not that it wasn't fine before—it's always been a decent, healthy tone—but now there's something different. A glow, maybe? When I pinch the skin of my forearm, it feels softer than I remember. Almost unnaturally so.
I snort under my breath and shake my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips. Trust Silas to take better care of me than I ever could.
Before I can dwell on the thought, a knock at the door jolts me upright. My heart jumps, and I scramble to shove the box under my bed, kicking the unfinished juice box along with it. "Seb?" a familiar voice calls out from behind the door. "Can I come in?" It's Torie.
I let out a faint noise of acknowledgment, just loud enough for her to hear. The door creaks open a moment later, and she steps inside, her smile as bright as ever. "Hey, how are you feeling? You look so much better now," she says, closing the door gently behind her.
I rise to my feet, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. "Uh, yeah. I'm feeling fine now, I guess," I reply, my laugh coming out a little stilted. Her eyes light up at my response, that glint of relief so obvious it makes my chest tighten.
"That's good," Torie says warmly, moving closer. "I was so worried earlier. Mom and Dad were too." She sits down on the edge of my bed, patting the space beside her. I follow her lead, the mattress bouncing lightly beneath our weight.
"How have you been?" she asks after a moment, her voice soft but curious. I blink at her, caught off guard by the question. My confusion must be plain on my face because she bursts out laughing, the sound light and teasing. "Don't give me that look," she says, flicking my forehead gently with her finger.
"Ow! What's that supposed to mean?" I grumble, rubbing the spot she flicked. "I'm fine. Seriously."
Her grin widens. "I'm glad," she says, her tone softening. "You really had us worried earlier. You were inconsolable, Seb. I thought something terrible had happened."
I wince at her words, heat rising to my cheeks. "Well… I guess the problem kind of… fixed itself," I mumble, avoiding her gaze.
She doesn't press me further, and I'm grateful for it. Instead, we ease into a casual rhythm, our conversation drifting to safer, lighter topics. We talk about the games I've been playing, about Kath and how she's been doing lately. But of course, Torie can't resist bringing up the one thing I'd rather avoid altogether.
"So," she begins, her tone far too innocent to be genuine, "how's your relationship with Silas going?"
I groan, letting my head fall into my hands. "Torie…"
Coincidentally, that night, I dreamt of him.
It might have been the first time I'd ever dreamt of Silas—at least, the first time I remembered. But more than that, I was lucid enough to understand it was a dream. I felt it in the way everything was too vivid, too precise, as if my subconscious had sharpened the edges of reality.
I was standing in a vast field of flowers. The colors were overwhelming—vivid yellows, deep purples, and reds so vibrant they looked like spilled ink on a canvas. The scent was intoxicating, heavy and sweet. It filled my lungs in a way that made me feel both alive and suffocated. I've always loved the smell of flowers, but this was different. This was too much, as if the dream had amplified the fragrance until it was almost unbearable.
The air was crisp and cool, brushing against my skin in fleeting whispers. Then a sudden gust of wind rushed by, sharp and biting, making me flinch. It was only then I realized I wasn't wearing my jacket. My arms were bare, my head uncovered, though strangely, the sun shining above didn't burn me. Instead, it was gentle, like a warm hand resting on my shoulder.
"Hey!"
The voice was unmistakable. My heart lurched as I turned toward the sound. Far off in the field, standing amidst the sea of flowers, was Silas. He looked at me with that familiar, easy smile of his, the one that always seemed like it carried a secret he'd never tell.
"Silas?" I stammered, my voice catching. My heart thudded against my ribs as I started toward him, my feet crunching softly against the flower-strewn path. "Is that really you?"
He grinned, tilting his head slightly as I drew closer. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable.
"This is a dream," I said, blinking in confusion. The words felt heavy on my tongue, like speaking them would somehow make the fragile scene shatter.
To my surprise, Silas laughed—a warm, genuine laugh that made the air around us feel lighter. He wiped at his eye, as if brushing away a tear. "Nothing gets past you, huh?" he said, his voice laced with amusement.
"But..." I hesitated, glancing around at the endless field of flowers before my eyes settled back on him. "Why am I dreaming about you?"
The question hung in the air between us, unspoken doubts and emotions swirling in its wake. I hadn't dreamt of anything—or anyone—in such a long time. Why now? And why Silas? Was it because I liked him? Was it really that simple?
Silas didn't answer right away. Instead, he gave me a sly, knowing smile, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I think you already know," he said softly, his tone playful yet impossibly tender.
I looked away, embarrassed, letting my gaze wander over the flowers again. They were breathtakingly beautiful, swaying gently in the breeze like they were alive. Somehow, Silas seemed to fit here, as though he belonged among them.
"Do you like the flowers so much that you won't even look at me?" he teased, his voice pulling me back to him.
I turned to face him, startled. He was watching me, his expression unreadable but softer than I was used to seeing.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said, gesturing to the field around us.
I exhaled, my chest tight with something I couldn't name. "You're beautiful," I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
I braced myself for his reaction—disgust, awkwardness, anything that might shatter the fragile calm between us. Instead, his expression softened further, his lips curving into a faint smile.
"Of course you'd say that," he said quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself.
The moment lingered, suspended in time, until the dream began to unravel at the edges. The flowers blurred, the colors fading, and Silas's figure seemed to shimmer like a reflection on water.
I woke with a gasp, my chest heaving as I stared up at the ceiling. My room was dark and silent, the only sound my own ragged breathing. My hands were trembling as I sat up, the weight of the dream pressing down on me like a physical thing.
What was that?