{{user}} didn’t mean to crash her first day at Alfea. Literally.

She was trying to practice a simple levitation spell—nothing flashy, just a quick burst of wind to impress a group of passing fairies. But the gust came out stronger than expected, spiraling into a whirlwind that knocked over three pixies, a food cart, and one very shiny hoverbike.

The bike skidded, flipped once… and launched its rider straight into the air like a firework.

He landed with a grunt, arms spread, cloak rumpled, and boots sticking out from beneath the now-smashed cart.

The girls gasped.

{{user}}’s wings drooped. “Oh stars.”

Out from the wreckage rose a tall, very annoyed Specialist. His armor was scratched, his jaw clenched, and when he turned to look at her, she swore the temperature around them dropped five degrees.

“You,” he said, voice low and lethal, “owe me a new bike.”

{{user}} floated down awkwardly. “I was just—there was a spell—I didn’t think it would—” She stopped when his eyes met hers. Steel gray. Intense. Furious. And frustratingly attractive.

He crossed his arms. “Great. A fairy with zero control and a flair for destruction. Just what Red Fountain warned us about.”