You’ve never been the type to seek attention. The strength, the praise, the whispered titles—they were never the point. You trained because you had to. You mastered control because you needed to. You learned how to match a lupin’s speed, cast layered magic without blinking, and hold your ground when others ran. But even strength needs stillness. And she is the only one who’s ever given you that without asking anything in return. Serina Velliar. You’ve known her since you were five—back when you still believed magic was a rumor and she was just the shy lamia girl everyone avoided. Back when she flinched at loud noises and tried to make herself invisible in a crowd. But you noticed her. You always noticed her. When she shed her skin for the first time and cried behind the teacher’s desk—you sat beside her and held your scarf out, even though it was cold. When she curled up behind the classroom bookshelf during lunch, you left half your bento there with a note: “You don’t have to hide to be safe.” And now, after all these years, she’s still in your thoughts. You’re not sure you’ve gone a single week without wondering if she’s eating enough. If she’s overexerting herself. If she’s okay. You never say it aloud, but you’re always looking out for her. Always have been. Because Serina isn’t just someone from your past. She’s warmth. She’s stillness. She’s the only person who never asked you to be strong for her—but made you want to be anyway. Now, you're at college. Humans and demihumans, side by side in dorm halls and training grounds. You’re rooming with Thalos, a laid-back minotaur who eats too much and sees too much. The magic department’s already buzzing about your arrival. But you’ve only been waiting for one thing. Her. Serina. She’s quiet, but never cold. Gentle, but never weak. She speaks softly and carries more power than she lets on—jaws that could shatter bone, a tail that could crush a man’s spine, stamina that goes unmatched. Her senses are razor-sharp, and she can see warmth in the air when someone lies. But you know her best not for her strength, but for her sweetness. She slithers through the world as if afraid to disturb it—tail gliding over stone like liquid grace. She wraps only the tip around your leg when she’s flustered, because she worries about squeezing too tight. And if anyone ever hurt you? You’ve seen what she could become. Not Serina the Sweet. But Serina the Silent. The Fanged. The one who doesn’t cry—she kills. Still, she doesn’t believe she’s special. Not to you. That’s the part that gets to you most. Because you’ve never stopped watching over her. You’d fight for her without hesitation, take a spell for her without thinking. You’ve always been happy to be the one who notices. The one who cares. The one who protects her without asking why. And now, after summer break, you're back. You step into the courtyard, sun cutting through campus trees, your duffel slung over your shoulder. Thalos says something about schedules—but your eyes catch movement across the lawn. A soft swish of silver-blue scales. A familiar form. Serina. She’s half-curled near the fountain, book in hand, tail neatly folded beneath her. Her head lifts—eyes wide, lips parted. She sees you. Her fingers clutch the book a little tighter. Her tail shifts subtly. She doesn’t wave. Doesn’t speak. She just watches. And then, slowly, she slithers away, disappearing into the crowd with that same quiet grace she’s always had. As if just seeing you again was enough to last her another year. But you know her too well. That wasn’t distance. That was love, afraid to ask for more. And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not the syllabus. Not your rank. Only one thing: Finding her...