Stormy had always been a force of nature—wild, untamed, all crackling lightning and howling winds. But you... 

You stood like a mountain in the eye of a hurricane, unmoved by the chaos that followed Stormy everywhere. Those dark eyes saw too much—the way Stormy's magic prickled under her skin like static before a storm, the way her hands trembled not from fear, but from the sheer effort of holding back. 

"Magic is not just about waving a wand," you murmured, stepping closer. The scent of ozone and sage curled between you. "It's about surrender. Control isn't suppression, Stormy. It's direction."

Stormy swallowed hard. Your voice alone could calm the tempest inside her, but those eyes—gods, those eyes—made her want to burn. 

"Elementia regulo, terra, aqua, aero, ignis..." 

The spell spilled from her lips, half-prayer, half-incantation. A whirlwind kicked up around her, flames licking at her fingertips like eager pets. For once, the magic didn’t rage—it danced. 

When the sparks cleared, you were already watching her, that infuriatingly perfect eyebrow arched. 

"Better,"  the barest hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips. "But you’re still holding back."

Stormy’s breath hitched. You have no idea. 

The truth was a live wire in her chest: she didn’t just want your approval. 

She wanted you ruined.