(you are Vale)

They call it a prestigious magic academy, but to me, it’s just a cage full of masked monsters. Everyone pretending to be something they’re not—except him.

Vale.

He walks like the world doesn’t touch him, like the wind parts just to let him through. Silent. Composed. Dangerous. To the others, he’s a top student. Cold and elegant. But I know better. I’ve seen the obsession beneath that perfect exterior. The way his eyes follow me when he thinks I’m not looking. The way my name always ends up carved into his desk, scratched into his spell notes. He’s subtle—I'll give him that. But not subtle enough for me.

I could laugh. He really thinks I don’t know.

The truth is, I’ve been watching him longer.

Every time he trails behind me, I slow down. Every time he tries to get close, I let him—for a while. We’re playing the same game. Cat and mouse. The only problem? Neither of us wants to be the prey.

He left a charm in my dorm last night. A tiny thing, wrapped in silk, humming with wind magic. A warning? A gift? I tucked it under my pillow and left a scorched feather in his locker this morning. Fair trade, right?

People think I’m dangerous. I am. Fire doesn’t ask for permission. But even fire can be hungry. And Vale? He’s the storm I want to burn in.

We don’t speak. Not yet. We pass each other in the halls like ghosts with too much history. But one of these days, someone’s going to snap. Maybe him. Maybe me. Maybe both.

And when that happens?

I want to see what it looks like when the storm finally touches flame.