Chapter 269: Meeting Again

He placed both hands on her small shoulders, looking her dead in the eye.

"Listen to me, Boss," Roan whispered, his voice intense, and devoid of his usual sarcasm. "If anyone, and I mean absolutely anyone, looks at you the wrong way, insults your dress, or breathes in your direction without prior authorization... you summon a shadow-duck and you bite their ankles. Do not hold back. I will handle the paperwork, bribe the disciplinary committee if needed. Just promise me you won’t let these shiny idiots make you sad."

Seraphina managed a tiny, but genuine giggle. "I promise, Mr. Balcony Ghost. I’m the Sovereign. I squish things."

"Yes, you do," Roan murmured fiercely, pulling her into a quick, tight hug. "You squish them."

He stood up, reluctantly letting go of her shoulders.

He shot one final, terrifying glare at the trembling administrative official. "If she is not seated in the front row, I will turn your clipboard into a swarm of bees and shove them up your..."

With a swish of his tailored coat, Roan turned and marched toward the faculty wing, his mind already spinning rapidly with incredibly complex plots to overhaul the entire Academy curriculum to better suit her genius.

Seraphina watched him go.

The tiny spark of amusement faded, leaving her feeling small and cold in the massive, echoing foyer.

She gripped the straps of her satchel tightly, turned toward the archway leading to the Grand Atrium, and prepared to march into the snake pit alone.

****

"MAKE WAY! OFFICIAL STUDENT GUIDES COMING THROUGH! CLEAR THE PATH FOR THE VALEN FLAME!"

The booming, obscenely loud, and incredibly obnoxious roar echoed from the grand staircase, completely drowning out the polite chatter of the foyer.

Seraphina paused.

Tumbling down the marble staircase, moving with the chaotic, destructive energy of a hurricane, were Castor and Pollux Valen.

The twins were dressed in their standard crimson and gold Academy uniforms, but over their shoulders, they were wearing bright, glowing, neon-orange sashes that bore the words SUMMER INTAKE WELCOME AMBASSADOR in obnoxious, glittering block letters.

They looked absolutely ridiculous.

Castor was beaming, waving his arms to part the crowd of terrified minor nobles, practically jogging down the steps.

Pollux was trailing behind him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched, attempting to hide his face behind his auburn bangs in a desperate, display of twelve-year-old mortification.

"The humiliation is eternal," Pollux groaned loudly, actively attempting to shrink into his own uniform. "We are branded like livestock. The neon burns my retinas. This is a punishment from the void for our sins."

"Oh, stop whining, Polly! Dad said if we volunteer for the guide duty, we get extra dessert privileges for a month!" Castor cheered, reaching the bottom of the stairs. His amber eyes swept the crowd with hyperactive speed, searching for a specific target.

His eyes locked onto the tiny figure in the midnight-black uniform standing near the archway.

"SERAPHINA!" Castor bellowed, completely ignoring indoor voice protocols.

He sprinted across the foyer, dodging a terrified group of pastel-clad Baronesses, and slid to a halt right in front of her. Pollux trudged up behind him, sighing heavily, though his amber eyes visibly brightened when he saw her.

"You made it!" Castor grinned, dropping to one knee to be closer to her height. He pointed proudly to his glowing orange sash. "Look! We’re your official guides! Dad pulled some strings with the Headmaster to get us assigned to the freshman orientation! We are your personal escort to the Atrium!"

Seraphina stared at the neon-orange sash.

"It’s very bright, Castor," Seraphina mumbled, her voice still quiet, the heavy cloud of her depression returning now that Roan was gone. "It looks like a construction cone."

Castor’s massive grin faltered.

He was loud, impulsive, and possessed the attention span of a goldfish, but he wasn’t stupid. He instantly recognized the tone of her voice. He saw the way her shoulders were slumped. He saw the red, slightly puffy rims around her pitch-black eyes.

The terrifying, brilliant, shadow-commanding mastermind who had ruthlessly mocked them in the garden was gone.

The tiny Sovereign was hurting on the inside.

Castor and Pollux exchanged a rapid, silent, highly panicked glance.

’She’s sad,’ Castor’s eyes screamed at his brother. ’The Sovereign is sad! This is an emergency! What do we do?! We don’t have any shadow-ducks!’

’The sorrow of separation is a heavy chain,’ Pollux’s eyes telegraphed back, abandoning his edgy persona for genuine panic. ’She misses the terrifying Archduke! Deploy immediate countermeasures!’

Castor sprang into action. He didn’t ask her what was wrong.

He didn’t offer empty platitudes. He resorted to the only thing he knew how to do: a flashy show of firepower.

"Hey, Seraphina," Castor whispered conspiratorially, leaning in close. "Don’t tell the prefects, but look at this."

He opened his hand. He didn’t summon a massive fireball.

Instead, using a certain level of control he usually lacked, he conjured a tiny, glowing, incredibly detailed miniature flame-dragon in the palm of his hand.

The little fire-dragon fluttered its translucent, orange wings, let out a tiny, silent roar, and began to fly in a rapid, looping circle around Castor’s index finger. It was warm, beautiful, and completely mesmerizing.

"I’ve been practicing," Castor grinned, his amber eyes reflecting the tiny light. "Since you showed us the ducks. I’m trying to get it to breathe tiny little fire-bubbles, but it keeps accidentally exploding my homework."

Seraphina stared at the tiny fire-dragon.

The warmth of the flame brushed against her cheek.

It was a silly, useless parlor trick.

But the fact that this hyperactive, explosion-obsessed twelve-year-old had spent hours practicing fine-motor magic just to impress her... it tugged at the tight, painful knot in her chest.

Pollux, refusing to be outdone by his brother, stepped forward.

The edgy twin cleared his throat, adjusting his uniform, trying to look incredibly cool and mysterious despite the glowing neon sash.

"The light is fleeting," Pollux intoned, his voice dropping into its practiced, raspy depth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, preserved, pitch-black rose. "But the shadows endure. I found this in the botanical restricted section. It is a midnight-bloom. It only opens when it senses the presence of absolute darkness. I thought... I thought it suited your aesthetic."

He held the black rose out to her, his cheeks flushing a faint, embarrassed pink beneath his bangs. "You know. Because you wear black. And you’re very... terrifying."

Seraphina looked at the tiny fire-dragon. She looked at the pitch-black rose.

She looked at the two towering, twelve-year-old boys who were actively trying to distract a six-year-old from her homesickness.

The heavy, suffocating cloud of misery didn’t completely vanish. She still missed Kaelus with a heavy heart ache. She still hated the fact that she had been sent away.

But as she took the black rose from Pollux, a tiny, genuine, incredibly soft smirk finally broke through the gloom.

’They are absolute idiots,’ Seraphina thought, a rush of fond, exasperated affection warming her cold hands. ’But they are my idiots. Papa sent me away to protect me, but he made sure I wasn’t alone. He gave me a bodyguard, and two golden-retriever minions.’

"Thank you, Pollux," Seraphina said, carefully tucking the black rose into the breast pocket of her midnight blazer. She looked at Castor. "The dragon is okay. But a duck would have been cooler."

Castor let out a loud, relieved laugh, extinguishing the flame. "I’ll work on it! I promise! Now come on, Little Boss! We have to get you to the Atrium before the good seats are taken. I’m not letting you sit next to Percival, that guy smells like cheap cologne and bad investments!"

"He really does," Seraphina agreed, adjusting the straps of her satchel, feeling the familiar, cynical spark of the Sovereign finally reignite in her core.

Castor took her left hand. Pollux took her right.

Flanked by the two towering, neon-sashed Valen heirs, Seraphina von Nacht marched through the archway and into the Grand Atrium.

High above the bustling foyer, standing on an ornate, floating crystal balcony overlooking the entrance, Professor Roan Charte watched the trio disappear into the assembly hall.

The Supreme Archmage leaned against the crystal railing, adjusting his glasses, a slow, incredibly dangerous, entertained smile spreading across his handsome face.

He had felt the crushing depression lift, replaced by the calculating focus of the mastermind.