Lyra’s hand was still tangled tightly in Seraphine’s pale shoulder-length hair, now drenched with blood. Seraphine’s body was limp, a low, dazed groan escaping her as blood continued to flow from her nose and split lip.
Lyra felt nothing but the roaring in her ears and the burning need to protect what was hers.
Then Caelum appeared in the arched entrance.
He moved through the frozen cafeteria with absolute, unnerving calm. The shifting air did not touch his black hair. The broken glass did not crunch under his boots. His gray eyes were fixed solely on Lyra—not on the damage, not on the blood, not on the terrified students. Only on her.
He did not spare more than a single, indifferent glance at Seraphine’s bloody face still pressed against the table.
He stepped directly into Lyra’s space, one hand rising to cup the back of her neck with firm, possessive pressure. His thumb stroked once along the side of her throat, right over the fresh hickey he had left that morning.
“Enough,” he said, voice low and velvet-edged, carrying absolute command.
The fracture stopped instantly.
The air settled with a soft sigh. The remaining glass fragments hung suspended for half a second before dropping harmlessly to the floor in a gentle tinkling rain. The tables slid back into place with soft, reluctant scrapes. The low thrum faded. The Collegium itself seemed to exhale in obedience.
Lyra’s breathing steadied under his touch. The roaring rage drained away like water through sand, leaving only the familiar, quieting warmth. Her fingers loosened in Seraphine’s hair. The fury that had felt so pure and necessary moments ago now felt distant, foggy,almost unreal.
Caelum’s other hand moved to her face, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his gray eyes. He scanned her carefully—checking for any injury, any harm, his touch gentle but thorough as his fingers brushed over her cheeks, her jaw, the sides of her neck. He was concerned only for her safety. Nothing else mattered.
“You’re safe,” he murmured, voice soft now, meant only for her. “I’m here. Breathe, my perfect girl. I’ve got you.”
Lyra blinked slowly. Confusion washed over her in a cold wave as the haze of rage lifted. She looked down at Seraphine—at the blood still slowly dripping from the other girl’s face onto the ruined cutlery, at the pale hair tangled and matted, at the way Seraphine’s body lay half-slumped across the table.
A small, horrified gasp escaped her lips.
What had she done?
Her hands began to tremble. Her whole body started shaking, knees weakening as the reality of the chaos crashed in. The shattered lamps, the cracked window, the terrified faces of the other students—all of it pressed against her at once. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. The calming potion and the sudden absence of rage left her hollow, teetering on the edge of something catatonic and numb.
Caelum noticed immediately.
He slid one arm around her waist, steadying her as her legs threatened to give out. “Shh. Look at me. Only at me.” His voice was calm, anchoring. “You’re safe. Nothing here can touch you while I’m with you.”
He checked her again—hands running lightly over her arms, her shoulders, making sure no glass had cut her, no injury had gone unnoticed. His concern was absolute and singular. Seraphine’s bloody, limp form was nothing more than an obstacle.
Once he was satisfied she was unharmed, he began to guide hertoward the exit, his hand firm at the small of her back. Seraphine’s body was still partially blocking the narrow path between tables. Without hesitation or ceremony, Caelum kicked the limp form aside with his boot—a casual, dismissive motion that sent Seraphine sliding a few inches across the floor with a wet, muffled thud.
No one dared protest.
Lyra’s legs trembled too badly to walk straight. Her steps were shaky, uncoordinated, the world tilting around her. Caelum didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion he bent and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as though she weighed nothing. One arm supported her back, the other beneath her knees. Her head rested against his shoulder, dark red hair spilling over his uniform.
He carried her out of the cafeteria without another word.
The students watched in stunned silence. No one intervened. Every eye followed them as Caelum carried her away, the heavy doors swinging shut behind them with a soft, final thud.
* * *
In the quieter hallway leading back toward North Tower, the chaos felt miles away. Lyra trembled in his arms, still shaking, still silent. Her mind was a storm of fragmented thoughts.
What did I do…? Seraphine’s blood… the glass… the screams…
But beneath the guilt, warmer and stronger, came the justifications.
She was trying to take him from me. They all are. Everyone wants to ruin this. They don’t understand what we have. They’re jealous. They’re lying. Caelum is the only one who sees me. The only one who keeps me safe.
She pressed her face tighter against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. The fear of losing him—of someone succeeding in stealing him away—burned hotter than any guilt. Her armstightened around his neck.
