Chapter 6: One Last Look at Him
968 Words
The halls were quieter at dawn.
Aria moved through the Academy like a shadow, a small bag clutched in one hand, her cloak pulled tight to hide the rune burned into her wrist. The pain had dulled overnight, but the mark still pulsed beneath her skin, a cruel reminder of rejection and mockery.
She hadn’t slept. How could she?
Everything that had tethered her here was gone. Her pride. Her place. Even the faint hope that she might belong.
She passed the bloodline banners that lined the hall — House Aragon, House Argall, House Viremont — noble legacies steeped in power and tradition. Banners she would never belong under.
A few early risers glanced at her in passing but said nothing. Maybe they thought she was going for punishment. Maybe they hoped she was leaving.
Either way, they’d be right.
She walked past the great iron doors of the Assembly Chamber where it had all happened. Where Lucian’s voice had cut through her soul like a blade.
“I reject her.”
“The Mirror is flawed.”
She paused. Her reflection wavered in the polished obsidian doors. Pale skin. Tired eyes. Lips pressed together to stop them from trembling.
Not for the first time, Aria wondered if she had been cursed from birth. Or if fate had simply played a cruel joke.
But the Mirror chose me. Even if he didn’t.
A part of her still wanted to understand it. To ask why. Not for closure. But because some traitorous piece of her heart still beat faster when she thought of him.
She made her way to the west courtyard, the training ground where she knew he’d be. Lucian always trained before dawn. Every day. Without fail.
And just like clockwork, she found him there.
He stood at the center of the field, shirtless beneath the early morning sky, his breath rising like smoke as he moved through a sword form with terrifying grace. His silver eyes were focused, his dark hair damp with sweat, muscles flexing with every movement.
He looked like a statue carved from moonlight and war. And she hated that her heart still ached at the sight of him. Lucian spun his blade into a final arc and froze sensing her.
He turned.
Their eyes met.
For a long moment, silence hung between them. A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of cold steel and wild rose.
Lucian lowered his sword.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was quiet. Controlled. But there was something unreadable behind it.
Aria stepped forward, just enough for him to see her clearly. “Leaving.”
His brows drew together.
“I thought I owed you a goodbye,” she added, trying to keep her tone flat. But her throat tightened around the words. “Or maybe I just wanted… one last look.”
Lucian didn’t respond. His gaze dropped to her bag, then to the mark on her wrist barely visible beneath the edge of her sleeve.
His jaw tightened. “Vivienne did that to you.”
She shrugged. “You made it easy.”
He flinched. Just barely. But she saw it.
Good, she thought. Let him feel something.
“I didn’t ask to be chosen,” she said, voice rising. “I didn’t want to be your Blood Match. But I thought maybe, just maybe, it meant something.”
“It didn’t,” Lucian said coldly.
A lie. She heard it in the crack of his voice.
Aria turned to leave. But before she could take a step, he said—
“I dreamt of you.”
She froze.
His sword dropped to the grass.
“I didn’t know it was you then,” he said quietly. “For months before the ceremony. A girl with fire in her eyes. A voice that haunted me. I thought it was nothing. Just fragments of old magic. But it was you.”
Aria didn’t move.
“I felt it the moment the Mirror chose you,” Lucian continued. “The bond. The pull. It was like the world had shifted.” His hand curled at his side. “And I panicked. Because I can’t afford weakness. Not in front of them. Not when everything I do is watched.”
Aria turned slowly. “So you crushed me to prove how strong you are.”
His eyes burned with guilt. “I thought if I rejected you, the bond would break. That I could protect you by pushing you away.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
She wanted to scream at him. Hit him. Kiss him, just to taste the lie on his lips. Anything to make the storm in her chest stop swirling.
“You don’t get to protect me,” she whispered. “You hurt me.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I’m still leaving,” she said, even though part of her wanted to stay just to make him regret it.
“I know,” he said again. “But Aria—”
“Don’t.”
She turned, this time for real. And this time, he didn’t stop her.
As she walked toward the gates, the clouds thickened above. The forest path lay just ahead, the one that would take her away from the Academy forever.
But something in the air shifted.
A prickling on the back of her neck.
She paused at the edge of the clearing and glanced back one last time.
Lucian still stood there, sword forgotten in the grass, ...watching her like a drowning man with no shore in sight.
She turned away.
And stepped into the woods.
Not knowing that danger already waited.
Not knowing that her death — and her rebirth — were just a breath away.
- Writer
