The moon and the menace

The first time I met Elara Wynne, she set my robes on fire. It wasn’t an accident. She looked me dead in the eye, smirked, and whispered a charm under her breath. The next thing I knew, blue flames were crawling up my sleeves while she sipped her tea like a goddess of mischief. That was three months ago. Since then, I’ve learned three things about Elara: 1. She is annoyingly beautiful. 2. She is terrifyingly smart. 3. She has decided that I, Arin Voss, am her mortal enemy. We both study at Lunareth Academy, the most prestigious magic school in the kingdom of Aetherra — a floating city that hangs in the clouds, supported by spells older than time. Every student here dreams of becoming a Court Mage, protector of the realm. Every student… except maybe Elara, who seems more interested in tormenting me. --- Today, I find her in the spell gardens again. The air smells of mint and moonlight, and the plants hum softly with enchantment. She’s kneeling beside a glowing herb, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder like ink. “Don’t even think about it, Voss,” she says without turning. Her voice is sweet poison — soft but sharp. “I can feel you staring.” “Hard not to,” I say. “You’re breaking three garden rules right now.” She finally looks up, gray eyes sparkling with defiance. “I’m not breaking them,” she says. “I’m… creatively bending them.” “Elara, you’re literally touching a moonroot without gloves.” She glances at her glowing hands. “And yet, I’m not dead. Maybe the moonroot just likes me more than you.” I grit my teeth. “Maybe the moonroot doesn’t recognize stupidity when it sees it.” Her smile widens. “Oh, I recognize you, though.” Gods help me. I’m going to strangle her one day — gently, lovingly, with silk ribbon maybe. --- Later that afternoon, the Headmistress announces our next assignment: Paired Spellcraft. Two students, one project. Grade based on “cooperation, innovation, and magical harmony.” My stomach sinks. Because I know what’s coming. Every professor at this academy seems cursed with the same idea: “If we put Elara and Arin together, maybe they’ll learn to get along.” Spoiler: we don’t. When the pairings appear on the board, I scan for my name. Arin Voss — Elara Wynne. I groan so loudly that the crystal chandeliers flicker. Elara just winks. “Looks like destiny loves me.” “Destiny has poor taste,” I mutter. --- That night, we meet in the library’s upper wing — a grand hall of silver shelves and floating candles. The moonlight pours through enchanted glass, painting everything in a pale glow. Elara sprawls across a velvet chair, flipping through an old tome. “So,” she says, “what’s our plan? Something explosive? I like explosive.” “I was thinking something elegant,” I say, setting my books down. “A spell that fuses elements — maybe wind and light.” “Boring.” “Stable.” “Cowardly.” “Elara.” She grins. “Fine. We’ll do your little wind-light spell. But if it explodes, I get to name it.” “Why would it explode?” She shrugs. “Because I’ll make sure it does.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Remind me why I tolerate you again?” “Because deep down,” she says, leaning forward, “you adore me.” I choke on air. “In your dreams.” Her voice drops to a purr. “Every night.” My spellbook nearly bursts into flames — again. --- We work for hours, our bickering echoing between the shelves. And yet, beneath the chaos, there’s something strange — a rhythm. When I draw a rune, she completes it. When she casts a spark, I steady it with air. It’s infuriating how… right it feels. For a moment, she looks at me, eyes soft instead of mocking. “You know,” she murmurs, “you’re not half bad when you’re not being insufferable.” “Careful,” I say. “That almost sounded like a compliment.” “Don’t let it go to your head.” “It’s already there.” Her laugh — light and unguarded — fills the room, and for once, I don’t hate it. It’s like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. --- The spell finally takes shape: a glowing orb of silver wind and golden light, spinning between us. The air hums with energy. “It’s… beautiful,” she says quietly. “Yeah,” I whisper. And I don’t mean the spell. Before I can stop myself, I’m staring — really staring. The candlelight dances in her eyes. Her hair glows like obsidian silk. She looks up, and our gazes lock — that invisible current sparking again. Then the orb explodes. A burst of shimmering light knocks us backward. My back hits the wall; she crashes into a pile of books. For a second, there’s only ringing silence. Then— Elara starts laughing. “Guess I win,” she says between giggles. “It exploded.” I can’t help it. I start laughing too. It’s ridiculous — two rival mages covered in dust and glitter, sitting amid a pile of smoldering books, laughing like children. When the laughter fades, she leans her head back and says softly, “You know, Arin… I don’t think I hate you anymore.” My heart skips. “Good,” I manage. “Because I stopped hating you ten minutes ago.” She glances at me, lips curving into that familiar, wicked grin. “Don’t get used to it.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.” But I do. That night — and the next. .TO BE CONTINUED.