Chapter 45
Headmistress Thorne moved with terrifying efficiency.
Within an hour of reading the letter, she'd relocated us to the North Tower—Kairen's original quarters, which apparently had the strongest defensive wards in the entire Academy.
Faculty were summoned. Guards posted. Every person who'd had access to the secured wing in the past week was being questioned.
And through it all, Aurelius and Nyx maintained their protective circle overhead, visible warnings that the dragons were not taking this threat lightly.
I sat in what was now our shared sitting room—the North Tower had been designed for Kairen alone, but Headmistress Thorne had made it clear that separating us was no longer an option. Not when someone could bypass wards to leave threats on beds.
Kairen paced near the windows, shadows writhing at his feet in patterns that spoke of barely controlled fury. Through the soulbond, I felt his rage—cold, calculated, dangerous. Someone had threatened me. Had gotten close enough to touch my things, my space, my bed while I slept unknowing.
He was taking it personally.
"We should tell Brooke and Caleb," I said quietly. "They deserve to know there's an active threat."
"Headmistress Thorne is handling that. Caleb's being briefed now—he'll tell Brooke." Kairen stopped pacing long enough to look at me. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm angry." The admission surprised me. I'd expected fear, shock, maybe panic. But what I felt most strongly was fury. "Someone thinks they can threaten me into voluntarily dying. That I'll just comply because they claim it's necessary for peace."
"Good. Anger is better than fear." He moved to sit beside me on the couch, close enough that our magic reached instinctively. "Though you're also scared. I can feel it through the bond."
"I'm terrified," I admitted. "But not of dying. Of what they might do to people around me if I don't comply. To you, to Brooke, to anyone they think they can use as leverage."
"Then we make sure they understand that leverage won't work." His hand found mine. "We make ourselves too dangerous to threaten, too visible to eliminate quietly, too connected to people in power for them to act without consequences."
"That's a lot of political maneuvering."
"That's survival. My family has been navigating noble politics for generations—this isn't that different. Someone wants you dead, so we make the cost of killing you higher than the benefit of your death."
Through the soulbond, I felt his strategic mind working through scenarios, calculating risks, planning responses. This was what five years of void had taught him—how to function through crisis with cold efficiency.
"What do we do first?"
"We identify who has the resources to bypass Academy wards.
That's a very short list." He counted on his fingers.
"Senior faculty with administrative access.
Council members who were granted emergency override privileges after the assassination attempt.
Certain noble families with historical Academy connections. Maybe a dozen people total."
"One of whom just threatened me."
"Or hired someone who could bypass the wards.
Money can buy a lot of magical expertise.
" His shadows pulsed once. "We also need to consider that whoever wrote the letter might not be acting alone.
The Purge Wars required significant coordination.
If that organization still exists, there could be multiple people involved. "
A knock on the door interrupted us. Kairen's shadows immediately went defensive, spreading between us and the entrance.
"It's Caleb," came the voice from the other side. "And Brooke. Headmistress Thorne said we could visit."
Kairen opened the door carefully, checking the corridor before allowing them entry. Both Brooke and Caleb looked shaken—clearly they'd been briefed on the threat.
"Someone left a letter threatening to kill you?" Brooke said without preamble, moving to sit on my other side. "On your bed? In the secured wing?"
"Apparently." I managed a weak smile. "Though they phrased it as 'voluntary bond breaking' rather than direct murder. Very polite of them."
"That's not funny."
"It's a little funny. In a horrifying way."
Caleb remained standing, his expression unusually serious. "Do we know who's behind this? Headmistress Thorne said it's connected to the Purge Wars, but that was three centuries ago."
"Someone who remembers. Or someone who was taught to remember." Kairen's voice was grim. "Either way, they're organized enough to bypass Academy security and confident enough to leave direct threats. That suggests resources and planning."
"Could it be connected to the mages who tried to kill you?" Brooke asked. "Maybe they were part of this group?"
"Possibly. The timing is suspicious—assassination attempt fails, so they try fear tactics instead.
" I pulled my knees up to my chest, suddenly feeling very small.
"Though the letter claimed some members wanted to eliminate me immediately and whoever wrote it disagrees.
So maybe there's internal debate about tactics. "
"That's not reassuring," Caleb said. "Debate about whether to kill you now or later is still debate about killing you."
Through the soulbond, I felt Kairen's agreement with his brother. Nothing about this situation was reassuring.
"What's Headmistress Thorne doing?" Brooke asked.
"Investigating everyone with administrative access.
Increasing security. Making it clear that threatening students will have consequences.
" Kairen listed off the actions mechanically.
"But realistically, if this group has existed for three centuries and successfully orchestrated genocide once before, Academy security might not be enough. "
"So what do we do?" Brooke's voice was unusually quiet. "Just wait for them to try again?"
"No. We prepare." Kairen stood, moving back to the windows where Aurelius and Nyx were still visible in their protective circle.
"We train harder. Master twilight healing so we're politically valuable, not just politically interesting.
Make ourselves necessary enough that eliminating us creates more problems than allowing us to exist."
"And if that doesn't work?" I asked.
"Then we prove exactly how dangerous two dragon bonds can be when threatened." His shadows pulsed darker. "They think light dragons are destabilizing? They haven't seen what shadow and light can do when working together with actual intent to harm."
The cold fury in his voice made even Caleb look concerned.
"Brother, you're talking about—"
"I'm talking about survival. If this group wants to eliminate Serenya, they're going to discover that getting through me first is significantly more difficult than they've calculated.
" He turned from the window. "I've spent five years learning to survive void.
Learning to function through things that should have killed me.
And I'm not losing her to some group of fanatics who think genocide was justified. "
Through the soulbond, I felt the depth of his conviction. Not just protective fury, but absolute determination. He would burn the world down before letting someone kill me.
It should have been frightening. Instead, it was almost comforting.
"Okay," Brooke said slowly. "So the plan is: become politically valuable, train to be dangerous, and make sure everyone knows that threatening Serenya means dealing with her extremely protective shadow bond counterpart."
"That's the plan."
"It's not much of a plan."
"It's what we have." Kairen's voice was flat. "Unless you have better suggestions?"
Brooke was quiet for a moment, then: "We could go public. Not just Academy public, but actual public. Make Serenya's story known widely enough that eliminating her would be obvious rather than quiet. Harder to claim it's necessary when everyone knows who she is."
"That increases visibility, which increases risk," Caleb pointed out.
"But it also increases the political cost of her death.
Right now, if she dies, it's a tragedy that affects the Academy.
If everyone in the kingdom knows about the light dragon bond, if she's famous—then her death becomes a scandal that affects everyone.
" Brooke looked at me. "I know you hate attention.
But being too visible to eliminate quietly might be safer than being a secret they can erase. "
Through the soulbond, I felt Kairen considering the strategy. It had merit—famous people were harder to kill quietly than unknowns. But it also meant every moment of my life would be scrutinized, every action reported, every mistake magnified.
"That's a last resort," I said. "If Academy security and political maneuvering don't work, then we consider going public. But I'd rather not make my entire existence a performance if we can avoid it."
"Fair," Brooke conceded.
Another knock on the door. This time Kairen didn't even ask who it was before his shadows went fully defensive.
"Mr. Draxen, Miss Vale—it's Professor Veyra. May I enter?"
Kairen opened the door cautiously. Professor Veyra entered, followed by two other faculty members I recognized—Master Wren and Professor Aldric. All three looked grim.
"We've completed the initial investigation into the security breach," Professor Veyra said without preamble. "The results are... concerning."
"How concerning?" Kairen asked.
"The wards weren't bypassed. They were temporarily disabled from the inside.
" Professor Aldric's voice was cold. "Someone with administrative access deliberately lowered the protections on the secured wing for approximately ten minutes yesterday evening.
Long enough for someone to enter, leave the letter, and exit undetected. "
My stomach dropped. "Someone on the inside. Faculty or senior staff."
"Almost certainly." Professor Veyra's expression was carefully neutral. "We're reviewing everyone who had access and opportunity. But this means the threat isn't just external. Someone at the Academy is either part of this group or working with them."
"Who has administrative access to ward controls?" Kairen demanded.
"Headmistress Thorne, obviously. The seven senior professors—myself included. The head of security. The Academy physician." Professor Aldric listed them off. "Plus a few Council members who were granted emergency overrides after the assassination attempt."
"So approximately a dozen people, any of whom could be the traitor." Kairen's shadows writhed with agitation. "That's wonderful."
"We're investigating," Master Wren said. Her usual gruff demeanor was replaced with something harder, more dangerous. "But in the meantime, you're not to be alone. Ever. Guard rotations will ensure at least two trusted faculty are nearby at all times."
"Trusted meaning what?" I asked. "How do you know who to trust if someone on the inside is compromised?"
"We don't. Not completely." Professor Veyra's honesty was almost worse than reassuring lies would have been.
"But we're using people who've been at the Academy for decades, who have no known connections to anti-dragon factions, who were openly supportive during the assassination attempt investigation.
It's not perfect, but it's what we have. "
"Perfect," Kairen muttered. "We're being protected by people who might be the ones threatening us."
"Welcome to politics," Professor Aldric said dryly. "Trust no one completely, suspect everyone equally, and hope your paranoia keeps you alive."
Through the soulbond, I felt Kairen's reluctant agreement. This was the world he'd been raised in—noble houses where allies could become enemies overnight, where trust was a luxury no one could afford.
But I'd spent eighteen years in the lower quarter, where survival meant trusting your neighbors because you had no other choice. This level of suspicion felt suffocating.
"What about classes tomorrow?" I asked. "Are we just not attending? Staying locked in the Tower?"
"You'll attend classes," Headmistress Thorne said, appearing in the doorway. "Hiding accomplishes nothing except showing fear. You'll attend with guards, you'll participate normally, and you'll act as though this threat doesn't concern you."
"Even though it very much does concern me."
"Especially because it concerns you. They want you frightened.
Compliant. Willing to voluntarily end the bond to prevent another Purge.
" Her voice was steel. "So you do the opposite.
You attend classes, you excel at training, you demonstrate that you're not going anywhere.
Make them understand that eliminating you requires more effort than they're willing to expend. "
"And if they decide it's worth the effort?" Brooke asked quietly.
"Then they'll discover that attacking Academy students—especially dragon bonds—results in dragons who are very motivated to find and eliminate threats." Headmistress Thorne's expression was grim. "Aurelius and Nyx have survived three centuries. They know how to defend their bonded humans."
Through my connection to Aurelius, I felt his agreement. Anyone who threatens you will learn why humans used to fear dragons.
"Now," Headmistress Thorne continued, "you should all rest. Tomorrow classes resume, and acting normally requires energy. Miss Barnard, Mr. Caleb—you're welcome to visit, but I need to brief the guard rotation before they begin their shifts."
After everyone left except Kairen and me, the North Tower felt simultaneously too large and too confining. These rooms had been Kairen's refuge for five years, his space to hide from the world while battling void. Now they were our shared fortress against threats that could come from any direction.
"I should let you have your room back," I said. "The main bedroom. I can take the study."
"You're not sleeping in the study." Kairen's voice was firm. "The bedroom has the strongest defensive wards. You're staying there. I'll take the study."
"That's ridiculous. It's your room—"
"It's our room. And the person who was directly threatened gets the most protected space." He crossed his arms. "This isn't negotiable, Serenya."
Through the soulbond, I felt his absolute determination. Also his fear—raw and barely suppressed—that something might happen while I slept. That whoever left the letter might return with more direct violence.
"What if we both stay in the bedroom?" I offered. "It's large enough. You could have the bed, I'll take the couch—"
"You're not sleeping on a couch in your own quarters."
"They're not my quarters. They're yours."
"Ours," he corrected firmly. "And I'm not arguing about this. Either we both stay in the most protected room, or I'm standing guard outside your door all night and getting no sleep at all."
I studied his expression—stubborn, determined, terrified beneath the controlled exterior. Through the soulbond, I felt what he wasn't saying: that the thought of me sleeping alone, unprotected, vulnerable to whoever had left that letter, was completely unacceptable.
"Both in the bedroom," I conceded. "But we're sharing the bed. It's enormous, and I'm not making you sleep on the floor in your own room like some kind of guard."
"That's—"
"Not negotiable," I interrupted, using his own words. "If we're doing this, we're doing it reasonably. Shared space, shared bed, both of us actually getting sleep instead of being ridiculous about propriety while someone wants me dead."
Through the soulbond, I felt his internal struggle—years of noble propriety warring with practical necessity and the desperate need to keep me safe.
"Fine," he said finally. "Shared bed. But I'm staying on my side."
"Your side of an enormous bed in a room with defensive wards while dragons circle overhead and faculty guard the corridors. Very scandalous."
"My mother would have opinions about proper courting protocol."
"Your mother knows someone threatened to kill me. I think she'd understand that sharing a bed for safety isn't exactly romantic."
"You'd be surprised how much nobility cares about appearances even during crises." But his lips quirked slightly—the closest he'd come to a smile since reading the letter.
We settled into an uneasy routine. I borrowed some of Kairen's clothes—loose pants and a shirt that smelled like shadows and winter—because my own things were still in the compromised guest quarters.
He changed into sleeping clothes with his back turned, maintaining some semblance of privacy despite everything.
The bed was indeed enormous, clearly designed for someone who needed space to spread out. We claimed opposite sides, a careful distance between us.
But through the soulbond, I felt his awareness of my presence. The way his breathing matched mine unconsciously. The comfort and terror of having me close enough to protect but knowing that protection might not be enough against an organized group that had successfully committed genocide before.
"Kairen?" I said into the darkness.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For not letting me spiral into believing the letter. For being angry instead of scared."
"I'm both. Angry and scared." His voice was quiet. "But anger is more useful. Fear just makes you hesitate."
"I'm scared too."
"I know. I can feel it through the bond." A pause. "But you're still here. Still choosing to stay, to fight, to prove them wrong. That's brave."
"Or stubborn."
"Those are basically the same thing for you."
I smiled despite everything. Through the soulbond, I felt his exhaustion beginning to pull him toward sleep. The emotional upheaval of the day, combined with the anger and fear, had drained both of us.
"Goodnight, Kairen."
"Goodnight, Serenya."
I lay awake long after his breathing evened into sleep, staring at the shadows on the ceiling cast by moonlight through the windows.
Somewhere out there, someone had written that letter.
Someone who believed killing light dragons was necessary for peace.
Someone who'd gotten close enough to touch my things, my space, my life.
Someone who'd just made a very dangerous mistake.
Because they'd threatened me directly, which meant they'd also threatened the one person whose shadows could consume entire halls when properly motivated.
And Kairen had made it abundantly clear: he wasn't losing me.
Not to threats. Not to fear. Not to some group claiming genocide was justified.
Through the soulbond, I felt his sleeping mind—dreams of protection and fury and desperate determination mixed with memories of void and loss.
He'd survived five years of nothing.
And he wasn't going back to that darkness.
Not without burning down whoever tried to send him there.
I finally fell asleep to that thought—that shadow and light together were more dangerous than whoever wrote that letter had calculated.
And when they discovered their mistake, it would be far too late to take back their threat.