Only slightly.
“I will not watch another promising student destroy themselves because they do not respect the Fates or honor their destinies. You are here for a reason. Do not forget your reason,” she said quietly.
That one landed.
Hard.
I saw it hit Sten physically.
A subtle flinch beneath all that impossible composure.
Then Professor Kenna looked between us both one final time.
And gods—whatever she saw there clearly worried her.
“Alright then,” she murmured at last. “You may leave. But try not to awaken any ancient prophecies before midterms.”
The dry sarcasm almost eased the tension.
Almost.
Then she stepped backward into her office and shut the heavy doors directly in our faces.
Silence swallowed the corridor instantly.
I stared at the dark wood paneling for several long seconds trying to process everything she’d just implied.
Beside me, Sten had gone unnaturally quiet.
Not cold.
Not angry.
Worse.
Withdrawn.
Like he’d retreated somewhere deep inside himself.
My chest tightened painfully.
“She knows something,” I whispered finally.
Sten’s laugh was soft.
Humorless.
“Oh, Luna,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the closed office doors. “Professor Kenna undoubtedly knows many things.”
That should have alarmed me.
Instead, my attention drifted helplessly back toward him.
Toward the lingering silver rune marks beneath his cerulean skin.
Toward his glowing eyes.
Toward the way he looked at me like there was already an invisible tether pulling us together.
