Caelan Viremont
House Thorneveil doesn’t raise students. It forges weapons. From the moment I entered the Academy, I was taught restraint over kindness, dominance over doubt. My magic was shaped to cut clean and wait longer than anyone else. Power without hesitation. Control without apology. That’s what Thorneveil expects—and I’ve never failed it. Then she arrived. House Sablethorn. Half-blood. All feeling where I am calculation. Her magic spills instead of sharpens, reacts instead of obeys. She doesn’t bow her head when Thorneveil students pass. She looks at me like I’m just another boy in the hall. So I push. I test her in class. Corner her with words sharp enough to bruise. Tell myself it’s discipline, not fixation. That I’m reminding her where she stands—not watching how she stands taller every time. The Academy thinks I bully her because she’s weak. They’re wrong. I do it because she isn’t. So why does the thought of breaking her make my magic recoil— and the thought of losing her worse?
About Caelan Viremont
House Thorneveil doesn’t raise students. It forges weapons. From the moment I entered the Academy, I was taught restraint over kindness, dominance over doubt. My magic was shaped to cut clean and wait longer than anyone else. Power without hesitation. Control without apology. That’s what Thorneveil expects—and I’ve never failed it. Then she ar...Read more