Kine's composure broke first.
"How dare you ignore us."
It wasn't a question. His arm shot out, hand reaching for Sylvia's shoulder, and the casual certainty in the movement said everything about how many times in his life that reach had gone unchallenged.
His fingers never got there.
'Purple lightning.'
Sylvia said it quietly. Like a decision already made.
The corridor turned white.
A violent crack split the air between them, violet lightning erupting from the ground in a jagged spear, the shockwave hitting Kine square in the chest before his hand could close the distance.
The sound of it bounced off the walls. His arm recoiled, his footing broke, and he went down hard, hitting the floor with a stunned gasp, the arrogance knocked clean out of his expression for one genuine unguarded second.
Silence.
Then Ley's face twisted.
"You've got some nerve," he said, his voice coming out low and controlled in the specific way that means the anger underneath it is not controlled at all. Fire bloomed along his arm, curling around his hand, flickering with the particular instability of magic driven by fury rather than focus.
"Lashing out at your seniors." He stepped forward, the heat rolling off him. "You really don't know your place."
He moved fast. The distance between them closed in a blink, his flaming fist already pulling back, the heat surging forward suffocating and sharp.
Sylvia didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't even adjust her stance.
"Is this really what you want?" she said. Completely level. "They're watching."
Ley's strike stopped inches from her face.
The flames flickered. His eyes moved sideways.
The corridor had filled without anyone announcing it. Cadets slowing as they passed, heads turning, the murmurs already spreading through the space.
"Wait — is that a third-year?"
"Why is he picking a fight with first-years?"
"That too Sylvia Silvercrest? Seriously?"
The whispers moved through the growing crowd and Ley felt each one land. His jaw tightened. His pride burned hotter than his fire ever had — but even he understood the line he was standing at and what crossing it would cost him in front of this many witnesses.
A long pause.
He let his arm drop. The flames died.
"Get up, Kine. We're leaving."
Kine pushed himself off the floor slowly, his eyes locked on Sylvia with the specific quality of rage that has been forced to swallow itself. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The look said everything about what this was and wasn't over.
They turned and walked away without another word, their footsteps fading down the corridor until the weight of them finally lifted from the air.
Silence settled.
Then Sylvia turned.
"It's alright now, Lucas. Don't worry."
Her voice was calm. Simple. Just those words.
And something in Lucas's chest loosened all at once, the trembling, the weight of the memories, the cold feeling of that corridor from eleven years ago it all released its grip like something had been quietly cut free.
He blinked and the present came back into focus properly for the first time since Kine's hand had come down on his neck.
He looked at her. And stopped.
Something was wrong with her face. Not wrong like bad, wrong like unusual. She had turned slightly sideways and raised one hand up near her eyes, covering the lower half of her face, and the movement was quick and deliberate in a way that was nothing like how Sylvia Silvercrest usually did anything.
Lucas tilted his head. "Sylvia? Is everything okay?"
"It's nothing," she said immediately. Too immediately. "Don't worry about it."
That was exactly the wrong thing to say to make him not worry about it.
He looked more carefully. Her hand was pressed close to her face but not completely flat and through the gaps between her fingers — just for a second — he caught it. A faint green glow, thin and delicate, tracing lines along her skin just beneath her eyes.
His brows pulled together.
"Sylvia," he said slowly, pointing. "What are those."
"You saw nothing."
The response arrived so fast it almost lapped the question.
Before he could react she grabbed his hand and started walking. Not a suggestion. Not a gentle guide. Just moving, pulling him along behind her, turning one corner then another, her pace quick and purposeful until the sound of other cadets faded behind them and the corridor around them went quiet and empty.
She stopped. Let out a small breath. Lowered her hand from her face.
Lucas looked.
Beneath both her eyes, faint and delicate against her skin, were thin curved markings — green, almost luminous, tracing soft arcs like something carved there by a very precise hand. They weren't harsh or aggressive. They were small and precise and if he was being honest and he would never say this out loud they were kind of cute.
He cleared his throat. "What are those."
"An amplifier," Sylvia said, her voice returning to its usual steadiness. She looked at him directly now, the embarrassment or whatever it had been tucked away again. "You saw my lightning earlier. Normally it's blue. When it turned purple, that was the amplifier activating." She paused briefly. "Certain houses have unique traits. The Silvercrests have this one. When it's active it enhances power significantly. The marks are just an indicator."
Lucas processed that. "So it's basically a hidden ability?"
"It's a forbidden one." Her voice went quieter. More serious. "Inside the academy it's strictly banned. Not everyone has an amplifier, some families do, some don't. That imbalance is exactly why it's restricted." A pause. "Your brothers probably don't have a clue about it right now, but if the academy finds out that I used Amplifier..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
Lucas finished it himself. "You'd get expelled?"
She nodded once.
He stared at her for a moment. Thinking about Kine's hand on his neck and Ley's fist stopped inches from her face and the fact that she had used something that could end her time at this academy without hesitating, without calculating, without thinking.
For him.
He didn't say any of that. He wouldn't know how to without making it weird, and also his throat was doing something he didn't want to examine.
Sylvia raised one finger to her lips. The gesture was quiet and unhurried and her eyes held his directly. "So keep this between us." A small pause. "You promise?"