Sleep didn't come easily to Aria that night. After Caine's ominous visit, her mind was a whirlwind of questions. Who was he, really? Why did his presence feel like it reached deep into her soul, pulling at something raw and untapped?
Her magic, usually a soft glow beneath her skin, now felt like a raging storm, refusing to settle. Every attempt to meditate or calm herself only made the golden sparks at her fingertips brighter, more defiant.
She tossed and turned, the cool silk sheets doing little to soothe her restless mind. The faint sound of the wind outside her window made the shadows on her walls dance like specters.
Yet, it wasn't fear that kept her awake—it was the way Caine had looked at her earlier, like she was both a mystery and a threat.
And worse, the way her body had responded to him.
"Get a grip, Aria," she muttered, burying her face in the pillow. "The last thing you need is to get tangled up with a cryptic jerk who thinks he owns the air around him."
She had just begun to drift into an uneasy sleep when a sharp knock shattered the silence.
She bolted upright, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Who is it?" she called out, her voice steadier than she felt.
No answer.
The knock came again, slower this time, deliberate.
Aria's magic flared instinctively, golden threads dancing along her hands. She slid out of bed, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor as she approached the door.
When she opened it, she found Caine standing there, leaning against the doorframe with the kind of casual arrogance that set her teeth on edge. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of toned skin and a faint scar that curved across his chest.
The moonlight caught his silver hair, making him look otherworldly—too perfect, too dangerous.
"I couldn't sleep," he said, his voice low and gravelly.
Aria blinked, momentarily stunned. "And that's my problem because…?"
"I thought we might share the burden," he replied, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
Before she could retort, he pushed past her, stepping into her room like he owned it.
"Sure, come in. Make yourself at home," she muttered, closing the door behind him with more force than necessary.
Caine's sharp gaze swept over her room, taking in the disheveled sheets, the scattered books, and the faint glow of magic still lingering in the air. "Interesting decor," he said dryly. "Very… chaotic."
"Funny, that's exactly how I'd describe you," Aria shot back, crossing her arms.
He turned to face her, his smirk widening. "You've got fire. I like that."
"Cut to the chase, Caine. Why are you here?"
His expression shifted, the teasing edge fading. "Because you're hiding something. And whatever it is, it's dangerous—for both of us."
Aria's stomach tightened, but she refused to show weakness. "I'm not hiding anything. You're just paranoid."
"Paranoid?" He stepped closer, his towering presence making the room feel smaller. "You nearly burned the whole damn courtyard down tonight, and you're telling me that's normal?"
"I don't owe you an explanation," she snapped, meeting his gaze head-on.
"Maybe not," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "but the power inside you… it's not ordinary. And it's not yours."
His words hit like a punch to the gut. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're a vessel, Aria. A conduit for something ancient, something dangerous."
Her magic flared in response, golden light spilling from her hands. "If you think you can scare me into trusting you, think again."
Caine's eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. "Trust has nothing to do with it. I'm trying to keep you alive."
"Alive?" She laughed bitterly. "You've got a funny way of showing it."
"Do you think I enjoy this?" he shot back, his voice rising. "Do you think I want to be tied to someone who could destroy everything with a single thought?"
The words stung more than she expected, but she refused to let him see it. "If you hate it so much, then leave. No one's forcing you to stay."
Caine took a step back, running a hand through his silver hair. For a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. Almost.
"You don't get it, do you?" he said quietly. "Whatever's inside you… it's calling to me. I can't walk away, even if I wanted to."
The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged.
Aria's heart pounded as she tried to process his words. "You're lying," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hand catching her wrist. The touch sent a jolt through her, their magic colliding in a burst of heat and light.
"Tell me I'm lying," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft.
Aria opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, her magic surged, wild and untamed, wrapping around them both in golden threads.
For a moment, they stood there, locked in a battle of wills and power.
Then Caine leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Careful, Aria. You're playing with fire."
Her breath hitched as his lips brushed against her jaw, the contact sending shivers down her spine.
"And you're no better," she managed to say, her voice trembling but defiant.
His laugh was low and dangerous. "Maybe not. But at least I know what I'm getting into."
With that, he let her go, the absence of his touch leaving her feeling strangely empty.
"This isn't over," he said, his silver eyes locking onto hers one last time before he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Aria stood there, her magic still crackling in the air around her. She clenched her fists, determined not to let him rattle her.
But deep down, she knew he already had.