The tension between Velka Nightthorn and me simmered beneath the surface for days, a quiet yet persistent itch I couldn't ignore. She was cold and elegant, wrapped in shadows like a precious jewel guarded carefully by venomous thorns. Every word she spoke dripped disdain, each casual glance sharpened by subtle contempt.
Yet, despite my best efforts, I couldn't entirely ignore her. There was something magnetic about the vampire, something fierce beneath her aloofness that drew my curiosity even as it stirred frustration.
It was inevitable that eventually, our careful avoidance would crumble.
The breaking point came swiftly, dramatically, during Professor Merrin's overly tedious lecture on magical history. Riven had decided it was the perfect moment to launch into an exaggerated reenactment of the Battle of Thorne's Rise, complete with whispered sound effects and dramatic flourishes.
