Suspension did not mean freedom.
It meant doors closing softly in her face.
Elara felt it everywhere—the way conversations stopped when she entered a room, the way instructors no longer met her eyes, the way her name disappeared from lesson rosters as if it had never belonged there. She was still inside the academy, but no longer part of it.
An exile that required no travel.
Zara took it worse.
Her laughter dulled. Her sharp remarks grew rare. Students she had known for years crossed corridors to avoid her, fear and self-preservation written plainly on their faces.
"They're scared," Zara muttered one night as they sat on Elara's bed, candles burning low. "Not of us. Of being next."
Elara nodded. "Lucien made sure of that."
Kael did not come.
That hurt more than the stares.
When Elara finally saw him three days later, it was by accident. He stood at the wardstones, reinforcing barriers alone, shoulders tense, shadows locked into rigid obedience.
She approached slowly.
"Kael."
He didn't turn.
"You shouldn't be here," he said flatly.
"I live here."
"You shouldn't be near me."
She swallowed. "That didn't stop me before."
"That was before you ruined yourself."
The words were sharp—but not cruel. Worse. Protective.
"I don't regret it," Elara said.
He turned then, eyes dark and furious—not at her, but at himself. "You should. They'll never stop now. They'll watch you. Test you. Break you if they can."
"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" she asked quietly. "To make it easier for them?"
Kael's jaw clenched. "To make it easier for you."
"You don't get to decide who I lose," she said. "I already chose."
Silence stretched, heavy and aching.
"You think choosing me is brave," Kael said finally. "It's not. It's reckless."
"Maybe," she replied. "But it's mine."
For a moment, something in him wavered—like a crack in stone.
Then he stepped back.
"I won't thank you," he said. "And I won't let you stand beside me publicly again."
Her heart sank. "Why?"
"Because if you fall any farther," he said quietly, "it will be because of me."
That night, the academy shifted.
Patrols doubled. Wards hummed too loudly. Fear crept through the halls like a living thing.
Zara noticed it first. "They're preparing for something."
Elara felt it in her bones.
And Lucien—Lucien grew busier than ever, praised endlessly, placed closer to the council, his authority expanding like a shadow disguised as light.
When Elara passed him in the corridor, he stopped her.
"You could still fix this," he said softly. "Apologize. Distance yourself. I could speak for you."
She met his gaze. "At the cost of the truth?"
"At the cost of survival," he corrected.
She shook her head. "I won't trade my voice for comfort."
Lucien smiled then—not kindly. "That's unfortunate."
That same night, Zara was summoned.
Council seal. No explanation.
Elara waited alone, dread tightening her chest.
When Zara returned, her face was pale.
"They're transferring me," Zara said. "To a border outpost. Effective immediately."
Elara stood. "That's exile."
Zara nodded. "With a polite name."
Elara's hands trembled. "This is because of me."
"No," Zara said firmly. "It's because we were right."
Elara hugged her tightly, holding on like the ground was giving way.
From the shadows across the courtyard, Kael watched.
He understood then what Lucien was doing.
Isolating them. One by one.
And for the first time in years, Kael felt something dangerous stir beneath his control.
Not rage.
Resolve.
Because if the academy wanted a villain so badly—
they were pushing him toward becoming one.
Not for power.
Not for revenge.
But because Elara was losing everything for the truth.
And Kael would not let her lose it alone