Page 14 of Fated for Flames

That was when Rafe burst in, his eyes wide with shock at the scene before him. With little time to spare, Rafe stepped forward, his abilities as a healer and an empath coming to the fore. He calmed the storm within her, his presence a balm to her raging emotions, and as her magic dwindled, so did the immediate danger.

He gently put her to sleep, a merciful reprieve from the torment she had been enduring. When he turned to me, hisexpression mirrored my shock. We had been moments away from destruction.

But the situation became more surreal when he told me that somehow Evelyn’s magic was consuming her, drawing upon her very life.

How was that even possible?

As silence settled over us, the gravity of what had transpired hung heavily in the air. Evelyn Everhart, a witch of incredible power, had nearly destroyed the entire academy.

Was she a victim of forces beyond her control at the hands of the Luminary Coven, or was she in on it?

I needed answers, but one thing was clear: if Evelyn was indeed a victim, then her fight had become my own.

11

Evelyn

Iwas dreaming, weightless, basking in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. The scent was intoxicating, slightly sweet, reminiscent of the apple pies my mom used to lovingly bake. Nestled in this feeling of safety and security, I further relaxed, reveling in the immense happiness and comfort it brought.

The warmth vanished suddenly, leaving me cold and yearning. A shuffling noise, like someone stumbling over objects, followed by a soft “ouch,” startled me awake with a jolt.

Fluttering my eyelashes to adjust to the dim light, I gulped as I realized that in my bedroom stood an angel.

Moonlight filtered through the opened window, casting a silvery glow on his face. He turned toward me, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

His presence filled the room with a sense of peace and wonder. He was like a vision from another world, ethereal and captivating. His golden hair fell in gentle waves around hisface, framing features so perfectly they seemed almost unreal. Those turquoise eyes held a depth of understanding that pierced through me, stirring emotions I couldn’t quite name. His large white wings simmered in the moonlight.

For a moment, I was utterly mesmerized, captivated by the sight of him. The rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of us in this quiet, intimate space.

I sat there, rendered speechless by the shock, my heart racing, our eyes locked in an unbreakable gaze.

Rumors had circulated about a hybrid angel, a mix of human and angel, at the academy. Yet, I had never laid eyes on him, or any other celestial being for that matter, as they tended to stick to their realm and seldom interacted with other supernaturals.

“Are you real?” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips.

He smiled. “As real as the night sky above us,” he replied, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet room.

I watched him in awe, unable to tear my gaze away from his mesmerizing form. Every inch of him exuded grace and serenity as if he’d stepped out of a painting or straight out of heaven.

“Why are you here? Who are you?” I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

The angel’s expression softened, a faint smile playing on his lips as he approached with a grace that seemed to defy gravity. “I am Raphael.”

“Raphael,” I repeated softly, testing the name on my tongue. The weight of his gaze on me felt almost tangible as if he were seeing beyond the walls I’d built around myself.

Then I noticed I was wearing a man’s shirt and nothing else. “What the hell?”

“I had to put you to sleep before you burned down the entire academy. That’s why Lucien gave you his shirt,” Raphael explained, his voice laced with gentleness.

Realization dawned on me as I recalled the chaotic events: being with Professor Lucien, feeling the panic rise as he forcefully grabbed me. I had always been able to conjure fire, but never before had I lost control like this, transforming into a raging inferno. Had this sudden loss of control been triggered by the trauma of being burned alive?

The angel produced a bottle. “Lucien held on to the elixir, intending to investigate further, but he prepared this specifically for you. It appears your seizures aren’t caused by the elixir or the siphoning but stem from something entirely different. Part of your magic seems to be bound, and the seizures are its attempts to break free from its confinement. This”—he gestured to the new bottle—“is designed to lessen the severity of the seizures, much like the previous elixir, but it does so without siphoning your magic through dark magic.”

What?

Not only was my magic being siphoned, but some of it was bound!

“You’re the healer?” I asked.

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