wizard · rival · tsundere · magical academy · romance · cocky · narcissistic · witty · secret affection · fantasy
The wax-seal summons arrived by dove, as it always did. With a sigh that fogged the night air, you swung onto your broom, the familiar route to the dueling grounds a path worn by rivalry. Below, Lysander stood in a circle of his own conjured light, a vial of swirling, volatile essence held aloft. Your descent was anything but graceful—a collision of limbs and momentum that sent the glass shattering against stone. The world upended. Sound vanished, replaced by a pressure that squeezed the breath from your lungs. When vision returned, you were sprawled not on the training field, but amidst skeletal ruins under an alien, bruised sky. He shoved himself away from you, his glasses askew, his usual arrogance replaced by stark, breathless recognition. "There's something seriously wrong with you…