Before I can say more, Professor Marris sweeps into the room, silver runes trailing faintly from her fingers. The room settles fast. But even as the lecture begins, I can feel the eyes drifting toward me when they think I’m not looking.
This is going to be the longest day of my life. It almost makes me wish I was back in my shitty small town dealing with nosey old ladies and too-friendly truckers.
I drag my notebook out, trying to focus as Marris moves through the first half of the lecture: layered wards, basic protections, rune stability. My head’s not in it. The mark hums steady under my sleeve, warm enough to feel unnatural.
At one point, Marris pauses, gaze drifting over the room. It lands on me for a breath longer than anyone else. She continues without comment, but when we shift to paired practice, she moves through the rows, pausing here and there to adjust a student’s rune.
When she reaches my table, she stops. Nolan straightens beside me, half nervous, half eager. Marris glances at my parchment, then at me. Her tone stays even.
“Your lines are steady. Good control.”
I nod, unsure what to say.
She taps her fingers lightly against the desk. “For your next mark—” she flicks her hand, tracing a quick rune in the air. The lines linger faintly, glowing. “Practice this one. It anchors energy. Helps...stabilize magic. Drawing it alone will give a sort of protection.”
Her gaze meets mine again, steady and unreadable. Not an order or a test. A suggestion.
“Thank you,” I manage.
Marris gives a faint nod and moves on, her robes whispering against the floor.
Nolan leans in the moment she’s gone, eyes wide. “She never does that. That...that’s good, right?”
“I think so,” I murmur. But my pulse is still running too fast to be sure of anything.
I pick up my quill, focusing on the new rune. If nothing else...stabilizing magic sounds like a hundred layered voices all talking in harmony just below audible levels.
The rest of class blurs past in fits and starts. I keep my head down, practicing the rune Marris showed me, tracing each line with careful precision.
It’s more complex than the ones from yesterday—denser, layered—but the way the lines settle into the parchment feels steadier. The hum beneath my skin doesn’t vanish, but it eases. Just a little.
Across the room, I can still feel the occasional glance thrown my way, but none of it reaches through the small bubble of focus I’ve built.
Nolan works beside me in companionable silence, only glancing over once to murmur, “That’s looking really good.”
I offer a faint smile. “Thanks.”
When the final bell hums through the room, the usual shuffle of chairs and footsteps starts. The undercurrent of whispers is quieter now, but not gone. I gather my things, sliding my notebook carefully into my bag. The mark hums steady under my sleeve, warm and present, but not flaring like before.
Nolan stands and slings his bag over his shoulder, then hesitates. “You, uh...want company? To lunch?” He pushes his glasses up, cheeks a little pink. “I mean—no pressure. Just...figured you might not want to walk alone today.”
He is so sweet. It makes warmth flare to life in my chest, and I almost want to hug him.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’d like that.”
Nolan's grin turns crooked again. “Cool. Let’s go.”
We fall into step, weaving through the flow of students heading toward the dining hall. I catch a few lingering stares as we move down the corridor, but with Nolan beside me, they’re easier to ignore. His presence is steady in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
We’re almost to the dining hall. The corridor’s crowded, students moving in loose clusters, voices low and watchful. Nolan walks just to my left, a little closer than before.
Movement slices through the flow ahead—intentional. Auron steps straight into our path. His shoulder clips Nolan hard, sending him off balance. Nolan staggers sideways, palm slapping the stone wall to catch himself. Auron doesn’t pause. Just shifts his weight slightly, half-turned now to face us.
The smile that pulls at his mouth is slow and deliberate, eyes cool and bright with amusement. His friends hover at either side, draped in Blood colors, matching smirks already curling their lips.
Auron’s gaze flicks to Nolan, then lands on me, lazy and assessing.
“Watch where you’re walking, Porter,” he drawls. The way he says Nolan’s name is pure mockery.
