The air inside is colder and dry, scented faintly of dust, iron, and something older. Here, the shelves stretch taller, darker, and they are packed with brittle scrolls, rune-etched ledgers,hand-bound codex. No easy catalog. No floating lights. Just long channels of shadow broken by the small circle of Mira’s lantern.
“This section covers things related to the Veil itself,” she whispers, voice barely more than breath. “And...marks tied to it. But some of it’s fragmented. A lot of older records were...lost.”
She leads us down three rows, stopping before a shelf crammed with thick, mismatched volumes.
“This is where I’d start.”
I glance at the spines, and most of them are unlabelled or marked in languages I can’t read.
Nolan already has his notebook out, flipping it open. “We’ve got this.” He flashes me a small smile. “Team research.”
Despite the tension still coiling low in my stomach, I manage a faint laugh. “Team research.”
Mira beams, ducking her head again, already pulling a heavy book down and laying it open across the table. The pages are dense with faded script, unfamiliar diagrams and etched symbols.
As we settle in to start, a faint thrum tugs low in my chest. The bond. It hums steady—quiet but constant—reminding me with every breath that somewhere on this campus, Raiden Tsukino is feeling it too. Even if he’s somehow blocked his thoughts from slipping through.
The first few pages are dense, layers of script too faded to fully read, diagrams that make my eyes ache.
Mira scans with practiced ease, fingers tracing the margins. “A lot of this is pre-Veil codices,” she murmurs. “Before the first wards stabilized the perimeter.”
I nod, though most of that means little to me. I’m still trying to stop thinking about the way my skin had burned under Raiden’s touch. I’m still distracted by the bond, it beats like a second heartbeat beneath my own. I shift in my seat, trying to ignore it.
Nolan’s bent low over another text, brows furrowed. “This one references...manifestations of latent marks. Veil-touched phenomena.” He glances up. “I think your mark falls under that.”
“Veil-touched,” I echo. The words land heavy.
“It’s rare.” Mira pushes her glasses up, eyes wide and earnest. “And not always safe.”
My pulse skips. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Nolan says carefully, “Veil-touched marks anchor magic. Old magic. Magic that reacts to stress, to threat. Sometimes to...instinct.”
Instinct. The word hits too close to the heat still winding low through me.
I shift again, mouth dry. “And the tether that reached for Raiden?”
“That’s the thing,” Nolan says. “Most records suggest a tether forms when the mark flares uncontrolled. It...reaches for balance, for someone that can stabilize it.” He hesitates. “That’s why it pulled to Raiden. His magic can stabilize it.”
Mira adds softly, “But until it’s fully trained...you’ll feel it. Strongly.”
I don’t need her to explain what she means. I can feel it now, warmth curling tighter under my skin, sharpest when I think of him. As if on cue, the bond flares—bright, hot—twisting low through my stomach. I suck in a breath, hands clenching against the edge of the table. The heat coils tighter, sharp and alive, and I grit my teeth against the way it spikes when I so much asthinkof Raiden.
It’s too much. Too fast. And one thing doesn’t add up.
“Then why didn’t it happen during training?” I ask, voice low. “When we were sparring—if Raiden’s magic balances it, why didn’t the tether flare then?”
Mira and Nolan exchange a look.
“It was controlled,” Nolan says finally. “Structured setting. Suppressed emotions. There wasn’t enough volatility to trigger it.”
Mira nods, her voice gentle. “The bond reacts to extremes. Fear. Threat. Pain. It doesn't just form because someone’s nearby—it forms when your magic thinks you're in danger.”
“And the Undercourt was dangerous,” Nolan adds. “You weren’t just sparring. You were being hunted.”
I swallow hard. My skin is burning. Not with fear—but something else. Something sharp and low and electric.
I shift in my seat, desperate to will it away, but it doesn’t stop. Itbuilds. Heat licking up my spine. Twisting low through my stomach. Coiling between my legs now, uninvited and impossible to ignore.
