Light spreads from my hand—soft gold, threading through the air between us like visible breath—and Ifeelsomething shift.
A lock turning.
A door opening.
Magic I didn't know I had, waking up and reaching out andrecognizing—
The runes flicker.
Dim.
Vorak goes absolutely still.
His shoulders drop a fraction, and the wrongness bleeds out of his eyes, leaving only burning gold.
Human gold.
Furious gold.
We stand there, my hand on his arm, both of us breathing too hard. The golden light fades but I can still feel it—a connection, thin and fragile, thrumming between us like a plucked string.
"I..." I don't know what to say. Whatwasthat?
Vorak pulls away like I burned him, and the connection snaps.
"You shouldn't have done that." His voice is rough. Raw. Almost... afraid. "You shouldn't have touched me."
"You were losing—"
"I was losing control." He still won't look at me. Won't meet my eyes. "If you'd touched me a moment later, I would have—"
He stops. Turns his head away, jaw clenched so tight I can see muscle jumping.
I'm shaking. I realize it suddenly. My whole body is trembling like I've run for miles, and my hand—the one that touched him—is still warm. Still tingling.
"You're not the monster they wanted me to fear," I hear myself say.
Finally, he looks at me.
And there's so much in that look. Pain. Disbelief. Something that might be hope, buried so deep he probably doesn't recognize it himself.
"You don't know what I am."
The words are meant to push me away. Meant to scare me.
But all I hear is the certainty underneath:I'm a thing, not a person.
I know that feeling. I've lived that feeling.
"I know you stopped," I say quietly.
Silence stretches between us.
Then he turns and walks away without another word, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until they fade to nothing.
I stand there in the infirmary, staring at my hand.
It's still warm.
