Liara sat on the edge of her bed, boots still on, clothes still damp from the tower's cold. Her fingers trembled as she traced the faint outline of the glowing crescent on her collarbone.
Aeron Vale.
Shades.
The sigil.
"You're being hunted."
Tamsin stirred in the bed opposite her, mumbling in her sleep. Liara hadn't told her what happened. Not yet. Not when the memory of that radiant blast from her own hand still burned behind her eyes.
She hadn't summoned a spell.
She'd become one.
At breakfast, the hall buzzed with chatter about some "magical disruption" overnight. Several students claimed they saw lightning in the sky. A few said it was just a failed experiment from the Potions Tower.
Liara kept her head down.
Cassian Blackthorn slid into the seat across from her. His smile was warm—but sharp.
"You look like someone who didn't sleep."
She tried to sound casual. "Do you always observe people this closely?"
"Only anomalies."
Her spoon froze mid-air. "You heard?"
"Everyone heard. News travels fast when someone cracks the Founders' crystal."
She dropped her spoon. "I didn't mean to. I don't even know how I—"
"I believe you," Cassian said, leaning in. "But there are others who won't. Others who'll want to… test what else you can break."
Liara's heart thudded.
Before she could ask more, a cold presence passed behind her.
Aeron Vale.
He walked past without a word—but his hand brushed her shoulder. Just lightly. Almost protective.
Cassian noticed.
His smile faded.
Later, after Glyphcraft, a message arrived folded like a swan. No signature—just a single line in ink that shimmered silver:
"What you awakened last night was only the first ward."
It wasn't from Aeron.
It wasn't from Cassian.
She flipped it over. On the back was a map—a part of the school she didn't recognize. A chamber beneath the east wing marked Silent Archives.
She looked around.
No one else had seen.
Her mark flared under her robes, warm against her skin.
She had no choice but to follow.