Twenty days had passed, and Leo had settled into the most unbalanced routine known to magical society.
Morning till noon: proper spells, proper rules, proper Rayleigh.
Afternoon till evening: slightly illegal magic experiments with Vellum involving whispering runes and books that smelled like forbidden soup.
Night: Sleep. Mostly. Sometimes not. Sometimes whisper-induced insomnia.
Leo had gotten pretty good, though. He could now light a candle by snapping his fingers (on the third try), could levitate objects up to the size of a bucket, and could enchant his own sandwich to stay warm till lunch. Useful stuff.
As for the ancient language... well, let's just say he and Vellum had enough failed experiments to start a cursed museum. But Leo was learning. Faster than expected. Words were starting to make sense without translation. It was as if something in him already knew.
It was a late evening, just after a practice session where Vellum had accidentally turned Leo's cloak into a scarf, a snake, and then back into a cloak (with minor trust issues).
Leo decided to take the longer path back to the dorms—past the eastern garden, through the old scholar's road. The wind was quiet, the skies dimming. It was peaceful. Until—
"You're fast."
Leo stopped mid-step. The voice was soft, like a sigh carried by a dying breeze. But clear.
He turned. No one.
He kept walking, faster this time.
"You have potential."
His feet halted again.
"What the hell," Leo muttered, scanning the surroundings.
The streetlamps flickered as if mimicking a heartbeat. The air suddenly felt heavier, like he had walked into the pages of a forgotten horror novel.
Then, from the corner of his eye—movement.
A few feet away, by an old twisted tree, he saw it.
A figure.
Barely visible, like a shadow that didn't belong. It wasn't standing still, but rather... shimmering. Faint and dark. Its edges were blurred like a memory, and it seemed taller than most humans. Its head tilted slightly, as if studying him.
Leo's heart thumped like it owed someone money.
"Oi!" he called out, voice shaking more than he liked. "Who's there?"
No answer.
But the figure moved—just slightly—and Leo thought he saw a faint light gleam from its chest. A mark. A symbol?
The whispers returned.
"You are marked..."
"We see you..."
Leo took a step back.
The figure didn't move forward.
Instead, it just... faded. Dissolved into the shadows, like it had never been there. As if the tree had been wearing it like a cloak.
Leo stood still for a while, heart pounding in his ears, trying to decide if he should scream, run, or pee.
Eventually, he chose: run, while pretending he wasn't running.
---
Back at the dorm, Ari was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a magazine with aggressively unbothered vibes.
"You look like someone tried to slap your soul," she said without looking up.
"I took a walk," Leo said, wheezing.
"In a war zone?"
He didn't answer.
But that night, as he lay on his bed, eyes wide open, one thought circled his mind:
Who saw me? And what did they mean by 'marked'?