The weekend sunlight spilled lazily through the dormitory window, painting soft golden streaks on the wooden floor. Shin lay on his bed, his magic textbook unopened beside him. For once, the academy's endless drills, tests, and political tension felt distant.
His eyes drifted shut, and memories crept in — memories of Kiminara, the quiet mountain village where he grew up. The sound of the wind rushing through pine trees, the crisp smell of snow in early winter, and the faint laughter of his younger sibling playing near the riverbank.
Suddenly, a familiar warmth bloomed in his mind.
"Shin…"
The voice was soft, motherly — and impossibly clear.
It was his mother, speaking through Telepathi, an ancient magic so rare that most mages in Haratsu believed it to be a myth. Shin had always been told to keep this ability a secret.
"Are you well, my son?" her voice echoed in his mind.
Shin swallowed hard. "Yes, Mother. But… things here are complicated."
There was a pause, heavy and protective.
"I can't speak for long. They're watching the magical currents. Trust no one — not even those who smile at you."
Before Shin could ask who, her presence faded like mist in the morning sun.
A knock on the door snapped him back to reality.
It was Umei, her energy as bright as ever.
"Shin! Enough moping. Come on — we're going to the market in East Wing Plaza!" she grinned, dragging him out before he could protest.
The plaza was alive with chatter, vendors shouting prices, the smell of grilled meat mixing with the sweetness of honey cakes. For a moment, Shin allowed himself to relax. He even let Umei push a strange blue scarf into his hands, insisting it would "make him look less like a brooding statue."
Meanwhile, far from the cheerful marketplace, Aojin Hogosura stood before the dark stone gates of his clan's estate. The carved sigil of the Hogosura clan — a black serpent coiled around a crescent moon — loomed overhead.
Inside, shadowed figures awaited him.
"You have met Shin?" a deep voice asked from the shadows.
"Yes," Aojin replied, his tone calm but calculating. "He's not what they think he is."
"Good. Keep him close… until the day we take Haratsu."
As night fell, Shin sat by his dormitory window, scarf draped loosely around his neck, unaware that somewhere in the city, Aojin's return to the Hogosura clan had already set new plans into motion — and his mother's warning echoed in his mind like a curse.