The door had shut behind Austin with a soft click, and for a moment the room settled into a quiet that felt slightly rearranged, like something had shifted without him noticing when.
Elaine lingered near the door, one hand still loosely holding her keycard as she looked at him with faint amusement.
"I still feel like I interrupted something," she said.
"You didn't," Alex replied, a little too quickly.
She studied him for a beat, then tilted her head slightly. "Austin Greene… right?"
Alex blinked.
"You know his name?"
A small, almost absent smile touched her lips. "I know the name of every person of interest to me."
There was something in the way she said it—soft, deliberate—that carried just enough weight to make the phrase linger.
"'Interest'?" Alex repeated.
Instead of answering, she shifted the conversation with effortless precision. "What do you think of him?"
Alex frowned faintly. "What?"
"Your bodyguard," she said, like she was clarifying something obvious. "From where I'm standing, you don't seem particularly fond of him."
Alex hesitated, then exhaled quietly. "He's… not my favorite employee."
Elaine's expression brightened slightly, as if he'd just confirmed something she'd already suspected.
"Oh," she said, almost playfully. "Then I could kill him for you."
The words landed so casually they didn't register at first.
"And eat him," she added, like an afterthought
No, not an afterthought. Like something she genuinely found appealing.
For a fraction of a second, her expression shifted.
It wasn't dramatic.
Didn't last long.
But it was real.
Her pupils thinned, the color bleeding out of her irises into something darker, deeper—until red surfaced beneath it, vivid and wrong in a way that felt less like a color and more like a presence; her lips parted slightly, just enough for the suggestion of fangs to press into view, sharper than they should have been, too clean, too precise; and her fingers—resting loosely at her side—curled inward as something subtle but unmistakable extended at the tips, nails lengthening into fine, pale points that caught the ambient light like polished bone.
There was no strain in it.
No transformation.
Just a glimpse.
Controlled and intentional.
And threaded through all of it was something unmistakable
Anticipation, maybe, or hunger, but not metaphorical, not abstract.
Specific.
Focused.
Enjoyed.
Then it was gone.
Her eyes were normal again.
Her hand relaxed.
Her smile returned, warm and easy, like nothing had happened at all.
Alex stared at her.
A thin layer of cold sweat had already formed along the back of his neck before he consciously registered why.
"No," he said, sharper than he intended. "Please, don't do that."
Elaine's lips curved downward in a small, exaggerated pout. "You're no fun."
She let it go immediately, as if it had never mattered.
"So," she said, clapping her hands softly together once, the sound light in the quiet room. "Are you ready?"
Alex blinked again, still catching up. "Ready for what?"
She smiled at him, bright and completely unbothered.
"I'm taking my dog for a walk tonight."
The words hung there for half a second before they clicked.
Alex stared at her.
"…Your dog."
"Yes," she said, already turning toward the door. "Come on."
There was no question in it.
No pause for agreement.
Just expectation.
Alex exhaled slowly, running a hand briefly over his face before pushing himself up from where he'd been standing.
Oh, i'm the dog.
"…Right," he muttered.
And followed.
***
The underground hall was quiet in the way it always was late at night, soft light, too much space, and just enough stillness that even turning a page felt like it made a sound.
Three beanbags sat clustered near the center, pulled together in a loose triangle.
Aiva and Chloe were both reading actual textbooks.
Adam was losing a fight with a grimoire.
"…I swear this thing is written to be unreadable on purpose," he muttered, flipping back a page for the third time.
Aiva didn't look up. "That's because you're supposed to be studying for finals, not… whatever that is."
"It's also because he's not very smart," Chloe added dryly, eyes still on her book. "Honestly, I enjoy watching him struggle. If he gets expelled, we'll have more space down here anyways."
Adam glanced at her. "You're really rooting for my academic downfall, huh?"
"I'm rooting for efficiency," she said without missing a beat.
He exhaled, dropping the grimoire onto his lap. "I'm trying, okay? I just—" He gestured vaguely at the pages. "I kind of get it, and also I don't get it at all. Lumen, Lattice… it makes sense until it doesn't."
Aiva finally looked up at him, one brow lifting slightly. "Did you understand anything from when I explained it to you two weeks ago?"
Adam nodded automatically.
She held his gaze.
"…Did you, though?"
He hesitated.
Then slumped slightly. "…Nope."
Aiva smiled faintly. "Thought so."
She turned her head toward Chloe. "You should explain it."
Chloe didn't even look up. "No."
"You want to be a professor someday," Aiva said lightly. "This is practice."
"I want competent students," Chloe shot back.
Aiva's smile widened. "You always say you don't really understand something until you can explain it simply."
Chloe went still for a second.
Then sighed, sharp and quiet, closing her book with a soft snap.
"…Fine. But only this once."
She turned toward Adam, fixing him with a look that was already halfway to irritated.
"What do you want to know?"
Adam sat up a little, considering. "Yesterday, Aiva said someone who's mastered Lumen control could beat a mage with actual techniques."
"Yes."
"But if everyone has Lattice and Lumen…" He frowned. "Why can't everyone be a mage?"
Chloe stared at him for a second like she was deciding how much effort he was worth.
Then she leaned back slightly, crossing her arms.
"Okay," she said. "We start from the beginning, because clearly you have nothing."
"Hey—"
"Nothing," she repeated.
Aiva snorted softly into her book.
Chloe ignored both of them.
"Lumen," she began, "is energy. Pure energy. The most basic kind."
Adam nodded slowly.
"It's also life force," she continued. "What people call a soul."
He blinked. "Those are the same thing?"
"Yes." She gave him a flat look. "When something dies, the spirit moves on. The soul, 'Lumen,' breaks apart and disperses back into the environment."
Adam frowned slightly. "So… it's everywhere?"
"Yes," Chloe said. "Ambient. Always present."
"And mages—"
"—can absorb it," she finished. "Store it. Circulate it."
"How?"
"Lattice."
Adam sighed. "Okay, that word again."
Chloe tapped her temple once, like she was bracing herself.
"Think of Lattice like blood vessels," she said. "But for Lumen. Invisible channels inside your body that energy flows through."
Adam's brow furrowed. "Everyone has that?"
"Yes," she said. "Every living thing."
"Then why—"
"Density," she cut in immediately. "And structure."
He paused.
Chloe leaned forward slightly now, more engaged despite herself.
"Your Lattice has a shape," she said. "A pattern. And a density. That determines what you can do with Lumen and how much you can handle."
Adam nodded slowly. "Okay…"
Aiva glanced over. "Think of it like hardware specs."
Adam pointed at her. "That helps."
Chloe made a small, annoyed sound. "Yes. Hardware. Whatever."
She shifted slightly, eyes narrowing as she focused.
"Werewolves," she said, "are a good example."
Adam straightened a little.
"Your Lattice isn't normal," she continued. "It's been restructured. Like… reprogrammed."
"By what?"
"Doesn't matter right now," she said. "Point is, your system is built to absorb lunar Lumen specifically."
"The moon?"
"Yes." She nodded once. "The sun produces Lumen too. More, actually. But it's too intense. Human bodies can't use it directly."
"So the moon?"
"Reflects it," Chloe said. "Turns it into something usable. That's what your body is designed for."
Adam glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers slightly. "So the transformation—"
"Is a function," she said. "Triggered by that energy interacting with your Lattice."
He let out a slow breath. "Okay… that actually makes sense."
"Of course it does," Chloe said.
Aiva smiled faintly.
"So mages," Adam said, "are just… people with better Lattice?"
"Denser," Chloe corrected. "Much denser."
She gestured vaguely. "Most people have thin, sparse Lattice. They can't handle enough Lumen to do anything meaningful."
"So training doesn't fix that?"
"No." Her tone was blunt. "You can train all you want. Meditate in the mountains for ten years. You'll feel it a little better. Maybe move it slightly."
"But you won't become a mage."
"Because the limit is already there," Adam said quietly.
"Yes," Chloe said.
He leaned back slightly, processing.
"So mage classes… that's just density levels?"
"More or less," she said. "Higher density, more capacity, more complexity."
"And the Lumen itself—where is it?"
"Stored here," she said, tapping just below her ribcage. "Solar plexus. Your stomach area."
"And controlled by?"
She tapped her forehead. "Prefrontal cortex. Your conscious direction."
Adam blinked. "So it's literally—"
"Mind and body," she said. "Working together."
He sat with that for a second.
Then frowned again. "Okay… spells."
Chloe exhaled slowly.
"Spells," she said, "are programs."
Adam blinked. "Programs."
"Yes," she repeated. "Kinda like code."
Aiva grinned. "Told you you'd like this part."
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Incantations and movements are not arbitrary. They were developed over time. Trial and error. And refined."
"Like… languages?"
"Yes," she said. "Ancient Latin is a common base. Like… Python."
Adam huffed a small laugh. "You're comparing magic to Python."
"I'm simplifying for you," she snapped.
"Go on."
She continued, calmer now.
"You speak the spell—that's writing code. Your brain is the computer. Your imagination is the software."
"And Lumen is… electricity," Adam said.
"Yes," she said, clearly pleased he was keeping up.
"And Lattice is the circuitry," he added.
Chloe gave a small nod. "All of it has to work together."
He leaned forward slightly. "So if one part fails—"
"The spell fails," she said simply.
Adam ran a hand through his hair. "That explains a lot."
"Yes," Chloe said dryly. "It does i guess."
Aiva chuckled softly.
Adam hesitated, then asked, "What about… getting better at a spell?"
Chloe's expression shifted slightly, something more thoughtful settling in.
"That's the law of reduction," she said.
"Okay…"
"The more you use a spell," she continued, "the more familiar it becomes. You can strip things away."
"Like… fewer words?"
"Yes. Fewer gestures. Eventually none."
Adam's eyes widened slightly. "So you can just, think it?"
"If you're good enough," she said.
He let out a low breath. "That's, kind of insane."
"It's efficiency," Chloe said.
Aiva tilted her head. "And speed."
Chloe nodded once. "Faster and less telegraphed."
Adam frowned slightly. "Then why ever use the full version again?"
Chloe's lips curved faintly.
"Because you can," she said. "And when you do… sometimes it makes the output stronger."
He blinked. "Wait, really?"
"Yes," she said. "Like… overclocking. Or reinforcing a process."
Adam sat back, shaking his head slightly. "That's, okay, that's actually really cool."
Chloe didn't respond, but there was a flicker of quiet satisfaction in her expression.
Aiva smiled.
Adam hesitated again. "Last thing."
Chloe sighed. "Of course."
"You said magic is basically science?"
"Yes."
"How?"
Chloe leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees now.
"Because science is just the limit of what humans can understand and describe," she said. "And magic depends on that same perception."
Adam tilted his head.
"If you can't accurately visualize what you're trying to do," she continued, "the spell won't work."
"Even if you do everything else right?"
"Yup."
She held his gaze.
"Cutting spell," she said. "Simple. One word. One motion."
Adam nodded.
"But if you don't actually understand what it means to cut, what that looks like, how it happens—"
"It fails," he finished.
"Yes."
He sat there for a moment, quiet.
Then looked down at his hands again.
"…So all this time…"
Chloe watched him for a second.
Then her expression shifted.
Just slightly.
"You're not weak," she said.
Adam looked up, surprised.
"You're just…" She hesitated, like she didn't like what she was about to admit. "You don't believe it."
He frowned.
"You overthink," she said. "You doubt and that interferes."
Aiva watched the exchange quietly.
"The only times you've actually cast anything properly," Chloe continued, "you weren't thinking like this. You weren't thinking at all."
Adam's brow furrowed. "When?"
"When you didn't have time to doubt," she said. "When you were focused on one thing."
He went still.
"…Oh."
"Yes," she said.
He exhaled slowly.
"So if I can—"
"Believe it," she said. "Visualize it. Fully."
He nodded faintly.
"Then there's no real ceiling," she added.
The words hung there for a second.
Then, she leaned back again, expression flattening.
"But also," she said, "you need to actually get smarter."
Adam blinked.
"You are hopeless right now," she continued bluntly. "You will never handle something like lightning with this level of understanding. It requires precision and smarts."
Aiva snorted softly.
Adam groaned, dropping his head back. "There it is."
Chloe picked her book back up.
"Study," she said.
And just like that, the moment was over, but it made Adam feel like anyone could do magic.