Thorn turned slightly, her tone easing—just enough to let them breathe again.
"This is why alchemy matters," she said.
"Because when your magic fails… when your reserves are not what you think they are…"
She gestured to the living room around them.
"You will need another way to understand what is happening."
A pause.
"To work with it… instead of against it."
The stream resumed its quiet rhythm.
Leaves shifted softly overhead.
And at her station, Anna looked down at the roots drawn across the page—intersecting unseen lines beneath the surface.
Anna's gaze lingered on the page.
The roots inked across it twisted and wove together—some thick, some impossibly fine—intersecting in ways that didn't quite follow logic, but felt right. Lines fed into one another. Shared. Split. Returned.
Not separate.
Connected.
Her fingers rested lightly against the parchment.
Shared…
Her chest warmed.
Not the surface warmth of her body.
Deeper.
Familiar.
Anna's thoughts drifted inward—past the lecture, past Thorn's voice, past the echo of shifting numbers and collapsing projections.
To him.
To Alistar.
She could feel him now—quiet, coiled within her core like a steady ember. Not distant. Not separate. Just… there.
Always there.
Breathing with her.
Listening.
Anna's breath slowed as her awareness brushed against him again—soft, careful, like touching something sacred.
Warmth answered.
Steady.
Certain.
But beneath that certainty…
There was something else.
A faint tension she had learned, over years, not to question.
Her fingers tightened slightly against the parchment.
Her thoughts drifted further back.
Before the academy.
Before Alistar.
Before any of this.
To a time when—
She couldn't feel anything at all.
No flow.
No pull.
No surge of mana the way others described it.
Just… silence.
Anna's jaw tightened faintly.
I couldn't use it…
She remembered the looks. The quiet reassurances. The whispered doubts no one thought she heard.
"Inconclusive."
"Unresponsive."
"Non-compliant circulation."
Words that had followed her like shadows.
Even when she tried—really tried—there had always been something in the way.
Not absence.
Not emptiness.
But resistance.
Like reaching for water through glass.
Her hand slowly rose, resting over her chest again.
Over where Alistar now rested.
Warm.
Alive.
That changed when he hatched…
Didn't it?
That was what everyone believed.
That the bond had awakened something in her.
Unlocked it.
Fixed what had been "wrong."
But now—
Now she wasn't so sure.
Anna's brows drew together.
Because even now…
She still couldn't feel her mana the way others described it.
There was no clear reservoir.
No defined edge.
No sense of this is mine, and this is being used.
There was only…
Flow.
Presence.
Connection.
Her breath caught slightly.
What if…
The thought formed slowly. Carefully.
Dangerously.
What if the seal never broke?
Her fingers pressed lightly against her chest.
She remembered what Archon Veynar had said.
A seal.
Ancient.
Intentional.
Not a flaw.
A limitation.
Placed.
Controlled.
What if it's still there…
Her mind raced quietly, trying to reconcile everything.
If the seal was still intact…
That would explain it.
Why she couldn't distinguish her mana from Alistar's.
Why everything felt… blended.
Muted in some places.
Amplified in others.
Not separate streams—
But something filtered.
Restricted.
Her breathing slowed again.
Then what am I actually feeling?
Was this her power?
His?
Or something shaped by whatever still held her back?
Anna swallowed.
Because if the seal hadn't broken…
Then everything she had experienced so far—
Was only a fraction.
A controlled release.
A measured leak of something far greater.
A flicker of unease curled in her chest.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something sharper.
Then what happens if it does break?
The warmth beneath her hand pulsed—calm, grounding.
Alistar.
Steady as ever.
Untroubled.
Unafraid.
That steadiness anchored her.
But the question didn't fade.
It deepened.
Because there was another possibility.
Quieter.
But heavier.
Anna's gaze dropped back to the page.
To the roots.
Intertwined.
Indistinguishable where they crossed.
Or…
Her thoughts slowed.
What if it's not the seal at all?
Her fingers traced one of the drawn lines absentmindedly.
What if this is just… how it works?
Not broken.
Not blocked.
Not incomplete.
Just—
Different.
Her chest tightened slightly at the thought.
Because if that was true…
Then everything she had been told about how mana should feel…
Didn't apply to her at all.
Not because she was lacking.
But because she was operating on something else entirely.
Something deeper.
Something older.
Her breath left her slowly.
Am I being limited…
A pause.
Her hand pressed more firmly against her chest.
…or am I already connected to something I don't understand yet?
The warmth answered again.
Not with clarity.
But with presence.
And somehow…
That felt like the beginning of an answer.
Not the end.
Anna didn't move.
Her eyes remained fixed on the page—but not reading it anymore.
The roots blurred.
The words faded.
And whatever she was seeing now… wasn't in the book.
A faint crease had formed between her brows, subtle but uncharacteristic. Her posture, usually calm—quietly attentive—had gone still in a different way.
Too still.
Like something inside her had gone somewhere else.
Kaelen noticed.
At first, it was instinct.
A shift in the rhythm beside him.
He'd spent enough time around Anna now to recognize the difference between her thinking… and her drifting.
This wasn't curiosity.
This was deeper.
His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer.
The way her fingers pressed into the page without turning it.
The way her gaze didn't track the lines.
The way her breathing had slowed—not relaxed, but focused inward.
Something's off.
Kaelen leaned back slightly in his seat, casual enough not to draw attention.
His eyes flicked past Anna—
To Lara.
She was on Anna's other side, half-leaned over her own notes, already ahead of the lecture as usual. But she hadn't noticed.
Not yet.
Kaelen lifted his hand just slightly.
A small, low wave.
Subtle.
Lara didn't respond.
He did it again—more deliberate this time.
Her eyes flicked up, mild annoyance already forming—
What?
Kaelen didn't speak.
Didn't risk it.
He just tilted his head—barely—and pointed.
Not directly.
Just a small motion toward Anna.
Lara's expression shifted instantly.
The irritation vanished.
Her gaze moved—
And landed on Anna.
She froze.
Because she saw it immediately.
The stillness.
The distance.
The way Anna's face had gone… quiet in a way that didn't belong in the middle of a lecture.
Not confusion.
Not focus.
Something heavier.
"…Anna?" Lara whispered.
No response.
Anna's fingers tightened slightly against the page.
Lara leaned in a little closer, voice softer this time.
"Hey…"
Still nothing.
Just that distant look.
Like she was listening to something no one else could hear.
Lara's chest tightened.
She reached out slowly—not grabbing, not startling—
Just resting her fingers lightly against Anna's sleeve.
A small, grounding touch.
"Anna."
This time—
A breath.
Anna blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The classroom came rushing back in pieces—the sound of the stream, the rustle of leaves, the low murmur of students shifting at their stations.
Her gaze refocused.
The roots on the page snapped back into clarity.
She inhaled softly, like she'd just surfaced from somewhere deep.
"…Yeah?" she said quietly.
Lara studied her face for a moment longer.
Carefully.
"You okay?"
Anna hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then she nodded.
"Yeah," she said, softer this time. "Just… thinking."
Kaelen didn't look convinced.
He leaned forward slightly again, resting his arms on the table, voice low enough not to carry.
"That didn't look like normal thinking."
Anna's lips twitched faintly.
"Since when do you know what my normal thinking looks like?"
"Since you stopped blinking for a full minute," he replied dryly.
Lara huffed a quiet breath, but her eyes didn't leave Anna.
"You sure you're good?" she asked again, gentler now.
Anna glanced down at the page.
At the roots.
At the lines that no longer looked quite as simple as they had a moment ago.
Her hand drifted—almost unconsciously—to her chest.
Then stopped.
She lowered it.
"I'm fine," she said.
A small pause.
Then, quieter—
"I just got… lost in a hypothetical."
Kaelen raised a brow. "That's what we're calling that now?"
Anna exhaled lightly, the tension easing from her shoulders just enough to look normal again. "It wasn't anything serious," she added, glancing between them. "Just… thinking through something Thorn said."
Lara didn't pull her hand away yet.
"What kind of hypothetical?" she asked, still watching her carefully.
Anna hesitated—just long enough to be noticeable.
Then—
A sharp clap cut through the room.
Professor Thorn's voice followed, clean and grounding.
"That is enough for today."
The subtle hum of the room shifted. Leaves stilled. The stream softened, as if even it knew the moment had ended.
Thorn stepped forward, hands folding loosely behind her back.
"For your assignment," she continued, pacing slowly between the stations, "you will construct a basic sigil sequence."
A few groans—quickly suppressed.
"Not to activate," she added, eyes flicking toward the louder offenders. "You are not ready for that."
Her gaze swept the room.
"You will choose a single function—containment, direction, or release—and design a sigil that reflects its purpose."
She stopped.
"Not what you think it looks like," Thorn said. "What it does."
A pause.
"Next session, you will explain your construction. If you cannot explain it… you do not understand it."
That landed.
"Dismissed."
The room exhaled.
Chairs shifted. Pages closed. Conversations sparked back to life in low, excited murmurs as students began gathering their things.
Lara turned immediately.
"Anna—"
But Anna was already moving.
Too fast.
"Sorry—I just—" Anna muttered quickly, not quite meeting her eyes as she grabbed her book, stuffing it into her satchel with more haste than care.
Kaelen frowned. "Hey—what's the ru—"
"I'll catch you later," Anna said, already stepping away.
It wasn't avoidance in her tone.
It was urgency.
Before Lara could reach for her again, Anna slipped past the table, weaving through the other students as they filtered out.
"Anna—!" Lara called after her, quieter this time.
But she didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
Her focus had already locked onto something else.
Professor Thorn.
At the far end of the room.
Already walking.
Already leaving.
Anna pushed through the last cluster of students and reached the steps that curved downward toward the lower exit. Her boots hit the stone in quick, controlled steps as she descended, heart beating just a little faster now.
Don't lose her.
Thorn reached the base of the steps without looking back, moving with the same calm, unhurried pace she had carried through the entire lecture.
Anna reached the bottom just as Thorn approached a vine-covered archway set into the stone wall.
Beyond it—
A quieter space.
Private.
Thorn's office.
The professor's hand lifted, brushing lightly against the vines. They parted for her instantly, responding without hesitation.
Anna closed the distance.
"Professor—!"
Thorn stopped.
Not abruptly.
Just… paused.
She turned slightly, eyes settling on Anna with quiet awareness—as if she had known she was coming the entire time.
"Yes?" she said.
Anna slowed, just enough to catch her breath—not from the run, but from the weight of what she was about to ask.
For a second—
She didn't speak.
The question sat at the edge of her thoughts.
The seal.
Alistar.
The connection.
The difference she couldn't explain.
Her fingers curled lightly at her side.
"…I have a question," Anna said finally.
Thorn's gaze sharpened—interested now.
"Of course you do," she replied.
Not dismissive.
Almost… approving.
The vines shifted softly beside them, the doorway to her office still open.
Anna hesitated.
The question she had chased all the way down the steps… suddenly felt heavier standing in front of Thorn.
Not because she didn't want to ask.
But because once she did—
There was no taking it back.
Her fingers curled slightly at her side.
She glanced, just briefly, over her shoulder. Students were still filtering out above them—voices echoing faintly, movement carrying through the living chamber.
Too many ears.
Too many unknowns.
Anna turned back to Thorn, her voice lowering.
"…Could we talk somewhere private?" she asked softly.
For a moment, Thorn didn't answer.
She simply watched her.
Not with suspicion.
With assessment.
Her gaze flicked once—to Anna's posture, her breathing, the subtle tension she hadn't fully hidden.
Then back to her eyes.
Something there seemed to settle.
"…Yes," Thorn said.
No hesitation now.
She stepped aside slightly, lifting her hand.
The vines responded immediately—parting wider, revealing the space beyond.
"Come," she added.
Anna stepped forward.