Chapter 12
The walk back was quieter than usual. It wasn't just the exhaustion or the aftermath of the fight; there was something else, something that hadn't been left behind. Leo could feel it clearly, but not like before—not like an external presence he could ignore or avoid. This was different.
Deeper.
Closer.
He stopped abruptly.
—… wait.
Nando turned, confused. —What now?
Leo didn't answer right away. He brought a hand to his chest, as if trying to hold something in place, something shifting inside him. His breathing grew uneven.
—It didn't all leave…
The professor looked at him directly, without surprise, without doubt.
—No, he said calmly. —Some of it stayed inside you.
Silence fell, heavy and immediate. Nando frowned, looking between them.
—How do you know that so easily?
—Because I can see it, the professor replied, never taking his eyes off Leo.
Leo swallowed.
So he wasn't imagining it.
The sensation moved again inside him, like a violent current that couldn't settle. It wasn't his. Not entirely.
—It's residual cursed energy, the professor continued. —And in your case… it's unstable.
Nando took a small step back. —That sounds really bad.
—It is. If you don't control it, it will consume you.
There was no dramatization in his voice, and that made it heavier.
Leo clenched his teeth. For a brief instant, a чуждая emotion ran through him—rage, dry and sudden, with no clear cause. He closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and contained it.
It wasn't his.
It couldn't be.
—… I can control it, he said at last, more firmly.
The professor didn't respond immediately. He studied him in silence, as if measuring how much of that was truth and how much was sheer will.
—Maybe, he said finally. —But not with what you know now.
Leo lowered his gaze… and then he remembered.
Without a word, he lifted the notebook he had been carrying. Worn pages, notes, markings he had seen countless times without fully understanding them.
—My grandmother…
The professor recognized it instantly. He didn't change his posture, but something in his expression became more serious.
—Yes.
Nando raised an eyebrow. —You knew her too?
—It was hard not to, the professor replied, his tone shifting slightly. There was no obvious emotion, but there was respect. —Her techniques weren't common.
Leo looked at him more closely. —Did you use them?
The professor shook his head.
—No. But I've seen them in action.
A brief pause followed, just enough for the weight of those words to settle.
—And they work.
Leo tightened his grip on the notebook. The energy inside him stirred again, as if reacting to something even he didn't fully understand. This time it didn't catch him off guard. He breathed, separated, contained.
—Then teach me.
Nando let out a small, incredulous laugh. —Just like that?
The professor shook his head slightly.
—They don't work like that. They're not a recipe you can copy. Either you understand them… or they break you.
Leo held his gaze without backing down.
—Then I'll understand them.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.
It was evaluative.
The professor took half a step forward, studying him more closely, as if he were no longer looking at just a student, but someone stepping into something far more serious.
—First learn not to lose control over what's inside you.
The energy in Leo's chest surged again, more violently this time, as if responding to the attention. He tightened his hand, holding himself steady.
—Because if you can't handle that… the techniques your grandmother used won't be of any use to you.
Teodora, who had remained silent until now, spoke without changing her expression:
—They'll be what finishes breaking you.
Leo didn't answer right away. He lowered his gaze for a moment, feeling that uneven pulse inside him, that constant reminder that something had changed.
But when he looked up again, there was no hesitation.
—Then I start now.
The wind moved through the empty streets, carrying the silence with it.
This time, Leo didn't just feel danger.
He felt that there was no turning back.