Chapter 3: The First Lesson
The scream of the academy's dawn bell felt like a physical blow. Silas jolted awake, the phantom sensation of shattering crystal and Corvus's wintery eyes seared behind his eyelids. For a blissful second, he was just a student. Then the cold settled back into his bones, a permanent resident now.
"Analysis: Auditory stimulus classified as 'bell.' Purpose: Synchronized awakening. Inefficient. A neural pulse would be more effective."
"Noted," Silas grumbled, swinging his legs out of bed. The headache from last night was gone, replaced by a strange, humming alertness. He felt clear. As if the air in the room was sharper, the dust motes in the sunbeam from his window tracing perfect, predictable trajectories. It was unsettling.
His schedule, delivered on a thin crystal slate, listed his first class: Fundamental Mana Manipulation with Magus Brom.
A cold dread, entirely separate from Lurk, pooled in his stomach. This was it. The moment he would be exposed as a complete fraud. He could fake a normal familiar, but he could not fake knowing the first thing about magic.
The classroom was a wide, circular amphitheater. At its center stood a stern-looking man with a close-cropped beard and arms crossed over his practical robes. Magus Brom. His familiar was a stocky, badger-like creature made of living granite that stood immobile by his side, observing the students with stony eyes.
Silas slipped into a seat at the back, trying to make himself invisible.
"Vale," a voice whispered beside him. It was a lanky boy with freckles and nervous eyes. His familiar was a small, floating orb of light that flickered with his anxiety. "I am Leo. Saw your bonding yesterday. That was something."
"Analysis: Designation 'Leo.' Bond: Will-o'-Wisp variant. Threat Assessment: Negligible. Social overture detected."
"Something," Silas agreed noncommittally.
"Quiet!" Magus Brom's voice cut through the chatter. "Your first lesson is the most important one you will ever learn. Control." He gestured to the granite badger. "The foundation of all magic is patience and precision. It is not about brute force. It is about convincing reality to become your will."
He placed a single, rough-hewn rock on the floor in the center of the room.
"Your task is simple. Imbue this rock with a sliver of your mana. Not to change it. Just to make it yours. To make it glow. The intensity and stability of the glow will be your grade." His eyes swept the room, landing for a moment on Seraphina, who sat poised in the front row, Solaris preening on her shoulder. "Begin."
A wave of concentration fell over the room. Seraphina closed her eyes. A moment later, her rock flared with a brilliant, steady golden light, as if a tiny sun had been lit within it. Magus Brom gave a curt, approving nod.
Others struggled. Leo's rock flickered weakly, like a dying lightbulb. Another student's rock cracked under the strain of uncontrolled power.
Silas stared at his own rock, a lump of cold dread in his throat. He had no idea what to do. He tried to push energy at it, to no avail.
"Observation: Inefficient methodology. Mana is not a projectile. It is an extension of will. A signature."
Easy for you to say, Silas thought. You are a cosmic horror.
"Proposal: Utilize our symbiosis. Allow a minor channeling. I will translate your intent."
It was a risk. But failure was a guarantee without it. Taking a shaky breath, Silas placed his hand on the cool stone. He did not try to push. Instead, he imagined the rock as an extension of himself. He imagined it recognizing him. He focused on the simple command: Glow.
A sharp, cold sensation traveled down his arm, a thread of power that felt nothing like the warm, golden energy he saw around him. It was the void. It was silence given form.
His rock did not flare with golden light.
It began to drink the light.
A deep, violet luminescence kindled within its core. It did not illuminate; it created a pocket of shadow around itself, a faint, star-dusted darkness that pulsed with a slow, rhythmic beat, like a sleeping heart. The air around it grew cold.
All other lights in the room seemed to dim slightly, as if drawn toward Silas's stone.
A stunned silence fell.
Magus Brom's eyes widened. He strode over, his granite badger snuffling at the air with a low, concerned grumble. "What is this?" he murmured, not in anger, but in pure, unadulterated confusion. He looked from the anomalous rock to Silas. "What is your familiar, boy?"
Before Silas could stammer a reply, a cool, calm voice came from the doorway.
"A fascinating manifestation, is it not, Magus?"
Agent Corvus stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his white suit immaculate. He was not looking at the rock. He was looking directly at Silas, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. "A shadow-weasel, I believe the registry says. It seems its talents are unique."
The entire class was staring now. Seraphina's look of triumph had melted into one of sharp, analytical interest. Leo looked terrified.
Corvus pushed off the doorframe. "Do not let me interrupt. Please, continue your lesson." His eyes lingered on Silas for a moment longer. "I will be observing."
He did not enter the room. He simply stood in the doorway, a silent, smiling sentinel.
The hunter had not just returned.
He had decided to join the class.