Severin’s bite marks still haven’t fully healed, and I’ll need to hide them until they do.
This morning in class, his eyes were so bright red that I’m sure even the students at the far back of the lecture hall could see them. There were whispers, curiosity about who the handsome vampire professor had fed from, and all the while, I sat there with the scarf around my neck, knowing exactly whose throat his fangs had found.
But now, in front of Professor Azula, I know I have to be careful. If she were to find out, I’m certain Severin would lose his job.
So instead of removing the scarf, I adjust it, making sure it’s fully secure around my throat. Then I walk to the center of the room.
“How has your private practice been coming along?” Professor Azula asks. She’s holding a small journal in one hand, and I know it’s where she jots down notes after each of these practice sessions. She had alotto write after our last session, when my energy sphere exploded spectacularly, like fireworks zipping off the castle’s towers.
We haven’t had one of these sessions for a few weeks. This is another element of my fellowship preparation, and recently, I’ve felt like the fellowship has been slipping out of my grip one failed demonstration at a time. But I feel different today. Stronger, more stable.
And I intend to be successful this time, like I was that night alone on the tower, when I made the decision to ask Severin to feed on me.
The thought makes my chest warm. That’s happened a couple times today, but I noticed it most strongly during Dangerous Magic Across Time this morning. When Severin was at the front of the classroom, lecturing about old noble families that used to use blood amplification rituals to strengthen their ancestral magic across generations, I felt a consistent pull in my chest, like my heart was trying to float out of my rib cage and down to Severin. It kept distracting me from the lecture, and multiple times I found myself just watching him, not taking notes or even fully listening to what he was saying.
“Miss Vandermere?”
I jolt, realizing I never answered Professor Azula’s question.
“Sorry, Professor. It’s been coming along well. I think... I think I’ve made progress.”
Professor Azula tips her head, wearing an expression of unconvinced curiosity. “Well, let’s see what you’ve been working on, then.”
She moves to the front of the room, positioning herself near the wall. This room is charmed to contain elemental magic, so it’s the only interior room in this castle where I can practice without blowing anything up. I much prefer the spire, but Professor Azula likes things her way, and this is where she insists we practice.
I shift my feet on the floor, then hesitate. When I’m on the tower with Severin, practicing our swordsmanship drills, I’m always barefoot. Severin requires it. And when I was finally successful at maintaining my energy sphere, I was barefoot when I did it.
So, before calling on my magic, I reach down and pull my boots off, then toss them toward the door. As they thump onto the floor, Professor Azula arches one crimson brow, but she doesn’t say anything.
Now, I roll out my shoulders and center myself, feeling my toes pressing into the cool floor under my feet. I close my eyes and draw in a slow breath, letting it fill my lungs and lift my chest. And I recall what Severin told me one night on the tower.
Perhaps you don’t need to control. Perhaps you only need to guide.
I don’t need to control. I need only to guide.
Using his voice as my tether and mantra, I lift my hands, eyes still closed, and call on my magic. For months, I’ve attempted to control the current, to force it into a contained entity. And without fail, it always resisted. This time, I’m not rigid, not unyielding.
With my palms facing each other, a familiar prickle tickles my fingertips, energy and sparks beginning to gather. I start weaving those threads of energy together, like a tapestry made of lightning.
I let the storm rise inside me in the way it wishes to. I give it the freedom it yearns for.
Slowly, I open my eyes.
The air between my palms shimmers with bright white light. It flickers as I gather more energy, the strands of lightning weaving together.
I breathe as the energy intensifies, reminding myself not to clamp down too hard, not to try to force it into the shape that Ithinkit should take. And again, I think of Severin, of the way he touched my chest just over my heart and told me I needed to learn these lessons in my bones.
Slowly, I think I’m starting to do just that.
My energy sphere intensifies, flaring for a moment as I recall that moment with Severin on the spire. Warmth pulses in my hands, then spreads up my arms and into my chest.
And I think I feel that tug again, like I did in class this morning. It tries to draw my attention, and my energy sphere crackles in response.
But I remain focused, muscles soft, toes still curling into the cool stone floor.
This is the moment when my sphere usually goes wild,refusing to allow me to hold it still. Now, though, I don’t try to hold it still.
Storms are not static, after all.
