Low. Quiet. Unintended.
It slipped out anyway as I watched her.
The curvy little Witch stood just outside the lecture hall, clutching that ridiculous parchment like it might rearrange itself if she stared hard enough.
Her lips moved as she read, brow furrowed, shoulders drawn inward like she was bracing for impact.
Gods.
Franco had done it again.
Professor Alfonso Renaldi Franco, Master of Astronomy and self-proclaimed architect of celestial romance, had just handed another desperate student his infamous extra credit assignment.
A love quest.
At a graduate institute built on intersecting ley lines and unstable magic.
Brilliant.
Absolutely unhinged.
And yet, entirely on brand.
I leaned back against the cold stone column, folding my arms as I watched her read it again.
The aurora glow from the high arched windows cast shifting light across her face, catching in her eyes, illuminating the slow horror settling there.
She didn’t belong in that moment.
Not because she was weak.
Because she was honest.
And Runevald did not reward honesty.
It devoured it.
I could chart celestial paths through collapsed realms with my eyes closed.
I could map the movement of constellations across dimensional planes without lifting a pen.
It was instinct.
Inheritance.
Burden.
If my control didn’t slip, I could do my fucking job and be done with this place.
If it did—well then that would be that.
Black holes weren’t theoretical in my case.
They were reality.
Incidents with severe consequences.
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand across my jaw as I watched her shift her weight, still reading, still trying to understand something she clearly didn’t believe in.
