Now that I knew I'd probably be used as a tool by Elira, the thought alone made my stomach tighten. She was older. Experienced. Patient. Terrifyingly precise.Tho I was 15 by my death, I am 14 in this new world, fragile in comparison to a 19 year old Elira, and every time she smiled that calculating smile, my mind couldn't help but race. Not with excitement. With suspicion. With… dread.
But I couldn't run. I'd tried that before. Stepping back from school had consequences I didn't like. And now, after weeks of quiet observation, of seeing patterns, of answering questions without drawing attention… I was here. And there was no undo button.
At least… today wasn't just academics.
For the first time in years, we had a class dedicated to magic. Not just theory, not just history. Magic. Real, tangible, practical magic. And the class was small exclusive, as expected. Only a handful of students had been selected. And of course, Elira was here.
I realized something. Maybe that was why they'd pushed me back into attendance. The academy didn't just need students. They needed capable ones. And I… had become capable, unwillingly.
The classroom itself was unlike any other. Heavy wooden tables, thick tomes stacked carefully along the walls, and a faint smell of herbs and parchment mingling in the air. Sunlight fell through tall, arched windows, cutting long rectangles across the floor. Even now, it felt… alive. Alive in a way my old classrooms never had.
"Hi," Elira whispered as she approached, her expression unusually… bright. Happy, almost.
I glanced up from arranging my notes. "Come on, we met last night, you know."
"No," she murmured. "Because you being in this class is a different story."
I frowned. "Different story?"
She smiled, tilting her head like it wasn't worth explaining. "Different stakes."
I wondered silently. Different stakes… right. That sounded like her. She never explained anything before she needed you to act. And now, somehow, she was always two steps ahead.
I couldn't shake the thought that had been sitting in my chest. She had been in this academy for years longer than me. Why was she here? Couldn't she have taken this class years ago, when it mattered for her own progression?
The bell chimed, a slow, resonant sound, and the room fell silent.
The instructor, a man with silver-streaked hair and spectacles perched precariously on his nose, entered. He didn't waste time on greetings. His eyes scanned the room, and a flicker of recognition settled on me.
"Good," he said. "Everyone present, and attentive. This is not a class for the faint-hearted. Magic is not talent. It is observation, calculation, precision, and patience. I will expect all four from each of you. Those who fail to grasp even one will find themselves… regretting it."
I nodded. Patience, calculation, observation, yeah, that was basically my life condensed.
Elira leaned slightly closer. "See? They want capable students. That's why you're here."
I let the words drift through me. Not exactly comforting, but… logical.
We were assigned seats in a semi-circle. A few students whispered among themselves. I didn't bother listening. Patterns, people. Watch and learn.
The instructor placed a small crystal orb in the center of the room. It hovered a few inches above the table, faintly glowing. The color shifted, subtly, like water moving under sunlight.
"Today," he said, "you will attempt your first controlled spell. Do not underestimate it. Many seasoned mages fail at the basics because they ignore what is in front of them. You will focus on the orb, sense its resonance, and then synchronize your energy with it. Only then will it respond."
I frowned slightly. Energy. Synchronization. Resonance. Words meant for people who already understood magic instinctively. I didn't. But… I had observed. I had patterns. I had patience.
Elira's eyes found mine. A silent challenge. A statement. "Don't disappoint," her glance said.
I clenched my jaw. I didn't want to disappoint. But I also didn't want to be dragged too far into whatever she had planned. I had learned that the harder you resist, the more someone like her will push.
The instructor clapped his hands. "Begin."
I took a deep breath. Focused. Observed. The orb pulsed faintly in response to every movement in the room. Every heartbeat. Every tremor.
The first attempt was nothing. I willed the energy to flow, to sync, to respond... but the orb remained indifferent. I was about to step back when a subtle hum, almost imperceptible, brushed against my mind. Observation. That was the key. Not force. Observation.
I tried again. Slowly. Carefully. I watched the subtle flicker in the orb's glow, measured it against my own pulse, adjusted my inner rhythm.
And it responded. A faint shimmer at first, then a small lift. The orb rotated slowly in place. It wasn't impressive yet. Not even really visible unless you paid attention. But it moved.
The instructor's eyes narrowed. "Ah. Observation, indeed. Well done."
Elira's lips twitched. Satisfaction. Not pride. Satisfaction. She knew what this meant. That I knew what it meant. And that meant she had me.
I sank back in my chair. My hands tingled from the exertion. Not fatigue, exactly. More… awareness. A reminder that every step, every observation, every hesitation, was visible to someone who understood you.
For the rest of the class, we experimented. Or at least, the others did. Most students struggled. Spells fizzled, sparks misfired. One boy made his orb spin so fast it cracked the table. I didn't laugh, though I wanted to. I made mental notes. Patterns. Failures. Successes. Causes. Effects.
And all the while, Elira watched.
After the lesson, she sidled up to me again. "So," she said quietly, "you're really going to enjoy what comes next."
I raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"
Her smile sharpened, almost predatory. "Opportunities. Big ones. Ones only the capable get. And trust me… you're far more capable than anyone suspects."
I swallowed. My chest felt tight. That "opportunities" word… it wasn't neutral. It never was.
"And what do you want from me this time?" I asked carefully.
"Nothing," she said, laughing softly. "For now. Observe. Learn. Predict. And when the time comes… act."
Her words were light, casual, but inside I knew exactly what she meant. Act. Not optional. Not for practice. Not for show. Act.
I exhaled, the tension rolling out of me slowly. Part of me wanted to retreat, to vanish again. Another part against all logic felt the faintest flicker of anticipation.
Because even if I hated being used, hated being observed, hated the strings she had already thrown across my life… I knew something else was unavoidable.
I was good at this. Better than I wanted to be. And she knew it.
The thought made my stomach churn, made my chest heavy. But I didn't back away. I couldn't.
And as we left the classroom, side by side in silence, I realized something else: whatever she wanted from me, whatever she planned, this… this was just the beginning.