Elias was halfway through dressing when his magic pulled out of him sharply. Towards the left side of the room.
He frowned.
There was nothing there.
The room settled obediently.
Elias lowered his hand slowly, pulse steady, eyes scanning the room for the surge his magic insisted had existed.
Nothing flared.
But the pressure behind his ribs remained.
He tried to remember if he'd felt this way when he woke.
He had.
***************
The corridor outside his quarters was already busy.
Students passed in clusters, voices overlapping, magic flaring in small careless ways that Elias dampened without thinking.
Halfway down the hall, something sharp cut through him.
Irritation. Tight and focused.
Controlled to the point of restraint.
Elias stopped short.
The feeling vanished almost immediately, leaving behind a faint echo, like a bell struck and muted too quickly.
He stood there for a moment, eyes unfocused.
"That wasn't—" he murmured, then stopped.
