Chapter 11 - Harper #2
If I hadn’t known him, even in the limited, tumultuous way I do, I might not have recognized him at first. His robe hangs open, wrinkled, the crimson lining twisted as though he’d thrown it on while running.
His shirt is missing its top two buttons.
His hair is disheveled in a way that’s not charming but chaotic, pushed back in some places and falling wildly in others.
And the scent, gods, the scent of ale clings to him in a thick, sharp haze.
There’s a fresh bruise spreading across his right cheekbone, purpling beneath his eye like spilled ink blooming through parchment.
He looks like he hasn’t slept.
He looks like he hasn’t cared to.
He looks...not like the boy who bathed my wounds in silence, not like the boy who told me I deserved gentleness, but like the version of himself he shows to everyone else...reckless and volatile
He says nothing as he closes the door behind him, though the thud echoes through the room. His gaze flicks briefly, barely, to the Vespera section where Liam sits. Then it drifts toward Theo, who stiffens immediately.
And then, for a fraction of a moment so quick I almost miss it, his eyes find mine.
They widen by a thread, surprise, maybe even regret, and then his expression shutters, everything closing off as cleanly as a slammed book.
He walks past me without a word, jaw tight, bruised cheek shadowed under the lanterns.
Poppy leans in, her breath warm near my ear. “Is he always like that?”
I keep my eyes on Sebastian’s back as he takes a seat two rows ahead, shoulders hunched, hands gripping the edge of the table as if bracing himself.
“No,” I whisper.
Professor Anwen flicks her wand, and the front wall of the classroom splits into six tall panels that glide apart with hydraulic smoothness.
From behind them, a row of training dummies marches out, wooden frames stacked with padded humanoid bodies, their joints glowing a faint blue from the enchantments tethering them together.
Their faces are blank, but the runes etched along their limbs shimmer with a barely contained eagerness.
They move like people, not constructs, reactive, and only limited in that they can cause minor physical impact, nothing lethal.
“Spread out,” Anwen instructs. “Each of you will work independently. Remember, the objective is not destruction but controlled defense. Your spells are only tools. It’s discipline that keeps magic from turning on its wielder.”
My throat tightens. My wand pulses once in my hand, an eager vibration that feels almost… hungry. I ignore it and move toward the center of the room where most of the Vespera students seem to be gathering, their crimson-lined robes swishing like flashes of blood in candlelight.
I pass behind Sebastian’s desk. His shoulders are hunched forward slightly, his elbows on the table, fingers pressed along the bridge of his nose as if trying to hold himself together by touch alone. Theo leans just close enough to him that I can hear his low whisper carry.
“You smell like you’ve seen your uncle,” Theo murmurs, voice soft with worry.
Sebastian’s jaw clenches, his head lifting just a fraction. He doesn’t reply, but something about the set of his shoulders makes my stomach twist. I hurry on before I’m caught staring.
The dummies begin to spread out across the room, moving with stilted but disturbingly lifelike steps, scanning for the nearest student.
Liam is already engaged with one, raising his wand in a smooth, practiced arc.
He sends a quick defensive shield shimmering across his forearm, too quick, too efficient for someone who always downplays how much he knows.
He’s been hiding his talent for years.
I watch, momentarily distracted, as he pivots with elegant ease, sidesteps the dummy’s slow swing, and counters with a harmless kinetic push that sends it sprawling backward. He looks annoyingly composed for someone who once broke his arm trying to enchant a lantern.
A faint smile touches my lips.
I turn back toward my own dummy just as it barrels into me.
The collision knocks the breath from my lungs, a hard, unexpected impact that sends me stumbling several steps backward. It shouldn’t hurt this much, not with the safety runes in place, but the blow blooms sharp across my ribs, and a startled gasp tears from me before I can brace.
Laughter erupts from the cluster of Vespera students on the left side of the room, their voices rich with amusement and cruelty.
I recognize some of them, boys who hover near Trevor like flies around spoiled fruit, girls who sharpen their words on softer targets.
Their eyes lock onto me with a kind of hungry delight.
I can almost hear what they’re thinking.
Trevor’s version of events has spread.
My humiliation has become their entertainment.
My cheeks heat, embarrassment simmering into something darker.
Before I can regain my footing, the dummy lunges again, faster this time. Shock prickles along my spine, these constructs are not supposed to hit with such force, but instinct kicks in before thought does.
Gripping my wand, I react.
The room hangs in stunned silence, the only sound the soft ticking of rune-lamps adjusting to the sudden surge of magic.
Wood fragments litter the floor in a messy halo around my boots, thin curls of smoke rising from the splintered remains.
My wand is still warm, too warm, in my grip, its vibration tapering off slowly like the last beat of a racing pulse.
Poppy lowers her hand from her mouth, wide-eyed, her expression caught between awe and concern.
She shifts closer to me but doesn’t speak, as if she’s suddenly unsure what language would even fit this moment.
Around us, the Vespera students who laughed a moment ago stop mid-smirk, several of them stepping back with uncertain scoffs that sound more like fear than amusement.
Their stares press hard against my skin, searching for an explanation that I am not ready, and not able, to give.
Theo has gone nearly rigid at his desk. His usually open expression folds into something more troubled as he tilts his head, listening to the crackling remnants of magic that still buzz faintly in the air.
I can sense him piecing through what he felt, what he observed, what he will absolutely not ask aloud in front of the class.
Liam, too, looks shaken. He knows what a simple defensive spell should look like, what level of force should be possible, and what shouldn’t.
His gaze slips from the wrecked dummy to my wand, then back to my face with a mixture of disbelief and protective dread.
But it’s Sebastian who draws my attention the most, not because he moves or speaks, but because he doesn’t.
He’s still standing behind his desk, one hand braced lightly on the polished surface, the other hanging at his side, fingers curled just slightly as though he’d begun to reach for his wand and then thought better of it.
His eyes track the scattered remains, then the scorch on the floor, then finally rise to meet mine.
The bruise on his cheek makes the stark pallor of his skin even more pronounced; whatever exhaustion or turmoil he walked in with is now layered with something heavier.
The look he gives me is not anger, not judgment, not mockery.
It is a quiet, unsettled recognition, as if he has just watched something that confirms a suspicion he wasn’t ready to have proven true.
The air between us shifts with the weight of it, a subtle tightening that coils around my ribs.
I don’t know what he saw in the tavern that night or what he might have pieced together since, but the intensity of his stare now feels like a mirror turned toward a part of me I have fought my entire life to keep hidden.
Professor Anwen clears her throat sharply, the sound cracking the quiet like a whip.
She steps forward, evaluating the wreckage and the lingering energy in the air with an expression I cannot read.
Her eyes narrow slightly, though she says nothing at first, perhaps gauging whether what she witnessed was talent, recklessness, or something far more complicated.
My breath catches as her gaze sweeps back to me.
Everything feels precariously balanced, my standing in this class, the fragile peace I’ve kept since arriving, my secret, Liam’s trust... and what happened in that infirmary with Sebastian. I grip my wand tighter, grounding myself in the familiar weight of it as I brace for whatever comes next.
The shattered remains at my feet are the only evidence of what just happened, but the tension that settles over the room suggests that everyone here understands this was no ordinary misfire.
Professor Anwen steps forward, her robes whispering softly against the stone as she raises both hands in a calming gesture.
The hum of startled whispers gradually fades beneath her even tone.
“Everyone settle yourselves,” she instructs, her voice firm but not condemning.
“Overreaction helps no one. The dummies are designed to absorb magical variance. This is why we practice. Focus on discipline, not spectacle.”
Her words ripple through the room like a cooling breeze, but the students’ eyes still flick toward the demolished dummies, toward me, toward the faint scorch blooming across the floor.
Anwen’s gaze lingers on the broken fragments for a long, measuring moment before she continues lecturing about stability, breath work, and controlled enchantment flow.
Her voice is authoritative, yet somewhere in the cadence, I sense a shift.
A question she chooses not to ask. A thought she decides not to speak aloud.
Poppy subtly nudges my elbow, a silent check-in.
Liam hasn’t looked away from me once, his face tight with concern.
Theo’s expression has folded into something more cautious, something he doesn’t want me to notice but fails to hide.
Even Sebastian, bruised and smelling faintly of ale, has remained unusually still in his seat, his gaze never fully leaving the burn mark until Professor Anwen resumes speaking.
I try to steady my breathing, to pretend the room hasn’t constricted around me, but then my attention drifts toward the window again, pulled by the same prickling awareness I felt earlier, the sensation that something is watching from beyond the glass.
Sunlight spills across the courtyard. Students move in clusters, their robes flickering like banners in the wind. Nothing stands out at first. Nothing lingers. Nothing waits.
Still… I can’t shake the feeling.
I lean closer to the window just enough for the glare to shift. The light refracts across the pane, and suddenly I’m staring not at the courtyard, not at the fountain or the lawn, but at myself.
Not as I am now.
As I was in that moment outside the tavern.
My reflection stares back with the faintest trace of color where none should be, an unnatural brightness clinging to the violet of my irises, the same afterglow I saw in that man’s terror-stricken eyes right before Sebastian tore him away from me.
A shimmer that lives somewhere between memory and warning.
The sight is subtle, almost imagined, but enough to send a cold rush down my spine.
I gasp, stepping back so quickly my heel knocks against the leg of my desk. My wand slips from my fingers and clatters onto the stone floor with a sharp, echoing crack. The room falls briefly silent again, heads turning just enough to feed my rising panic.
No. Not here. Not again.
I take another step backward, heart pounding, my breath catching hard enough to hurt.
The reflection still sears behind my eyelids even after I force myself to look away from the window.
I can feel that other version of myself watching, waiting, pressing against the edges of my control like a shadow cast where no light touches.
My pulse races. My hands tremble.
I need to leave before someone sees something they shouldn’t. Before someone asks a question I don’t know how to answer. Before Sebastian reads the truth in my expression. Before Professor Anwen notices the momentary flare of panic and links it to the spell I just cast.
Without waiting for permission or explanation, I step fully away from the center of the room.
My feet move before my mind catches up, carrying me toward the door in a daze of fear and nausea.
Someone calls my name, Poppy, or Liam, or perhaps both, but the sound dulls under the pounding of my heartbeat.
I push the classroom door open and slip into the hallway, the stone arch swallowing me in cold, echoing quiet.
For a moment, I brace both hands against the wall, forcing air back into my lungs. The faint hum of my wand lies forgotten on the floor behind me. My reflection lingers in my thoughts like a haunting before the door shuts behind me with a gentle click.