Chapter 13 Velra
~Velra~
Weaving & Shadow Architecture.
That was my first class of the year—my first class ever, actually.
It was one that I’d been looking forward to the most, by far.
It was being taught by Professor Selix Nyvarra, a renowned and revered Shadowmancer.
Cornelius and Warlow had been right—there was a great deal that I could learn from her.
I couldn’t wait.
Anticipation thrummed as students milled into the classroom, and I looked around the space, taking it all in, etching this moment of my first class—the beginning of something awesome—into my memory.
The desks were heavy dark wood and the chairs were unbelievably comfortable—upholstered in midnight-blue velvet with curved feet.
There was a shimmering magical circle up at the front that had tomes floating in midair that would change to ones specific for the class once the professor took their place there.
Cathedral-style windows with quartz panes stretched the length of the far-left side of the room and stone arch doorways led the way into the space to begin with.
As I settled my notebook and pen on my desk—one at the edge of the gangway and closest to the door, my phone buzzed in beside it.
I snatched it up to see a text from Lazriel.
A stupid grin spread over my face.
Lazriel: You still ride?
Not what I’d been expecting.
Velra: It’s been a while.
Lazriel: Is your bike at Cornelius and Warlow’s place?
Yeah, he knew about my Harley. It had come up one day during a Crossborn meeting when he’d flirtatiously asked me if I’d like to take a ride with him.
The way in which he’d said it had come across as one hell of a dirty innuendo.
But then he’d explained that he actually did have his own motorcycle, and I’d told him about mine.
Velra: Yeah. Why?
Lazriel: Figured we’d go stunting tonight. You down?
Velra: Sounds like fun. I’m in.
Lazriel: Meet you in the Obscura Common Room at 7.p.m.
Velra: I’ll be there. Enjoy your Instinct & Invocation class this morning.
Lazriel: Love that you know my schedule. ?? Have fun in your Weaving class.
Velra: I’m so excited!
Lazriel: I bet it’s gonna live up to expectations. See you soon. Gotta go.
Velra: Soon.
I smiled to myself as I turned my phone off for class, then put it away in my messenger bag, hanging it over the back of my chair.
No sooner had I done that than I caught sight of that distinctive brown spiky hair with the maroon tips.
“Little Wraith,” Sylas was greeting me in the next moment with a sexy smile, as he sauntered into the classroom, his hooded coat flapping behind him majestically.
His formidable and confident presence immediately filled up the space—like, the entire room—and he pulled out the chair right beside me and sank into it, leaning back and regarding me.
“Morning,” I responded.
I noticed that he didn’t have a bag with him, nor was he holding a notebook or anything to write with. “You’re not gonna take notes?” I asked. Or, was he planning to conjure what he needed in the next few moments before class started up?
He winked and tapped his temple. “All right here.”
“You already know it. Of course. You’re the renowned necromancer, only here under duress, already exceptionally schooled and skilled.”
“High praise. Compliments received.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Even with the lightly veiled sarcasm there along for the ride.”
“Sarcasm? Me? Of course not.”
“Hmm, you’re trying to give as good as you get with me.” He smiled. “Just like you did when you believed I was causing trouble for our tumultuous wolf.”
“Yes. And, speaking of that, we need to talk about what you want from my power. That night at The Fade when we fused our magic to perform that spell together, I know it was you testing something, investigating… whatever.”
“A blended Wraith-Necromancer concealment spell,” he mused. “Certainly something, wasn’t it?”
“Sylas,” I hissed. As if I couldn’t recognize a deflection attempt… it was something I’d learned to employ well myself.
“Mmm. The way you breathe my name, all fiery like that, is beyond alluring.”
I flicked some of my shadow magic at him, watching as it wrapped around his hand, weaving through his fingers, intending it to startle him from his continued deflection and his sultry words he was firing my way.
But then his magic sparked, and dark red shimmering power encircled my own shadow magic, tangling with it.
A jolt of pleasurable intensity rolled through me at the point of contact as he played with it.
Our gazes clashed and I saw his eyes hooded, affected just like me.
Then he grinned and flexed his fingers and he unraveled my shadows entirely from him and flicked them back to me.
As I reabsorbed them and sucked in an unsteady breath at the heat of what he’d done licking my skin and permeating beyond skin-deep as well, he shifted his weight and blinked harshly.
“Necromancer… Master of Death Magic, among other things,” he told me. A smile curved his lips. “How about you focus on this class for now, especially given the fact that it’s one you’ve been looking most forward to?”
“Things can only happen on your timetable, huh?”
“On the contrary, they must only happen on yours.”
“What are you—”
“You are guarded, extremely so. You believe it’s paranoia, but it’s a necessary response to the trauma you’ve suffered through.
The day you came to my home, you told us that you don’t want to regress, that you want to keep moving forward.
But that’s easier said than done when it comes to certain things.
Such as embarking on a sexual relationship with Lazriel, admitting that you may also be drawn to me, and working with me on what I need your power for to assist with my own issues I’m having with my magic. ”
He smiled.
But this time it wasn’t self-satisfied, or flirty.
It was honest and kind of endearing. “To collaborate magically requires trust. It requires you not just to be willing out of curiosity or fear that I’d be using you… you need to feel safe.” He settled back into his chair. “And we don’t find ourselves in that state at present, do we?”
I stared at him in open-mouthed silence.
That’s right, like a guppy.
Fortunately, that didn’t last long as the door to the classroom closed with a definitive thud, the action felt through the entire room.
I scanned the area, realizing that I’d been so wrapped up in my interaction with Sylas that I hadn’t noticed that the space had filled up.
As this was a very specific sort of class, it wasn’t packed like Apex Magic and Theory would be, which was a much broader topic.
There were about two dozen students in total—a handful of Shadowmancers only, because they were so rare, similar to Wraiths, sorcerers and sorceresses who wanted to understand shadow magic and learn to wield a manufactured version of it, and even some Dark Fae.
I noticed Kelsana and her boyfriend up at the front.
Her gaze went to Sylas and she smirked flirtatiously, so caught up in it that she didn’t even notice that her boyfriend was fuming beside her.
Fuming at Sylas, not her. It seemed, especially from what Lazriel had told me about it, that Rennick was too afraid to upset her to confront her directly about it.
Not that I was the queen of healthy relationship dynamics, but it really didn’t seem very healthy to me.
She caught my eye and I was surprised when she nodded at me respectfully, then turned back to face the front.
What was that about? My last encounter with her had been her spouting cutting things about me in the Grand Atrium.
Not to mention, I was sitting right beside the guy she clearly had a crush on.
Speaking of… I looked out at Sylas and he seemed completely oblivious, holding his palms four inches apart and concentrating on swirling his dark red magic in a spinning sphere.
No way. Sylas Morgrave was never oblivious. He just wasn’t paying it any attention.
Definitely for the best there.
A burst of midnight-blue shadows jolted me from my observations.
Whoa.
The shadows didn’t just swirl around like shadow magic enveloped me when I traveled incognito, or when I used that aspect of my abilities to teleport, rather than my purple Dark Fae magic.
They breathed her into being.
Professor Selix Nyvarra.
As she fully materialized into the environment, flesh from beautiful shadows, I took her in.
She was a stunning force of nature.
Her deep black hair was in long braids, some adorned with pewter rings.
Her eyes had that same shimmer in the irises.
She personified timeless elegance in her shadow-thread robes.
In human years, she looked to be in her forties, but I knew that she was actually several centuries old, and that her command and knowledge of her power reflected that.
Her gaze swept around the room and she stilled on me briefly with a curve of her lips, before settling on my companion at one of the only two-seater desks in the entire space—of course.
“Sylas,” she spoke, her velvet voice rolling over me, and commanding immediate rapt attention at the same time.
Sylas’ lips quirked. “Selix. It’s been a while.”
“It has. Now, as you can imagine, this curriculum will not be catered to your specific situation, however, there is still something to be learned if you are open to it.” She gave him a look. “And do not believe yourself above it.”
“You know me, always open to expanding my knowledge base.”
She gave as good as she got, responding, “Acceptable answer.”
With that, she turned and glided toward the front of the class.
I smiled to myself. I liked her already.
“Welcome to Weaving & Shadow Architecture,” she spoke.