The chill aura thickened, pressing on Zane's shoulders like a storm about to break. The wind-boy flexed his fingers, tiny gusts spiraling at his feet.
Zane just sighed and tapped the black, tattoo-like marking on his arm—the same one every student got when they enrolled.
Instantly, the seniors froze.
"You—!" the senior girl snapped, eyes widening. "Don't you dare call a teacher." She and her partner instinctively stepped back.
Zane tilted his head, smirking under the blindfold. "Teacher? Oh no, no, no. You think too small." He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was letting them in on a secret. "I was calling a friend."
He tapped the marking again.
"Hey, Asher," he said out loud, tone casual, "mind sending me one of your fancy teleporty-portally things? Right here, where I'm standing. And, uh… open it slowly. Dramatic effect."
The juniors all blinked.
The seniors froze.
The girl hissed. "No! You idiot, the barrier isn't down yet! If a portal opens now, the teachers will—"
Her words cut off as reality behind Zane rippled. A swirl of silver-blue light tore open in midair, spinning wider, spilling sparks like stardust. The portal stretched deliberately slow, like the world itself was humoring Zane's request.
Every jaw dropped.
Zane turned toward the glowing vortex, lifted his hand, and flashed a lazy peace sign.
"Later, losers."
Then he leaned back, letting gravity take him, and fell straight into the light. The portal snapped shut behind him.
—
Zane hit his bed with a soft fwump. Back in his dorm. Safe.
Asher sat on his own bunk, yawning, half-asleep. "You… seriously made me wake up for that?"
Zane rolled onto his back, grinning under the blindfold. "Worth it."