Chapter 4: The Weight of Watching Eyes
The remainder of the mana manipulation class passed in a blur of strained concentration and stolen glances. No one else's rock pulsed with that strange, light-drinking violet glow. No one else's creation made the air grow cold. And no one else had the undivided attention of both Magus Brom and Agent Corvus.
Silas kept his hand on the stone, feigning deep focus, but his mind was racing. The thread of cold power from Lurk had retreated, leaving behind only a faint, tingling numbness in his fingertips and the lingering chill around the rock.
"Magus," Silas said, his voice tighter than he intended. "Is there a way to... stop it?"
Brom leaned closer, his brow furrowed. He reached a hand toward the stone, then pulled it back as the cold bit at his skin. "I've never seen a manifestation that absorbs ambient light. Typically, mana addition creates luminescence. This is... subtraction." He looked at Silas with open curiosity, the stern instructor replaced by a baffled scholar. "Your familiar's affinity is profoundly unusual, Vale. We will need to run diagnostics."
*Diagnostics.* The word sent a fresh jolt of fear through Silas. That was exactly what Corvus wanted.
"Perhaps," Corvus's voice carried easily from the doorway, smooth as polished ice. "The Bureau's resources are, of course, at the academy's disposal for such... unique cases. Our spectral analyzers are the most advanced in the system."
The offer hung in the air, polite and menacing. Brom, for his part, looked tempted. The mystery was a siren's call to a man of his expertise.
"We shall see," Brom said noncommittally, though his eyes lingered on the anomalous rock. "Class dismissed. Vale, leave the specimen. I wish to study it."
Silas stood, his legs feeling unsteady. He deliberately avoided looking at Corvus as he filed out with the other students. He could feel the agent's gaze on his back, a physical pressure between his shoulder blades.
Leo fell into step beside him as they entered the hallway. "That was insane," he whispered, his eyes wide. "How did you *do* that? My wisp just sputtered. Yours made a... a little piece of the void."
"It wasn't on purpose," Silas muttered, which was the absolute truth.
"Right," Leo said, not believing him. "Well, whatever it was, you've got the Bureau's attention. And Seraphina's. She was staring a hole through you."
As if summoned by the mention, Seraphina stepped into their path, Solaris casting a warm, golden glow that felt aggressively normal against the memory of Silas's dark stone.
"Vale," she said, her tone clipped. "A word."
Leo gave Silas a wide-eyed look and scurried away.
"What do you want, Valerius?" Silas asked, too tired for politeness.
"Your performance was a clever trick," she said, her eyes narrowed. "But tricks are for street performers. That... *thing* you did with the rock. It was unstable. Unnatural. Magus Brom may be fascinated, but I see it for what it is. A flaw."
"Analysis: Target is attempting to establish dominance through psychological critique. A common social hierarchy behavior."
*I figured that out myself,* Silas thought wearily.
"Your concern is noted," he said aloud, trying to step around her.
She moved to block him. "Corvus is watching you," she said, her voice dropping. "He would not be here for a simple 'shadow-weasel.' What are you?"
The directness of the question stunned him. For a moment, he saw past the haughty demeanor. She wasn't just jealous or disdainful; she was genuinely suspicious. And sharp.
"I'm a scholarship student who got a weird familiar," Silas said, holding her gaze. "That's all. Now, if you'll excuse me."
This time, when he stepped forward, she let him pass. But he could feel her eyes on him, too, adding to the weight of Corvus's stare.
The rest of the day was a lesson in paranoia. In History of Celestial Foundations, he sat in the back corner, sure Corvus would appear in the doorway at any moment. During a break in the library, he saw the man in white speaking calmly with the Head Archivist, and Silas immediately retreated.
He was trapped. The academy was his prison, and every corridor felt like it was being monitored.
He returned to his dormitory as the sun set, his nerves frayed. He locked the door behind him and slid down it, resting his head against the cool wood.
"They're not going to stop, are they?" he whispered into the quiet room.
"Conclusion: The observer, Corvus, operates on a probability-based model. His suspicion threshold has been crossed. He will continue to gather data until he reaches a definitive conclusion."
"And what conclusion is that?"
"The only one his parameters allow. That we are an unregistered anomaly requiring correction."
"Correction." The euphemism was chilling. "And Seraphina?"
"The rival's motivations are complex. Social standing is a factor, but there is an underlying pattern recognition. She perceives the inconsistency we represent."
Silas closed his eyes. He was surrounded. By a celestial bureaucrat who wanted to delete him and a brilliant rival who was piecing together the truth. He had no allies, no resources, and a patron whose power threatened to unravel his mind.
A cool trickle of energy seeped from the shadows, a familiar sensation now. It was faint, but it steadied his breathing.
"Query: Vessel's cognitive state is declining. Is the current strategy sufficient?"
Silas barked a harsh, quiet laugh. "Strategy? What strategy? Hiding isn't working. Blowing up lights won't work twice. I don't have a strategy."
"Then we must acquire one."
The statement was flat, factual.
"The hunter gathers data. We must do the same. We must learn the rules of this world so we may break them without being seen. We must understand the power we wield so we may control it instead of being controlled by it."
Silas looked up, staring into the dark corner of his room. For the first time, the voice wasn't just commenting or analyzing. It was proposing a path forward.
"You mean... learn magic? For real?"
"Affirmative. Not their magic. Our symbiosis. We must progress. We must become more than an anomaly. We must become an undeniable fact."
The cold energy in the room seemed to sharpen, focusing. It was no longer just a comfort. It felt like a whetstone.
"The observer seeks to classify us. The rival seeks to expose us. Our path is clear."
Silas felt a shiver that wasn't from fear. It was something else. Something like anticipation.
"What is our path?"
"We must become powerful enough that they cannot classify us. We must become skilled enough that they cannot expose us. We will use their own system, their own academy, as our training ground."
A slow smile touched Silas's lips. It felt strange on his face. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a determined one.
"Alright, Lurk," he whispered. "Let's learn how to break the rules."