Even with all the chaos magic had thrown into his life, nothing made Aurelian Thorne feel more on edge than showing up at the Wizards' Quarters and finding Orrin already waiting for him with his arms folded, like a disappointed parent whose child had broken three vases and lied about it.
The enormous stone arch behind Orrin flickered softly, pulsing with sapphire runes etched into the frame like veins of light. The air always smelled the same here—damp stone and a trace of old fire. Aurelian had barely crossed the threshold before Orrin’s voice reached him.
“You’re late.”
“I came right after school,” Aurelian said, slightly breathless from running. “Unless you want me to skip Calculus in exchange for magical enlightenment.”
“I’d prefer you learned both.” Orrin turned and began walking into the chamber. “Come.”
The corridors still left Aurelian a little breathless. Every wall was carved with runes or woven with charm threads that hummed when passed too closely. The high ceilings echoed sound in strange, stretched ways, and Aurelian could feel the magic here—not like electricity, but more like gravity, subtle and undeniable.
“Today,” Orrin said without ceremony, “we learn Echolink.”
“Sounds fancy,” Aurelian muttered.
“It’s the sonic discipline of Enchanters. You’ve already had hints of it—your hearing is sharpening. But what you’ve experienced so far is passive.” Orrin turned. “Now we train your focus.”
“Like tuning a radio?” Aurelian asked, eyes drifting over the runic symbols floating in the air near Orrin’s hands.
“Closer to silencing a crowd to hear one voice whispering from across a mountain.”
He gestured toward the floor. “Sit. Cross-legged. Center your breath.”
Aurelian dropped to the polished stone floor and exhaled. “You realize this always feels like I’m being taught spells inside a cathedral built by moon cultists.”
“Would you prefer we met in a mall food court?”
He smirked, then closed his eyes.
The first few seconds were just air. His heartbeat. The occasional pop from the torches that lined the perimeter.
Then Orrin’s voice, low and calm.
“Filter. Find the anomaly. Focus on what doesn’t want to be heard.”
Aurelian adjusted his breathing.
A soft rustle—leather against cloth. Far. High.
Then the scrape of something heavy moving across stone.
Then... footsteps. Not nearby, but overhead. Light ones. Quick.
He pushed deeper.
A whisper. Foreign words. A spell being muttered. Followed by the wet snap of pages flipping.
When he opened his eyes, the room looked the same, but everything in it felt clearer.
“You tapped in,” Orrin said, nodding once. “You’re progressing faster than expected.”
“Is that... good? Or dangerous?”
“Both.”
There was a pause.
Then Aurelian looked down. “Orrin... I had this dream.”
The magister tilted his head.
Aurelian hesitated, then said, “Me and Elira. Just walking. And then... I heard footsteps. In the dream. Not ours. Heavy. Off-rhythm. But loud. Clear. Like they were real.”
Orrin watched him carefully. “Did they speak?”
“No.”
He crossed his arms. “Then maybe it wasn’t a dream.”
Aurelian blinked. “You’re saying it could be something I actually heard?”
“You’re bonded to the Gem of Caedric. That artifact doesn’t just grant strength. It pulls things closer—awareness, resonance, echoes that stretch beyond normal barriers. What’s waking in you isn’t always gentle.”
Aurelian shivered. “So... am I going to start hearing ghosts?”
“Not ghosts. But possibly... watchers.”
Orrin stepped closer. “You’re not telling me everything.”
Aurelian looked away. “I just... I’ve been feeling like things are going too fast. Between school, magic, Elira, random dream-stalker energy—I haven’t had time to breathe.”
“You’ve had time to lie convincingly,” Orrin said, though without malice.
Then he placed a hand on Aurelian’s shoulder.
“When your soul holds the attention of fate, the world doesn’t wait.”
---
That evening, Aurelian stood beneath a silver-bent lamppost just outside the Vane residence. The streets here were older, quieter, lined with old-growth oaks and hedges trimmed like they belonged in some fairytale garden.
He adjusted his coat and brushed a thumb against the collar for the fifth time when the door opened.
Elira stepped out.
She wore a longer coat than earlier—a soft grey belted at the waist, her scarf a deep maroon that made the green of her eyes glow under the streetlight.
“You’re early,” she said as she approached.
“I panicked. Thought being late again would result in a public execution.”
“You’re not wrong.”
He offered his arm. She took it.
They walked slowly, heels tapping gently against the stone path, city sounds humming behind them.
“You know,” Elira said after a few minutes, “you’re weirdly quiet today.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Deadly.”
They walked in rhythm past bakeries closing for the night, past flickering café lights and curved iron fences.
“So,” Elira continued, “the new girl.”
Aurelian groaned softly. “Really?”
“Celine, right?”
“Yeah.”
“She mentioned you saved her life.”
“I did.”
“She also mentioned she transferred schools just a day later.”
He looked at her. “Coincidence.”
“She stares at you like you’re the only reason Veldenmoor’s still standing.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Liar.”
They both laughed.
It felt easy. Safe.
Until—
Tap.
Aurelian stopped walking.
His eyes flicked left.
Tap. Tap.
Slow. Measured. From behind. Two blocks back.
Elira noticed the shift in his posture. “What?”
He looked back.
The street was empty.
“Do you hear that?”
She listened. “No.”
He tilted his head.
Tap.
Someone was walking—but too far for normal ears to catch. Their gait was wrong. Intentional. Focused.
Aurelian forced a smile. “Thought I heard something.”
She didn’t press.
They kept walking.
But the sound didn’t stop.
It stayed behind them. Always the same distance. Always just out of sight.
---
The restaurant was called The Ivy Root. Stone walls wrapped in real vines, candles in carved sconces, and menus written on parchment instead of paper.
They were seated in a private booth, tucked beside a bookshelf filled with books no one read.
By the time dessert arrived, Aurelian was finally smiling again. His shoulders had relaxed. Elira was laughing at one of his failed detention stories, and for a moment, the world felt suspended.
Then—
She leaned forward.
“Aurelian?”
“Yeah?”
“Earlier,” she said slowly. “When you asked if I could hear footsteps?”
His fork paused halfway to his mouth.
“I said no.”
He nodded.
“But five minutes later, I did.”
He blinked.
“I started hearing them. Exactly how you described. Steady. Heavy. Wrong.”
She stared at him. “I thought I imagined it. I almost asked, but it s
eemed... crazy.”
Aurelian’s fingers curled.
“Elira. That wasn’t a dream. I think something’s following us.”
---
To be continued in Chapter Seven: The Watcher in the Silence
---
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