The training hall wasn't full today.
Most students had already paired off for independent practice, the semester stretching thin as exams loomed. Evelyn stood alone in the far corner, palms resting on the rune-stone plinth in front of her.
It was supposed to measure output. Predictable, clinical, and contained.
Except nothing about Evelyn had felt contained lately.
She took a breath, summoning a thread of power.
The plinth shimmered.
She pushed a little harder.
The stone lit faintly blue, numbers beginning to flicker across its surface—until, with a sudden, high-pitched crack, the glow surged white.
Then shattered.
The plinth exploded into shards.
Gasps echoed across the hall.
Evelyn stumbled backward, barely shielding herself in time. Bits of rune-stone skittered across the floor. A thin line of smoke curled from the pedestal base.
"Miss Hawthorne."
The voice was clipped and cold. Professor Tamsin.
Evelyn straightened. "It was unstable—"
"No." The professor's eyes narrowed. "You were unstable."
A rustle of whispers swept through the nearby students.
Evelyn clenched her jaw, fists curling at her sides.
Tamsin stepped forward. "This is the third disruption you've caused in two weeks. If you cannot control your magic, you will be removed from public training."
"She didn't mean to—"
Caelan's voice rang out, but Evelyn lifted a hand, silencing him. Her pride wouldn't let her hide behind him. Not now. Not ever.
"I'm fine," she said.
The professor's eyes lingered on the scorched plinth. "You're not."
Before Evelyn could respond, a second voice broke through the tension.
"I'd like to test her myself."
The entire hall turned.
From the upper gallery, descending the staircase slowly, a figure stepped into the light.
Headmaster Lorien.
The silver-haired mage had barely been seen since Alexander's departure—but now, he moved with quiet authority, his eyes locked on Evelyn.
Tamsin looked startled. "Sir, with respect—"
"I said I'll handle it."
Evelyn's spine stiffened. The headmaster's gaze was unreadable, but behind his calm exterior, something glimmered. Curiosity. And perhaps… recognition.
But she wasn't the only one being watched.
High above the hall, hidden in the tower shadows, another pair of eyes narrowed.
Alexander stood in the observatory alcove, his arms folded, breath shallow.
He'd returned early.
And already, he could tell—
He'd made a mistake.