ππππ§π π¦πππ‘π - ππππ¨π-π‘π’-π¦ππ§π’
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
Shiharu turned.
Cassian stood at a distance β still, composed, the kind of stillness that was performing itself. His attention, however, was not composed at all. Every bit of it was fixed on Yurina, tracking where she'd disappeared with an intensity that answered the question before it was even asked.
That white bird.
It belonged to him, didn't it. Was he watching us through it?
He studied him quietly β the texture of the energy that clung around him, the particular weight of it. Dark. Practiced. The kind that came from years of deliberate cultivation rather than anything inherited.
A dark magician. A mage. And he's been here long enough to see things he shouldn't have.
What are his intentions.
It wasn't a question. It was the beginning of an assessment.
Cassian's eyes settled on him β and he didn't look away.
Cassian felt it the moment their eyes met.
Not gradually. All at once.
Cold moved down the length of his spine like something had pressed a blade there. His next breath came out wrong β too shallow, catching somewhere it shouldn't. The air around him changed in quality, thickening into something that pressed against his chest from all sides.
Sweat. I'm sweating.
He was aware of it distantly, the way you become aware of your own heartbeat only when it starts behaving badly.
And then β the eyes.
Not just the two looking at him from across the space. Something else. Something beneath the surface of that gaze, vast and patient and ancient in a way that had no business existing in someone that young. It felt like standing at the edge of something that had no bottom, and realizing the edge was crumbling.
That aura.
His thoughts fractured, reassembled, fractured again.
Who β who in the world is this person? He's insane. Completely insane. He could make me come apart just from looking at me. But it's not only thatβ
He forced himself to think through it, even as every instinct he had was screaming at him to stop making eye contact.
That aura. It's the same. It has the same texture β the same dangerous, suffocating weight as Master's. But how? How is that possible? He has the wish manifestation powers, yes, but β is he somehow connected to Master? Or to Miss Hayami? Why is Master so strangely obsessed with finding him? Why does Miss Hayami go nearly feral at the mere mention of it?
He swallowed.
I'll piece it together later. Right now β I need to leave. I've already made a fake imitation of myself to hold my place within the school walls. The barriers around the campus are formidable, but not impenetrable β not for me. If Miss Hayami figures out I slipped throughβ
He didn't finish the thought. That particular outcome wasn't worth entertaining.
He pulled himself together. Smoothed his expression back into something approaching grace.
"Well then, my ladyβ"
His form dissolved, reappearing a moment later as he rose into the air above them, the shadow of his silhouette cutting cleanly against the pale morning sky.
"We shall meet again another time."
He directed it toward Yurina β polite, unhurried, the performance of someone making an exit rather than a retreat.
Hmmm.... A quiet breath escaped Shiharu's lips.
He was still watching him from exactly where he'd been standing β same angle, same stillness. And he was smiling now. Just slightly. Just enough.
It didn't reach warmth. It landed somewhere closer to a door being held open by someone who very much controlled what came through it.
Don't hold that gaze. Don't. Cassian's skin erupted in goosebumps despite the morning air. I won't last another minute here if I stay within his line of sight.
Cassian, who had navigated the courts of dark mages and survived the company of genuinely dangerous people without losing his composure, found himself thinking only one thing as he ascended further and put distance between himself and that smile β
I never knew the devil could look like that.
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
Freedom.
The word expanded inside him the moment the school grounds fell away beneath him, filling every corner of his chest until he felt like he might split at the seams with it.
Finally. Finally. FINALLY β I'm free. This is freedom. Real, actual freedom!!
He could have laughed. He nearly did.
I found him. The boy with that power β I found him. Which meansβ the satisfaction moved through him in a wave, rich and greedy and completely unashamed about it β I can go home. I can actually go home. No more dungeons. No more being treated like livestock. No moreβ
He was already mentally composing the message, already tasting the relief of it, an unknown person who had been hiding behind the shadows all this while.
A hand closed around the back of his collar.
It happened fast. Faster than he could process.
One moment he was moving. The next, something yanked him backward into shadow β cold, absolute darkness swallowing him whole β and before the sound of surprise could even finish leaving his throat, a hand found his neck.
A sharp, practiced twist.
Silence.
ββββ
"....My Lord"
A voice that spoke belonged to someone else now β a hooded figure whose face stayed buried in darkness, whose expression, had it been visible, would have shown only two things clearly: hunger and a very particular kind of malice that comes from long confinement.
"I found him. I found the boy."
The reply came from somewhere deeper in the dark β a voice with weight to it. Unhurried. The kind of voice that had never needed to raise itself to be obeyed.
"Destroy that place."
A pause that wasn't hesitation β just emphasis.
"And bring him to me."