The first sign was the cracking glass.
Elias hadn't moved. He was sitting in his dorm room, staring at his own hands as the veins beneath his skin shimmered faintly with pulsing silver.
His mirror spiderwebbed on its own.
Then the ink in his books began to ripple.
The magic in him was awake—and furious.
---
Across the Academy, Kael felt it before he heard it. His sigil ring—meant to detect dark magic—burned ice-cold against his finger.
He was halfway to Elias's quarters before the alarm glyphs lit the hallways in crimson. Emergency spell wards shimmered over the doors.
Too late.
He turned the corner and saw it—a violent shimmer of warped space around Elias's room. Books were flying, furniture burned with no flame, and light was folding in on itself like fabric.
And in the center of it all—Elias, floating two feet off the ground, eyes glowing silver, hands curled into fists he didn't know he was clenching.
---
Japer was already there, throwing up barrier spells that shattered as quickly as he cast them.
"He's not listening!" Japer shouted as Kael skidded beside him.
"He's not here!" Kael snapped. "Something's hijacked him—like the relic unlocked a second core."
"Or a curse," Japer muttered. "Or worse—an inheritance spell."
Kael didn't waste time. He stepped past the wards, ignoring the static bite of broken magic against his skin.
"Elias!"
No response.
Just a low, ragged voice—barely recognizable as Elias's—repeating a word:
"Undo. Undo. Undo."
Kael flinched. The room was unraveling.
Walls cracked, reality flickered, and Kael's boots began to hover off the floor.
"Elias, it's me," he said, quieter now. "You're still here. You have to ground it."
A flicker.
Elias's gaze snapped toward him, not focused—but not empty either.
Kael stepped closer. "You're not a weapon. You're not a mistake. You're Spellwoven. That means something."
Elias's breath hitched.
Then the world collapsed inward.
---
Kael awoke on the floor.
The dorm room was in ruins—frozen mid-disaster, as if the explosion had stopped at the edge of a breath.
Elias lay sprawled near the shattered window, magic flickering like dying embers around his body. Not unconscious. Not fully awake either.
Japer appeared, bleeding from the temple, but still standing.
Kael turned to him, chest tight. "Did we stop it?"
"No," Japer said quietly, "he did."
---
Later, Professor Elan stood in the war council room, looking over a charred wall map and muttering runes under her breath.
"This changes everything," she said.
Japer leaned on the edge of the table, face pale. "He's a locus. A magical core that draws from older lines. He didn't just inherit magic—he is the spell."
"And if others find out," Kael said, voice low, "they'll come for him."
Elan's gaze met his. "Then we seal the truth. For now."
Kael nodded, but inside, something writhed.
He had seen the way Elias looked when he lost control. Not terrified. Not broken.
Just—raw. Like the magic had always been waiting for a reason.
And Kael was no longer sure Elias could choose not to be dangerous.
---
Elias woke later, bandaged, shaking, and quiet.
"I didn't mean to—" he whispered, voice hoarse.
"We know," Kael said.
"You should stay away from me."
"I tried that," Kael replied. "Didn't work."
And then, Japer—leaning in the doorway, arms crossed—added softly, "We're already tangled, remember?"
Elias closed his eyes.
And somewhere deep within him, the spell shimmered again.
Not done.
Not yet.