senseless threat

Omir

To say I was nervous about today would be an understatement.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty in sending that message. They were probably wondering how I’d even managed it. It was something Principal Blackash’s message had shown me. His message the day before had taken the form of a phoenix made of flame and light, burning through the sky like it owned the wind. Mine… was different.

Forged from earth, not fire. Instead of sparks, I used stone dust, compressed into form with layered runework and intent. I shaped it into something light enough to carry my voice. It didn’t shimmer. It pulsed. It didn’t burn. It hummed. A grounded thing, carrying a grounded message.

I hadn’t seen them at dinner last night. And the ache that settled in my chest after that… it was louder than I expected. Maybe that’s what pushed me to act. That, and Liam loudly telling me over lunch that they both looked like “kicked puppies”, his words, not mine.

Still, it wasn’t just guilt that made me send it. Talking to Principal Blackash the day before had stripped something heavy from me. Not my fear, never that. But maybe just enough of the weight to let in a flicker of something dangerous.

Hope. I know I have no right to hope. That bond… it should have gone to someone better. Someone worthy. I can’t give them anything but silence and danger. But my wretched heart keeps reaching anyway.

Maybe they’ll be curious. Maybe they’ll entertain it for a while. But people like them don’t keep people like me.

I know what you’re doing, Lynx said softly in my mind. You think if you say it enough, you’ll start to believe it.

We can’t hope for things, I snapped back. You know how this ends. We have too much to hide. There’s too much at stake. I know you want to trust them. I do too. But we can’t afford to need them.

There was a pause.

I just wish we were different, Lynx said, voice even quieter. Maybe if I weren’t here, you wouldn’t–

Shut up, I cut him off. No negative self-talk, remember? You say that to me all the time. You’re part of me, Lynx. I wouldn’t have survived this long without you. You know that.

He went silent, but not in a hurt way. Just… thoughtful.

Then, unexpectedly, I don’t understand why Terra would give us this bond if we’re never meant to be with them. Why would she be that cruel?

It stopped me cold. Familiars rarely speak against Terra. They’re her gifts, her essence made whole. For Lynx to question her… it rattled me.

You are my human, Omir, he whispered.

I swallowed hard, then stepped outside into the hallway. I wasn’t late. I had just skipped breakfast.

Somewhere deep down, I’d wanted to avoid seeing Ethan or Aria again. Facing them in the light of day felt like too much.

The classroom for Magical Creatures and Familiar Evolution was tucked into the south wing of the Academy at the Academia Arcanum. I paused at the door, hand resting against the warm stone. The rune etched into its surface glowed faintly, testing magical pressure and identity. The moment it recognized my signature, the door unsealed and slid open.

Inside, the room was full. And by full, I mean full of nobility.

Crests of royal and noble houses were stamped on every coat. Wide arched windows looked out over the port, and carved seats were arranged in a hexagon descending like an arena around a central rune-etched platform.

I took a seat near the back where the shadows were just soft enough to disappear into. No one paid me much attention, exactly how I preferred it.

At precisely the 10th hour, a woman entered, She was maybe in her thirties. The doors swung shut with a gentle pulse of magic, sealing out the corridor noise. A few whispered conversations died down.

"Welcome to Magical Creatures and Familiar Evolution," the woman said her voice calm but commanding. "For those of you who care about such things, I am Professor Myra Lozano of House Lozano, bonded to a hawk named Soreya who will be watching you just as closely as I do.” There was a flutter of wings, and the large hawk perched above the blackboard gave a slow, assessing blink.

"My goal is not to entertain you. It is to teach you the oldest and most sacred connection we have, and that is our bond with our familiars. Respect it, or you will not last long here."

Then she turned to the board.

Professor Myra stood at the front, tall and precise, her black and golden robes edged in copper runes that shimmered faintly. She gestured with a wand of petrified wood, tapping it against a rune-inscribed slate.

“Familiars are gifts from Terra, they are sacred companions tied to the very essence of our souls. Each of you is born with a bond, and while some discover theirs early, others must wait until the moment aligns with purpose.”

She paused as a few familiars stirred at the mention of their kind. I caught a glimpse of a snow owl shifting on a perch near the front, a serpent coiled around a desk leg, and something that looked suspiciously like a squirrel curled up on a girl’s lap.

“They are not pets,” Myra continued. “They are not tools. Familiars are echoes of the goddess Terra herself, shaped into the natural world. They are born with us, grow with us, and die with us. Through them, Terra breathes magic into our bones.”

She paced slowly, letting the silence fill the room.

“Centuries ago,” she went on, “Familiars were different. Mythical. Phoenixes, Griffins, Water dragons, and even true dragons. But over time, as humans grew more distant from the goddess… those sacred bonds began to fade. Few believe they ever existed at all. But some of us still remember.”

I flinched at that. Lynx rumbled low in my mind, unsettled.

A whisper of agreement brushed against my thoughts. A warmth, even.

And then, cold.

From across the room, I felt it before I saw it. A pointed gaze, narrowed and judgmental.

I scanned the students clustered around each other. Nobles. Royals. Heirs. And then I saw the boy. Dark hair swept back, shoulders sharp, black robes marked with the crest of House Ozius.

He didn’t look away when I met his eyes. He didn’t bother to hide the contempt carved across his face.

He’s staring at us.
I know, I replied.

I didn’t recognize him, yet he already seemed to have a full opinion of me. An unfavorable one. I looked away first. I stared down at my notes, even though I wasn’t writing. Let them think what they want.

They didn’t know me. They didn’t know anything.

She began pacing the front row slowly. “Your magic is not yours alone, it is shared. Amplified. Guided.”

As she passed a group of desks, her eyes snapped toward two girls whispering behind their hands. One wore the badge of House Lozano, the other bore the badge of House Amos. On their desks, a twitchy squirrel was curled in one’s lap, and a regal snow owl blinked slowly beside the other.

“You two. Olivia Lozano and Hazel Amos,” Myra said coolly. “Do you both have something interesting to share with the class?”

She paused.

Both girls stiffened. The squirrel in Olivia’s lap dove under the desk. The owl beside Hazel tilted its head, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“If not, I suggest you both shut up,” she continued, voice perfectly calm. “Not only are you representing your houses, but you are currently distracting others and creatures far more attentive than you. Do not test Soreya’s patience… or mine.”

The hawk above them gave a low screech, a sharp punctuation to the warning. The class went utterly silent.

She’s intense. I kind of like her, Lynx murmured.
Remind me to never whisper in here, I replied.
You? Whisper? You barely talk to anyone. I think we’re safe.

Professor Myra resumed the lecture with barely a pause.

“There is a misconception among lesser-educated magical circles that a familiar is just a magical creature tethered to a mage. That is false. The familiar amplifies magical ability not through sheer presence but through attunement. The closer your bond, the more refined your spellwork. The more aligned your goals, the more instinctively you channel your gifts.”

A rune-glow diagram flared to life behind her, arcs of magical energy flowing between silhouettes of a mage and their familiar, highlighting how elemental flow strengthened with harmony.

“Familiars are not your assistants. They are your mirrors, your conscience.”

She let the silence stretch again.

“Treat them with the reverence they deserve.”

The lecture was dense, focused, and fascinating. I sat quietly, absorbing every word. Across the room, I again felt that gaze on him. The boy from earlier. The one with the House Ozius sigil. He hadn’t softened. If anything, his contempt had sharpened.

I didn’t meet his eyes. I stared at the rune diagram on the board, even when it blurred.

Breathe, Lynx reminded gently. He doesn't know you.

No, I thought. But he thinks he does.

When the hourglass emptied and the final rune on the board dimmed, the bell chimed low and long, signaling the end of class and the beginning of twelfth hour, which was lunch.

Professor Myra raised a hand.

“Dismissed. If I see any of you attempting to summon your familiars for theatrics in the dining hall, we will have a talk. Consider this your first and only warning.”

I stood slowly, gathered my notes and slung my bag over my shoulder, and slipped out before the crowd could surge.

Well, that was dramatic.
Better than expected, I thought.
We have lunch now, Lynx added gleefully.
Unfortunately.