Chapter 174: when magic breaks

Chapter 174: When Magic Breaks

POV: Astrid Vale

I woke to the sound of Xander complaining from the living room, and I knew before I opened my door exactly which grievance he was airing.

"Another toy," he said, holding up a tiny stuffed mouse as proof. "Eleven dollars. He sniffed it once and walked away."

"He’s still learning," I said, tying my hair back.

"He’s doing it deliberately."

"He’s competing with a chair," Reed said from the kitchen, not looking up from the coffee he was pouring. "The kitten still struggles to climb onto the sofa. You’re losing to an animal that can’t reach the cushions."

Midnight, sitting beside his food bowl, gave a small meow that sounded suspiciously like agreement. I laughed so hard I had to lean on the counter, and Xander pointed at the kitten and told him he was no longer invited to anything.

We left for Moonshade together, the morning crisp and bright, and halfway across the grounds Reed slowed his pace beside me.

"Don’t push yourself today," he said. "Not past what’s reasonable."

"I can handle a difficult exercise without being wrapped in cotton wool."

"I know," he said. "I’m only asking you to be kind to yourself."

I bumped his shoulder with mine and let it go, though the care in his voice stayed with me all the way to the practice hall.

Professor Veyra gathered the mixed groups at the center of the room, where a pale, shimmering construct hovered above a ring of chalk symbols, humming faintly like a held breath. "Each group will stabilize the construct," she said. "Midway through, I will introduce a controlled disruption. Respond as a team. Your abilities must support each other, not compete."

Eliza understood the witchcraft side at once, but Marguerite, Tobin and I quickly discovered that understanding wasn’t enough. Marguerite wanted to weave the stabilizing pattern her own way. Tobin kept pressing his strength against the construct’s edge as though force alone might settle it. Eliza tried to reconcile both approaches and ended up exhausted within minutes.

I watched them pull in three directions, and something clicked. We weren’t short on power. We were short on any shared plan.

"We need one person calling the pattern," I said quietly to Eliza.

"We don’t have time to argue about who," she murmured back.

Then Professor Veyra raised her hand, and the disruption hit.

The construct lurched sideways, its glow flaring from pale silver to something harsher. It should have been manageable. Instead, Marguerite tightened her weave in a panic while Tobin shoved his strength harder against it, and Eliza scrambled to patch both mistakes at once. The construct began to swell, shuddering like a pot about to boil over.

Sapphire stirred under my thoughts, and I felt it before anyone else did, a jagged wrongness in the air, two currents grinding against each other.

"Stop!" I said. "You’re feeding it conflicting energy. Everyone stop pushing."

Marguerite flinched, Tobin froze, and I turned to Eliza. "Pull the left side toward you. I’ll steady the right."

She didn’t hesitate. We worked in tandem, my small, uncertain thread of magic easing against hers, and slowly the swelling eased. Marguerite followed Eliza’s lead, adding her weave only where it was needed, and Tobin, understanding at last, anchored the base without fighting it. The construct settled into a gentle hum.

For a moment, nobody breathed.

"You recognized the problem quickly," Professor Veyra said, walking toward us. "But this group should never have allowed it to reach that stage."

"Thank you," Tobin said, looking at me, and I managed a nod.

"You interfered before we’d agreed on a plan," Marguerite said, her voice tight.

"If I hadn’t, it would have burst," I said. "I’m not saying I handled it perfectly. But waiting would have been worse."

Professor Veyra made a note on her slate. "The incident is recorded. Your group will repeat the assessment under stricter conditions."

The groans that followed told me I wasn’t the only one dreading it, though a small, stubborn part of me felt something close to pride.

At lunch, Ivy dropped into the seat beside me, and I noticed immediately how often she glanced at her phone before sliding it back into her pocket whenever someone’s eyes drifted her way.

"Has Roshan been calling you little birdie again?" I asked.

"Nothing is happening between us."

"That wasn’t what I asked."

Eliza snorted into her drink. Ivy sighed, and then, quieter, said, "He agreed to talk to someone. About Elaris. About what happened."

I set down my fork. "That’s good."

"It’s a start," she said. She didn’t offer more, and I didn’t ask. Roshan accepting that he couldn’t carry this alone mattered more than any nickname.

After classes, my phone buzzed with a message from Professor Veyra, asking me to see her about my performance in the exercise. I assumed she wanted to discuss my intervention, but when I reached her office, she skipped any preamble.

"Describe exactly what you felt immediately before the construct destabilized."

I hesitated, then told her about the jagged sensation, the sense of two currents grinding against one another, as though the air itself had flinched.

She listened without interrupting. "Show me," she said. "Try to feel it again."

I closed my eyes and reached for the same sensation, but nothing came, only the ordinary quiet of her office and the ticking of a clock on the shelf. I tried twice more. Each time, the feeling slipped away like water through my fingers.

"It’s gone," I said.

"Don’t force it," Professor Veyra said, and for once her voice sounded almost gentle. "Keep a record of any similar experiences. When and where they occur. What preceded them."

"What does it mean?"

"I don’t know yet," she said, and I believed her.

I left her office with the afternoon light slanting across the corridor, wondering whether what I’d felt had been simple instinct, a wolf’s sharpened senses at work, or something about my magic that I didn’t understand at all.