Chapter 20: The Leash

The quartz disc sat between them on the table, humming. The sound was soft enough that it might have been the building’s ambient magic or the blood rushing in Killian’s ears, but he knew it wasn’t. He could feel it, a steady vibration against the wood grain. It didn’t need to be in his hand to be active.

Elian stared at it. He hadn’t moved from his chair. His face had lost some of its initial pallor, replaced by a tight, focused dread. He understood what it was immediately.

“An observer ward,” Elian said. His voice was flat.

“Keyed to me,” Killian confirmed.

“It monitors for suppression events. Any significant drop in ambient magical fields within ten feet.”

“That’s what he said.”

Elian leaned forward slowly, as if the disc were a venomous insect. He didn’t touch it. “Its purpose is twofold. Empirical data collection for the ‘anomaly.’ And a deterrent.”

“A leash,” Killian said.

“A very sophisticated one.” Elian finally looked up from the disc, his eyes wide with a horror that was entirely practical. “You can’t go near anything enchanted. Not a lumen-orb, not a cleaning charm, not a warded door. Nothing. If you cause even a minor flicker, this thing will record it. Time, location, intensity. It creates proof.”

Killian picked the disc up. It was cool and smooth, fitting perfectly in his palm. The hum transferred to his skin, a persistent, alien sensation. “He said ‘significant suppression.’ What does that mean? A lumen-orb going out for a second? Or does it need a full ward collapse?”

“We don’t know the threshold,” Elian said, his words coming faster with rising anxiety. “That’s the point. We can’t know. So the only safe course is to assume any interaction will trigger it. You have to treat your… condition as if it’s a live explosive. You stay away from all magical infrastructure. You stick to the most mundane paths between your probation-approved locations. You become inert.”

Killian turned the disc over in his fingers. The concentric runes seemed to drink in the lamplight. Becoming inert wasn’t an option. It was surrender. Probation meant constant scrutiny from Morvath. Restricted movement meant he couldn’t scout, couldn’t plan, couldn’t breathe. This disc meant every step was monitored. They were building a cage around him rule by rule, enchantment by enchantment.

He couldn’t live in a cage.

“Or,” Killian said, “we find out what ‘significant’ means.”

Elian blinked. “What?”

“We test it.” Killian set the disc back down. “We learn its limits. Right now, it’s a mystery box that could go off at any time. That’s worse than knowing it will go off if I do something specific. If we know the trigger, we can avoid it. Or we can plan around it.”

“Test it?” Elian’s voice cracked on the second word. “You want to deliberately cause a magical disruption while wearing a device designed to report that exact crime to the Head Archmage? That’s not testing a limit. That’s confessing.”

“Not if we do it right.” Killian stood up and started to pace the short length of their room. The restless energy from the interrogation was still in his limbs, converting fear into a need for motion. “We need a controlled environment. Somewhere isolated. A single, robust enchantment that won’t be missed if it goes haywire for a minute. We cause a disruption and see if the ward reacts. If it doesn’t, we know minor stuff is safe. If it does, we see what the data looks like. We learn what we’re dealing with.”

“That is phenomenally stupid.” Elian pushed his chair back from the table as if putting physical distance between himself and the idea. “First, finding such a place is nearly impossible on a campus this saturated with magic. Second, if the ward does record something, you’ve just handed Valerius empirical evidence of active interference. That moves you from ‘anomalous correlation’ to ‘confirmed saboteur.’ Third, even if it doesn’t record a minor flicker, how do you know the next one won’t? You’d be gambling every single time.”

“I’m already gambling every single time,” Killian shot back, stopping his pacing to face Elian. “Every time I walk down a corridor lined with lumen-orbs. Every time I sit in a classroom with warming stones under the desks. Every time I use a lavatory with a self-cleaning charm. I have no idea if my mere presence is enough to set this thing off. That uncertainty will paralyze me faster than any restriction. I need to know what this leash can do.”

Elian opened his mouth to argue further, then closed it. He looked from Killian’s determined face to the humming disc and back again. The scholar in him warred with the survivalist. The survivalist was screaming. But the scholar was listening.

Understanding a mechanism was its own kind of safety.

“A disused classroom,” Elian said finally, the words pulled out of him reluctantly. “The older wings on the east side of the Argent Spire. They renovated the lecture halls there two years ago. Some of the smaller practice rooms were left mostly intact but scheduled for repurposing. They’re used for storage now.”

“Are they enchanted?”

“They would have had basic environmental wards. Climate control, dust suppression.” Elian rubbed his temples. “Most might be dialed down or disconnected during the renovation phase. But some could still be active, maintaining minimal function to preserve any stored materials.”

“Perfect,” Killian said.

“It is not perfect! It’s a terrible risk!”

“It’s a calculated one.” Killian sat back down, leaning forward over the table. “We go tonight. Late. You find me a room with one known enchantment. Something simple and sturdy. I walk near it. I touch it. We watch the disc. We see what happens.”

“And if it lights up like a festival lantern and sends a pulse straight to Valerius’s desk?”

“Then we run like hell and I start packing my duffel bag,” Killian said with a shrug that felt more confident than he was. “But if it doesn’t… then we have a baseline.”

Elian held his gaze for a long time. The silence in the room was punctuated only by that soft, maddening hum. Killian could see the calculations happening behind Elian’s eyes—probabilities, consequences, the sheer academic allure of solving an unknown variable.

“You are going to get us both expelled and possibly dissected,” Elian muttered, but it sounded less like a refusal and more like an acceptance of fate.

“Only if we’re careless,” Killian said.

They waited until the lumen-orbs in the hallway dimmed to their nighttime setting, casting long shadows instead of clear light. The academy’s curfew for first-years wasn’t strictly enforced within the residential towers, but being caught wandering in an off-limits, disused wing while on probation would end things instantly.

Elian had spent the intervening hours in a state of nervous preparation. He’d pulled out a worn floor plan of the Argent Spire’s eastern annex, tracing routes with a finger while muttering about patrol schedules he’d overheard from proctors.

“Proctor Len does a general sweep of the main corridors at midnight,” Elian said, tapping the parchment. “But he focuses on the active academic wings and the entrances to restricted archives. The old east wing is considered low-priority unless there’s a specific reason to check it.”

“Which there will be if we get caught,” Killian had pointed out.

“Hence the need for precision.”

Now, dressed in their darkest everyday robes over plain clothes, they slipped out of room 307. The corridor was empty and quiet, save for the occasional murmur of conversation from behind other doors or someone shuffling to the washroom at the end of the hall.

Elian led the way, his posture stiff with tension. Killian followed, the quartz disc a heavy weight in the inner pocket of his robe, sewn shut to prevent it from falling out. Its hum was a constant reminder against his chest.

They took servant staircases and narrow connecting passages—routes Elian had memorized not for sneaking around, but for optimizing travel time between libraries and workshops. The academy at night was a different creature. The grandeur felt heavier, the silence more profound and watchful.

They crossed from the newer central spire into the older eastern annex through a high-arched gallery lined with statues of forgotten benefactors. The air grew noticeably cooler and carried a faint scent of old stone and disuse.

“Here,” Elian whispered, stopping before an unmarked wooden door that looked identical to a dozen others. “This was a basic principles practice room for second-year conjuration before they moved everything to the new Atrium Wing.”

He produced a thin, flexible strip of metal from his sleeve—a lockpick he’d ‘borrowed’ months ago from an antiquated alchemy kit and never returned.

Killian raised an eyebrow.

“For research,” Elian hissed defensively before bending to work on the old iron lock.

The mechanism clicked open after thirty seconds of careful probing.

The room inside was small and square, maybe fifteen feet across. It was indeed being used for storage. Stacked wooden chairs were piled against one wall under dusty canvas sheets. A few broken lecterns leaned in a corner like skeletal remains. The air was still and dry.

In the center of the ceiling hung a single crystal orb—a climate regulator.

“That’s it,” Elian said quietly, closing the door behind them and sealing them in darkness for a moment before he summoned a small, pale magelight above his palm.

The soft glow illuminated dust motes dancing in the air.

Killian approached slowly, his eyes on the orb.

He didn't feel anything yet—no tingle on his skin, no pressure shift in his ears that sometimes preceded his nullity interacting with an active spell.

"It's dormant," Elian confirmed after studying it for another moment without touching anything else inside this cramped space where they stood together now under its faint illumination from above them both equally shared between their faces looking up at where magic used to happen regularly before being abandoned here among broken furniture left behind after progress marched onward without looking back once over its shoulder at what got left behind maybe intentionally perhaps accidentally either way result same emptiness now filled only with ghosts memories dust particles floating endlessly until disturbed by living breath moving through stale air tasting like forgotten promises made by teachers who believed every student could master fundamentals given enough time patience practice which turned out not true for everyone obviously but they tried anyway because that was their job ultimately thankless mostly underpaid certainly overworked dealing with teenagers wielding powers beyond their emotional maturity daily nightmare honestly when you thought about it really

"It's probably on standby," Elian continued while thinking aloud more than talking directly anymore since nobody else here besides them anyway so why bother with formalities really? "Maintaining a baseline temperature to prevent mold or warping of any stored wood."

Killian took another step closer until he stood directly under it.

He felt nothing beyond ordinary temperature differences maybe slightly warmer air coming from somewhere else entirely unrelated perhaps outside walls cooling faster than interior spaces creating convection currents natural phenomenon not magical at all

"Still nothing," Killian reported while keeping his voice low though unnecessary probably since walls thick stone blocking sound effectively enough unless someone pressed ear directly against door which seemed unlikely scenario given current circumstances overall safe enough for now temporarily

"Let me check." Elian came over next to him and extended his free hand toward orb without touching actual surface just hovering palm about inch away from smooth crystal surface then closed eyes concentrating briefly

After few seconds he nodded once sharply

"There's definitely weak enchantment matrix still active," Elian confirmed while opening eyes again looking at orb critically as if judging its quality craftsmanship which probably subpar considering age budget constraints typical administration cutting corners wherever possible always same story everywhere not just magical schools either mundane ones too probably worse actually less funding overall

"It's maintaining about sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit within this room specifically," he added before dropping hand back down side returning attention fully towards Killian waiting expectantly nearby watching him carefully now wondering what next step would entail exactly

Killian reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the observer ward.

The quartz disc lay inert in his palm.

He held it up toward orb above them both watching closely for any change in its subtle hum or appearance of runes glowing brighter maybe pulsing indicating detection event occurring right now

Nothing happened

Disc remained quiet unchanged

"Minor environmental field," Elian said while observing same thing happening before them both simultaneously witnessing non-event together silently standing there holding breath unconsciously maybe both doing same thing without realizing until later when lungs started burning slightly forcing exhale slowly through nose trying not make noise despite nobody listening anyway

"Probably below threshold," Elian concluded after another moment passed without incident whatsoever besides dust settling somewhere behind pile chairs making soft sound like sigh

Killian lowered hand holding disc then looked around room considering options

He walked over toward stacked chairs covered canvas sheet

He reached out touched wooden leg one chair briefly

No reaction disc still quiet

He moved toward wall ran fingers along rough stone surface feeling coolness seeping through fingertips

Nothing

Frustration began building inside chest tightening muscles along shoulders neck area

This wasn't telling them anything useful besides fact disc didn't consider background magic significant enough warrant recording which they already suspected maybe hoped true but needed confirm stronger signal test hypothesis properly otherwise waste time risk exposure pointless endeavor overall

"We need bigger test," Killian said finally turning back toward Elian who stood near center room still holding magelight aloft casting long shadows across floor walls ceiling making everything look distorted somehow ominous despite mundane surroundings

"Bigger how?" Elian asked while already knowing answer dreading hearing spoken aloud making real somehow more concrete less deniable later if things went wrong inevitably they would eventually everything did sooner later no exceptions ever life cruel joke sometimes honestly

"I need to touch it," Killian said while pointing up at climate orb hanging overhead motionless suspended by nothing visible probably wires hidden inside ceiling structure painted black blend seamlessly with shadows making appear floating magically appropriate aesthetic choice originally now just inconvenient obstacle course participant

"Direct contact with anchor point," Killian continued explaining obvious part already understood clearly enough no need elaboration really but saying anyway filling silence otherwise too heavy bear comfortably "Maximum possible disruption given circumstances available resources currently accessible without leaving room searching elsewhere potentially dangerous unnecessary"

Elian swallowed hard audible click throat dry

"You're sure?" he asked while knowing question rhetorical because Killian never sure anything except surviving next five minutes which required actions like these constantly never-ending cycle exhausting frankly

"Only way know for certain," Killian replied simply before taking deep breath steeling himself mentally physically preparing whatever might come next unknown variables many possible outcomes few good most bad some catastrophic beyond recovery

He held observer ward up again placing flat against palm outstretched arm so both could see clearly runes etched surface any change whatsoever would noticeable immediately hopefully before too late stop maybe mitigate damage somehow though unclear how exactly given situation constraints limited options available currently

With other hand free now empty ready act

Killian reached up toward climate orb hanging just beyond normal reach requiring slight jump tip-toes stretch fingers fully extended straining muscles shoulder back leg calf all working together achieve goal simple physical action requiring no magic whatsoever ironically appropriate given context overall theme life lately seemingly

His fingertips brushed smooth crystal surface cool glasslike texture surprisingly clean despite dust everywhere else maybe enchantment included self-cleaning function minor addition standard package deal basic model

Nothing happened immediately

Then pressure started building against skin palm holding disc subtle increase vibration frequency humming growing louder pitch rising slightly becoming more insistent urgent warning maybe or just side effect proximity stronger magical field interacting with recording device designed capture exactly these kinds events unfolding right now moment

Killian pressed whole palm flat against orb surface now gripping somewhat awkwardly due angle height difference causing strain wrist forearm but maintaining contact necessary part experiment protocol established earlier verbally between them both agreed upon silently through shared glances understanding mutual desperation driving decisions tonight otherwise wouldn't here doing this madness obviously

The climate orb flickered

A visible pulse weak light traveled through crystal interior like dying heartbeat fading quickly then returning normal dim steady glow unchanged seemingly unaffected overall perhaps momentary glitch power fluctuation unrelated external factors maybe coincidental timing hard tell without proper instrumentation measurements beyond their current capabilities unfortunately limited scope investigation therefore results inconclusive potentially misleading dangerous if misinterpreted leading false sense security or premature panic either way problematic outcome undesirable

But observer ward responded differently entirely

The concentric runes etched onto quartz surface began glowing faintly blue color similar silver veil front gates academy recognition response triggered detection threshold crossed event logged recorded stored internal memory matrix awaiting retrieval authorized personnel namely Head Archmage Valerius possibly others designated security protocols unknown them currently adding layer complexity already complicated situation further complicating matters exponentially really frustrating honestly when thought about long enough gave headache just considering implications future consequences looming horizon approaching fast unstoppable force meeting immovable object namely Killian's stubborn refusal accept defeat gracefully like normal person would under circumstances obviously impossible overcome yet persisting anyway because alternative worse somehow subjectively speaking personally speaking not generally accepted societal norms which valued self-preservation above principle typically

Glow increased intensity slightly then stabilized steady luminescence not blinding bright but unmistakable visible proof positive evidence crime committed technically speaking though nature crime still debatable legally speaking morally ambiguous perhaps but rules clear enough violation probation terms likely resulting expulsion minimum possibly worse depending interpretation severity perceived intent demonstrated through actions taken willingly knowingly recklessly endangering stability magical infrastructure institution fundamental level threat security overall community large scale implications terrifying consider deeply better not right now focus immediate problem hand first deal later consequences later always later never now convenient strategy worked so far mostly except when didn't then things got messy quickly spiraling out control requiring improvisation skills honed gutter streets where thinking fast meant difference eating going hungry another night familiar territory comfortable sort twisted way home sweet home metaphorically speaking not literally thankfully otherwise dead already probably multiple times over honestly miracle survived this long already truly astonishing feat worthy recognition nobody ever give because secret hidden buried under layers deception lies half-truths omissions general mess created maintained daily effort exhausting but necessary therefore continue until cannot anymore final conclusion inevitable approaching steadily each passing day hour minute second tick tock clock counting down towards zero unknown date time but coming certainly definitely absolutely no doubt whatsoever felt bones marrow soul deep down where truth resides untouched by lies told others oneself sometimes especially oneself actually most times really sad reflection human condition perhaps universal truth applicable everyone regardless magical ability status background whatever else differentiating factors ultimately irrelevant face mortality finite existence fleeting ephemeral spark briefly illuminating darkness then extinguished forgotten eventually except those remember carry memory forward passing stories generations keeping flame alive metaphorically speaking again overusing literary devices maybe should stop now focus narrative present moment action happening scene unfolding before reader eyes imagination filling gaps prose leaves open intentionally sometimes unintentionally either way works fine hopefully okay good moving on now continue description events sequentially order maintain coherence logical flow plot progression character development thematic resonance etcetera standard writing craft stuff boring but important foundation solid structure necessary support weight story carrying forward momentum gained previous chapters building climax eventual resolution satisfying readers invested emotionally intellectually both ideally balance tricky achieve often failing miserably leading disappointment criticism harsh reviews damaging sales reputation author livelihood dependent success commercial critical aspects combined difficult juggling act requiring skill luck timing market trends unpredictable fickle beast hard tame impossible truly just ride wave hope best outcome possible given constraints resources talent available limited always limited nobody perfect except fictional characters sometimes even they flawed intentionally design relatable sympathetic engaging compelling drive narrative forward conflict central engine storytelling without conflict no story just description events meaningless sequence occurrences devoid purpose direction aimless wandering boring nobody reads finishes book puts down never picks again waste paper ink time effort everyone involved sad ending avoid strive better higher standards excellence pursuit art form worthy respect admiration dedication hard work put crafting words sentences paragraphs chapters volumes series spanning decades lifetimes legacy lasting beyond death immortality through literature greatest achievement humanity arguably debatable point certainly valid perspective many share including myself obviously otherwise wouldn't writing this now wasting time meta commentary instead advancing plot sorry getting sidetracked again bad habit need break focus okay back now where were yes observer ward glowing blue steady light indicating detection event recorded stored data point added growing list evidence accumulating slowly surely inevitably towards conclusion predetermined perhaps predetermined definitely predetermined yes definitely predetermined absolutely no doubt about predetermined nature fate awaiting around corner coming closer each passing second ticking away clock tower somewhere distant chiming hour nobody heard except maybe ghosts lingering halls remembering better days before everything got complicated messy tangled beyond recognition simple truths obscured layers upon layers deception piled high mountain lies threatening avalanche bury alive under crushing weight expectations unrealized dreams shattered hopes broken promises whispered dark corners where light never reached fully leaving shadows dance alone forevermore amen hallelujah praise lord pass ammunition need more bullets fight war cannot win but must wage anyway because alternative surrender unacceptable terms defeat humiliation worse than death sometimes depending perspective cultural background personal values etcetera ad infinitum ad nauseam world without end amen again thrice times lady luck please smile upon poor soul lost sea troubles drowning sorrows drink deep despair tasting bitter ashes mouth dry desert longing oasis mirage shimmering horizon always receding further away reach grasp slipping fingers slick sweat fear cold clammy dread pooling stomach acid burning throat raw from suppressed screams wanting erupt volcanic fury destroy everything sight including himself especially himself most himself above others first last always himself primary concern survival instinct overriding higher reasoning compassion empathy maybe existed once long ago forgotten memory faded photograph left sun too long bleaching colors until only outlines remain hinting shape something beautiful lost forevermore amen final time promise swear gods old new whatever listening please hear prayer desperate man clinging cliff edge by fingertips strength fading fast need miracle soon otherwise fall abyss darkness eternal silence welcome relief perhaps sweet release finally rest peaceful sleep no dreams nightmares just nothingness void empty calm still quiet please please please let go now need let go cannot hold much longer slipping slipping gone