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A flicker of something glowed at my fingertips.

For half a second, I thought I had it. Then it sputtered out, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake.

18

Marigold

“Time for spells?”I asked Dr. Reyes, still stinging from my failure to create an orb yesterday.

“Before we attempt any spells,” Dr. Reyes said, “you need to learn how magic actually feels. Close your eyes.”

I hesitated, remembering Elio’s illusion trick last week. “I’d rather keep them open, if that’s okay.”

Understanding flickered across her face. It was amazing how the staff seemed to know about the heirs’ games, but they never stopped them.

“Of course,” she said. “Just focus on your breathing then. Magic moves in currents—some fast and sharp like wind, others steady and strong like stone. You feel it instinctively. Now, we need to help you understand what you’re sensing.”

The energy in the room thrummed like an unseen tide, shifting and pulsing around us. Some currents were smooth and easy, like air lifting a bird’s wings. Others felt dense and unmoving, as if pressing against stone. Scout chittered softly from his perch on my shoulder, reacting to the unseen forces.

“Good.” Dr. Reyes moved around the room, her hands tracing invisible lines in the air. “Most young witches learn to sense magical flows over years of training. But you’re already picking up on them instinctively. That’s part of your necromancy—your ability to perceive what lingers beyond the surface.”

She picked up a book from the stack she’d brought. “Here—what do you feel?”

I stretched my awareness toward the book. “It’s… dense. Solid. Like packed earth or stone warmed by the sun.”

“That’s Professor Rivera’s magic,” she confirmed. “His evocation specializes in earth reinforcement, making spells more durable. Combat witches like him leave strong imprints.”

She lifted another book. “And this one?”

I hesitated. “Lighter. Fast-moving, but with structure. Like… weaving threads in the air.”

“Professor Cribley’s magic,” she said. “Every witch’s magic carries their unique signature. The longer they use magic around the item or in the space, the more their signature accumulates.” She smiled at my surprised look. “Think of it like fingerprints. No two are exactly alike.”

But something else caught my attention—a current that felt different from the others. Wrong somehow. The dead things in the walls grew restless, pulling away from it.

“Some of them feel… strange,” I said carefully, watching her reaction. “Not like Rivera’s or Cribley’s magic. More like…” I remembered how the wellspring’s energy had felt that night—pure and clean—compared to this sticky wrongness.

Dr. Reyes’s expression sharpened with interest. “Strange how?”

“Like oil on water. The dead things don’t like it. They avoid those areas.”

“Interesting.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Most students can’t distinguish between different types of magical flows this early. Your father had a similar sensitivity, though.”

My heart jumped at the casual mention of him. But before I could ask, she continued.

“Try reaching for one of the clean currents,” she instructed. “Don’t try to use it yet—just feel how it moves. Notice how natural magic forms patterns.”

I extended my awareness like she had shown me. The pure magic felt like sun-warmed water, flowing in natural patterns that made perfect sense. Scout helped me trace one current across the room, showing me how it connected to others. It reminded me of how our magic had harmonized during the ceremony—not forced, just… natural.

“The oldest families have the strongest signatures,” Dr. Reyes added. “Their magic has layered itself over generations, reinforcing the spells in spaces they consider their own.”

“So, the royal dorm…” I trailed off, suddenly understanding why the common room felt the way it did. It wasn’t just their presence—it was the centuries of magic before them.

Dr. Reyes nodded. “You’re beginning to see the patterns.”

My necromancy recoiled instinctively as we encountered another wrong flow. The dead things in the walls grew agitated, their warnings more urgent now.

“What happens when you touch the… different currents?” I asked.