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Story: Stolen Magic
“Remarkably so,” Evander replied curtly.“One might almost think there was a concerted effort to hinder our investigation.”
Cecillia’s mouth twisted into a wry smile.“The Institute protects its own.Even from those who once belonged to it.”
“You seem less inclined to such behaviour, Professor Harrington,” Rufus observed, his eyes narrowing slightly.“May I ask why?”
She hesitated and glanced towards the open door.She closed it with a flick of wind magic, the subtlety of the gesture demonstrating her absolute control over her ability.
“Because I’m concerned,” Cecillia confessed anxiously.“Walter has been different these past few weeks.Ever since the news about Caine Renwick broke.”
Evander exchanged a cautious look with Rufus.“Different how?”
“Paranoid,” Cecillia said bluntly.“Jumpy.He began locking his chambers even when stepping out for a moment.He’d fall silent when others entered the faculty lounge.And he was researching something that clearly troubled him deeply.”
Shaw leaned forward eagerly.“Do you know what he was studying?”
“Rare magical abilities,” Cecillia replied reluctantly.“Particularly those that manifest in only a handful of individuals in every generation.”
A chill skittered down Evander’s spine.“Such as?”
Cecillia looked nervously towards the door again, as if half-expecting someone to burst in.When she spoke, her voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.
Still, her words sent a jolt of ice though Evander’s veins that confirmed his worst fears.
“Shadow manipulation,” she began, each word seeming to cost her considerable effort.“Blood Magic.And something calledMidnight Obsidian.A rare mineral from Siberia that can absorb or augment magic.”She crossed her arms across her body as if she were experiencing a chill, her fingers fidgeting with her sleeve.“Walter was particularly interested in—” She faltered, clearly struggling with how to continue.
The room seemed to grow colder.Dread roiled Evander’s stomach.
He prompted her gently nonetheless.“Professor Harrington?”
Her eyes finally met Evander’s, something like resignation reflected in their depths.“The powers of Archmages,” she finished, the words hanging heavily in the air between them.“Especially the more obscure manifestations of such power.”
Rufus and Shaw exchanged a startled glance.
Evander kept his expression carefully neutral despite the alarm bells ringing in his mind, conscious Cecillia was watching him closely.Perhaps looking for some reaction to confirm whatever suspicions had driven her to share this information.
“That’s quite a range of subjects for someone whose specialty is advanced Elemental Magic,” he said evenly.“Did he share why he was interested in these particular powers?”
“Not explicitly.But he intended to make some sort of announcement at the faculty dinner two nights ago.The dinner he never attended.”Cecillia wrung her hands, a gesture at odds with her otherwise composed voice.“He told me it was important—that it could change everything.”
“Change everything how?”Rufus pressed.
“He wouldn’t say.”Cecillia’s expression grew pinched.“But he was frightened.Genuinely frightened.”Her voice dropped even lower as she met Evander’s gaze.“And Walter Whitley was not a man who frightened easily.”
Evander frowned, the implication behind her words not lost on him.“Did he mention any names?Anyone he was wary of?”
“No.”Cecillia hesitated.“But there is one thing you might want to look into.Walter was collaborating with a French professor.”She furrowed her brow.“He was quite secretive about it.He never told me his name.But I gathered it was someone from the Paris Institute for the Arcane.”
Evander’s pulse raced.He took a sharp step forward.“When did their collaboration begin?!”
Cecillia blinked at the urgency of the question.“Two months ago, I believe.”
Evander could tell Rufus was thinking the same thing from his darkening face.Caine Renwick had commissioned Alastair Millbrook to create theBlood Siphonover three months ago.
Is there a connection?
“I think Walter’s consultations with his French counterpart had become more frequent in recent weeks,” Cecillia continued.“Walter seemed increasingly agitated every time he received his correspondence.”
“Did Whitley mention any plans to travel?”Evander asked stiffly.
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