The scream died in Lena's throat, strangled by the sheer, cold terror of the moment.
Elias, still reeling, tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her away from the crumbling annex as if the building itself might reach out and snatch them.
They didn't stop until the manicured lawns of the Academy's main campus stretched out before them, bright and normal, starkly contrasting the decaying dread they'd just escaped.
Lena finally wrenched her arm free, clutching her shoulder where the concrete had scraped her. Her eyes, wide and bewildered, searched his face.
"Elias, what… what was that? I saw it. I felt it. That… that ghost, that cold… and the window… it shattered when you reached out!"
Her voice was a terrified whisper, barely audible over the thrum of students milling about, oblivious.
Elias shook his head, his own heart hammering against his ribs. He felt sick, not just from fear, but from a profound, chilling sense of alienation.
"I don't know, Lena. I swear, I don't know."
The lie tasted like ash. He knew he hadn't imagined it. He'd felt the pull, the connection, the despair of that spectral thing.
And in that desperate moment, something had pushed through him, something that had saved Lena.
"You have to know something!" Lena insisted, her voice rising in pitch.
"It was like… like dark magic! But you don't have mana, Elias! No one can do that without mana!" The accusation, born of fear, stung.
"I told you, I don't know!" Elias snapped, his own fear twisting into anger.
Anger at the situation, at his helplessness, at the sheer impossibility of what had just happened.
He was the mana-less orphan, the one who didn't fit. Now he was seeing ghosts and making windows shatter with his mind? It was too much.
"Maybe it was just the old building finally falling apart, Lena! You were scared, you imagined things!"
The words hung heavy in the air between them, sharp and dismissive.
Lena flinched as if he'd struck her. Her face hardened, the initial fear giving way to hurt and a flicker of resentment.
"Imagined? Elias, I'm not stupid! I know what I felt! And you… you looked like…" She trailed off, unable to articulate the disturbing aura she'd glimpsed around him.
"Fine. If you're going to lie, then fine." She turned sharply and stalked away, disappearing into the stream of students, leaving Elias standing alone, utterly desolate.
The silence Lena left behind was louder than any scream. He'd hurt her. His best friend, his only friend.
But what else could he have done? How could he possibly explain something he couldn't even begin to comprehend himself? He felt more isolated than ever, a hollow ache where his parents used to be, now compounded by the terrifying, inexplicable power stirring within him, and the sudden rift between him and Lena.
The rest of the week passed in a haze of dread and avoidance. Elias skipped lunch with Lena, finding secluded spots to eat his packed sandwich.
In classes, he kept his head down, acutely aware of the strange cold that still clung to him, though less intensely than before.
He tried to research "unexplained phenomena" or "mana anomalies" in the Academy library, but every book focused on mana-based solutions, offering no answers for a mana-less boy encountering spectral presences.
The few historical texts that even dared to mention "spirit manipulation" spoke of ancient, dark practices from the pre-Sundering era, always concluding with a stark warning about their destructive nature and how mana had thankfully replaced such dangerous magic.
It only deepened his fear.
He began to notice subtle shifts in his perception. The air around graveyards or old, forgotten monuments felt different, thicker, almost buzzing with an unheard chorus.
Sometimes, a flash of fleeting, shadowy movement in his peripheral vision would make him jump, only for it to disappear when he looked directly.
He started taking longer routes home, avoiding crowded areas, desperate to keep whatever this was hidden.
One evening, as twilight bled into night, Elias found himself wandering through the oldest part of the city, a district of narrow, cobbled streets and leaning, centuries-old buildings that predated even the Academy.
He was searching for answers, or perhaps just a place where the pervasive hum of modern mana felt less suffocating.
He stopped by an old, crumbling fountain, its stone worn smooth by time, its water long since dried up. The air here was heavy, still, almost expectant.
A sudden, sharp cry pierced the quiet. Down a dark alleyway, a glint of metal caught Elias's eye. Two figures, shrouded in cloaks, had cornered an elderly street vendor, her meager earnings already spilling onto the cobbles.
One of them, a bulky brute, raised a crudely sharpened blade, a faint, sickly green glow of Earth mana flickering around his knuckles, signaling his intent to inflict pain beyond mere robbery.
Elias froze. His first instinct was to run, to hide, to avoid the conflict. He was mana-less. He was helpless. But as the green mana flared, the cold surged through him, an almost painful rush of power that made his vision swim.
He saw, more clearly than ever, a faint, desperate flicker of a presence clinging to the old vendor, a terrified, ancestral spirit perhaps, echoing her fear.
He didn't consciously decide. The Embermark simply reacted. A jolt of that raw, hot power flared from his core, instantly followed by an icy wave that emanated from his outstretched hand.
The street thug, mid-swing, suddenly gasped. His mana-infused fist faltered. A single, distinct groan, barely audible, seemed to rip from his throat, not of pain, but of sudden, inexplicable exhaustion.
He swayed, his eyes widening in confusion, and the green mana around his knuckles flickered, then died.
His partner, startled, pulled him back, glancing around wildly.
"What was that, Kael?" the second thug hissed, clearly unnerved.
"You just... went out!"
"Felt like something just sucked the air right out of me," Kael mumbled, clutching his chest, his face pale.
"Like someone just drained me."
The thugs hesitated, glancing nervously into the shadowy alley. They were looking for a mana-user, a hidden spell, but Elias stood there, motionless, outwardly powerless. Yet the subtle surge of power had been undeniable, and he could feel the residual, icy tingle in his fingertips. The cold presence around him was stronger now, a faint, almost benevolent hum.
The vendor, seeing her chance, scrambled away, dropping a few more coins in her haste. The thugs, rattled by the inexplicable incident, decided the meager spoils weren't worth the weirdness.
With one last, suspicious glance at the empty alley, they vanished into the deeper shadows.
Elias stood there, trembling, the cold slowly receding. He hadn't fought. He hadn't even consciously used anything. But something had happened.
Something had reacted through him, a silent, chilling force that seemed to have sapped the strength and mana from the thug. It was terrifying, dangerous, and utterly beyond his control.
A faint sound, like dry leaves rustling, drew his attention. From a shadowed archway across the street, a tall, cloaked figure detached itself from the deeper darkness.
The figure was old, judging by the slight hunch of their shoulders, but moved with a surprising, fluid grace.
Elias couldn't make out their features, hidden beneath the cowl, but he felt it again: that familiar cold, emanating from them, but controlled, powerful. A cold that resonated with his own burgeoning power.
The figure stood for only a moment, their gaze seemingly fixed on Elias, even though his face was obscured by the dim light. There was no aggression in their stance, only an unnerving stillness.
Then, with a slow, deliberate turn, the cloaked figure melted back into the shadows of the old city, leaving Elias alone once more, shivering, the echoes of a terrifying, new truth resounding in his soul.
He wasn't alone in this strangeness. Someone else understood. Someone else was watching. And that thought, terrifying as it was, also held a sliver of desperate hope.