SILVER STORM
1038 Words
The wait was for the whole weekend.
Three long, draining days in which the parchment sat folded at the bottom of my drawer, untouched.
Its presence was unmistakable, even when I tried not to think about it. I failed miserably.
By the time my next reading session at Professor Llyen’s office arrived, my nerves were already stretched thin enough to snap.
I didn’t sit down when I entered Professor Llyen’s office.
I went across the room, pulled out the parchment from my bag, and placed it on his table before he could even greet me.
As if I were handing him a hot potato.
His hand froze mid-air.
The reaction was immediate but subtle.
Like I had expected.
Professor Llyen was not a man prone to theatrics. But the colour drained from his face, and his sharp eyes were replaced by something hard and defensive.
He didn’t touch the parchment.
He didn’t even lean closer.
“You recognised it?” He asked.
My stomach clenched.
“It is incomplete,” I said quietly.
“Yes.” His voice was chilled. “You shouldn’t have brought it here.”
I was baffled.
That wasn’t what I expected him to say.
“It’s not forbidden, though,” I said carefully. “I checked.”
“That,” he looked up at me, “is not the same thing as it being safe.”
He shuffled his chair back from his desk, as if the distance could neutralise the situation. “This rune was deliberately unfinished.”
“I thought so too.”
“Do not complete it,” he said sharply, “I do not know how to complete it, but I know you probably can. But don’t.”
The sudden force in his tone made me flinch.
“Ever,” he continued. “Do not trace it or redraw it. Do not even think about how it ought to end.”
My fingers curled instinctively.
“Why?”
He exhaled slowly. “Some runes are not broken because they’re incomplete. They are just retrained. From what, I do not know.”
“Where did you find this?” he asked.
“It fell out of one of the books you assigned to me,” I said.
His jaw tightened.
“That is weird,” he said flatly. “None of those texts should contain this.”
Should?
He slid the parchment back toward me with the edge of a ruler, without touching it. “Keep this away and do not bring this back here.
Also, do not discuss it with anyone.”
“Anyone?” I echoed him.
“Anyone,” he repeated.
Seeing him being so wary and careful filled me with even more dread.
No explanation. No academic context.
Just a prohibition.
The rest of the reading session passed in a strange haze. Nothing eventful. I read. And I took notes.
But the parchment weighed heavily on my mind, like a held breath I couldn’t release.
By the time evening fell, the sky had darkened into a bruised violet. Starless. No moon in sight.
Rain lashed at the windowpanes in sharp, erratic strokes.
Then a silver streak shone.
The lightning.
Brilliant and sudden, cutting across the sky like a whip.
The flash was blinding.
My vision danced. My ears rang. The room tilted violently, as though the ground had sundered.
I gripped the edge of the desk, my breath coming fast and shallow.
Fear.
Pain.
There was no memory attached to the fear.
Just the certainty of it.
The sight of the silver light filled me with pain. Fear. Loss.
Another c***k of lightning split the sky, closer this time.
I stood up. I wasn’t aware of what was going on or what I was doing.
I barely heard Professor Llyen calling my name.
A moment later, just enough to take in two breaths, the office door swung open.
I looked over. Kaelith was there.
He crossed the room in three strides, steadying me before my knees could give out. His hand that held me was warm. Grounding. It drove away the chill I felt.
“You’re alright,” he said, low and even. “I’m here, and I’ve got you.”
The storm raged on outside, but the silver flashes felt farther apart now.
I felt calmer.
Kaelith didn’t relax until we were outside, walking toward the waiting car. An umbrella in his hand above our heads.
The rain had now subsided into a drizzle.
That was when we ran into Liriel.
She stopped short when she saw us.
I mean him.
Not me.
Her gaze swept over Kaelith slowly, lingering longer than necessary. Surprise flickered across her face, followed quickly by something else.
Calculation? Perhaps.
“So,” she said lightly, turning back to me. “You’re married.”
It wasn’t an accusation. It was confirmation.
“Yes,” I replied to her.
Her smile turned saccharine. “And this is...?” She turned to look at him again. This time with subtle anticipation.
Kaelith didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
Her expression irritated me.
“My husband,” I declared.
For half a heartbeat, her breath seemed to pause.
The change in her was subtle but unmistakable. The disdain she usually had on her face was now replaced by something else.
Focused.
Her eyes stayed on him, tracing him with renewed interest, as if assessing a prized painting.
“How interesting,” she murmured.
Her smile returned, but it had another meaning now. She looked pleased.
“I always wondered,” she looked me up and down, then continued, quieter, “how someone like you managed to keep Lioran so devoted.”
Lioran?
Who was that?
Kaelith’s presence shifted beside me. Barely. But I felt it.
I looked up at him.
I didn’t see any expression on his cold face except that his jaw looked tight.
Liriel noticed.
Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“Oh,” she said softly, as if finally understanding a private joke. “I see.”
She stepped back. The satisfaction on her face was more obvious now.
“Enjoy your evening, Arwenna.”
Then she turned away, already entertained by whatever story she had just written in her head.
- Writer
