ECHOING WALLS
1147 Words
By the time I reached the east wing of our department after my class, my pulse still hadn’t settled.
Curses.
The word echoed louder now that it had been said aloud and dragged into the open by careless mouths.
After hearing it from my parents, I still learned firsthand about the fragile balance between humans and werewolves in college.
Humans and werewolves had been circling each other for years, pretending they were coexisting peacefully. Pretending progress had smoothed everything over.
It hadn’t.
Especially not after the rise of “enhanced humans”.
That was what the Human Council called them. Enhanced. Perfected.
Men and women without wolves who could rival the alphas of smaller packs in combat.
They were faster than any human should be. Stronger than the law allowed, and were able to heal injuries that would have crippled others for life.
Officially, it was chemistry and genetics. The result of various years of sanctioned research.
The werewolves didn’t buy it.
Because power left traces.
And the traces enhanced humans carried looked uncomfortably close to what the ancient runes once did to living bodies.
But there was no proof. Nothing concrete enough to justify war.
But suspicion didn’t need evidence to rot trust.
And if forbidden runes like curses were faintly found...
Anyone associated with them would become a target.
I stopped outside Professor Llyen’s office.
Four o’clock.
I was right on time.
My hand hovered over the door, a strange hum rising beneath my skin. The same pressure I had felt in the courtyard.
Whatever I’d just been dragged into, it wasn’t gossip anymore.
It was a fault line.
And Professor Llyen was standing directly over it.
I knocked.
The door opened immediately.
And the moment I stepped inside, I knew this session was going to change everything.
Professor Llyen’s office was... underwhelming.
That was shocking.
I had expected dim lighting, arcane geometry carved into the floor, and shelves full of artefacts humming with barely contained power. Something thrilling. Something that justified the knot twisting in my stomach.
Instead, the room was bright and tidy. Aggressively normal.
Tall shelves lined the walls, packed with old books. A large window let in the afternoon sun.
There were no glowing runes. No ominous symbols. No sense of impending doom that matched my anxiousness.
Professor Llyen gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”
And I did. It felt like I was sitting on pins.
He studied me for a while, his pale eyes in thought.
Then he stood, walked to one of the shelves, and pulled down a book.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
He stacked them on the desk.
Then on the chairs beside me.
Then, with a slight frown of consideration, he placed more on the floor.
By the time he was done, I was boxed in by books on all sides.
“...” Stunned. I stared at the pile of books, then at him. “Is this a joke?”
“No,” he said calmly. “This is mercy.”
That didn’t help.
“I thought you were going to test me,” I deadpanned. “Like have me correct runes. Observe what I know. And push me until... You know... something happens.”
Professor Llyen arched an eyebrow. “And then fracture your mind?”
I opened my mouth and closed it.
He picked up the top book on the table and placed it gently into my hands. “You corrected a master-level rune because you recognised imbalance, not because you understood the concept behind it. Instinct without foundation is dangerous.”
“So, in other words, you’re grounding me,” I muttered.
He almost smiled.
“You will read,” he said. “Foundational theory, Rune history. Structural logic. Everything.. If knowledge is surfacing in you, it needs somewhere stable to land.”
I glanced at the cover. Principles of Arcane Symmetry.
It was thick. Unfriendly and judgmental.
“How long do I have to stay?”
He glanced at the clock. “Three hours.”
I felt drained before even starting.
He moved to the far side of the room. “You’re not alone.”
I looked up.
Someone was already seated at the long table near the window. They were almost invisible behind towers of books. Their hair was bent, hair falling forward, posture tight and closed.
Introvert, I decided instantly.
They probably communicate exclusively in sighs.
I opened the book Professor Llyen handed me and started reading.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Then...
“Oh! You’re the lady from class.”
I jumped.
The other student had appeared beside me without warning, eyes bright, smile wide.
“I knew you looked familiar. You’re the rune corrector.”
“...Sorry?” I was confused by the way she addressed me.
“That rune equation? Brilliant. Wrong placement of the anchor node. Everyone always messes that part up. I’m Elowen, by the way.”
She moved the pile of books to sit beside me. Too close.
I barely had time to respond before she continued.
“You know, Professor Llyen mostly doesn’t let anyone into his private study sessions. Usually, if he invites you here, it means one of two things.”
“What are they?” I asked curiously. Cautious.
“Either you’re a genius, like me,” she said cheerfully, “or a walking catastrophe.”
That’s... understandable.
Elowen talked about everything.
Rune syntax. Misinterpretations. How the modern rune application was fundamentally flawed. Why the current levitation sigils were inefficient. Which books contradicted each other and why. Her theory on why curse runes were banned and how it wasn’t just out of fear, but poor control design.
At first, it was fascinating.
She explained things so simply and enthusiastically, as if knowledge was a gift she couldn’t wait to unravel with someone else.
I learned more in thirty minutes than I had in weeks.
Then it went on. She didn’t stop.
At all.
Well, except when she needed to catch her breath.
She talked while I read. While I took notes. And while I tried desperately to hold onto a single thread of information long enough to make sense of it.
At a certain point, her voice stopped being words and became sound.
By the time Professor Llyen dismissed us, my head was buzzing.
Elowen waved at me cheerfully as she left. “Same time tomorrow?”
I smiled weakly.
Outside, the corridors felt loud.
Even the walls seemed to echo her voice.
When I finally got into the car, I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.
Silence.
Glorious silence. I have never appreciated silence so much.
And yet...
Somewhere in my mind, a voice was still explaining rune symmetry to me.
I groaned.
If that was the price of understanding magic, I was going to need earplugs.
- Writer
