Bound to nothingness

Chapter 4:"The first lesson. "

Nyla woke up to the sound of someone arguing with the window.

She opened one eye. The heavy velvet curtains across the room were snapping back and forth on their iron rod.

"You are being ridiculous!" Emily yelled, tugging on the fringe.

The curtain yanked itself out of her grip and snapped shut with a heavy thwack.

Nyla sat up, rubbing her face. "Are you fighting the drapes?"

"They're fighting me," Emily huffed, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I tried to let the morning light in, and the right one practically slapped my wrist."

"Maybe it doesn't like early mornings."

"Well, it has terrible manners," Emily muttered, giving the window a narrow-eyed look before heading for her wardrobe.

Nyla let out a quiet breath. It was her first real laugh since arriving at Veylcrest, but the light feeling didn't last long. She hadn't slept well. Every time she had closed her eyes, she was back in that cold passage with Karl Draven—the black shadow pooling around his boots, the violent way the dark had snapped back from her leather shoes, and the quiet, calculating look on his face afterward.

"Nyla," Emily called out, nodding toward the wooden peg by the washbasin. "Look."

Nyla swung her legs out of bed. Hanging on the wall was a black wool jacket and skirt, a standard uniform. It definitely hadn't been there when they went to sleep.

She walked over and touched the wool collar. The moment her fingers brushed the cloth, a silver emblem stitched itself into the left breast: a raven with its wings folded around a crescent moon.

Emily leaned in. "Okay, that's actually pretty good magic."

Nyla looked down at the silver thread, offering a faint smile. "Finally, something in this castle works."

The emblem flickered twice and then dissolved completely, leaving behind a blank patch of black wool.

Emily’s smile dropped. "Or not."

Nyla pulled the jacket off the peg with a sigh. "You're terrible at silver linings, Em."

"I know," Emily said softly. "Working on it."

Their first class was Foundations of Arcane Control, held in a long, drafty hall lined with high bookshelves.

The teacher arrived right on the ninth chime. She was tall, with silver hair bound tightly at the base of her neck, wearing dark green robes that brushed the floorboards as she walked. She dropped a heavy stack of ledgers onto her desk with a loud thud that instantly cut off the room's chatter.

"I am Professor Voss," she said. Her voice was flat, clear, and carried easily to the back rows. "I assume several of you have already heard stories from your parents."

A boy near the back raised his hand. "My mother said you turned a whole squad of marsh-guards to stone during the border dispute."

Professor Voss didn't smile. "Your mother talks too much."

The boy lowered his hand.

Voss picked up a piece of white chalk. She didn't write with it; she simply held it between her fingers as a single line appeared across the slate board behind her:

CONTROL IS NOT POWER.

"Power without control is just a mess waiting to happen," Voss told the room, her dark eyes scanning the rows of desks. "Your family bloodlines do not concern me. Your family's coin does not concern me. Control is the only metric I measure in this room."

Her gaze drifted down the middle aisle and stopped at Nyla. Nyla straightened her shoulders, knowing what was coming before the woman even spoke.

"Miss Vale."

"Yes, Professor?"

"Front row, please."

A low rustle passed through the desks as Nyla got up and walked down the stone aisle. Voss watched her approach with a flat, unreadable face.

"You are the girl the corridors were talking about yesterday," Voss said quietly. "The one with the blank registry."

"I don't have a spark, Professor," Nyla said, keeping her voice even.

"Who told you that?"

"My father."

"Fascinating." Voss reached into a wooden tray on her desk and picked up a clear glass crystal the size of a plum. "A resonance stone. It measures magical energy."

She set the cool stone in Nyla's open palm.

The room went quiet. Nothing happened. The crystal remained clear and dull.

Voss retrieved the stone, her brow furrowing slightly. She muttered a brief, three-word phrase under her breath, and the crystal lit up with a sharp blue flare.

"Hand," Voss instructed.

Nyla held out her palm again. Voss pressed the glowing blue stone back into her hand.

The moment the glass touched Nyla's skin, the blue light didn't fade,it vanished instantly.

Murmurs broke out across the desks. Voss’s eyes narrowed. She raised her left hand, her palm glowing with a pale gold warmth, and touched Nyla's wrist. The gold light snapped out with a quiet pop.

"Try a ward!" a boy called from the second row.

Voss ignored him. She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a short wooden wand, and tapped a bright spark against the crystal still resting in Nyla's palm.

CRACK.

The sound hit the cold stone walls like a pistol shot. A sharp fissure split the glass, and the crystal shattered into dull fragments right in Nyla's hand.

The classroom froze.

Voss stared down at the broken pieces. For a split second, her composure wavered, her mouth setting into a hard line before she caught herself. She swept the broken fragments out of Nyla's hand and into her own drawer.

"Class dismissed for the morning," Voss said abruptly.

A chorus of confused voices broke out. "Wait, Professor—"

"Out. All of you."

Chairs scraped against the stone as students gathered their satchels, eager to get into the hallway to talk.

Nyla stayed at the desk, wiping a trace of gray stone dust off her palm. "Professor?"

Voss looked up, her expression guarded. "Yes, Miss Vale?"

"It didn't break until you pushed magic into it."

Voss stepped closer, her sharp eyes searching Nyla's face. The strict, raised tone was gone, replaced by a low, quiet voice. "Do not let anyone in this building convince you that being different makes you weak, Nyla."

The sudden use of her first name threw Nyla off balance. "I..."

"And more importantly," Voss added, turning back to her papers, "do not let anyone convince you that it makes you safe. Go to your next lecture."

The corridor outside was packed. Emily was waiting near the archway, looking pale.

"What happened?" Emily asked, catching Nyla's coat sleeve. "People are saying you blew up a testing stone!"

"It just cracked, Em," Nyla said, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know why."

Before Emily could ask anything else, a tall boy stepped out from the crowd, blocking their path. He had messy dark-blond hair and an easy, crooked smile.

"Well," he said, looking Nyla over with mild amusement. "You're the famous one."

Nyla stopped, folding her arms. "I'm not famous."

"Give it an hour," the boy said, offering a casual hand. "Lucien."

Nyla hesitated a second before shaking it. "Nyla."

"I know," Lucien said. "Hard to miss the rumor mill today. A girl admitted without a drop of magic in her blood."

Nyla’s chin came up. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

Lucien raised his hands defensively. "Just curious. Is it true? Completely dry?"

Before Nyla could answer, a sharp voice called down the hall.

"Lucien!"

A girl with sleek dark hair and a dark green coat stood by the main staircase, looking impatient. "You're going to miss combat theory."

Lucien sighed, though his grin stayed in place. "Coming, Maeve." He gave Nyla a brief nod. "See you around, anomaly."

Emily stepped forward, her face red. "Did he just call you—"

"Leave it, Em," Nyla said, pulling her friend down the passage.

As they walked, Nyla looked back over her shoulder. Lucien and the dark-haired girl were still standing near the stairs, watching her go.

And high above the courtyard, behind a narrow, dark window on the top tower, Karl Draven stood in the shadows.

He watched Nyla until she turned the corner into the lower hall. Only then did he step back from the glass.

Down on the floorboards behind him, the thick shadow near his boots stirred in the dark, whispering a single name into the quiet room:

Nyla.