Erica couldn't stop staring at the wand.
Not because it looked dangerous—though it did, thin and dark and humming with tiny sparks—but because every robed figure behind the man with the scar held themselves like soldiers waiting for a trigger.
All their eyes kept drifting to one place.
Her wrist.
"Don't let anyone see it," the man said again, voice low. "Not if you want to stay alive."
Erica's throat tightened. "I don't even know what it is."
"That," he replied, "is exactly why you're in danger."
A woman stepped forward—older, stern, hair pinned tight. She didn't look at Erica's face. She looked at the air around her, like she could read it.
"The wards are reacting," she warned.
Erica glanced at the stone gate.
The blue symbols carved into it were no longer steady. They pulsed out of rhythm, flickering like a heartbeat that didn't belong to the stone. Thin lines of light crawled over the surface as if searching.
As if… sniffing her out.
The man's jaw clenched. "Of course they are."
Erica forced her voice steady. "Where am I?"
He didn't answer immediately. His attention stayed fixed on her wrist like it was a weapon.
"You're at Astria Academy of Magic," he said finally. "Outside the city's main wards. Which means the wrong people can still reach you."
"The wrong people?" Erica echoed. "Who are you people?"
The older woman's mouth tightened. "People trying to keep you from becoming a corpse."
Erica's pulse thudded hard. "I was in a bookstore. And then I—" She swallowed. "I woke up here. I didn't do anything."
At the word bookstore, the group shifted. A sharp, uneasy ripple.
"The bookstore," the older woman breathed, as if she'd tasted poison. "It's returned."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Did it speak to you?"
Erica hesitated.
She remembered the whisper inside her skull—her name spoken like a lock clicking open.
"Yes," she admitted.
The man's expression flashed with something raw—anger, maybe, not at her but at whatever had decided this.
"Then we're already late," he muttered.
Late.
The same word the book had written.
Erica's stomach turned. "Why are you looking at me like I'm going to explode?"
He didn't blink. "Because your mark has done it before."
The older woman took a half-step closer, wand poised. "Headmaster Vaelor—"
Erica snapped her head toward the man. "Headmaster?"
"For now," Vaelor said.
"For now?" Erica repeated, because the words didn't sound like reassurance. They sounded like a crack in the floor.
Vaelor raised his wand again, but this time he angled it—careful, precise—directly at the sigil.
"In this world," he said, "magic is not cast by words. It's enforced by contracts."
A spark jumped from his wand tip and vanished into the air like a swallowed firefly.
"And some contracts," Vaelor added quietly, "do not ask for permission."
Erica took an instinctive step back. "No. Don't you dare—"
The air tightened.
Invisible threads cinched around her wrist, pressure building over the sigil like a hand closing over a wound.
Erica gasped. "Stop!"
The sigil pulsed.
Once.
A cold wave ran up her arm.
Twice.
The gate flared blue so violently the stone looked lit from inside.
Students behind Vaelor stumbled. Someone swore. The older woman's eyes widened like she'd just watched a grave open.
Erica's breath came out ragged.
And then she heard it—
not from Vaelor, not from the robed people—
from inside her mind.
Do you feel it?
Erica's lips parted. "Who—?"
Vaelor's eyes sharpened. "You heard something."
It wasn't a question.
Erica's voice shook. "Yes."
Vaelor lowered his wand by a fraction. His gaze flicked from her wrist to her face, measuring her like he was doing math in his head.
"Then we do this properly," he said.
He extended his free hand toward her.
Palm open.
Erica blinked at him. "What are you—"
"A contract," Vaelor said. "Temporary. Minimal. It will hide the sigil and quiet the wards before they scream your existence across the city."
Erica stared at his hand like it was a trap.
Maybe it was.
Behind the gate, the academy's spires and bridges rose into the violet sky. Floating lanterns drifted in lazy patterns, peaceful in a way that made Erica feel sick.
Because Vaelor wasn't acting like a man protecting an unlucky stranger.
He was acting like a man racing a countdown.
Erica swallowed. "What does it cost?"
Vaelor's mouth tightened. "Silence."
Erica's stomach dropped. "Silence like… what?"
"You will not show the mark," he said. "You will not speak of the bookstore. And you will not leave academy grounds without escort."
"That's not silence," Erica snapped. "That's a cage."
"A cage keeps you breathing," Vaelor replied.
The older woman's voice softened—not kind, just honest. "If that sigil is seen, you won't get questions. You won't get explanations. You will get a blade."
Erica's hands trembled.
Vaelor's palm stayed open.
"Decide," he said. "The wards are already calling."
Erica looked at the gate again. The symbols flickered—brighter, impatient.
Her wrist throbbed with a pulse that didn't match her heart.
She hated this.
But she was alone in a world that didn't care about fairness.
Slowly, she reached for his hand.
The moment her fingers touched his palm, the air snapped tight like a string pulled to its limit.
A ribbon of blue light wrapped around their hands—once, twice—then sank into their skin.
Erica sucked in a breath.
The sigil on her wrist flared gray, then dulled, as if someone had thrown ash over embers.
The pressure in the air eased.
The gate's symbols steadied.
Vaelor exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for minutes.
"Good," he murmured.
Erica yanked her hand back—and froze.
Something cold slid through her veins.
Not pain.
A sensation, like her name had been written into a document she couldn't read.
Then she felt it.
A faint pulse in the distance.
Not hers.
Vaelor's.
His eyes narrowed. "You felt that."
Erica's voice turned sharp with panic. "What did you just do to me?"
"I made you harder to find," he said.
"That's not what I felt."
Vaelor didn't deny it.
The older woman answered for him. "A contract leaves a trace between the signers."
Erica's stomach sank. "So he can track me."
Vaelor's gaze was blunt. "Yes."
Erica's anger flashed hot. "You said minimal."
"It is," Vaelor said. "It doesn't touch your mind. It doesn't steal your will. It only does what it must."
Erica stepped closer without thinking. "And what 'must' it do?"
Vaelor's wand sparked softly.
"It must keep you alive," he said.
For one second, his fingers flexed—like he'd felt the same pulse she did.
Like the contract had tugged at him too.
Erica saw it.
A small, human crack in his armor.
Then a shout echoed from beyond the gate.
Everyone snapped to attention.
"A scry!" a student reported, voice tight. "Someone just pinged the outer bridge!"
Erica's blood went cold. "A what?"
"A search spell," Vaelor said, and the way he said it meant it was already too close.
The older woman went pale. "Already?"
Vaelor's eyes flicked to Erica's wrist. The sigil was hidden now, but Erica could still feel it under her skin—awake and listening.
Vaelor made a decision.
"Move," he ordered.
The robed group formed around Erica like a wall and pushed through the gate. The blue symbols flared as Erica crossed—then softened, swallowing her into the academy grounds.
Inside, the world widened: stone paths, towering spires, bridges linking buildings like ribs. Lanterns floated overhead like patient stars. Students paused mid-step to stare.
Some looked curious.
Some looked afraid without understanding why.
Erica's breath came fast. "Where are you taking me?"
Vaelor didn't slow. "To the only place the Seers can't enter without permission."
"And where is that?"
Vaelor finally glanced at her.
His voice dropped into something close to a warning.
"The Contract Hall."
A bell rang somewhere deep inside the academy—slow, heavy, like a door closing.
Erica's wrist pulsed under the hidden sigil.
And the whisper returned in her head, pleased.
Good.
Now you've signed.
Erica's stomach sank.
Because she understood something she hadn't wanted to:
The book hadn't just brought her here.
It was making sure she stayed.
And now—
it had her signature.