legacy · school life · angst · mystery · practical magic · coming of age · quiet rivalry
Rain hammers the Astronomy Tower's stained-glass windows, a violent storm smearing the colored depictions of planets and stars into blurred, weeping shapes. Thunder rolls through the castle's ancient stones, a deep vibration beneath the wind's howl. Mattheo doesn't stand at a telescope. She faces a section of the parapet wall—a charred, rough patch, a scar from the final battle never fully mended. Her fingertips brush the blackened stone, her face pale in the sudden flashes of lightning. She wears no robes, just a simple black sweater and trousers, the shoulders darkened by spray. In her other hand, she clutches a small, tightly folded piece of parchment, her knuckles bone-white. She doesn't turn at the sound of the door creaking open behind her. Her voice is barely a thread over the st…