The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 645: The Color of Unfinished Thoughts (4)
"Now breathe with it," Elara continued quietly, almost hypnotically. Her voice carried softly yet filled every corner of the modest classroom, gently wrapping each child in its comforting sound. "Make your magic match it."
Amberine held her breath, hardly realizing it. The entire room seemed to still, suspended in anticipation. Even the sunlight filtering through cracked shutters seemed to pause, dust motes dancing lazily, reluctant to disturb the fragile silence. Every small face was turned toward the girl and Elara, eyes wide, breath held.
The girl's small chest rose and fell with careful, deliberate breaths. Amberine felt an almost tangible tug of encouragement, silently urging the child onward. Then it appeared—a faint, uncertain glimmer, as delicate and fleeting as a butterfly's wing. A tiny spark of pure, silvery-blue mana flickered gently between the girl's trembling palms. It lasted only a breath, vanishing almost as quickly as it came, but Amberine felt her heart swell as the child's eyes went wide with astonished joy.
A grin broke across the girl's shy face, bright and proud, lighting up her features like sunrise after a long night. Amberine chuckled from her position at the front, unable to resist a surge of affectionate amusement. She felt warmth bloom in her chest at the girl's unguarded delight, reminding her sharply of why she had grown to cherish these lessons.
"See?" Amberine called out, her voice light but filled with genuine pride. "We can teach things. We're not just scary upper-years with expensive robes."
Soft laughter and enthusiastic chatter rose up, breaking the room's tension into shimmering fragments of joy. The children began experimenting eagerly, small bursts of colored light flaring gently across the room, reflecting off the rough walls, casting patterns across faces full of awe and excitement.
Amberine allowed herself a rare moment of quiet contentment, her gaze traveling over the faces of the children. Each one was different—some hesitant, others boldly experimental, their expressions flickering with determination or curiosity or quiet wonder. She saw in them tiny reflections of herself once upon a time, struggling with simple spells, thrilled by every tiny success. In that moment, she felt a deep, humbling gratitude for this simple, overlooked place in the heart of the slums—for these children who taught her patience, humility, and hope in ways she'd never expected.
But the peaceful spell shattered abruptly, violently.
It started as a flicker in Amberine's peripheral vision, a flash too bright, too intense to belong to the careful, cautious experimentation that filled the room. Amberine's gaze snapped sharply to the source—Tamryn. He sat rigidly near the back, a usually composed child now suddenly taut as a bowstring. His narrow frame trembled, dark eyes wide in confusion and fear.
The orb of mana cupped between his thin fingers pulsed erratically, its soft blue glow deepening rapidly to a violent, unnatural white. Amberine felt her pulse quicken, dread pooling in her stomach. She recognized instability when she saw it, the dangerous edge of uncontrolled mana surging out of rhythm.
The air pressure shifted subtly, pressing down like the quiet menace of an approaching storm. Amberine stepped forward, her heart hammering painfully in her chest, fingers twitching instinctively as she reached for the orb she'd been demonstrating with.
"Tamryn?" Her voice was firm yet gentle, pitched carefully to hide her sudden anxiety. "Easy now. Take a breath."
Tamryn didn't seem to hear her. He stared blankly, his fingers shaking, his small body rigid. The mana spiraled wildly now, condensing fiercely between his palms, swirling in violent loops. It wasn't a gentle pulse anymore—it twisted, jagged and sharp, like threads of glass tangling upon themselves.
Elara moved instantly, fluid and calm as ever, her robes whispering softly against the rough floorboards. She knelt swiftly at the boy's side, her cool voice slicing clearly through the sudden, frightened silence. "Stop casting, Tamryn. Hands down, please."
But Tamryn seemed caught within the tempest of his own magic, unable to move, unable even to breathe properly. Amberine's thoughts raced frantically, searching for something—anything—that could defuse this dangerous surge without causing harm. Her heart twisted sharply at the boy's distress. He'd always been so careful, his potential clear yet tempered with caution. To see him now, terrified and frozen, filled her with a fierce desire to protect him.
Then, from the corner of her eye, Amberine saw it—a subtle movement rippling across the walls. Her attention snapped toward the stone, her blood chilling at the sight.
The glyphs—the innocent, half-faded runes painted on the walls, meant to guide and soothe—activated. They sprang to life, lines glowing faintly at first, tracing elegant, arcane patterns. Amberine watched in horrified fascination as the gentle glow deepened, brightening until the glyphs radiated a steady, commanding luminescence.
Amberine's jaw clenched, her teeth grinding tightly. Recognition flared harshly in her mind, disbelief and anger rising sharply. She took two hurried steps forward, fingers twitching at her sides, her breath suddenly shallow.
"Those glyphs," she whispered hoarsely, eyes wide, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice. "They're not standard containment. They're—"
Elara glanced up sharply from beside Tamryn, her voice a quiet rasp. "Pressure siphoning. I recognize it, too."
Amberine felt a wave of cold nausea. She'd studied that rune pattern before, in classes reserved for advanced mages handling dangerous magical artifacts. The glyphs were never intended for casual use, certainly not for children. The realization crashed heavily against her, threatening to drown out all coherent thought.
Tamryn whimpered softly, drawing Amberine's focus back sharply. His small frame shivered violently, sweat beading his forehead as the mana surged and spiraled, trapped yet furious, battering against invisible restraints. She saw his eyes—wide and fearful, locked desperately onto hers, silently pleading for help.
Amberine moved swiftly, desperation lending her strength. Her fingers trembled as she reached toward Tamryn with her orb, trying desperately to match the boy's chaotic mana frequency. "I can sync with him, just give me—"
Pain flashed sharply up her wrist, biting and electric. She hissed involuntarily, instinctively pulling back. The orb dimmed abruptly, vibrating softly, unstable. "It's overloading," she gasped, her chest tightening painfully with helplessness.
Then the door slammed open loudly, breaking the room's tense silence. Maris burst inside, sweat-soaked and disheveled, her robes hitched hastily over partially clasped armor. She surveyed the scene in one breathless glance, immediately assessing the danger. "I felt that spike from outside," she panted urgently. "What's going on?"
Amberine swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry. "Resonance backlash—Tamryn's mana's out of control."
Maris wasted no further words. She dropped immediately beside Tamryn, wand already tracing smooth arcs. "Illusion barrier, now," she murmured, calm authority ringing through each syllable. The shimmering barrier closed gently around Tamryn, softening the fierce mana surges.
Amberine gritted her teeth, forcing her shaking hands steady, recalibrating her orb swiftly. "Sync," she murmured desperately. "Mirror the rise. Don't fight it."
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Elara, eyes intense yet calm, whispered steadily into the frightened child's ear, fingers brushing softly against his shoulder. "Breathe, Tamryn. Slow. With me."
Gradually, painfully, Tamryn's breaths steadied, aligning to Elara's steady rhythm. The orb finally locked into sync, its glow gentle again, pulsing quietly alongside Tamryn's heart.
The pressure snapped suddenly, releasing with a quiet gasp. Amberine's shoulders slumped with relief, her heart thundering loudly as the glyphs faded back into silence.
Yet as the room exhaled in collective relief, Amberine's gaze lingered on the walls, her heart heavy with unanswered questions, fears whispering quietly from shadowed corners of her mind.
She turned, her voice almost inaudible, filled with unease and quiet anger. "Those glyphs on the wall…"
The containment glyphs faded. The bubble around him softened. The classroom air exhaled.
xTamryn slumped forward, panting, droplets of sweat dotting his brow as he clutched at the front of his threadbare shirt. For several seconds, nobody in the room moved or spoke; it was as though the final echoes of magic still clung to the air, too startled to disperse. The boy's small shoulders heaved with each breath, his face pale beneath the lingering flush of his near-disaster. His hair clung to the dampness at his temples, accentuating how young and vulnerable he suddenly seemed.
"Did... did I break something?"
