Page 3 of Magic in My Bones

Thistle, the sprite with the sass of a thousand toddlers, made an indignant little huff and darted back to perch on Luca's shoulder. Its tiny arms were crossed in a pout, and it looked like it had just been accused of stealing the last cookie. Luca reached up and gave its leafy head a gentle stroke, the most affectionate smile spreading across his face.

“Sorry about that,” he said, turning back to me with a sheepish grin. “Thistle getsveryexcited when there’s a new person. He's harmless, really. Just very curious. And extremely fond of mischief.”

As if on cue, Thistle stuck out a tiny, sparkly green tongue at me and giggled, disappearing behind Luca's curls like a mischievous little gremlin.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s okay,” I said, still grinning. “I’m just not used to being ambushed by miniature plant people. Is he your familiar?”

Luca nodded, his eyes soft with affection as he gazed at his sprite. “Yep, Thistle and I go way back. Freshman fundamentals, actually. He’s more than just a magical buddy, though. He’s my best friend, my confidant. The Puck to my Oberon, if you will.”

I chuckled, shaking my head in mock disbelief. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I said, waving at Thistle, who gave me a cheeky grin in return. His little pout was completely gone, replaced with a look that said,I’m definitely up to something.

“How long have you been here?” I asked, gesturing to his already-jungle-like side of the room.

Luca shrugged, adjusting a vine that seemed determined to strangle his bedpost. “Just since yesterday. The greenhouse staff needed help with some temperamental moonflowers, and since I'm doing work-study in herbology...” He grinned. “Perks of the job include early move-in and unlimited access to plant cuttings.”

I turned to my side of the room and took in the stark, minimalist vibe. Blank walls. Bare mattress. It was... well, it was definitelymine.A blank canvas just waiting for me to make it a little less... sad. Maybe I could scrounge up some old anatomical diagrams for the walls, or…Oh, a skull paperweight. Definitely a skull paperweight. That’d class it up, right?

I hefted my suitcase onto the bed with a loud grunt and began unpacking. My robes were secondhand but in decent shape, so I folded them carefully, arranging them like they were fragile treasures, and started placing my possessions on the shelves.

As I was shoving my empty suitcase under the bed, a burst of laughter rang out from the hallway. I glanced up just in time to see a group of upperclassmen strolling past, their robes perfectly tailored and their faces glowing with confidence. They moved like they’d been born to glide through life effortlessly, like they weredestinedto wear those robes.

But then, my eyes caught the one in the middle. The man who somehow seemed to stand out, even in a crowd of people who looked like they knew they belonged. He was tall, with a kind of graceful presence that made him seem like he’d been carved from some divine marble. His auburn hair was thick and soft,falling in waves around his face, and his eyes were a rich shade of green, smart and full of mystery.

As I watched, he threw his head back and laughed at something a student said. The sound was warm, melodic. A perfect note that hit me straight in the chest, like the opening chord of a cello. It sent a shiver down my spine, but not the bad kind. More like the kind you get when you hear a song you never knew you needed.

I blinked and snapped out of it, suddenly aware that I’d been staring for a little too long. Great. Now that was awkward.

“That's Professor Crowe,” Luca said, his voice practically glowing with admiration. “He's a master of necromancy. Usually teaches the advanced courses. He's probably here early to help the legacy students set up their family wards. You know, protective spells passed down through generations. Most professors won't arrive until tomorrow, but he lives full time on the grounds.”

“Professor?” I echoed, my eyes still glued to the tall, impossibly cool figure. He looked far too youthful to be a teacher and more like someone who had just walked off the cover ofthe Magical Men of the Fae Agemagazine.

Luca nodded sagely. “Don’t let his age fool you. The Crowe family is basically magical royalty, with a lineage that goes all the way back to the Fae Age. He’s got more magic in his blood than most of the rest of the school put together.”

“Magical royalty?” I repeated, still staring at Professor Crowe’s entourage as they disappeared around the corner. “Like… prince of necromancers or something?”

“Yep. There are legacy mages, and then there arelegacymages.” Luca threw me a teasing grin. “Lucky for you, I’m as much of a nobody as you are when it comes to that. At least, Ithinkthat’s lucky.”

I tore my gaze away from the now-empty hallway, feeling a mix of awe and mild terror. The idea of being taught by someone like Professor Crowe with his ancient magical lineage and that entirely too cool vibe was thrilling, sure, but also terrifying. What if I ended up tripping over my own feet in front of him? What if he took one look at my secondhand robes and my clearlynot royalbackground and decided to justnoperight out of the class?

As if summoned by my anxiety, Professor Crowe suddenly paused at our doorway, those intense green eyes sweeping over our room. “Ah, Mr. Bramblewood,” he said. “I see you've already started transforming your space into a greenhouse.” His gaze shifted to me, and I swear my heart did a complicated gymnastics routine. “And you must be Mr. Wickens. You’re in my department, yes?”

I managed what I hoped was a professional nod, but probably looked more like a nervous twitch. “Yes, sir.” Great. Real smooth, Ren.

He smiled. It was just a small quirk of his lips, but it transformed his whole face into something almost boyish. “No need for 'sir,' Mr. Wickens. Professor Crowe will do.” Then he was gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of old books and something earthy, like freshly turned grave soil. The air where he'd stood still crackled faintly, like the aftermath of lightning, and the temperature slowly crept back to normal. Even the plants seemed to settle, their leaves no longer quite so attentive. I hadn't even noticed they'd all turned to face him while he was here, like sunflowers tracking the sun.

“Did you see that?” I whispered to Luca once I was sure Professor Crowe was out of earshot. “He knows my name. I'm going to die.”

“Technically, that's his job to prevent,” Luca quipped, but he gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Come on. I’ll helpyou finish unpacking and then… Want to grab lunch? The dining hall won't be too crowded yet. Most new students won't arrive until later this afternoon. I’ll show you all the best spots to eat.”

I took a deep breath, letting the tension in my shoulders slip away. Luca flashed a grin at me, and despite the nerves, the awkwardness, and the general weirdness of the whole situation, I found myself looking forward to my first day at Blackstone Academy for the Dark Arts.

2

Of Tea and Dark Tidings

Dorian

I picked up thewhistling kettle and poured the boiling water into my favorite mug. The copper kettle had been a gift from a former student. It was originally charmed to play Mozart when the water boiled. I'd modified the spell to play an old Irish tune instead. The melody of "The Parting Glass" filled my kitchen, reminding me of my grandmother's cottage in County Cork where I'd first learned to speak with spirits over tea and soda bread.

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