Page 54 of Magic in My Bones

“Hey,” Luca said gently, catching my hand. “Stop worrying about that for now, okay? You've got Dorian to help you figure it out. He won't let anything bad happen to you.”

“You're right,” I said with a small smile. “Dorian promised we'd get to the bottom of it together. We're going to attempt summoning the spirit connected to the mark during our next private lesson.”

Luca's eyes widened. “Whoa, really? That's hardcore! But if anyone can pull it off, it's you two.” He grinned and punched my shoulder lightly. “My brilliant necromancer bestie and his dreamy professor beau, unraveling ancient mysteries and kicking ghostly ass! You’re on your own little gothic romance adventure. I love that for you, bestie.”

I laughed, his silly dramatics chasing away the lingering fear clinging to my shoulders.

I shook my head with a smile. A yawn caught me by surprise and I stretched, suddenly aware of the fatigue settling into my bones. It had been a long, wonderful, emotionally charged night.

“All right, that's enough gossip for now,” Luca declared, flicking off the light. “Beauty sleep awaits! I expect more details once you’ve had your nap, though, mister.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled, already burrowing under my blankets. “G'night, Luca. And... thanks.”

“Anytime, Ren. Sweet dreams of your silver fox professor,” he singsonged.

I was too sleepy to even dignify that with a response. As I curled on my side, hugging my pillow, I found my thoughts drifting to Dorian, as they so often did these days. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his arms felt wrapped around me. The gentle timbre of his voice murmuring sweet nothings in my ear...

I fell asleep with a smile on my face, my dreams filled with soft laughter, warm caresses, and eyes the color of emeralds. Forthe first time in a long while, I wasn't afraid of the mark on my forehead or the mysteries it held.

20

The Beacon

Dorian

The laboratory hummed withethereal energy, the air thick with the whispers of spirits long passed. Ancient grimoires lined black walnut shelves, their leather bindings worn soft with age and use. A collection of antique silver instruments caught the candlelight, each one designed to measure different aspects of spiritual energy.

My ritual tools were laid out on a worn oak table—an array of tarnished silver bells that could wake the dead, bone-handled knives for cutting through spiritual bonds, and delicate glass vials filled with water from sacred wells.

In the center of the room lay a raised dais, draped in rich, midnight-blue velvet that seemed to drink in the flickering candlelight. It was upon this altar that Ren would soon recline, his body a conduit for the necromantic forces we sought to harness.

The air was thick with protective magic. I'd spent hours preparing the space, weaving protection spells into every corner, making sure Ren would be safe during this delicate working.

Our magic was already reaching for each other, silver threads of power weaving between us like love letters written in starlight. Ever since our intimate connection, our powers had grown more attuned, more eager to dance together.

As Ren approached the dais, I couldn't help but admire the sight of him in profile. He was the most handsome specimen of man I’d ever worked with. He was also the only student I’d ever crossed that line with, perhaps against my better judgement. But the heart wanted what it wanted, and I would rather risk my position at the academy than risk losing an opportunity to court Ren properly.

Grim, Ren's devoted familiar, hovered nearby on a shelf, happily munching away at an old tome I’d provided. His body had grown plump and emitted a soft, spectral luminescence, a sure sign that he was feeding on a steady diet of something magical.

“So, how does this work, exactly?” Ren asked. He turned to me with his head tilted to one side.

I offered Ren a reassuring smile, my voice soft as I explained, “Your power, my dear boy, is a beacon. A siren's call to the spirits that linger in the aether. And like any beacon, it shines brightest when fueled by the intensity of your emotions and physical sensations.” I stepped closer, my fingers ghosting along the velvet dais. “Pain and pleasure, ecstasy and agony... these are the currents that guide all magic. It is why, for most spells, a clear mind and clear intent are paramount. Generally, having our own thoughts and feelings invade the magic we are trying to shape doesn’t go well. But you…You’re the exception.” My fingers traced the curve of Ren's jaw, tilting his chin up so our eyes met. “You, Ren, have a rare gift. Your empathy draws spirits to you naturally, especially those seeking assistance. But tonight, we can’t wait for them to come to us. We must take the lead. This time, you will not simply be a beacon, guiding them fromafar. Tonight, you must be ananchor of light, atetherthat calls the spirits to you with purpose and precision. You will pull them close, sifting through their energy, learning which might serve our needs. Then you will act as a conduit, giving them a voice, a way to speak from beyond the veil.”

Ren's dark eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty dancing within their depths. “But what if I can't control it? What if I let something through that I shouldn't?”

I brushed my thumb over his bottom lip. “That's why I'm here, mo stóirín. To guide you, to catch you if you fall.” I leaned in closer, my breath warm against his ear. “Do you trust me, Ren?”

He shivered, a delicate flush coloring his cheeks as he nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust me to keep you safe,” I said, stepping back to give him space. “Now, lie down on the dais and close your eyes.”

Ren settled onto the velvet dais, his body sinking into the plush fabric as he closed his eyes. He kept his shoulders stiff, hands folded on his stomach, tense and alert.

I let my voice drop to a low, soothing timbre as I began to guide him. “Breathe deeply, Ren. Let the air fill your lungs, then release it slowly. With each breath, feel your body grow heavier, sinking deeper into the embrace of the magic. Let it flow around you, through you.”

Our magic began to twine together of its own accord, silver threads of power weaving through the air like cosmic lace. Every point where our powers touched sent sparks of awareness through me, and I had to force myself to maintain professional distance despite how desperately I wanted to touch him.

“That's it,” I murmured, watching his magic rise like mist from his skin. “Let yourself feel everything, every sensation, every emotion.” My voice dropped lower, more intimate. “Remember how it feels when I touch you, when our magic dances together. Let that feeling guide you.”

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