Torn body

“Has anyone seen Kara?”

The question rose from the courtyard steps, sharp with worry. Ryn, a slender girl with auburn hair tied back in a messy ribbon, stood clutching her satchel. Her eyes darted across groups of students who lounged or whispered in the cool morning air.

“She wasn’t in the dorm last night,” Ryn continued, voice unsteady. “Someone said she might have been in the library, but I checked twice. She’s not there.”

Two boys snickered from the fountain. “Maybe she fell asleep in the archives. Wouldn’t be the first.”

Another shrugged. “Or maybe she skipped morning drills. Can’t blame her.”

Ryn’s lips pressed thin. “She wouldn’t. She’s never late.”

Lucien, who had just arrived with Arian, Toren and Elira, glanced at her, unease stirring. Kara wasn’t a close friend of his, but he knew her as the girl who always took extra notes in lectures and had a quiet laugh that carried during study halls. Reliable. The kind of person who didn’t just vanish.

Before he could think more, a voice cut across the courtyard.

“Enough chatter.”

Professor Vael strode forward, cloak sweeping, his sharp features catching the morning light. His gaze swept across the gathered students until silence fell. “Your companions have been chosen. You haven't named them, have you? You will give them names. A name is not decoration—it is acknowledgment. Power flows through bonds, and names are the first chain that binds mage to companion.”

The tension shifted instantly. Students straightened, excitement sparking through them.

---

They gathered in a wide circle. Companions lounged at their sides—wolves and foxes, serpents and birds, even stranger forms shimmering faintly with mana.

“Begin,” Vael ordered.

The first student stepped forward, a tall boy with nervous hands. His companion, a three-eyed crow, perched on his shoulder. “I’ll… I’ll call him Trine.”

The crow cawed as though approving, third eye blinking. The students chuckled.

Next came a girl with a glowing moth that pulsed faintly like a lantern. She whispered, “Luma,” and the moth’s wings brightened.

One by one, names were spoken. Each companion stirred in recognition, the bond tightening.

Toren swaggered up with his squat fire-drake. “Obviously, I’m calling him Blaze.”

The drake snorted sparks, nearly setting Toren’s sleeve alight. The courtyard erupted in laughter.

“Fitting,” Elira muttered.

Caelith’s turn was quieter. His hawk bowed its sleek head, feathers rippling midnight blue. “Nyx,” he said simply. The hawk cried sharp approval.

Elira stroked her serpent, scales glittering emerald in the sun. “Emeris.” The serpent hissed softly, curling tighter around her wrist.

When Arian stepped forward, the silver lynx padded beside him, regal and poised. “Sylvara. It fits you.”

The lynx lowered its head, amethyst eyes gleaming, and every student seemed to draw breath at once.

Then Lucien.

The small black wolf cub bounded up before him, tail wagging, eyes molten gold. Lucien crouched, brushing its fur. “I’ll call you Fenris.”

The cub yipped happily, pressing its head against his palm. A warmth surged through Lucien, steady and grounding, even as whispers rippled through the circle.

“Fenris,” Toren repeated. “Sounds dramatic. Very you.”

Lucien flushed but didn’t answer.

At the edge of the circle, one of the returned students—Rynel, a lanky boy who had gone missing on the countryside mission—snorted under his breath. “Names are just noise.”

His companion, a shadowy hound, shifted uneasily.

Elira’s head snapped toward him, brows raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Renn muttered, jaw tight. His veins pulsed faintly beneath his skin, a shimmer just visible if one looked long enough. He tugged his sleeve down quickly.

Lucien noticed. So did Arian, whose eyes narrowed. But neither spoke.

Vael let the silence stretch before dismissing them. “Names are given. Bonds are sealed. You will train harder now. And you will listen—to your companions and to yourselves. Dismissed.”

---

By the time the sun sank, the hall bustled with noise, wooden tables creaking under the weight of bread, stew, and fruit. Students laughed, companions weaving between benches or perched overhead.

Lucien sat with his group, Fen (Fenris) curled at his feet.

Across the hall, Rynel sat stiffly, food untouched. Another of the returned students, Mira, snapped suddenly at a boy who’d bumped her chair.

“Watch it!” she hissed, eyes flashing too bright.

The boy raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry—”

She turned away, shoulders trembling, jaw tight.

Toren leaned close to Lucien, whispering, “What’s up with them? They’ve been weird ever since the countryside trip. More than usual.”

Lucien frowned. He’d noticed too. Quick tempers, glassy stares, the way their companions never strayed far yet seemed restless, unsettled.

“They’re just tired,” Elira said, though her tone lacked conviction. “The mission was harder on them, maybe.”

Arian set down his spoon, voice low. “Or maybe something followed them back.”

The words sank like stones into their table. No one answered.

---

That night, Ryn paced the dormitory halls again, calling softly for Kara. Some students teased her, others shrugged, and a few offered half-hearted reassurances.

“She’ll turn up,” one said. “People vanish into books for days here. You know that.”

But Ryn didn’t sleep.

And at dawn, a scream split the air.

Students rushed toward the gates, companions growling or hissing as tension swept through the academy grounds.

Near the edge of the protective wards, sprawled in the dew-damp grass, lay a body.

What was left of one.

The girl was torn nearly in half, flesh ragged, blood dark against the grass.

Gasps and cries broke through the crowd. Some turned away, retching.

“It’s her,” someone whispered. “I-It's kara.”

“No,” Ryn’s voice cracked, pushing through. Her eyes darted wildly until they fell on a thin silver bracelet still clinging to the girl’s wrist. She clutched her own matching band, sobs tearing free. “We got these together… She—she never took it off…”

The realization hit like a thunderclap. Students muttered of beasts, of monsters breaching the wards.

Professor Vael arrived, striding past the crowd, face pale but controlled. She knelt, brushing her hand just above the girl’s chest, not quite touching. Her eyes narrowed.

He said softly, though those closest heard, “Her mana is gone. Almost drained.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped. He felt Fen stiffen at his feet, hackles rising.

“Drained?” Toren echoed, voice weak. “Like… stolen?”

Vael stood, cloak settling around her like a shadow. Her gaze swept the crowd, hard and sharp. “Enough. Back to your dorms. The grounds are unsafe until further notice. Go.”

Students hesitated, murmuring, fearful. But they obeyed, drifting back in uneasy clusters.

Lucien lingered at the edge, Fen growling low, golden eyes fixed not on the forest beyond the wards but on the group of students who had gone missing and returned.

They stood apart, silent, their faces blank in the morning light.

Lucien swallowed hard, unease clawing through him.

Something had followed them back. Something dangerous.

And whatever it was, it had started with Kara.

•••