Who are you?

Velena lay face-down on her bed, her blindfold discarded on the nightstand, face pressed into the pillow like it had personally wronged her.

"I asked him-" she said, her voice muffled by her pillow in shame. "I asked him if he was Orev!” Velena yelled out loud.

Maya was sitting on the chair by the door. She had been there for the past twenty minutes, listening to Velena alternate between mortified silence and outbursts of self-recrimination. "I gathered."

"He said 'who's Orev?' He said it as if he'd never heard the name before. Like I'd just asked him if he was some random person. Some stranger!" She rolled over and stared at the ceiling. The blurry smears of light and shadow offered no comfort. "I was so sure, Maya. I had evidence! I compiled it in my head like a forensic report!"

"Your forensic reports are usually correct."

"Not this time…my forensic report led me to ask a colleague if he was my childhood friend in the middle of a street while I was tipsy!" Velena groaned and kicked her feet against the mattress. "The evidence still fits…but that's the worst part! Full vampires aren’t supposed to have any resonance at all. They can't wield conduits! But I felt something when we fought…a flicker…Buried so deep it was barely there."

"Vampires borrow resonance from blood," Maya said. "That's the rule."

"Then why does his rifle hum when he fires it? Conduits don't respond to borrowed magic! They respond to a living Key Tone…unless he's not fully turned…or somewhere underneath the silence, there's still a fragment of what he used to be…or something…he most likely was originally human if that’s the case!"

She pressed her face back into the pillow.

"Velena."

"Yes, Maya?"

"You're spiraling.” Maya tilted her head. “Are you sure he’s the boy?"

"I'm not spiraling…I'm just…uh- analyzing!”

“Here we go agai-”

“Spiraling is circular. Analyzing is linear! I'm moving in a straight line toward a conclusion that may or may not be—"

Velena paused midway into her sentence and sat up.

"What is it?" Maya asked.

"Magic. Faint. Two signatures moving through the east corridor." She tilted her head. "A dampening spell. It’s sloppy. I can hear the warble at the upper edge of its tone. They're heading toward the old sublevel."

"That’s where the Vault is loudest."

"Where the wards are weakest too." She was already reaching for her conduit. "Wait here. I can handle this myself."

“Will you be fine without your blindfold?”

“It’s dark anyway. My eyes won’t hurt as much.”

The east corridor was dark and cold. Velena moved through it without sound, her cane sweeping just ahead of her feet, her ears tracking the two signatures as they wound deeper into the university's oldest wing. They were trying to be quiet.

They weren't bad at it. But the dampening spell was amateur work. It was probably cast by someone who'd read about concealment magic in a textbook and decided to try it without practicing first. The resonance warble was inconsistent, flaring every few seconds like a badly tuned instrument.

She followed them past the library, the faculty offices, and the maintenance stairwell. The air grew colder while the Vault's hum grew louder. They were heading directly for the sublevel entrance.

She caught up to them at the door. The ward was under a strong enchantment spell. Even if they tried, they would not bypass it. It was either that one of them was more skilled than they were letting on, or that they had help.

She stepped into the doorway. "Stop."

The two figures froze. They were wearing cloaks, heavy, expensive fabric that fell past their boots that she could sense as they moved. Velena catalogued what she could.

The taller one stood slightly in front of the shorter one in a protective stance. His frame was lean, his movements precise. When he breathed, it was controlled. It gave the impression of someone who'd been trained to stay calm under pressure. His boots were good quality. Probably leather, as it was well-maintained. The heels clicked when he shifted his weight.

The shorter one was most likely wolf-kin. Velena could tell from the warmth of her Key Tone, the particular heat that beast-kin carried in their blood. Her stance was wider, more aggressive. She was the one who wanted to fight. The taller one was the one holding her back. Her boots were softer, designed for movement. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, restless, coiled.

And in her hand, half-hidden beneath the cloak, was a parasol.

Velena caught the shape of it through the blur of her damaged sight. Long shaft. Curved handle. The faint metallic click of ribs folded beneath fabric. It might be a conduit. The handle was too heavy to be ornamental, the shaft too rigid. Whatever that parasol could do, it wasn't designed for keeping off the rain.

"You're in a restricted area," Velena said. "The ward on that door was disabled. Turn around and go back to your dorms. I'll pretend I didn't see you."

Neither moved.

"Last chance."

The shorter figure lunged.

The parasol snapped open. Fabric or silk, by the sound of it, had a tone that sang in across the hall as it activated. The wards layered into the weave hummed with music, a chord of overlapping notes that shimmered even through the blur of Velena's damaged sight. She caught the shape of it, the way the light bent around the edges. This wasn't just a student playing with old magic. This was an heirloom. Someone's grandmother might have poured her Key Tone into that fabric, note by note, until the parasol remembered the song.

Velena's cane activated mid-swing, silver light flaring. The blade struck the shield with a thunderclap, and the parasol's song rang out in answer in a howl of protective fury. The impact jarred up her arm. The shield held.

The taller figure moved. Velena heard a small click–

A spray of sparks burst against the wall beside her. Warning shots. He wasn't trying to hit her. He was trying to create distance. The weapon was small. Pen-sized. A conduit designed for subtlety rather than force. It made a sound like fireworks in the night sky.

She didn't give him any distance.

The cane-sword swept low, forcing the parasol wielder to jump back. Velena used the opening to close on the taller figure, her blade angling for his weapon hand. He parried in a sloppy and desperate reflex. She disarmed him in two moves. The pen-sized conduit clattered against the stone, its scratching song cutting off mid-note.

The parasol wielder shouted. Her Key Tone spiked, and the parasol's song spiked with it in a desperate, defiant chord.

Velena's blade was already moving, redirecting toward the sound until-

The shorter figure threw herself in front of the taller one.

The parasol shield came up a fraction of a second too late. Velena's blade struck the edge and glanced off, but the force sent the girl stumbling backward into her companion. They went down together. The parasol's song wavered. The girl was exhausted, running on adrenaline and desperation, her Key Tone flickering, but she didn't lower the shield. She didn't move. The fabric still sang. Quieter now. A whimper instead of a howl.

Velena stopped.

The shorter figure was crouched over the taller one, the parasol shield raised, her body positioned between him and Velena's blade. She did not want to fight anymore. The wolf-kin was just shielding him. The wards flickered, the parasol's song fading to a trembling hum. She did not lower her conduit at all.

The corridor was silent except for their breathing.

Velena stood over them, her blade still humming. She couldn't see their faces. The hoods were too deep, the light too dim, but she didn't need faces. She had heights, their builds, and their Key Tone signatures. A parasol conduit that sang loudly, its fabric humming like a lullaby passed down through generations, and a pen-sized conduit that had sounded of fireworks. A wolf-kin girl who threw herself in front of a human boy without hesitation.

She knew these students. She'd had them in her lecture hall not three days ago.

"Go," she said. "Back to your dorms. Now."

The shorter figure didn't move. The taller one murmured something, too quiet for Velena to catch. Then they were both on their feet, the parasol folding shut with a whisper of silk and dying music, footsteps retreating down the corridor. The taller one paused at the corner. For half a second, Velena felt his gaze on her, then he was gone.

Silence.

Maya emerged from the shadows. "You let them go."

"They weren't threats. They were students… my students, in fact..." Velena deactivated her blade. "I'll deal with them tomorrow."

---

The next morning, the lecture hall was full yet again.

Velena stood at the lectern, her cane propped beside her, her blindfold perfectly in place. The students shuffled papers and whispered among themselves. The dragonkin in the third row was tapping his claws on the desk. The vampire near the back was doing his best to stay awake despite the early hour. The beastkin at the other end of the classroom was busy fixing her conduit.

And near the front, two seats side by side, a wolf-kin girl and a human boy sat very still. The girl's parasol was propped against her chair. Even folded, Velena could hear it. A faint, anxious hum.

Velena finished her lecture on emotional residue in cross-racial casting. She answered three questions about resonance bleed. Then, as the students began to pack their things, she spoke again.

"Miss Beatrice and Prince William of Nocthyr. Stay after class. I'd like a word."