Nathan climbed the attic stairs before sunrise, each step echoing in the narrow shaft. His heart thudded as he eased the hatch open, no professors prowling the halls yet, no Lissandre teasing him for his headaches. Just Narcis, seated cross-legged by the skylight, silver eyes reflecting the first pale light of dawn.

  “Morning,” Nathan whispered, sliding to the floor beside his brother.

  Narcis offered a small, tired smile. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “Too many questions,” Nathan admitted. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “We know nothing about who gave us life. No names, no faces, only that vision we shared last night.”

  Narcis nodded and traced a finger through the chalk-drawn spiral Sun-Moon rune at their feet. “A nursery under a single lantern. Two cribs. A lullaby that ended in a crack of thunder. That’s all I remember.”

  Nathan swallowed. “Same here.” He shook his head. “No clue who our parents were. The academy files list our births but nothing else.”

  Narcis closed his eyes, as though gathering strength. “The Custodians rescued me from the Reaper’s hunt. They told me it was for our survival. But they never said who they were, or why I was hidden away while you stayed… out there.”

  Nathan’s fingers dug into the floorboards. “I grew up in the mortal world, no magic, no hidden libraries, nothing. One day I got chased by Dr. Kalden, my adviser of sorts, and my life fractured in half.” He met Narcis’s gaze. “I still don’t understand that. You know nothing of my childhood. I know nothing of yours before the mirror.”

  Narcis rose and paced the small floor. “I don’t have answers, Nate. The Custodians handle the balance of magic, booking children away, covering tracks. That’s all I know. If they ever recorded our parents, I’ve never seen it.”

  Nathan pushed to his feet. “Then we start here, with what we do know. We survived. We reunited. Now we learn our own story.” He paused, glance drifting to the spiral rune. “And I have to tell you something about my magic. Something I’ve never admitted.”

  Narcis turned, curiosity sharpening his features. “What is it?”

  Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “Every time I cast, even a candle-light spell, I hear music. A real melody in my head. Bells or strings or whispers… always under every spell, even if I’m not the one casting.” He sighed. “I thought everyone heard it. Then, these past weeks, I’ve…” He hesitated. “I’ve started seeing runes. Ancient symbols no one else notices. They glow at the edges of my vision, half-written on walls that aren’t there.”

  Narcis’s eyes widened. “You never said.”

  “I was embarrassed,” Nathan admitted. “I thought I was losing my mind. And in class, when I desperately tried the standard runes, Fire, Water, Air, Earth, my magic goes wild. Not a controlled spark or breeze. The runes flicker, collapse, sometimes surge beyond my intention.”

  Narcis’s jaw tightened. “So your magic… doesn’t behave the way it’s taught.”

  Nathan nodded, voice low. “It’s as if I’m tapping into something older than the academy’s system. But I can’t control it. Not yet.”

  Silence stretched between them. The only sound was the attic’s settling wood and the first birds beyond the roof.

  Finally Narcis spoke, voice soft. “I don’t know what that means. This is uncharted territory. But we have each other, two halves meeting. We’ll face it together.”

  Nathan exhaled, relief and fear mingling. “Together.”

  Narcis moved to the chalk spiral and swept it into the edge of the floor. The faded dust traced away their first discussion of power. “We start simple,” he said. “Get up, let’s practice formless casting, which is casting by visualizing runes, I’ll use standard rooms for my affinity and you use your weird runes.”

  Nathan squared his shoulders. “I want to understand the music. I want to learn to see those runes crisp and clear. And I want to find out who we truly are.”

  Narcis offered his hand. Nathan took it. “Then let’s begin.”

  They stood together in the pale dawn light. Below, the academy stirred, clueless that its most extraordinary students sat hidden in an attic, twins born of mystery, united by magic, at the very start of rediscovering their own past.

  The attic lay silent when Nathan and Narcis slipped back in that evening, the single lantern casting wavering light across worn floorboards. Narcis knelt by the door and, with precise strokes, drew a wide chalk circle around an old wooden chest.

  “This chalk ward contains our magic,” Narcis explained. “Stand inside and watch closely. I’ll start with a basic Tier 3 seal. Then you’ll try.”

  He stepped just outside the ring, closed his eyes, and pictured the standard Moon rune, a simple crescent enclosing two dots. With a fluid motion of his hand, he imagined the shape in empty air. No words, no spell circle, yet the rune formed in pale silver light high above the chest. A hushed glow spread from the rune down to the ward, and the chest trembled under its protective halo.

  Narcis opened his eyes, satisfied. “Seal complete. That took nothing but intent, all you need to do is imagine the rune and it appears”

  “Okay,” Nathan said, stepping into the ring. His heart pounded. “My turn.”

  Narcis backed away, leaving the Moon rune to fade into chalk dust. “Visualize whatever rune you need,” he said. “Don’t think of the runes you’ve been taught, use the ones you see.”

  Nathan drew a slow breath. He pictured sealing energy, something broad, sheltering, drawn from deeper memory. In his mind a new shape formed: a lattice of wide bars crossed by tiny wave‐tips. He saw it clear as daylight.

  He lifted his hand and arced his fingers through the air. A golden lattice‐ward snapped into being around the chest: sturdy bars woven with shimmering lines of energy. The chest quivered under its embrace, held fast by the ancient rune. The chalk circle pulsed silver, anchoring the magic.

  Narcis’s jaw dropped. “That rune, where did you learn it?”

  Nathan swallowed. “I didn’t learn it. I just saw it in my head.” He sank to his knees, brushing his palm over the ward’s edge. “It matches the shapes I’ve been glimpsing, ancient symbols no one in the academy knows.”

  Narcis shook his head, eyes wide. “And it held perfectly. I’ve practiced Tier 3 seals for years and have never seen anything like that.”

  Nathan gave a shaky laugh. “One more?”

  Narcis nodded, excitement flickering in his silver gaze. He swept the chalk circle away and drew a fresh ring, this time slightly larger. “Show me your next rune. Whatever you need.”

  Nathan eyed the heavy chest. He pictured lifting it, visualizing beneath it a network of roots turned upside down. In his mind an ancient Earth‐lifting rune formed: thick, upward‐curving lines that intertwined at the base.

  He rose and visualized the shape which formed in the air in-front of him. Immediately, the chest floated two inches off the floor, held by the glowing bars of Nathan’s rune. It hovered in complete silence, weightless inside the chalk ward, before settling down when Nathan relaxed his focus.

  Narcis staggered back. “You just levitated fifty pounds there’s no rune for that”

  Nathan’s pulse thundered. “I just… saw the shape.” He sank again, breathless. “I never could lift more than feathers before.”

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  Narcis set a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Your magic speaks a different languagean older dialect.”

  Nathan nodded, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Last one,” he said, voice low. “A storm.”

  He closed his eyes and imagined swirling wind and snow, tiny flakes drifting on a freezing breeze. In his mind formed a combined rune: a teardrop‐shaped wave bisected by three curling gust‐lines. He swept his arms apart, visualizing the merged shape.

  Wind roared softly in the attic as the rune blossomed above the chest. A handful of real snowflakes drifted from the rafters, twirling in and out of view, vanishing at the ward’s edge. The chest sat bathed in swirling white, an impossible snowstorm contained within chalk.

  Narcis’s breath came in a whisper. “Air and Water… together. That’s impossible.”

  Nathan opened his eyes, chest heaving. “I didn’t think… I just drew the shape I saw.”

  They both sank to the floor, the attic cold with drifting snow. Nathan pulled his journal onto his lap and scribbled four entries:

  Trial A – Shield Lattice → ancient protective ward

  Trial B – Lifting Root → levitation of chest

  Trial C – Snow‐Storm Merge → air+water rune

  Narcis leaned over the pages, still awed. “You’ve mapped your unique runes, none taught at the academy or anywhere else for that matter.”

  Nathan closed the journal, exhaustion tugging at his limbs. “I need to learn names and functions. Then practice control, duration, strength, release.”

  Narcis stood and dusted chalk from his robes. “Tomorrow, we’ll test how long each holds and how they interact.”

  Nathan stretched, relief and excitement mingling. “I never knew magic could feel so… personal.”

  Narcis offered a genuine smile. “Because it is. This is your magic, ancient, instinctive, and entirely yours. We’ll unlock its history together.”

  They extinguished the lantern, letting the attic grow dark and silent. Below, the academy’s wards held steady, unaware that in its rooftop rooms, one brother were composing a new chapter in magic’s story, runes born of intent and visions older than any textbook and the other brother watched confused for he knew without a doubt that his brother’s magic was no what it seemed.

  Nathan’s journal lay closed beside the extinguished lantern, its spine still warm from the frantic notes he had scrawled only minutes ago. Dust motes drifted through moon-silver slices of skylight. Neither brother rushed to break the hush that had settled after the third shocking spell. The cedar chest sat quietly against the far rafters, as if it, too, was trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  Narcis pushed a stray strand of pale hair behind his ear and lowered himself onto the floorboards, back against one of the roof’s support beams. Nathan followed, sitting cross-legged, knees barely inches from his brother’s. They stayed like that for a long, quiet stretch, two silhouettes breathing in sync while the academy slept far below.

  “Your hands are still shaking,” Narcis observed at last, voice soft.

  Nathan glanced down; his fingers did tremble, as if residual magic hummed in each bone. He flexed them once, twice. “It was easier the second and third time, but… every rune feels like it’s carved through me.” He looked sideways. “What about you? I saw your face when the snowflakes started.”

  Narcis’s cheeks colored even in the faint light. “You have to understand: I grew up thinking the elemental charts were absolute truth. The first lesson in liminal safe-houses is that air plus water fused without a binding circle will rip your focus apart.” He exhaled slowly. “You proved the opposite in ten seconds.”

  Nathan gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “Sorry for overturning your curriculum.”

  “Terrifying,” Narcis corrected, then smiled. “But also… exhilarating.”

  The word lingered between them, bright and fragile.

  Nathan drew his legs closer. “Tell me about that safe-house.” He hesitated. “You’ve said it was liminal. But was it… an actual house? A whole village? I’m trying to picture the place that shaped you.”

  Narcis rested his head against the beam. “There were five rooms laid out like nested boxes, each a different realm fragment. One room felt like dusk in a birch forest, always birdsong but no sky; another looked like endless library stacks with ladders that led nowhere.” He smiled at the memory. “My keeper, an older mage named Celaire, hid teaching sigils in strange places. I once found the Moon-seal engraved into the shell of a tortoise made of crystal.”

  Nathan blinked. “That sounds equal parts fascinating and horrifying. I grew up in a dorm with creaky radiators and a single faulty smoke alarm.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My caretakers were… normal? Kind, but overworked. They thought my headaches were migraines, not nascent magic trying to burst out.”

  “They must have cared,” Narcis said gently.

  “They did.” Nathan’s voice softened. “But they never understood why sometimes the air buzzed around me or why mirrors acted funny. When Dr. Kalden cornered me, when the world froze? That was my wake-up call.”

  Narcis listened, silver gaze intent. “I saw some of that from the liminal side. Flickers of your life, like watching a moving painting with pieces missing. I’d hear your name echo, and a mirror would cloud.” He chewed his bottom lip. “Part of me always worried you were in pain.”

  “I was confused more than hurt,” Nathan admitted. “But, yeah, there were bad days.” His eyes dropped to the journal. “Now I know it was the runes pushing through.”

  Silence again, gentler this time. Nathan let his head tip back to the sloped rafters. “We’ve spent hours throwing impossible magic at a box, yet I barely know your favorite food.”

  Narcis’s laugh was small but real. “In the liminal rooms? We had endless bowls of something like jasmine rice cooked in moon-water. It tasted faintly sweet, always warm. On festival nights, Celaire conjured star-petal cakes that glittered when you bit them.”

  “Star-petal cakes.” Nathan grinned. “That beats cafeteria meatloaf.”

  “You?”

  “Peanut-butter toast at three a.m.,” Nathan replied. “It got me through term papers.”

  Narcis wrinkled his nose. “Peanut butter?”

  “Trust me, it’s divine.”

  Narcis’s smile lingered, then dimmed as a thought struck. “Do you ever resent being left out there, among mortals, while I was hidden away learning half-truths?”

  The question sat heavy in the air. Nathan considered. “Sometimes I resent the fear that drove whoever made that choice. But then I think: if I hadn’t grown up in the mortal world, I’d never know what ordinary feels like. It grounds me.” He gave a crooked smile. “And maybe if you’d had ordinary, you’d appreciate peanut butter.”

  Narcis chuckled. “Fair bargain.”

  Nathan sobered. “Do you resent me? For getting fresh air, college, friends, while you had caretakers and crystal tortoises?”

  Narcis shook his head. “I resented the isolation, not you. Even before I knew your name, I missed you like a phantom limb.” He studied his hands. “Last night when I realized that ancient rune you drew converged us? The missing piece clicked.”

  Nathan’s throat thickened. “I felt that too,” he whispered. “The moment the lattice snapped into place, it was like some internal weight balanced.”

  They fell quiet again, listening to timbers settle and distant clock bells mark the hour. An owl hooted beyond the roofline.

  Narcis broke the stillness. “Tell me about your friends down there.”

  Nathan’s lips quirked upward. “Lissandre is chaos incarnate, Fire affinity, unstoppable caffeine addiction. She claims she’ll hex me awake if I oversleep again.” He chuckled. “And there’s Krit, Water affinity, calm as a pond at dawn. They read people like ripples.” His expression softened. “Roremand’s harder to read… air of perfection, but I think he’s lonely. And then there’s my companion Noctisolar he’s hard to explain.”

  Narcis listened raptly, as if collecting fragments to paint a world he’d never inhabited. “I’d like to meet them, sometime.”

  “You will.” Nathan hesitated. “We’ll need a good disguise, though. People are already buzzing about the ‘new student who melted a dummy in Casting class.’”

  Narcis lifted an eyebrow. “Melting dummies, your reputation precedes you.”

  Nathan threw a chalk stub at him; Narcis intercepted it mid-air with Moon-ward reflexes and sent it spinning back. Nathan ducked, laughing.

  The laughter faded into a companionable hush. Nathan found himself studying Narcis’s face: the high cheekbones they shared, the faint crinkle near his brother’s left eye when he smiled. How had they spent nineteen years apart?

  “Favorite season?” Nathan asked suddenly.

  Narcis blinked. “Season?”

  “Pick one.”

  Narcis considered. “Late autumn. After the harvest moon, before first snow. The liminal sky flashes orange-violet that week. Celaire called it the ‘hinge of balance.’ Everything feels possible.”

  Nathan smiled. “Mine’s early spring, when the air smells like thawing soil. Means you survived winter.”

  A gentle stillness blossomed between them, two halves comparing edges, discovering fit. Nathan leaned his head against the beam and closed his eyes. “I have a million more questions.”

  “We have time,” Narcis replied. “Tomorrow’s trials can wait until afternoon.”

  “Good,” Nathan murmured, suddenly heavy-eyed. He felt the weight of chalk dust on his palms, the warmth of shared purpose. A small ache tugged behind his ribs, loss for years unsung, joy for years still to come.

  Narcis retrieved a folded blanket from a crate and draped it over Nathan’s shoulders. “You rest. I’ll keep watch.”

  Nathan’s voice slurred with fatigue. “You need rest too.”

  “Later,” Narcis promised. He moved to the skylight, silver eyes scanning moonlit shingles. “Right now I’ve never felt more awake.”

  Nathan’s eyelids slipped shut. He heard Narcis humming faintly, some half-remembered lullaby the Custodians used to soothe him. The melody blended with attic creaks and distant wind. Nathan drifted, mind replaying that impossible merged rune, air and water twining into snow.

  Someday they would find the names of the runes and the people who’d made them or concealed them. Someday they would step beyond the attic and show the academy that ancient symbols still sang.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight two brothers, once strangers, breathed the same quiet air and built the first foundations of trust, one memory, one question, one gentle confession at a time. And in that fragile space, the attic felt less like a hiding place and more like a home.

  Watching Nathan drift into an exhausted sleep beneath the attic’s slanted roof, Narcis made his decision in the hush between heartbeats: he wouldn’t risk enrolling under a false name or wandering the busy corridors, not yet. Until the Reaper’s shadow was gone, until they had proof the child-thief who hungered for twin opposites lay vanquished or sealed, he would remain a phantom in the rafters, a silent tutor and lookout, unseen by professors and classmates alike. His place, for now, was in the margins: guarding Nathan’s newfound power, mapping ancient runes by moonlight, and waiting for the day the threat was truly buried, when he could walk the academy grounds as himself rather than a secret.