Chapter 20

I nodded, my heart thudding against my ribs. Whatever answers awaited, I knew we were about to tread upon delicate ground—one where truth and consequence danced perilously close. And I was ready. Ready to chase the shadows, to confront the omens that haunted my dreams. For in those ethereal landscapes, a dragon lurked, and with it, the key to understanding the tremors shaking the very foundations of our world.
We settled into a secluded alcove, the distant murmurs of the library patrons fading like whispers lost in a gust of wind. Professor Hargrave’s fingers brushed over the air near my forehead, tracing the unseen arc where the rune was supposed to shield me from harm.
"Focus on your breathing," he instructed, his voice steady and calm. "Let the world around you dim."
I obeyed, allowing the rhythm of my breath to anchor me while the rest of my senses grew faint. His presence was a beacon, a lighthouse guiding me through the fog that threatened to cloud my mind.
"Interesting," he murmured after a moment, more to himself than to me. His brow furrowed, a testament to the enigma he encountered. The scrutiny of his eyes felt like a tangible thing, dissecting the very essence of my being.
"Is it damaged?" I ventured tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper.
He withdrew his hand and met my gaze with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "No, the rune is intact, functioning as intended." His words should have been reassuring, but the undertone of perplexity betrayed his concern.
"Then why—"
"Your dreams," he cut in, a finger raised to silence my burgeoning questions. "They may not be mere figments of your imagination. They could be prophetic, an augury we cannot afford to ignore."
Prophetic? The word resonated within me, igniting a flicker of both fear and intrigue. My dreams had always been vivid, but the notion that they might hold a deeper significance was a revelation that shifted the ground beneath me.
"Could it be true?" I asked, the concept unfurling like a scroll laden with ancient prophecies. "Could my dreams be offering us glimpses of what's to come?"
"Perhaps," he conceded, his eyes never leaving mine. "For now, we must consider all possibilities. The arcane arts are not so easily corralled by our expectations."
I nodded, digesting his words. The idea that I, a mere student, could be touched by the tendrils of prophecy was daunting, yet it provided a puzzle piece to the chaos that had begun to infiltrate our reality—the shadows that crept, the dragon that roared in the silent screams of my slumber.
"Then we will explore every avenue," I declared, newfound determination steeling my voice. My fate, it seemed, was entwined with forces far greater than I had ever imagined. And together, with Professor Hargrave at my side, we would peel back the layers of the unknown.
His approving nod was all the confirmation I needed. We were venturing into uncharted territory, and the path before us was fraught with uncertainties. But the journey—oh, the journey was ours to make.
Professor Hargrave’s gaze lingered in the space between certainty and the unknown, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the ancient oak of his desk. Something unspoken hung heavy in the air—a decision he harbored within the vaults of his mind. I watched him, the mentor who had guided my arcane studies, now wrestling with an enigma that entwined us both.
"Alan once mentioned something to me," he began, his voice barely more than a murmur. It was clear his thoughts were ensnared by possibilities, the kind that danced on the edge of reason. "He suggested that your connection to the dragon, manifesting through these dreams... it could be the key we've been searching for."
I could only nod, my heart fluttering like a caged bird against the walls of my chest. The dragon, a creature of legend, woven into the nightmares that had become my reluctant companions—could I truly be the link to finding it?
"Then," Professor Hargrave continued, steeling himself with a breath that seemed to draw in the very essence of the room, "we may need to take a risk." His eyes met mine, an unspoken contract etched into their depths. "We need to remove the rune."
The weight of his intent settled upon my shoulders. To remove the rune was to step beyond the protective sigils that had been my safeguard since my initiation into the mystical arts. A shiver raced down my spine, not from fear, but from the thrill of the unknown that beckoned.
Without another word, he stood and rounded the desk, closing the distance between us with measured steps. I tilted my head back, exposing the vulnerable column of my throat, trusting him despite the tremors of apprehension that threatened to betray my calm exterior.
"Open your mouth, dear," he instructed, his voice a blend of command and gentle coaxing. As I complied, his hand, steady and sure, reached towards me. His fingers, warm and tinged with the faintest scent of ancient parchment and sage, brushed against my lips before delving into the sanctity of my mouth.
My breath hitched, a silent gasp lost amidst the gravity of the moment. There was no turning back now. The path we had chosen was one of mystery and potential peril, but it was walked together. With Professor Hargrave's guidance, we would unravel the secrets that lay hidden behind the veil of my dreams—the dragon awaited.
His fingers probed with a practitioner's precision, seeking the ethereal mark nestled within the warm cavern of my mouth. It was an intimate invasion, one that set my pulse racing and my mind adrift on a sea of mixed emotions. The rune had been a part of me for so long, its removal felt akin to the extraction of a deeply embedded splinter, both painful and oddly relieving.
The delicate stir of his touch sent a strange sensation through my body, an unexpected awareness of Professor Hargrave as more than just my mentor. His proximity, the necessity of this act, blurred the lines between student and teacher, igniting a frisson of energy that I couldn't quite name. I could sense his focus, the intensity of his concentration as he sought to dislodge the arcane glyph from its residence.
"Almost there," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. There was a momentary increase in pressure, a final twist, and then a lifting — a release, as if a lock had been turned and a gate flung open.
I closed my mouth, feeling the void where the power had once thrummed. Swallowing the emptiness, I met Professor Hargrave's gaze. His eyes held a storm of unspoken thoughts, a tempest contained behind a facade of scholarly concern.
"Curious," he muttered to himself before looking at me again with an intensity that caused my heart to stutter. "There's no clear reason for the rune's failure. It's...troubling."
His eyes flickered away for a moment, lost in thought, then snapped back to mine with a resolve that was almost palpable. "I need to observe the effects over the next few days," he said.
I nodded,when his expression shifted subtly, a mix of professional concern and something less definable. Something raw.
"Keep detailed notes on any changes you experience," he instructed, his voice betraying a hint of that earlier tremble. "Physical or otherwise."
"Of course," I replied, suddenly conscious of the way my own body responded to his proximity, the heightened sensitivity that seemed to linger like an echo of his touch. I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, attempting to anchor myself in the normalcy of student behavior.
"Good." His gaze held mine a second longer than necessary, and I wondered if he felt it too, this inexplicable pull that had settled between us. He cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "We'll revisit your situation soon. For now, try to rest—you've been through an ordeal."
"Thank you, Professor," I managed, though gratitude was tangled with a dozen other emotions I couldn't yet name. As I gathered my things, I felt his eyes on me, heavy with unspoken words and an undercurrent that seemed to draw me into deeper waters.
“Sleep over tonight?” he suggested.
I opened my mouth to answer but I was at a loss for words.
“I'll monitor you,” he said quickly. “Make sure the rune is still working?”
The was something about the way he was now avoiding eye contact that made me believe that he was hiding something. Perhaps he'd removed the rune because the constant hum of its magic was missing in my veins. I frowned. What was he up to?