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Chapter Text

The tall iron gates of evernox academy creaked open with an almost reluctant groan as the black car rolled steadily up the steep, winding drive. Gravel crunched beneath the tyres, and the canopy of trees overhead thinned just enough to reveal the first glimpse of the school through the late afternoon haze.

Evernox loomed in the distance like a forgotten castle pulled from the pages of a storybook, its stone walls weathered by centuries of storms, ivy crawling like veins across the façade. Towering spires reached toward the sky, crowned by a singular clock tower that struck every hour with a low, reverberating toll. Wide stone steps led up to the front archway, and just beyond, the building stretched into long wings that framed the open school grounds.

The car passed an expansive field, still and green in the soft light, its grass recently trimmed. The grounds were edged by a dense wall of woods, dark and thick with pine and oak, wrapping the campus in a circle of shadow and quiet mystery.

It was beautiful.

But there was something unmistakably old about the place.

Not just in structure but in history.

Evernox Academy had stood for hundreds of years, originally built to train and protect those born with magical abilities. Within its halls, generations had come and gone, each learning to harness gifts that marked them different from the rest of the world.

Abilities were varied there where telepaths who could hear thoughts like whispers in the wind, teleporters who vanished with a blink, healers whose hands could seal wounds and stop pain in seconds. There were those who could manipulate fire, water, air, and even the ground itself, others who walked unseen through crowds with invisibility, and a few who changed their very forms, shifting into animals with a shiver of magic.

These powers were known, accepted even celebrated in magical society.

But there was one ability that was whispered about more than praised.

Telekinesis.

The rarest of them all.

Those born with it could move objects with the power of their mind alone, bend the world to their will with a thought. But that strength came at a cost. Telekinesis didn’t just challenge the body, it tested the mind. Power like that came with consequences.

For most, the ability burned too bright. Too powerful for their body and mind to bare.

Without guidance, it could consume the wielder entirely.

Even rarer than telekinesis itself was the ability to control it.

And for those who had it, the weight of expectation was just as heavy as the power they carried.

There was only one telekinetic currently enrolled at evernox academy.

Lando.

And he hated it.

Not just the stares or the assumptions. Not even the way his ability made people flinch before they knew him. What he hated most was the way it made him feel like a walking threat, like a ticking bomb that no one, not even the staff, quite knew how to defuse.

Some students, upon hearing what he was, had pulled away with fear etched into their faces, even if they tried to hide it behind nervous smiles. Others simply looked through him, as if pretending he wasn’t there would protect them from the unseen force humming beneath his skin.

But it wasn’t just strangers who looked at him differently.

His parents had sent him away the moment his powers had surfaced.

Not because they believed in Evernox’s prestigious training.

Not because they thought he’d thrive there.

But because it was the farthest school away from home.

He’d been eleven when they dropped him at the station with nothing but a single suitcase. They hadn’t hugged him. Didn’t even wave goodbye. Just told him to get out the car and then they were gone.

He hadn’t been home for Christmases. Nor for Easter.

He only returned for the long summers, when there was no choice but to return, and even then, it felt like more like an exile than a happy return.

His father barely spoke to him. His mother couldn’t look him in the eye.

They never visited.

Never answered the school’s calls.

And they certainly never asked how his control was coming along.

Evernox had earned its own kind of reputation over the decades.

It was the only magical academy in the world with a success rate above ten percent for training telekinetics. Fifty percent, that was its pride and its curse. Fifty-fifty. A coin flip.

Lando had been told that when he enrolled. Told again repeatedly during history of powers.

And it echoed in his head now, as it had all summer.

Fifty percent.

And he was terrified of ending up in the wrong half.

This past break, things had started to spiral.

His control had slipped, not just once or twice, but constantly.

Objects drifted when he walked by, pens lifting, paper twitching, doors creaking open before his hand touched them.

One morning, his father had stormed into his room while Lando was sleeping.

The entire upstairs hallway had been floating, books, lamps, picture frames all hovering mid-air in a slow, eerie orbit.

His father hadn’t asked if he was okay. He’d just shouted.

And Lando had tried to shut it down. To bury it deep.

But he knew he couldn’t keep suppressing it forever. And he knew he couldn’t rely on anyone else.

The school had a policy, students were paired with personal tutors who shared their abilities, trained by specialists who could guide them from first year onward.

And Lando had been assigned one. Once.

His tutor had left after his first year.

No replacement had ever arrived. For second year, he was alone.

While the others had begun to unlock their potential, gain confidence, push boundaries. Lando was left behind, flailing in the dark with a power that kept growing louder.

Now, standing before the towering front steps of evernox, his bag slung over one shoulder, Lando stared up at the ancient stone walls, the clock tower chiming the hour above him.

The air was cooler here than at home. Sharper.

It smelled like wet leaves, dusty books and old wood.

Like magic flowed through its very foundation.

He swallowed hard.

Year Three.

Maybe it would be different. Maybe he could catch up.

Or maybe…this was the year he’d lose control for good.

He took a step forward, his shoes echoing on the stone as the door loomed ahead.

The heavy wooden doors groaned open under Lando’s hand. The familiar scent of aged stone, dust, and the faintest pulse of magic washed over him.

He stepped inside and let the door shut behind him.

The main entrance was vast with arched ceilings, smooth flagstone floors, and wide staircases that curled up toward the upper wings. Banners fluttered slightly from enchanted drafts, each one stitched with symbols representing the different branches of magic taught at evernox.

A first year nearly ran into him, their hoodie slightly too long and their satchel slipping from their shoulder. Lando stepped aside silently, tugging his own duffel closer to his side, keeping his head low as he made his way down the familiar side corridor that was now marked with a new worn brass plaque that read third year dormitories.

The third year common room had clearly already come to life. Suitcases were strewn across the floor, jackets hung from chair backs, and someone had dropped a handful of glowing practice orbs in the corner near the fireplace.

The room was warm and wide, its walls lined with mismatched armchairs, shelves of tattered magical theory books, and tall windows that looked out to the grounds. A staircase wound upward in the far left corner, leading to the bedrooms on the next floor.

Lando had barely stepped through when someone looked up from the threadbare couch near the fireplace.

Oscar. His roommate for the third year running.

Quiet, thoughtful, and always watching from the edges of the chaos. Lando was glad for the small relief in the familiarity.

“You made it,” Oscar said, setting aside a book on herbal regeneration and standing.

“Guess so.” Lando tried to force a smile. It didn’t really stick.

Before Oscar could reply, a loud thud came from the stairwell above, followed by voices descending rapidly.

“—I’m telling you, the view from the west wing is better,” Max argued as he leapt down the last two steps in a single bound, with his usual half-scowl and untamed energy, barely glanced around before spotting Lando.

“You’re late,” Max noted flatly.

“You’re loud,” Lando muttered back.

Behind him, Daniel appeared with an exaggerated yawn, fading into visibility mid-step. “Lando!” he grinned, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Look who’s finally back to grace us with his brooding presence.”

“Hands off.” Lando ducked out from under him with a half-hearted shove.

“Still no sense of humour,” Daniel said with a wink. “Just like old times.”

Charles and Carlos arrived next. Carlos carrying two sets of folded uniforms under one arm, while Charles toyed with a flame hovering above his palm, smirking like he knew someone was going to tell him off and was looking forward to it.

“Hey, mate,” Charles greeted Lando easily.

Carlos just gave a curt nod before passing Charles one of the uniforms. Their powers, though similar in theory, elemental manipulation, could not have manifested more differently in personality. Charles had a flair for fire and a tendency for showmanship. Carlos was sharp, strategic, and grounded like the earth magic he favoured.

Last to emerge were George and Alex, already deep in a quiet, slightly tense conversation that cut off the moment they noticed everyone else gathered.

“Lando,” George said politely, brushing non-existent lint from his perfectly-pressed shirt. “Glad you made it. The head of year is due any moment. You haven’t missed much—”

“—except my new list of prank ideas,” Daniel interrupted.

Alex sighed. “Which no one read.”

“I skimmed it,” Max muttered, clearly lying.

“Lando,” Alex greeted with a soft smile, steering the conversation back. “It’s good to see you.”

Lando gave a nod, avoiding George’s sharp gaze. Being a telepath, George often knew more than he let on, despite the warning to not read people thoughts outside of training, and Lando was too tired for layered thoughts today.

Just then, the common room door creaked open again, and a cool breeze followed Sebastian in, their head of year.

He looked much the same as last year, windswept blond hair, sleeves rolled up, clipboard in hand, and a vaguely tired expression that said you lot better not start the year with a fire. Again.

“Everyone here?” he asked, scanning the room before his eyes landed on Lando. “Good. You made it.”

Lando nodded silently.

Seb walked to the centre of the common room and handed a thick stack of paper to George, who immediately began passing them around.

“Your weekly timetables. Monday through Friday classes, Saturdays are for training drills and physical evaluations, so don’t plan late Friday nights unless you like being tossed into the duelling pit half-asleep.”

“Is that a threat?” Daniel asked.

“A promise,” Seb replied, unfazed. “Teachers remain the same, with a few minor scheduling shifts. Tutorials are after lunch on Mondays and Fridays, as well as Wednesday morning. You’ll attend sessions with your assigned tutors unless otherwise informed.” Seb’s eyes flicked to Lando briefly. “All questions can come to me. Or don’t. Just don’t burn the place down.”

A few boys chuckled. Lando didn’t.

Seb’s gaze lingered another moment before he handed the last timetable to Lando. “If you have questions, come see me privately.”

With that, he turned and strode out, cloak swishing behind him, muttering about needing tea already.

As the door clicked shut, the room buzzed again, plans for unpacking, bets on who’d fall asleep in the first class, and Daniel already plotting something suspicious involving a jar of glitter and confused first years.

Lando looked down at the paper in his hand with a sigh. The paper floated slightly out of his grip. Just a little. He grabbed it quickly, tucking it under his arm.

Third year. This was his make it or brake it year. He wasn’t going to let it break him, he’d make it into the good half of that fifty percent. Even if he had to do it alone.

Upstairs, the hallway was a patchwork of creaky floorboards, uneven lighting, and the comforting chaos of eight boys reuniting after the summer break. The bedrooms branched off from the narrow corridor, two beds per room sat under the wide windows, with desks at their feet and wardrobes already thrown open as clothes spilled out and voices echoed up and down the corridor.
The scent of old wood, a mixture of laundry detergent and freshly unpacked spell books filled the air.

In their room at the far end of the hall, Lando sat on the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the duffel bag by his feet, fingers gripping the edge of the mattress a little too tightly. Oscar had already unpacked half of his side, books where stacked with care, his uniform hung neatly, a small healing crystal was already humming softly on his nightstand.

“You’re not unpacking,” Oscar said, glancing over his shoulder from his desk.

“Not yet,” Lando muttered. “Just tired. Long journey.”

Oscar didn’t push. He never did. But Lando could feel his quiet concern like a warm draft. It made the knot in his chest tighten.

As Oscar returned to arranging his notes form last year, Lando opened his bag with care. His hands were already shaking, faintly but noticeably, and the moment he unzipped the fabric, one of the books inside lifted a fraction into the air.

He slammed it back down with his hand, jaw clenched.

“Careful,” Oscar murmured, only glancing up for a moment. Lando wasn’t sure if he’d seen it or if he was just guessing.

He turned toward the window, pretending to admire the view he hadn’t seen over the past two months.

Across the hall, Daniel was hanging an upside-down poster of a flying phoenix on the wall, cheerfully humming a tune that didn’t match the rhythm of his movements.

“You know that’s crooked, right?” Max muttered from his bed, already lying back with one arm draped over his face. His suitcase lay unpacked on the floor, socks hanging out like they were trying to escape.

“It’s art,” Daniel replied. “Chaos is part of the charm.”

“You’re chaos.”

“And you’re no fun.”

Their bickering was familiar, comfortable. The kind of teasing that had grown from shared detentions and nearly being expelled for accidentally teleporting a goat into the staff room last year.

Max didn’t reply, just groaned. “I already miss summer.”

Daniel glanced at the door. “Think Lando’s alright?”

Max didn’t answer. But he sat up a little straighter.

Next door, Carlos was placing small elemental focus stones on his windowsill, each one linked to a different grounding technique. Charles, meanwhile, was using his flame magic to heat the tea kettle hovering a few inches above their desk.

“You’re going to set something on fire.”

“Probably,” Charles grinned. “But I’ll put it out right after.”

Carlos rolled his eyes, but his smile was genuine. He paused, then asked, “Did you notice Lando earlier?”

Charles blew on the steam curling from the spout. “He seemed…twitchy.”

“He didn’t talk much.”

“He never really does, not anymore, ” Charles said. “But yeah. Something’s different.”

Carlos didn’t reply. But he noticed the way Charles’s fingers curled tightly around the teacup. Like he was thinking it too.

In the last room, George sat cross-legged on his bed, a book on advanced telepathic boundaries open on his lap. Alex was reorganising the contents of his healing kit with precise, careful movements.

“You’re quiet,” George said.

“I’m always quiet,” Alex replied without looking up.

“More than usual.”

“Lando’s off.”

George nodded slowly, flipping a page. “I tried listening earlier. He was blocking me.”
“Intentionally?”

“I don’t know. But his thoughts were cloudy. Like…static.”

Alex frowned, finally looking up. “That’s not good.”

“No,” George murmured, eyes distant. “It’s not.”

Lando was now unpacking slowly, one item at a time. A shirt. A pair of gloves. An old textbook.

He had just pulled out his notebook when a pencil on the desk rolled forward and hovered for half a second before clattering to the floor. He froze.

Oscar turned from where he’d been reading, his expression unreadable.

“I said I was just tired,” Lando said too quickly. “Probably just—”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not.”

Oscar didn’t push it further. He just turned back to his book.

But Lando caught the hesitation in his movements, the way he didn’t say it’s fine. Because it wasn’t.

And both of them knew it.

Later, the boys gathered in the common room, some flopped in armchairs, others sprawled across the rug. Charles and Daniel argued over which magical beast they’d most want as a friend. Max was reading sideways, legs slung over the side of the couch. George and Alex were locked in a quiet game of strategy using enchanted chess pieces that changed form mid-match.

Oscar sat close to Lando, glancing at him now and again as if checking he was still there.

Lando smiled when spoken to, laughed once or twice but it felt hollow. His eyes flicked constantly to objects around the room, as if willing them to stay still.

To behave. They didn’t always. A cup jittered. A book spine creaked open on its own.

His fingers twitched, and a cushion shifted slightly before he slammed his palm on it, pretending to lean.

No one called him out.

But Daniel’s eyes narrowed. And Carlos’s brow furrowed. While Oscar watched him the whole time.

As evening deepened and the first stars blinked into the enchanted sky beyond the windows, the boys began drifting off to bed one by one.

Lando lingered.

Staring into the fireplace, he pressed his thumb against his palm and whispered to himself under his breath. Don’t float. Don’t rise. Don’t shake. Just be still. Just be still.

But the magic inside him pulsed back, soft and insistent.

And he knew the stillness wouldn’t last.

-x-

The dining hall was buzzing with the familiar, chaotic energy of a new term.

Morning light streamed in through the tall arched windows, casting a golden glow across the long oak tables. The tall windows showed a clear autumn morning, streaked with high clouds.

Third years clustered near the centre-left table, all still a little bleary-eyed from the first night back.

Lando slipped in quietly at the end of the table, half hoping no one would notice he hadn’t touched his food. He poked at a piece of toast, occasionally glancing at the others while staying silent.

Max was spooning porridge into his mouth like it personally offended him. “If Seb gives us a surprise quiz this morning, I swear I’m teleporting out the window.”

“Do that and I’m locking it behind you,” Carlos muttered, already halfway through a bowl of fruit and yoghurt. His uniform looked pressed and perfect. Of course it did.

Charles gave Max a smirk over his glass of orange juice. “You could always study.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I did. I just forgot it all the second I woke up.”

Daniel was halfway through stacking buttered toast into a leaning tower. “You lot are too serious. It’s the first class of the year, he’s probably still dusting off the chalkboard.”

“He doesn’t use a chalkboard,” George said primly. “It’s enchanted glass. And if you’d read the summer prep material, you’d know this term is supposed to focus on elemental history and personalised control theory.”

Daniel groaned. “I missed that letter.”

“You ignored that letter,” Alex corrected with a small smile, pushing a cup of tea toward him.

Oscar sat across from Lando, glancing at him occasionally while buttering his toast. “You feeling okay about this morning?” he asked quietly.

Lando blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Oscar didn’t answer, but the look he gave Lando said everything. He’d noticed the quiet. The pale face. The untouched food. Lando turned back to his toast.

Lando glanced up. “We’ve got elemental theory first, yeah?”

George nodded. “Then combat with Jenson. Break, history with Lewis, advanced control with Kimi, lunch, then tutorials.”

Daniel leaned in, whispering conspiratorially to Charles, “Wanna bet Seb makes someone cry by second period?”

“Please. Only if Max says something smug,” Charles grinned.

“I’m sitting right here,” Max muttered, eyes on his porridge.

The laughter around the table eased the tension a little. But Lando still felt that hum under his skin, the pull of his powers thrumming just beneath the surface. Like a muscle he’d forgotten to stretch. Like a tide that never went out.

He took a deep breath. He could make it through today.

He had to.

As the bell rang across the grounds, the boys gathered their bags and made their way through the wide corridor toward the east wing, where elemental theory was held in one of the older stone classrooms overlooking the fields.

Their voices echoed off the arched walls as they walked.

“Bet Seb starts with a lecture about ‘harnessing inner balance’ again,” Daniel said.

“You should probably listen this time,” Oscar replied.

Lando stayed near the back of the group, eyes fixed on the floor, the corner of his bag clutched tight in his hand. His fingers were already twitching, small pulses of magic flickering across his skin, unseen by the others.

He just had to get through one day at a time. Take it one class at a time.

He could handle it. He had to.

The elemental theory classroom smelled faintly of chalk and ozone, like a summer storm had been trapped in the walls. Rows of desks faced the wide enchanted glass at the front, where sunlight spilled in through tall, mullioned windows.

Seb stood by the desk, a stack of worksheets in one hand, his other resting on a globe that rotated lazily on its own, air currents guiding it in slow, smooth turns.

“Welcome back, everyone,” he said, his voice carrying easily over the shuffle of chairs and murmured greetings. “We’ll keep today simple. A quick recap to see what you’ve retained over summer, and then we’ll move into pair exercises later this week.”

Lando slid into a seat beside Oscar, dropping his bag a little too heavily under the desk. He fished out a pen and notepad, ignoring the faint static prickling in his fingertips.

Sebastian began handing out timetables down each row. “Your first term will focus on refining your control, especially in high-stress situations. Accuracy before power, as always.”

Lando’s pen wobbled faintly where it rested on his notepad, just enough for Oscar to notice. Without looking up from his own desk, Oscar shifted his foot under the table, lightly nudging Lando’s shin.

It was enough. The pen stilled.

From the next row over, Max was leaning back in his chair, eyes on the board but clearly tuned into everything happening around him. Charles, two seats behind, caught Max’s glance and smirked for reasons only he knew.

Seb’s voice cut back in. “We’ll start with a review of last term’s key principles. George, since you’re head of year, you can remind us, what’s the first rule of elemental manipulation?”

George straightened, smoothing his tie. “The element answers the will, not the whim.”

“Exactly,” Seb said. “Control before reaction.”

Lando kept his eyes on the board, trying not to think about how his pen had moved without him asking it to.

Seb clapped his hands once, and the air in the room shifted, just enough to stir the edges of papers.

“Alright. We’ll start with a simple recall drill. No tests, no pressure,” he said, gesturing toward the shelves along the back wall. “Everyone, take one of the practice orbs. Pass them along.”

The smooth, palm-sized spheres were used for channelling basic elemental output, safe enough for first years, responsive enough to make older students pay attention.

Lando caught the one Oscar passed to him, the cool glass humming faintly in his hand. He rolled it between his fingers, telling himself it was fine, he was fine.

“Focus on precision,” Seb instructed. “A clean, steady output of your element, no surges, no spikes. Max, you first.”

Max’s orb gave a soft pulse of light before vanishing completely. Seb nodded. “Teleportation controlled. Good.”

Around the room, orbs flickered with heat, misted with water, and glimmered faintly with elemental energy. Charles coaxed a thin flame inside his, the fire curling lazily like a cat stretching in sunlight.

When it was Lando’s turn, he held the orb steady in his palm and breathed in, willing the telekinetic push to be gentle.

The orb lifted perfectly, hovering an inch, smooth as if on invisible strings.

Then it kept rising.

Not much. Just a few extra centimetres, spinning slowly in the air like it had ideas of its own.

Lando’s jaw tightened. He nudged it back down, trying to make the motion look intentional.

Seb’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer than it had on anyone else, but he said nothing. Oscar glanced sideways at Lando’s hand, brows knitting just slightly before he turned back to his own orb.

“Good,” Seb said evenly. “Remember your element answers the will, not the whim. Partner work tomorrow, so come prepared.”

The bell rang, and chairs scraped across the floor. Lando slipped the orb back onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary, telling himself it wasn’t a big deal.

But he caught Max watching him on the way out. Not saying anything. Just…watching.

The gym echoed with the thud of sparring pads and the bark of instructions from Jenson, who stalked the mat like he was already timing their movements.

Pairs spread out, Max with Daniel, Charles with Carlos, George with Alex, and Lando with Oscar.

Oscar kept his guard up, feet moving in careful circles. “You’re thinking too much,” he said quietly.

“I’m not,” Lando shot back, blocking a half-hearted jab.

“You are. Your eyes do that thing—”

Jenson’s voice cut in. “Lando, focus on the stance, not the floor.”

The pads in Lando’s hands gave a sudden, faint tremor. It wasn’t much, but Oscar’s gaze sharpened as he caught it. Lando shifted his grip quickly, pretending it hadn’t happened.

By the end of the session, Jenson’s only comment was, “Not bad for the first day. But you’ll all need to tighten up.”

The courtyard was warm under the midday sun at break, the stone benches scattered with students chatting over snacks.

Daniel and Max were in the middle of a quiet but intense argument about teleporting prank objects into people’s bags. Carlos and Charles were leaning against the fountain, trading exaggerated holiday stories while George muttered about them “setting a bad example” to nearby first years.

Oscar sat on the bench beside Lando, who was demolishing a muffin. A wrapper from another lay crumpled at his feet.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Oscar said.

“I missed breakfast,” Lando said through a mouthful. “Kinda.”

Oscar’s eyes drifted to Lando’s juice bottle, which was rocking ever so slightly on the bench between them. Lando snatched it up before anyone else could notice.

Lewis’s classroom was, as alway, an organised chaos of maps, books, and curiosities from different parts of the world. The headteacher himself leaned casually against the desk, shifting subtly between his human form and the faint, feline flicker of his other shape as he spoke.

“Your history is more than dates and laws, it’s stories. The way powers shaped the world, and how the world shaped those with powers.”

Halfway through his lecture, a stack of reference cards at the edge of Lando’s desk slid toward him without being touched.

Lando pressed his palm flat against them, heat creeping up his neck. Lewis’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest moment, unreadable, before he went on with the lesson.

This was the one class where they were encouraged to push their limits, under careful supervision. Kimi, invisible except for the occasional shimmer in the air, moved between groups.

Lando and Oscar were set up beside Charles and Carlos. The exercise was simple, channel a precise amount of power into a crystal until it lit steadily.

Charles’s crystal flared bright in seconds, Carlos matching him in smug precision. Oscar’s glowed evenly, a faint green.

Lando’s started fine, then flickered wildly, as if caught in a gust of wind no one else could feel.

“Steady,” Kimi’s voice murmured from somewhere over his shoulder.

He forced it to level out. Managed it. Just.

The dining hall smelled of roasted chicken and fresh bread, long tables packed with chattering students.

The boys gathered at their usual spot, Daniel already in the middle of retelling some ridiculous combat theory mishap, Max and Charles tossing pointed remarks back and forth like stones skipping water.

Oscar slid Lando a plate without asking, his gaze lingering just long enough to make Lando fidget. Across the table, George was launching into his plan for a “more efficient study rota” for the dorm.

Every so often, Max’s eyes cut toward Lando. Charles noticed, smirked, but didn’t say a word.

If Lando realised anyone was watching him more than usual, he didn’t let on. But under the table, his fork trembled faintly in his hand.

Chapter Text

Seb’s office smelled faintly of pine and the ever-present whiff of something burnt. Sunlight poured in through tall windows, glinting off the neat rows of shelves stacked with books, crystals, and a few weathered practice tools from his own academy days.

Charles sprawled in one of the armchairs opposite Seb’s desk, twirling a pen between his fingers. Carlos sat straighter, posture almost irritatingly perfect, his notes already open on his lap.

“Summer’s over,” Seb said, leaning back in his chair with the sort of relaxed authority that made you think he could still win a duel with his eyes closed. “Time to knock the dust off. I want to see where you’re both at before we start working on anything new.”

Carlos smirked. “Should we warm up, or just show off?”

Seb arched a brow. “Depends. Do you want to impress me or irritate me?”

Charles grinned, the flame that flickered to life in his palm answering before he spoke. Carlos followed with a swirl of water around his fingers, the stream weaving through the air toward Charles’s fire.

It took only seconds before they were pushing against each other, fire hissing and steam curling in the air.

Seb let it run a few moments longer before snapping his fingers. A sharp gust of wind cut through the room, dispersing both elements at once. “Control, gentlemen. Not chaos.”

Charles slouched back with a grin that said he’d enjoyed himself anyway. Carlos only muttered something about Charles starting it.

“Alright,” Seb said, standing and gesturing toward the wide training space at the back of his office. “Let’s work on precision strikes. One at a time. And this time—” his gaze flicked between them, “—without turning it into a competition.”

-x-

The teleportation training room was stripped down to bare essentials, wide open space, clean lines, and a grid of black tiles marked with pale blue numbers. Each tile had a faint shimmer to it, a visual aid for new students still learning their range.

Max wasn’t one of them.

He stood in the centre, arms folded, while Jenson adjusted the cuff of his jacket. “You’ve got the range. You’ve got the speed. What you still lack—” Jenson gave him a pointed look, “—is subtlety.”

Max’s eyebrow twitched. “I’m subtle.”

“You’re about as subtle as Daniel trying to sneak biscuits from the kitchen.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at Max’s mouth. “That was one time.”

Jenson pointed toward the far end of the room, where a row of small brass bells hung from the wall. “Your task is to collect the third bell from the left without disturbing the others. No noise, no ripple effect. And you’re not allowed to take the floor with you this time.”

Max gave him a bland look but didn’t argue. In a blink, he vanished, only for the faintest chime to ring from the far wall.

“That’s the fifth bell,” Jenson said flatly.

Max reappeared beside him, holding the correct bell anyway. “Yeah, but it’s not like the brief said I couldn’t touch the others, just don’t take them.”

Jenson pinched the bridge of his nose. “One day, you’ll learn that the point of the exercise is not to find loopholes.”

“Then stop making them so obvious.”

The next exercise began without warning, a tiny flash-bang device tossed in Max’s direction. He was gone before it hit the ground, reappearing on tile twenty-four, grinning like he’d just won a game Jenson didn’t know they were playing.

-x-

The corridors were quiet this late in the day, most students tucked away in tutor sessions or the library. Perfect for Kimi’s favourite type of training, fieldwork without the field.

Daniel crouched just inside the archway, trying not to breathe too loudly. “So the goal is just… follow you without being seen?”

“Invisibility is more than disappearing,” Kimi’s voice came, low and even, though his figure was completely gone. “It’s knowing how to move unseen. Footsteps, breathing, even the way air shifts when you pass someone, it all gives you away.”

Daniel’s own invisibility flickered faintly as he stepped forward. “So basically, be a ghost.”

“Exactly. But a silent one.”

They moved together through the corridor, their footsteps nearly soundless against the stone floor. Daniel was still concentrating hard on keeping himself fully out of sight when Kimi slowed to a stop beside a tall window overlooking the courtyard.

Down below, Lando was walking the garden path that wound around the east side of the school grounds. His hands were shoved into his pockets, head tipped up toward the sun, like he had nowhere urgent to be.

Daniel tilted his head, forgetting for a second to stay invisible. “Isn’t he supposed to be in a session right now?”

“He doesn’t have one,” Kimi replied, still watching. His tone was neutral, but there was something in it, an awareness, maybe even a question he wasn’t voicing.

Daniel shrugged, fading fully back from view again. “Lucky. I’d kill to have free time like that.”

Kimi didn’t answer, simply guided him onward. But as they moved down the hall, Daniel thought he caught the faintest glint of Kimi’s eyes turning back toward the window one last time.

-x-

Nico’s tutoring room felt more like a greenhouse than a classroom, warm sunlight streaming in through the glass ceiling, the air rich with the scent of herbs and damp soil. Potted plants lined every shelf, many with small handwritten labels in Nico’s neat script.

Alex was bent over a broad-leafed plant, his hands hovering just above its curling leaves. A faint green glow shimmered between his fingers, coaxing the plant back toward health.

“Good,” Nico said quietly, watching the leaf straighten. “Gentle correction. Healing is persuasion, not force.”

Across the room, Oscar was seated at a workbench, practicing the same principle on a shallow scrape Nico had made across a volunteer practice dummy’s artificial skin. His touch was light, precise, the soft golden light from his palms sealing the injury neatly.

“You’ve both improved since last term,” Nico continued, moving between them with the steady, deliberate pace of someone who never rushed his words. “Alex, you’re still rushing the recovery stage. Oscar, you’re holding back too much. Find the middle ground.”

Oscar gave a faint nod, focusing again on his work.

Nico glanced toward the tall windows along the far wall, just in time to catch a flicker of movement in the gardens below. Lando, again, drifting along the paths, kicking idly at the gravel like he had no destination.

“Is he…skipping something?” Alex asked, noticing where Nico was looking.

“No,” Nico said, but his brow furrowed slightly. “He doesn’t have a tutor yet.”

Oscar’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second before he bent back to the dummy’s arm. “Hasn’t for a while,” he said quietly.

Nico didn’t press. Instead, he placed a small clay pot with a plant between them. “Alright. Both of you, heal this cutting at the same time. Let’s see if you can balance your styles.”

-x-

Fernando’s office was quiet in the way a library was quiet, not silent, exactly, but full of unspoken thought. The walls were lined with shelves of old books, many of them with subjects so niche only Fernando would care enough to read them.

George sat with perfect posture at the desk opposite his tutor, pen poised over a blank notebook.

“Focus on the shape of the thought,” Fernando instructed, his voice calm, almost soothing. “Not just the words. What is the emotion behind them? What is the intention?”

George nodded once, gaze fixed on Fernando as he tried to maintain the mental connection. The edges of the older man’s thoughts brushed faintly against his own, a steady hum, patient and deliberate.

“You’re trying too hard,” Fernando said after a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Relax your mind. Telepathy is as much about listening as speaking.”

George inhaled deeply, shoulders easing. The noise faded until it was just Fernando’s presence, clearer now, like hearing someone talk in an empty room.

“That’s better,” Fernando said, leaning back slightly. “Now, extend your awareness outward. See who else you can sense in the building.”

George let his mind drift, brushing past the faint signatures of teachers and students in nearby classrooms. Then, further, he found a familiar flicker, louder than it should be, a little frayed at the edges.

“…Lando?” he said aloud before catching himself.

Fernando’s eyes opened, just a fraction sharper. “Where?”

“Outside. Walking along the gardens.” George frowned. “He feels…restless.”

Fernando didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he closed his own eyes briefly, confirming the same impression. “We’ll talk about him later,” he said at last. “For now, keep your mind open, and don’t get pulled in too deep.”

George didn’t argue, but the name still lingered in the back of his thoughts for the rest of the exercise.

-x-

The air outside was warmer than he expected, sunlight stretching lazy shadows across the gravel paths. The gardens were quiet, too quiet for Lando’s liking, but at least no one was around to ask what he was supposed to be doing.

Everyone else had tutors. Always had. When he was in first year, before he’d really known what he was doing, there’d been someone to tell him when he was messing up. Then the year after, when they promised they’d find him someone new…well he’d stopped holding his breath.

He scuffed his shoe through the gravel, sending a few stones skittering across the path. A flick of thought and one bounced back toward his foot, just to see if he could. It worked. He grinned faintly, then shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

The usual loop around the gardens felt too small today. His feet slowed near the east edge, where a narrow dirt track curled away between tall hedges. The hedges thinned into brambles, and beyond them, the start of the woods.

Technically off-limits. The rule list had been clear about that since first year. But rules were mostly for people with something else to do.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, no one in sight, Lando ducked through the gap and stepped into the trees. The air was cooler here, the quiet heavier.

And without anyone around to watch, he let go.

A small twig lifted from the ground, spinning lazily in the air before darting between his fingers. Leaves shivered in a faint ripple, though there was no wind. A stone rose from the dirt, hung there a moment, then zipped forward and thudded against a tree trunk.

It felt good, too good, to stop holding everything in. His chest loosened with each small push of power, the hum in his head settling into something steady, almost calm.

Somewhere deeper in the woods, a bird took flight, startled by nothing visible. Lando smirked, rolling another pebble between his fingers without touching it.

For the first time that day, he wasn’t thinking about missing tutors or rules. Just the way the world felt when he could nudge it however he wanted.

The further Lando walked, the more the Academy slipped behind him, its grand spires and polished windows swallowed by the dense green of the woods.

Here, the rules didn’t press in so tightly. There were no glowing orbs, no tutors watching with too-sharp eyes. Just moss-covered roots and the crunch of leaves beneath his boots.

He let his powers drift further out now, branches bent ever so slightly as he passed, leaves twitched at his fingertips. He didn’t push hard, didn’t need to. The woods responded like they knew him.

And then, through a thicket of overgrown brambles, he saw something.

Not a structure, not exactly. More like…remnants.

A clearing opened up, wide and sun-dappled, and at the centre stood what remained of an old stone shelter. Ivy wound through cracks in the walls, and half the roof had long since caved in. It looked ancient, forgotten.

Which, of course, made it irresistible.

Lando crept toward it, brushing a low-hanging branch aside with a flick of his fingers. A bird startled overhead, but he didn’t flinch.

Inside the stone hut the air was still. A rusted lantern sat crooked in one corner. The ground was covered in layers of dried leaves and the faint imprint of what had once been furniture, benches, maybe. Shelving. He crouched, running a hand over the stone.

He didn’t know why it felt important, but something about the space made his skin buzz faintly, the way it did when his powers got ahead of him.

His fingers twitched. A small rock nearby lifted and hovered lazily, circling him like a sleepy planet.

Lando leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. It was so quiet here. No tutors, no questions. Just…this.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there.

By the time he stepped back out into the trees, the sun had dipped below the treetops. The woods had shifted, cooler now, with long shadows trailing between trunks.

Panic didn’t quite set in, but urgency did.

Lando picked his way back as quickly as he dared, retracing his steps, brushing aside low branches and following the faint tug of the school’s wards pressing gently at the edge of his mind.

When he reached the break in the hedge, the academy was glowing warm in the distance, windows lit and laughter faint through the air.

No one had noticed. Yet.

He ducked low, sticking to the edges of the path. The side entrance to the dorm creaked faintly as he pushed it open, and he held his breath until he heard nothing but the hum of hallway lights.

The common room after dinner was always a little chaotic, half the boys still buzzing from dessert, the other half sprawled in chairs like they were already halfway to bed. The fire in the grate crackled lazily, casting the walls in warm orange light.

Charles and Carlos were arguing over a deck of cards, the pile between them growing as Carlos accused Charles of creative rule interpretation. Max had claimed the armchair near the window, long legs stretched out, book balanced on one knee. Daniel was perched upside down on the sofa, head dangling over the edge, chatting with Alex about a prank he swore was ‘practically harmless.’

Lando slipped in through the side door, keeping his steps light, his hair still mussed from the wind in the woods. A dry leaf clung stubbornly to the cuff of his trousers.

“Where’d you vanish to?” Daniel called, twisting upright to squint at him.

“Library,” Lando said quickly, moving toward the sofa. “Needed to grab something.”

“Uh-huh,” Max murmured without looking up from his book. The pause between page turns felt deliberate.

Oscar, who was sitting cross-legged on the rug, looked up at him for a fraction longer than necessary, eyes flicking to that stray leaf before returning to the chessboard he was sharing with George.

“Find anything good?” Alex asked, sounding casual enough, but his brow lifted just slightly.

“Not really,” Lando said, dropping onto the arm of the sofa and snatching a stray card from Charles’s losing pile. “What’re we playing?”

Carlos narrowed his eyes. “Something you’d lose at.”

The room dissolved into the usual noise again, arguments over the card game, Daniel’s exaggerated prank pitch, George lecturing him about rule violations. Lando leaned back, letting the chatter wash over him.

If anyone still wondered where he’d been, they didn’t press. And he wasn’t offering.

But Oscar caught his gaze once across the room, not saying a word, just giving him that look that made Lando wonder if maybe someone had seen more than he thought.

The dorm was quieter after lights-out, but not silent. A few doors still creaked now and then, muffled laughter carried down the hall, and somewhere Daniel’s music leaked faintly through the wall.

In his room, Lando lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The faint glow from his desk lamp caught the edges of his scattered notes and the open textbook he’d been pretending to read for the last twenty minutes.

Across the room, Oscar was propped against his headboard, reading with earbuds in. Every so often, he’d turn a page without glancing up.

Lando shifted onto his side, careful not to make the springs squeak. His bag sat on the floor beside his bed, and he reached down to fish out a scrap of paper. On it, a half-drawn map, rough lines of the school grounds, the gardens, and now, faintly sketched in pencil, the path into the woods.

He traced the route with his finger, the memory of the old shelter still sharp in his mind: the way the air felt thicker inside, the faint buzz that made his skin prickle, the quiet that wrapped around him like it belonged there.

Tomorrow was packed, classes all morning, group study in the afternoon, but Wednesday…

Wednesday was perfect. He could skip breakfast and go straight to the hut.

While everyone else was locked into their personal tutor sessions, he’d have an hour to himself. He could take food, maybe a blanket. Stay longer if he goes early. Look around properly this time.

Lando folded the paper and slid it under his pillow, the decision settling in his chest like a secret he wasn’t ready to share.

“Lights?” Oscar’s voice cut through the quiet, pulling out one earbud.

“Yeah,” Lando said quickly, flicking the switch. The room dropped into shadow.

He lay there in the dark, listening to the low hum of the dorm, already counting down the hours.

-x-

The library was warmer than usual, the sun spilling in through the tall windows and pooling across the long tables in soft gold of the afternoon sun. Dust motes drifted in the light, and the faint scent of old paper and ink clung to the air.

Lando moved quietly between the shelves, fingers brushing spines as he scanned the labels. Most of the telekinesis books were dry theory, dense titles with diagrams that looked like they’d been drawn by someone who’d never actually used the power.

Still, he pulled one out, Mind over matter: foundational practices for controlled Projection, and tucked it under his arm before grabbing another, older-looking one, its title nearly worn off the cover. He carried both to the farthest table in the corner, the one with a slightly wobbly chair no one else liked.

The first chapter talked about stabilising emotional states to keep control of an object’s movement. He tried to picture the orb from yesterday’s class sitting perfectly still in the air, but the memory came with the faint twitch of it spinning on its own.

He frowned, tapping the page with his finger.

“Afternoon, Lando.”

He jumped slightly, looking up to see Seb standing at the end of the table. The head of year was dressed more casually than in class, sleeves rolled to his elbows, but his gaze was just as sharp.

“Hi, sir,” Lando said quickly, sitting a little straighter.

Seb’s eyes flicked to the book on the table. “Studying?”

“Trying to,” Lando said, keeping his tone light.

Seb nodded slowly. “Good. You should know, though a few of the staff mentioned seeing you wandering the grounds yesterday afternoon. Outside the usual areas.”

Lando felt his pulse quicken but forced a shrug. “I don’t have a tutor session, so I just walked around for a bit. Gardens, mostly.”

Seb studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small nod. “You’re not in trouble. Just…be mindful. Certain areas are off-limits for a reason.”

“I know,” Lando said, keeping his face neutral.

Seb’s expression didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes, like he was trying to measure whether Lando believed his own words. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it. See you in class tomorrow.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the quiet.

Lando let out a slow breath, glancing back down at the book. The paragraph in front of him swam slightly, but he forced himself to read it again, this time paying attention.

Wednesday morning couldn’t come soon enough.

-x-

The corridors were busy but orderly, students drifting toward their assigned tutor rooms in loose clusters. The air hummed with the usual midweek energy, papers under arms, muttered reminders about yesterday’s homework, the faint smell of coffee clinging to the teachers who’d been up too late marking.

In the dorm, the boys were moving at their own pace.

Charles and Carlos were heading out together, already tossing light jabs about who’d outperform who in Seb’s elemental drills. Max was leaning against the doorframe, listening with feigned boredom as Jenson outlined his teleportation challenge for the day. Daniel jogged past with a lopsided grin, Kimi waiting somewhere down the hall for another invisibility exercise.

Alex was still tying his shoelaces while Oscar packed away a small satchel for his healing session with Nico. “Don’t forget your notes,” Oscar said, nudging the stack of papers toward him.

“I won’t,” Alex replied, then glanced at Lando. “You in class this morning?”

“Library,” Lando said easily, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Gonna finish that telekinesis book from yesterday.”

It wasn’t a lie, exactly, he had left it open on his desk.

The others filed out in twos and threes, the sound of their chatter fading down the stairwell. Lando waited a minute longer, listening for the last door to shut, before slipping into the corridor.

The side exit of the dorm was quieter than the main hall. From there, it was a straight walk past the east wing, down the gravel path that led toward the gardens. The cool morning air carried the scent of damp earth, and the low hum of the school’s wards pressed faintly at the edge of his mind.

He glanced back once, just in case, then ducked through the same gap in the hedge he’d found on Monday.

The trees closed in around him, their canopy filtering the sunlight into soft green. The air here was cooler, heavier. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease with each step, his powers settling into that low, steady hum they’d found last time.

He was going back to the shelter.

The walk felt quicker this time. Maybe because he knew where he was going. The narrow dirt track wound between mossy roots and brambles until the trees began to thin, revealing the clearing.

The shelter stood just as he’d left it, quiet, still, the ivy draped over its crumbling walls like a blanket. The air inside was cooler, holding that faint electric tingle that made the hairs on his arms rise.

Lando stepped over the threshold, his boots crunching on dry leaves. Sunlight filtered in through the collapsed roof, spilling across the floor in soft, uneven patches.

He’d meant to look more closely last time, but the quiet had pulled him into just…being there. This time, he moved around the edges, brushing aside fallen branches and nudging loose stones with his foot.

A faint glint caught his eye, metal, dull with age, poking from beneath a pile of debris in the corner. He crouched, using a flick of telekinesis to shift the heavier pieces aside without getting dirt under his nails.

Beneath the rubble lay a wooden chest, no bigger than a school satchel. The hinges groaned as he eased it open, revealing a stack of cloth-wrapped bundles and, on top, a thick book bound in dark leather.

The cover was scuffed, but the gold-embossed title was still just visible, along with what looked like a stamped in symbol of three interlocked rings. Beyond the known: unrecorded applications of telekinesis.

Lando’s breath caught.

He flipped it open, the pages yellowed but intact. Diagrams sprawled across them, illustrations far more detailed than anything he’d seen in the Academy library. There were sections on precision control, large-scale projection, even using telekinesis to manipulate energy rather than just objects.

One page was book marked, a sketch of a hand surrounded by faint concentric rings of force. The note in the margin read, ‘perception and influence are one, see beyond what moves, and you control it fully.’

Lando sat down right there on the floor, the book balanced on his knees. He skimmed page after page, each one making his pulse quicken. This wasn’t theory weighed down by classroom rules, it was practical, creative, almost dangerous in its ideas.

By the time the light began to fade, he was three chapters in and fighting the urge to keep going. The others would be finishing their tutor sessions soon.

Reluctantly, he wrapped the book in the cloth it had been stored in and tucked it into his bag. His bag felt heavier than before, but in a way that made his chest fizz with something like anticipation.

As he made his way back through the trees, the academy’s faint pressure grew stronger. He stepped through the hedge gap into the gardens just as the first lamps flickered on in the windows.

No one saw him slip in through the side door.

And no one knew that tucked in his bag, wrapped in cloth, was a book the library would never have let him check out.

By the time Lando joined the others for their next lesson, his hair was still a little wind-ruffled from the woods. No one commented, though Oscar’s gaze lingered a fraction too long as they filed into elemental theory.

Seb clapped his hands. “Switch partners today. You’ll be working with someone new, see what you can learn from each other’s styles.”

Lando found himself beside Charles, whose control over fire was so casual it almost looked lazy.

“Just don’t set my eyebrows on fire,” Lando said as they set up at their station.

“No promises,” Charles grinned.

The task was simple, move small objects through a shifting obstacle course. Charles breezed through his turn, flames guiding his markers like obedient pets. Lando started well, floating the first few markers cleanly through the course, but halfway in, the last one jerked sideways, smacking into a barrier hard enough to rattle the frame.

“Steady there,” Seb said from across the room, his tone even.

Charles glanced at him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Lando muttered, resetting the marker.

The sun had taken on a softer warmth since the morning. Students lounged on benches or leaned against the low stone walls.

George wandered over with Alex in tow, holding a copy of the weekly schedule. “You’re with me later in History,” George said to Lando, sounding like he’d just assigned him homework.

“Lucky me,” Lando replied, but his mind was still on the book hidden under his bed.

Jenson had rearranged the sparring pairs. This time, Lando faced Max.

Max was quick, his teleportation making him hard to track, but it was the blocking drills that tested Lando. The target pads in his hands should have stayed still as Max struck them, except they didn’t. The right pad kept drifting upward, almost like Lando’s grip couldn’t decide if it wanted to hold it or launch it.

“You’re lifting them,” Max said between hits, his tone more observation than accusation.

“Not on purpose,” Lando shot back.

“Uh-huh.” Max didn’t press, but he didn’t look entirely convinced either.

Lewis had them working in pairs to analyse historical case studies. Lando and George took one of the back tables, a thick volume spread between them.

George started reading aloud, but halfway through a paragraph, the page turned itself.

George stopped, brow knitting. “Did you just—?”

“Page stuck,” Lando lied quickly, flattening the paper with his palm.

George didn’t look convinced, but after a beat, he went back to reading.

The last class of the day, after an thankfully uneventful lunch had Lando paired with Daniel, who was too busy making jokes to notice much at first.
The exercise was to levitate and rotate a crystal sphere evenly for a full thirty seconds. Lando got it spinning, but the speed kept changing, jerking faster, then slower, until it wobbled in the air.

“Looks like it’s got a mind of its own,” Daniel said, grinning.

“Yeah,” Lando muttered, forcing it steady.

From across the room, both Alex and Oscar glanced over at the uneven spin before returning to their own work. Neither said anything.

By the time the bell rang for the end of the day, Lando could feel the edges of his control fraying. He hadn’t slipped badly enough for a teacher to call him out, but enough of the group had seen something to know it wasn’t just his imagination.

And he still had the old book waiting for him in his room.

-x-

The fire crackled low in the common room, casting shifting gold across the boys’ faces. Someone had left the windows cracked, and the faint smell of rain drifted in from the gardens.

The usual noise was there, Daniel sprawled on the sofa telling some wildly exaggerated story to Alex, Carlos and Charles half-playing, half-arguing over cards, but the energy felt…different.

Lando sat in the far corner, knees drawn up in an armchair. A book rested in his lap, its cover angled just enough so no one could make out the title. Every so often, he’d turn a page with deliberate slowness, eyes scanning intently.

From the other side of the room, Max leaned toward Charles, lowering his voice. “You noticed it too?”

Charles didn’t look up from his hand of cards. “The thing with his control? Yeah.”

George, perched on the arm of the sofa with a mug of tea, chimed in without glancing toward Lando. “History class. Page turned itself.”

“Combat theory,” Max said. “Pads kept lifting. He said it wasn’t on purpose.”

“I saw it in elemental theory,” Charles added, flicking a card onto the pile. “Marker smacked the barrier like it was trying to escape.”

Oscar, seated cross-legged on the rug near the fire, stayed quiet for a moment before saying, “He’s been spending a lot of time alone. Especially for only just having come back.” His gaze flicked toward Lando, who was now leaning forward over the book, thumb pressed against the edge of a page like he didn’t want to lose his place.

“You think something’s wrong?” Alex asked from his spot beside Daniel.

“Not wrong,” Charles said, “just…different. Stronger maybe.”

“Or less controlled,” George countered.

Across the room, Lando shifted in his chair, tugging his bag closer to his leg as if to shield the book further. He didn’t look up, didn’t join in. For once, he seemed happy to let the others talk without him.

The conversation trailed off when Daniel started loudly accusing Carlos of cheating at cards. But the glances still passed between Max, Charles, George, and Oscar, quiet, questioning.

And in the corner, Lando turned another page, the faintest curl of a smile ghosting over his lips as his eyes traced a diagram no teacher had never shown him.

The dorm had gone still.

Doors shut one by one, the chatter from the common room fading until there was only the low hum of the building’s magic and the occasional creak of floorboards as the place settled.

Oscar was asleep, his breathing steady from the other side of the room. The faint glow of his bedside clock lit the edge of his blanket.

Lando lay on his side, the old book open under the dim pool of light from his desk lamp. He’d draped his duvet over the back of the chair to block the view from the door, just in case anyone walked past.

The chapter he’d reached was marked with a faded ribbon, its pages worn soft at the corners. The heading read, ‘Expanded reach: influence beyond the visible’.

He traced the words with his finger, reading slowly. The diagrams showed concentric rings spreading outward from a single figure, each ring annotated with notations about distance, density, and perception tether points.

It wasn’t just about lifting or moving what he could see. This was about feeling the shape of a space, the weight of objects beyond walls or corners, the subtle hum of life in motion, and then shifting those things as if they were right in front of him.

One note in the margin, scrawled in a sharp, hurried hand, caught his eye, ‘a broad focus scatters your control, but a narrow focus hones your precision to a perfect point.’

He tried it, closing his eyes, letting his awareness stretch out just far enough to touch the edges of his desk, the chair, the pen lying on top of it. The pen rolled, slowly, until it reached the very edge and stopped dead, exactly where he’d willed it to.

A shiver of satisfaction ran through him.

From across the room, Oscar stirred and mumbled something in his sleep. Lando quickly shut the book, sliding it under his pillow.

He lay back in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the diagrams still etched into his mind.

He couldn’t let the others know about this.

Chapter Text

Two weeks on, the rhythm of the term had settled into something predictable for everyone, everyone except Lando that is.

Two afternoons a week and one morning while the others disappeared into their private tutor sessions, each with their own dedicated safe space and mentor, Charles and Carlos drilling elemental strikes under Seb’s sharp eye, Max teleporting between marked points while Jenson barked corrections, Daniel melting into the walls under Kimi’s invisible guidance, Alex and Oscar in Nico’s sunlit healing room, George in Fernando’s quiet telepathy seminars.

Saturday mornings were reserved for group training drills, and while they trained, Lando vanished.

Not into the library, like he sometimes claimed, but through the same gap in the hedge he’d found on his first wander. Down the narrow track, over the roots and under low-hanging branches, until the trees opened up into the familiar clearing and the old, ivy covered hut stood waiting.

In the past two weeks, he’d made it his own.

The broken shelves now held a small, mismatched stack of books, some borrowed from the Academy library, others from the chest he’d found here, all with the same breading. A handful of practice orbs sat in one corner, wrapped in cloth to muffle their faint hum. The library books were fine for the basics, but the one from the hut…that was different. It spoke about his powers in a way the evernox never had, not just as a trick to lift or move things, but as something fluid, adaptable.

In his first year, his old tutor had made him float pencils, balance cups, lift the occasional chair if they were feeling ambitious. It was boring. Rigid. Nothing like what he was learning now.

Now, alone in the hut, he’d started pushing beyond those limits.

 

He practised manipulating the orbs, using not just his mind but channelling his powers through his whole body until he manipulated the shapes into the way he wanted, stretching them taller, flattening them, compressing them until they pulsed in his palm. He’d learned to make objects feel lighter or heavier without changing their actual size, to twist them through the air in tight, precise arcs.

But he wanted more.

He wanted to be able to change one object into another entirely, reshape wood into metal, a stone into glass. He wanted to feel the lift in his own body, to float without aid, to move through the air like his own gravity didn’t matter.

Most of all, he wanted control.

He wanted the movement to stop when he willed it, not carry on twitching after he passed by. He wanted the whispers and side-eyes in class to stop, the looks that had grown heavier over the last two weeks as more slip-ups happened. A quill rolling off a desk when he walked past. A stack of papers fanning out mid-lesson.

One incident had been bad enough to stick in everyone’s mind, an orb in the control lab veering sharply toward Daniel and smashing through a window instead. He’d laughed it off at the time, but the way the room had gone silent still sat like a stone in his stomach.

So he trained harder here, in the quiet where no one could see.

If the others had their own place and time to develop, then why shouldn’t he?

The hut was quiet except for the faint hum of the practice orbs and the soft rustle of leaves outside. Dust floated lazily in the beams of sunlight streaming through the collapsed roof, the air warm and still.

Lando stood in the centre of the clearing in the floorboards, jacket tossed over a broken chair, sleeves pushed up. Three orbs floated in the air before him, their dull glow pulsing in time with his breathing.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing in concentration.

With a flick of thought, the first orb stretched, its perfect sphere elongating into a thin cylinder. The second flattened into a disc, rotating slowly on its axis. The third compressed in on itself until it was no bigger than a marble, then zipped in a tight circle around the other two.

His lips curled in a small, satisfied smile.

From the pile of objects in the corner, he chose a chunk of smooth stone. It floated into his hand, heavy and cool. He closed his eyes, feeling the structure of it, not just its weight, but its texture, its density. The book’s instructions echoed in his mind ‘Perception is the first step to transformation.’

The surface shimmered faintly under his touch, edges softening, colour shifting a shade lighter. It wasn’t much, but it was more than anything his first-year tutor had ever let him attempt.

Next, he turned the focus inward. His pulse quickened, breath slowing as he imagined the same lift in his own body that he used on the orbs. His feet felt lighter, the pull of the ground loosening just enough that his heels left the floor for a second before touching down again.

Not floating yet. But close.

Sweat dampened his hairline, and his shoulders ached faintly from the strain of keeping so many things moving at once. He didn’t stop tho.

The three orbs now spun in different directions, the stone hovered between his hands, and a feather from the floor rose into the air, drifting lazily in a slow spiral.

This was nothing like the rigid drills in the Academy’s polished rooms. Here, there was no one to tell him that’s too advanced or that’s not how we do it.

He could feel his control slipping at the edges, objects twitching when his focus wavered, but instead of stopping, he pushed harder, trying to draw them all back into perfect stillness.

One day, he promised himself, he’d be able to do all this without even thinking.

And then no one would look at him like he was the problem.

By the middle of the third week, Lando had started to feel like he lived in two different worlds.

There was the hut, the quiet, green-filtered light, and the slow, steady hum of his powers obeying exactly as he wanted. In there, he could hold five orbs in the air without a single twitch. He could shape them into impossible forms, even lift himself a few inches off the ground for more than a breath. He left each session buzzing with control, the air crisp in his lungs, his head clear.

And then there was everywhere else.

Back at the academy, it felt like his powers had a mind of their own, like they knew he didn’t want to be noticed and were determined to prove the opposite.

It started small on Monday in history of powers, the ink in his pen bubbled up the nib and blotted the page just as Lewis walked past. He brushed it off, muttering about a faulty cartridge, but George gave him a sidelong look over their shared notes.

Tuesday, in combat theory, the pads in his hands jerked a little too high when Charles struck them, nearly clipping his chin. Charles laughed it off, but his eyes lingered a second longer than his grin did.

By Wednesday, even Oscar who usually stayed quiet about these things had noticed. In the library, while they worked on assignments, a stack of books two tables away shifted to the other side of the table without anyone touching them. Oscar’s gaze flicked toward the movement, then back to Lando, but he didn’t say anything.

The weekends didn’t help.

Saturday morning’s group training drill put him in front of everyone. His task was to move a weighted sphere through a floating hoop course. The first three hoops went fine. On the fourth, the sphere shot upward before crashing back into the ground beside Daniel.

Daniel laughed, playing it off, “Nearly got me,” but the chatter that followed had that same undercurrent as after the window incident.

A few amused snickers. A few sharp whispers.

And teachers eyes, following him longer than they used to.

By Sunday evening, even casual moments seemed risky. Passing through the common room, he felt the mug in Max’s hand give the tiniest wobble before Max steadied it without comment. A card lifted off Carlos’s pile in the middle of a game and fluttered to the floor, Carlos bent to pick it up, smiling a little too knowingly when his gaze met Lando’s.

Every slip fed the loop, the more it happened, the more he thought about it, and the more he thought about it the more it happened again.

The hut was his refuge, the only place it stopped. The only place where he was in control. And each time he left it to return to the dorm, the Academy felt a little tighter, a little louder, a little more ready to push him over the edge.

-x-

By the fourth week, the line between the hut and the academy felt sharper than ever.

In the hut, his powers obeyed.

At school, they didn’t.

It was still subtle enough at first, little things only a few people noticed. But as the days went on, the slips started stacking, each one just a little bigger than the last.

On Monday in history of powers a pile of papers at the end of the table fluttered every time Lando leaned over his notes. George, seated beside him, kept glancing between the papers and Lando’s hands. Finally, George said, “You know you’re doing that, right?”

Lando didn’t look up. “It’s a draft from the window.”

“The window’s closed,” George replied, his tone clipped.

In the group study hall on Tuesday he’d gone to return books and nearly sent the return cart skidding halfway down the aisle when he walked by it. Oscar was shelving nearby, pausing just long enough to meet Lando’s eyes before quietly sliding the cart back. “You’re distracted,” Oscar said, almost gently.

“Guess I am,” Lando muttered, not sticking around to finish the conversation.

Paired with Max, on Wednesdays combat theory, he tried to focus on precision drills. But halfway through, Max’s training pad shot from his hand and smacked against the far wall.

Max froze, teleporting across the mat to pick it up. “That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“It was,” Lando said sharply, tossing the next pad into position.

Max didn’t push, but the way he watched him for the rest of the session made Lando’s skin prickle.

It happened again at Thursday break time when the stone bench groaned under Alex and Carlos as they shifted during a conversation. Alex looked down, frowning. “Did you feel that move?”

Carlos nodded, glancing toward Lando on the other side of the courtyard. “Yeah. I think I know why.”

Lando caught the tail end of their exchange and walked away before they could try to rope him in.

By Friday Lando’s patience and control where frying when the practice orbs in elemental theory were supposed to be moved in a steady, smooth arc. Lando’s not only zipped too fast, they spun so violently they clattered to the floor. Seb’s gaze fixed on him from the front of the class. “Control, Lando.”

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, already resetting them. The rest of the room stayed uncomfortably quiet for the rest of the drill.

When the weekend came around, even Daniel, who normally laughed off anything weird was starting to comment.

“You’ve been twitchy,” he said Saturday afternoon in the common room, tossing Lando a cushion that landed awkwardly in midair before falling into his lap.

“Just tired,” Lando said, pushing himself up.

“You’ve been tired for weeks,” Daniel called after him.

It wasn’t just the comments, it was the way conversations paused when he walked into a room, or the subtle, quick glances the others exchanged when something moved without cause. Even the teachers seemed to be paying him more attention if the way Lewis had let his gaze linger on Lando a beat too long during Friday’s assembly said anything

By Sunday night, the dorm felt heavy. The group had gathered in the common room, voices low, and though no one had said his name, Lando could feel the shape of the conversation without hearing it.

He stayed in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the old book hidden beneath it.

The hut was the only place where things didn’t spiral. The only place he felt steady. And maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be limited to when the others were at their tutors.

The thought slid into his mind like it belonged there. Sneaking out at night wasn’t exactly new for students. He could do it. He knew the paths now.

And if the choice was between one more day of people watching him like he was about to break something…or a few hours alone where he could finally breathe?

It wasn’t much of a choice at all.

-x-

The common room was unusually subdued for a Sunday evening. The fire burned low, casting a warm flicker across the mismatched collection of chairs and sofas.

Carlos shuffled a deck of cards absently, not really playing. Charles lounged sideways in an armchair, legs dangling over one armrest, watching the flames. Daniel was curled in the corner of the sofa beside Alex, flicking a coaster into the air and catching it.

Oscar sat cross-legged on the rug, leaning against the coffee table, and Max stood near the window, hands in his pockets, eyes drifting toward the dark garden outside.

George broke the silence first. “We can’t just pretend we haven’t noticed.”

Daniel snorted. “Noticed what? That Lando’s gone all moody and mysterious? That’s not new.”

“It’s not just that,” George pressed. “His control is worse. Significantly worse. And it’s happening more often.”

Carlos glanced up from his cards. “You’ve all seen it, right? The thing with the bench in the courtyard. The orbs in Seb’s class.”

“And my pads in combat theory,” Max added, turning from the window. “That wasn’t an accident, before you ask.”

Alex rested his chin on his hand. “Could be stress. You remember how bad my healing control got last term when I had too much on.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t nearly take someone’s head off with an orb,” Charles said.

Oscar’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the murmurs. “He’s pulling away.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“He’s not sitting with us in breaks anymore,” Oscar continued. “Not in the evenings either. He’s in the library a lot or somewhere else.”

“Where else?” Daniel asked.

Oscar just shrugged. “Don’t know. He’s not telling me anything.”

Carlos tossed the deck onto the table with a snap. “So, what, we just watch him spiral? Wait until a teacher decides he’s a danger and clamps down on him?”

George frowned. “If we push too hard, he’ll shut down even more. He’s…prickly.”

Max’s gaze drifted back to the window. “Or he’s hiding something.”

That hung in the air for a moment, the only sound the quiet crackle of the fire.

Finally, Alex sighed. “Whatever it is, we’ll find out. He’ll come to us. Eventually.”

But no one looked entirely convinced.

-x-

The staffroom smelled faintly of coffee and old paper. A stack of lesson plans sat in the centre of the table, but no one had touched them yet. The rain tapped steadily against the tall windows late on Sunday evening, a soft background to the low murmur of conversation.

Lewis sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair with an expression halfway between relaxed and assessing. Seb, Kimi, Jenson, Nico, and Fernando were spread around the table, mugs in front of them, the week’s reports open.

Seb, was the first to speak. “Before we get into the Saturday drill schedule…there’s something I want to flag. It’s about Lando.”

Lewis’s gaze sharpened just slightly. “Go on.”

“In elemental theory,” Seb said, “he’s had a noticeable drop in control. More twitching, more overshoots. Last week, one of the orbs went flying into the wall. He shrugged it off, but it’s not a one-off.”

Jenson nodded. “Same in combat theory. Partner pads moving when they shouldn’t. He reacts fast enough to hide it, but it’s happening.”

Fernando steepled his fingers. “I know where not meant to read any of the students minds, but I can tell you he’s…distracted. His focus drifts. It’s like half his attention is somewhere else entirely.”

“I’ve seen it too,” Nico added. “Even in passing. Things shifting when he walks by, and not in the accidental way.”

Kimi, who had been quiet until now, said simply, “Daniel told me he thinks Lando’s on edge. And Daniel doesn’t usually notice much unless it’s set on fire in front of him.”

Lewis leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Do we know what’s causing it?”

No one answered right away.

Seb shook his head. “If I had to guess, I’d say he’s trying to push himself outside of lessons. Too much, too fast. But it’s just a hunch.”

“Could be that,” Nico said, “or he’s avoiding something. Either way, it’s making him volatile.”

Lewis’s gaze flicked between them, his voice even. “Keep an eye on him. If this escalates, we’ll have to intervene.”

“And if it’s already escalating?” Jenson asked.

Lewis didn’t hesitate. “Then we’ll have to decide who’s available to help him or look closer into getting him a personal tutor. However hard that might be.”

The rain outside deepened into a steady patter. No one said it aloud, but the weight in the room was clear, they’d seen telekinetics lose control before. And it never ended quietly.

-x-

From the moment Lando woke up on Monday morning the day felt wrong.

Breakfast was loud, too loud. Every clatter of cutlery seemed to land in his head, every half-heard laugh felt like it might be about him. By the time classes ended and the others peeled away to their tutors, Lando’s chest felt tight.

He didn’t bother with the library excuse today. Didn’t bother with lingering in the corridors. The moment the hallway was clear, he slipped just out the side door, down the path, through the hedge, and into the woods.

The walk to the hut calmed him the way nothing else had all morning. The canopy muted the light, and each crunch of leaves underfoot was steady, grounding.

When he stepped inside, the familiar stillness settled over him. The shelves he’d cleared weeks ago were lined with his hidden stash of practice orbs, the cloth-wrapped books, a the few new tools he’d ‘borrowed’ from unused classrooms.

But something new caught his eye.

In the far corner, where a fallen beam had blocked access until he’d cleared it last week, an old crate now sat wedged against the wall. He’d assumed it was empty, but when he pried it open, the smell of dust and dry paper drifted out.

Inside, beneath a rotted cloth, was another book.

It was thicker than the first one he’d found, the leather cover darker and cracked. No title on the front, just the same faint symbol stamped in the centre, like concentric circles rippling outward.

He sat cross-legged on the floor and opened it.

This one wasn’t neat diagrams and clean instructions, it was messier, handwritten in places, with sketches and margins full of quick, urgent notes. Sections talked about force redirection, mass shifting, even structural disruption. It showed ways to use telekinesis not just to move objects, but to change their composition under pressure.

He forgot the cold and the creeping darkness outside. Forgot the time entirely. The words pulled him deeper, into possibilities he hadn’t considered, into the thought that maybe he wasn’t losing control at all. Maybe he was just…breaking past what they’d taught him.

It was only when his stomach growled and the air in the hut dipped colder that he realised the light had gone. A quick glance at his watch made his pulse spike, curfew was in twenty minutes.

Lando shoved the new book into his bag, wrapped in its old cloth, and bolted. The woods were darker now, every branch a shadow, every root threatening to trip him. He burst back through the hedge into the gardens, heart pounding, his shoes wet with dew.

The side door to the dorm groaned as he pushed it open. Most of the lights inside were already dimmed. Voices carried faintly from the common room, but he kept his head down, taking the stairs two at a time.

-x-

The common room felt quieter than usual for a Monday evening, though the fire still burned low and the scattered furniture was filled with the usual mix of card games, half-finished homework, and idle chatter.

Daniel dropped into a chair beside Max with a frown. “Anyone seen Lando?”

Max didn’t look up from his book. “Not since lunch.”

“He wasn’t at dinner,” Alex said, glancing over from the sofa where he and Oscar were going over an assignment from Nico. “I figured he’d been with one of you.”

Carlos tossed a card onto the table with a sharp flick. “Nope. Thought he was with you lot.”

George, perched at the edge of the hearth with his tea, checked the clock on the mantel. “Fifteen minutes to curfew. If he’s not back soon, someone’s going to notice.”

“Someone like Seb,” Charles said dryly, leaning back in his chair. “And that’s a lecture none of us need to hear.”

Oscar set his pen down, his voice even but faintly tight. “He’s been…disappearing a lot lately.”

Max finally glanced up. “Library?”

Daniel shook his head. “I walked past there after my tutorial. Didn’t see him.”

The conversation dipped for a moment, just the crackle of the fire and the muted murmur from a group of younger students below.

Carlos broke the silence. “You think he’s doing it on purpose?”

“Doing what on purpose?” Alex asked.

Carlos shrugged. “Whatever’s going on with his powers. All those little slips? Maybe he’s practising somewhere else. Pushing himself.”

George frowned into his tea. “That would explain…something. But if he is, he’s not exactly getting more stable.”

Another glance at the clock. Ten minutes to curfew.

Oscar stood, moving toward the window, peering out into the dark. “If he’s outside, he’s cutting it close.”

Max leaned back in his chair, gaze steady on the clock now. “And if he’s late, we’ll know it.”

But no one moved to go looking. It was too close to curfew for that and besides, they all knew if Lando didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

Still, the air in the room had shifted, the low hum of conversation thinner now, stretched by the same quiet question hanging in all their minds, where exactly did he keep going?

The dorm clock ticked over to three minutes before curfew when the side door at the far end of the corridor gave its familiar, faint groan.

In the common room, the conversation stuttered. A few heads turned toward the sound, but no one spoke.

Lando stepped in, hood up, shoes damp, his bag slung low on one shoulder. He didn’t make eye contact as he crossed the threshold, instead he moved at an easy, unhurried pace like he’d just been down the hall instead of…wherever he’d actually been.

Oscar’s gaze found him first. From his seat near the sofa, he took in the damp hem of Lando’s trousers, the way his hair stuck up in uneven tufts from the wind. His eyes lingered for a second too long before dropping back to his notes.

Max watched him too, not bothering to hide it. His book was still open in his lap, but his gaze tracked Lando all the way across the room, noting the faint scuff of dirt on one sleeve and the way his bag strap bulged like it was holding more than just school supplies.

Daniel looked up from his cards. “Missed dinner,” he said, his tone half-accusation, half-curious.

“Wasn’t hungry,” Lando replied easily, already heading toward the stairs.

Carlos glanced at the clock and muttered something under his breath, but didn’t speak up. George shifted in his seat like he wanted to ask, but didn’t, probably calculating how far they were from Seb doing his rounds.

As Lando reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back toward the common room. Max was still watching him. Oscar was too, though he looked away the second their eyes met.

Neither said a word. But the weight of their stares followed him all the way to his room.

Lando had just closed the door behind him when he heard footsteps on the stairs, measured, not hurried.

He dropped his bag on his bed, pulling out the new cloth-wrapped and tucking it quickly under his pillow. The springs squeaked faintly as he sat down, leaning back like he’d been there for ages.

The door opened a moment later, and Oscar stepped in. He didn’t say anything at first, just closed the door softly and crossed to his own bed. He sat on the edge, elbows resting on his knees, watching Lando for a beat too long.

“You were out late,” Oscar said finally.

Lando shrugged. “Lost track of time.”

“In the library?”

“Yeah,” Lando replied, too quickly.

Oscar didn’t challenge it directly, but his expression gave him away, an almost imperceptible tightening at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been disappearing a lot lately. More than usual.”

Lando forced a half-smile. “Maybe I just like my own company.”

“That’s not it,” Oscar said quietly.

The words hung there. Lando felt his pulse kick, the air between them tightening. “Look, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”

Oscar studied him for another moment, as if weighing whether to push. Then he sighed and leaned back. “If you say so. Just…if something’s going on, you can tell me.”

For a second, Lando almost said something, about the hut, the book, the fact that his control didn’t fall apart out there like it did here. But the thought of anyone else knowing made his chest tighten.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said instead.

Oscar nodded once, but the look in his eyes said he didn’t believe him. He got up, pulling his bag toward him, and started rummaging for his notes without another word.

Lando let out a slow breath and shifted on the bed, his hand slipping under the pillow to feel the solid weight of the book.

He wasn’t ready to share it, not with Oscar. Not with anyone.

-x-

From the moment Lando stepped into the dining hall on Tuesday morning, he felt the weight of eyes on him.

Not openly, no one was pointing, no one was whispering loud enough for him to hear, but every time he glanced up from his breakfast, someone was looking. A flicker from Max over his mug. A quick glance from George when he thought Lando wasn’t paying attention. Even Oscar, quiet as ever, seemed to be watching more than usual.

By the time they reached elemental theory, his skin prickled like static. Today’s lesson was practical, paired exercises using precision manipulation to move there powers into a orb and use the energy to move it through a suspended obstacle course. A dozen glass spheres hovered in the air, each no bigger than an orange, faintly glowing from within.

Seb’s voice was calm but firm as he gave instructions. “Steady movements. Smooth transitions. The aim is to keep the object stable, through the control of your powers.”

Lando was paired with Charles.

At first, he tried to focus, really tried. His sphere lifted, gliding through the first ring. But as it passed the second, it wobbled sharply. He heard Charles murmur, “Steady,” and out of the corner of his eye saw two familiar heads glance at each other.

On the third ring, the sphere dipped too low, clipping the side. A faint crack spidered across its surface. Somewhere behind him, Daniel whispered something to Max, but Max didn’t laugh.

At the fourth ring, the sphere jerked sideways, missing the ring entirely. Charles’ sphere was already halfway through the course, glowing red with energy of his fire.

Lando could feel the burn of eyes on the back of his neck.

Stop staring. Stop it. Just stop. He thought

But the more he thought about it, the harder it was to keep the sphere still. His control frayed, one slip, then another. A glassy ping echoed through the room as his sphere struck the frame.

Someone whispered his name. Another murmur. Then a glance.

It snapped something in him.

The sphere shot upward, slamming into the ceiling. The shockwave made the rest of the hovering spheres tremble, then, in a single terrible instant, all of them burst.

Light flared. Shards of glass sprayed outward, catching the sunlight as they spun. A few students ducked, others cried out as thin cuts opened across hands and arms. Charles hissed as a shard grazed his cheek. One window cracked with the force of a stray piece striking it.

When the light faded, the room was silent but for the soft patter of glass settling on the floor.

Seb’s voice cut through it, low and sharp. “Everyone—check yourselves for injuries.”

But Lando was already moving.

He didn’t wait for anyone to stop him. Didn’t look at the shocked, wide-eyed faces or the smear of red on Charles’ cheek. He shoved the door open and bolted into the corridor, his footsteps echoing off the stone.

By the time anyone thought to follow, he was gone, slipped out of the main building entirely, weaving through the grounds until the trees swallowed him whole.

x-x

For a heartbeat after the door slammed, no one moved.

The air still shimmered faintly with the residue of the shattered spheres. Shards glittered on the floor, catching the pale light streaming in through the tall windows. The sharp tang of the magic charge hung in the room, mingling with the metallic smell of blood.

Charles straightened slowly, wiping a thin smear of red from his cheek with the back of his hand. His gaze flicked toward the door, jaw tightening.

“Everyone, sit,” Seb said firmly, moving between desks to check each student. His voice had that clipped edge that meant he was keeping his own temper in check. “If you’re bleeding, stay where you are, don’t touch the cuts.”

Oscar was already digging through his bag, pulling out a small healing kit Nico had given him. “Hold still,” he murmured to Alex, who had a shallow slice along his forearm.

George sat stiffly, eyes still on the doorway. “That wasn’t a slip,” he said under his breath. “Not like before.”

“Don’t start,” Max muttered, though his own gaze kept darting to the empty spot where Lando had stood.

Daniel, sitting with his hands pressed flat on the desk to keep from brushing the glass, let out a low whistle. “Well…that was something.” His tone was light, but his eyes weren’t.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. “It’s been building. You’ve all seen it.”

“Yeah,” Charles said grimly, “but not like that.”

Seb’s head snapped toward them. “Enough.” The word cut through the murmurs. “Clean up what you can without touching the shards. I’ll file a report with the infirmary for anyone who needs it. The rest of you, focus on your own work. Lando will be dealt with.”

The way he said it made the room go quiet again.

Max bent to start picking up the larger fragments with a folded scrap of paper , but his movements were slow, as tho he was lost in though. Oscar kept his head down as he worked, but his jaw was tight, as if he was trying not to say something.

By the time the lesson ended, no one was really talking. They filed out in twos and threes, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them, what exactly was going on with Lando and how much worse was it going to get?

-x-

Seb left the classroom as soon as the last student stepped out, striding down the corridor with his coat flaring behind him. His expression was unreadable, but the clipped pace of his steps betrayed his irritation.

Lando hadn’t gone far, not yet. He couldn’t have.

Seb headed straight for the dormitories, pushing open the main door to the third-years’ wing. The air here was still, the faint scent of polish and paper from the study rooms lingering in the hall. He passed through the rec room, empty now, save for a few lower years hunched over homework and went up to the boys’ floor.

There was no one in the common, all already on there way to there next class. He knocked once on the door to Lando and Oscar’s room, then opened it. Empty. The bed was unmade, the curtains drawn. No bag, no sign of him.

Seb frowned and stepped back into the hall, scanning down toward the stairwell.

Footsteps echoed behind him. Jenson appeared from the opposite direction, a small stack of papers in hand. “Looking for someone?”

“Lando,” Seb said shortly. “He left my class after an incident. He hasn’t come back.”

Jenson’s brows rose slightly. “Incident?”

“Nothing we need to discuss in the corridor,” Seb replied, already moving toward the stairs. “If you see him, don’t let him slip past. Send him to me immediately.”

Jenson nodded once. “Understood.”

On the landing, Seb nearly collided with Nico, who was carrying a box of supplies toward the infirmary. “Careful,” Nico said, then took in Seb’s expression. “Who are we hunting?”

“Lando. If he shows up in the infirmary with glass cuts, keep him there. And let me know.”

“Glass cuts?” Nico asked, but Seb was already moving past him.

At the bottom of the stairwell, Kimi emerged from a side corridor, hands in his pockets, as silent as always. Seb slowed. “Kimi, Lando’s gone awol. If you spot him, shadow him until I get there.”

Kimi tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment, then slipped back into the shadows of the hall without a word.

By the time Seb reached the outer courtyard, he had three teachers keeping watch and no sign of Lando. The wind had picked up, rattling the branches of the garden trees, and the fading light stretched long shadows across the flagstones.

Wherever the boy had gone, he was keeping low.

Seb’s jaw tightened. You can’t hide forever, Lando. No matter how much you want to.

-x-

By the time Lando reached the hut, his lungs burned and his legs ached. He slammed the door behind him, leaning against it as if the old wood could keep the whole school and their stares out.

The air was cool and still, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves through the cracked roof. Normally that quiet settled him instantly. Today it barely made a dent. His hands were still trembling, the memory of shattered glass and Seb’s sharp voice stuck in his head like splinters.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It was just an accident. They’ll forget about it.

But even as he told himself that, he saw their faces, Charles’ bloodied cheek, Max’s narrowed eyes, the way George had frozen like he was cataloguing every second. The way the murmurs had swelled behind him as he walked out.

He crossed to the pile in the corner, pulling out the practice orbs. Four of them floated up at his command, circling lazily. The movement used to make him feel in control. Safe.

Not today.

As soon as he tried to steady his breathing, the orbs jerked violently. One smacked into his shoulder hard enough to sting. He flinched and pushed them back, but they came at him again, faster, slamming into his chest, his arm, his ribs. Another clipped his cheekbone with a dull thunk.

“Stop!” His voice cracked, the word echoing off the warped walls. He shoved at them with his mind, but the harder he tried to force them away, the more they seemed to whip back at him, the magic crackling hot in the air.

One hit him square in the stomach. The breath punched out of him. His knees buckled and he dropped to the floor, arms curling over his head.

The orbs finally clattered to the ground around him, rolling to a stop. The silence after the chaos was deafening.

Lando stayed there, hunched over, sobbing into his sleeves. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the way everything had been building, the stares, the whispers, the way his powers felt like they weren’t his anymore.

He’d come here to escape. But for the first time, the hut felt just as dangerous as everywhere else.

Chapter Text

When the next bell rang, the corridors were buzzing, but not with the usual between-class chatter.

Word of the accident had already travelled beyond elemental theory. Nobody seemed to have the full story, but fragments were everywhere, glass exploding, students getting cut, Lando bolting from the room before anyone could stop him.

When he didn’t show for the next period after brake, most of the third years exchanged glances but kept quiet. By the end of the lesson, even the teachers were frowning at the empty seat.

In combat theory, Max was partnered with Daniel, but his eyes kept flicking to the door as if half-expecting Lando to saunter in late. Daniel eventually muttered, “He’s not coming back today, is he?”

Max didn’t answer.

In the advanced control lab, Charles caught sight of Kimi speaking low to Lewis in the doorway before leaving again, his expression unreadable. Carlos leaned across the table. “Bet he’s in trouble already.”

Alex shook his head. “If he was in trouble, they’d have brought him back by now.”

Oscar said nothing, but his pen was still for most of the lesson.

By the afternoon, even students outside their year group were whispering. Some swore they’d seen teachers quietly sweeping the grounds. Others claimed he’d been spotted slipping toward the gates.

When the final bell rang, the third years lingered in the corridor instead of heading straight to the dorm.

“You think he’s hurt?” Alex asked quietly.

“Or hiding,” Carlos said, eyes narrowing.

“Both,” George said flatly.

They broke apart as Lewis strode past, a stack of papers in one hand, scanning the hall like he was checking faces.

In the staffroom before dinner, the tension was obvious. Seb was speaking in low, clipped sentences to Kimi, who had just come in from outside. “Nothing?”

Kimi shook his head once. “No sign.”

Jenson leaned back in his chair. “We can’t just wait for him to come back on his own.”

“We can,” Lewis said evenly. “And we will. He’ll be back before curfew. But we keep eyes on every entrance.”

By the time the dinner bell rang, his absence was impossible to ignore.

The long tables in the dining hall were packed, the noise of cutlery and conversation filling the space, but one seat in the third-years’ section stayed empty. Every now and then, someone’s gaze flicked to it before sliding away again.

Oscar didn’t touch much of his food. Max ate slowly, distracted. Daniel tried to keep up the chatter, but even he was glancing at the doors between jokes.

When curfew grew closer, the hum of unease around the dorm was palpable.

Wherever Lando was, he’d been gone the whole day.

-x-

The courtyard was nearly empty, the lamps along the covered walk casting long pools of light onto the pavement. Curfew was minutes away, and most students were already in their dorms.

Lando kept to the shadows, bag slung low, moving fast but quiet. His hair was mussed from the wind, and the side of his face throbbed where one of the orbs had caught him earlier. He was almost at the dorm entrance when a voice cut through the stillness.

“Lando.”

He froze.

Seb was leaning against the wall near the courtyard archway, arms folded, half in shadow. His eyes flicked over Lando once, sharp and assessing then fixed on the mottled bruises along his cheekbone and jaw.

“Those aren’t from the earlier,” Seb said evenly.

Lando swallowed, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Tripped.”

Seb’s brow lifted slightly. “On what? Your own fists?”

When Lando didn’t answer, Seb stepped forward, his tone flat. “You’ve been gone all day. You didn’t show for any classes after mine, you missed dinner. Where were you?”

“I just needed some air,” Lando muttered.

“Air doesn’t leave marks,” Seb replied. He turned, jerking his head toward the corridor. “You’re coming with me.”

Lando’s stomach dropped, but he followed, through the quiet hallways to the infirmary. Nico looked up from a desk covered in papers as they entered, his expression tightening when he saw Lando.

“What happened to you?” Nico asked immediately, gesturing for him to sit on the bed by the wall.

“Nothing,” Lando said quickly. “It’s just—”

Lando started before the door of the infirmary swung open again and Lewis stepped inside, closing it behind him. His gaze swept the room once before settling on Lando, and something unreadable flickered across his face.

“I hear you’ve had quite a day,” Lewis said, coming to stand beside Seb. “Missed the better part of it, in fact.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Lando offered, staring at the floor.

Lewis’ voice stayed calm, but the edge in it was clear. “Not feeling well usually means the infirmary, not disappearing for hours without a word.”

Nico was already moving closer, his hands warm and precise as he tilted Lando’s face toward the lamplight. “These are definitely new, there fresh enough they could be from Seb’s class, but the glass didn’t leave bruises on anyone else, only cuts,” he confirmed quietly. “And you’ve got a bruise here—” he tapped lightly at Lando’s ribs, earning a flinch, “that’s deeper. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Lando said again, sharper this time.

Lewis crouched slightly so he was level with Lando’s gaze. “I’m going to ask once more—where have you been?”

Lando’s throat felt tight. Every answer he could give ended with questions he couldn’t risk. So he just shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The silence stretched.

Seb’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Nico straightened, murmuring something about treating the bruises. Lewis stepped back, his eyes still on Lando as if trying to read the truth straight out of him.

Finally, Lewis said, “You can’t keep disappearing, Lando. It won’t end the way you think it will.”

Lando didn’t answer and Lewis nor Seb said anything else.He just sat there, letting Nico’s hands work, the throb in his ribs almost easier to bear than the weight of their stares.

-x-

The dorm hall was quiet when Lando finally made it upstairs, the soft hum of conversation from the the other in there rooms faded behind him. He opened the door to his room as quietly as possible, hoping Oscar would already be asleep.

But he had no such luck.

Oscar was sitting cross-legged on his bed, lamp on low, a book open in his lap. He looked up immediately when Lando stepped inside.

“You’re late,” Oscar said, not accusing, not sharp. Just pointed.

Lando dropped his bag by the foot of his bed. “Got held up.”

Oscar’s eyes flicked to his face, lingering on the darkening bruises along his cheek and jaw, then down to the way he moved a little stiffly as he sat on the edge of his bed. “That from the classroom thing?”

Lando pulled off his shoes. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Oscar closed his book slowly, setting it aside. “You were gone all day. Everyone noticed.”

“Didn’t mean for them to.”

Oscar tilted his head, his voice quieter now. “So…where were you?”

Lando hesitated, hands still on his shoelaces. “Just… away.”

“Away where?”

He could feel Oscar’s gaze on him, steady and patient, but not pressing in the way the teachers had. It made the lie on his tongue feel heavier. “Doesn’t matter.”

Oscar’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, pulling the blanket around his legs. “Okay. But you’ve got everyone worried, whether you want them to be or not.”

Lando gave a short laugh, without humour. “Worry’s a waste of time.”

“Not when it’s about you,” Oscar said simply.

That shut Lando up. He kicked his shoes the rest of the way off, climbed into bed, and rolled onto his side, facing the wall. The old book in his bag seemed to pulse against his awareness, like it was waiting for him.

Oscar didn’t say anything else. The lamp clicked off, and the room settled into quiet. But Lando could feel Oscar still awake across the small gap between their beds, like even if he wasn’t going to ask again tonight, the question would still be there tomorrow.

-x-
The door had barely closed behind Lando when Seb crossed his arms, watching through the small glass panel until the boy disappeared down the corridor.

“He’s hiding stuff,” he said flatly.

Lewis didn’t disagree. He leaned against the edge of Nico’s desk, his expression unreadable. “I know. Keep an eye on him. With your tutees tomorrow, ask if they’ve noticed anything, or if they have any concerns. I’ll tell the others to do the same.”

Seb’s brow furrowed. “And in the meantime? Telekinesis is rare, Lewis. Rare and if it slips dangerous. We’re meant to teach him to control it, but I don’t even know where to start with him now. He’s…beyond first-year drills, but not stable enough for higher work.”

Lewis straightened, his gaze steady. “Leave it to me.”

There was something in his tone, calm and certain that made even Seb pause. “You think you can get through to him?”

“I know I can,” Lewis said simply. “It’s just a matter of when.”

Seb didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned toward the door. “I’ll start with my tutees tomorrow. We’ll see what they’ve noticed.”

As he left, Lewis stayed where he was for a moment, eyes fixed on the closed door Lando had walked through, like he was already thinking several moves ahead.

-x-

The training room Seb used for his tutees was quiet except for the faint hum of the elemental components built into the walls. Morning light streamed through the tall windows, catching on the floating practice targets hovering near the centre.

Charles and Carlos stood opposite each other, both with their sleeves rolled up, a steady flicker of heat between them as they shaped and redirected small flames for control drills.

“Good,” Seb said as Carlos sent his flame arcing neatly into the suspended ring. “Again.”

They repeated the movement twice more before Seb spoke again, this time, his tone conversational, almost idle. “You two seen Lando around the dorm lately?”

Charles glanced at him, then back at his flame. “Yeah sometimes. Why?”

“Just making conversation,” Seb said lightly. “Haven’t seen him around it much lately.”

Carlos snorted. “That’s because he’s barely there.”

“What do you mean?” Seb asked, keeping his voice even.

Carlos shrugged. “He disappears. Stopped hanging out, skips meals sometimes. Comes back late. Always says it’s nothing.”

Charles added, “And his control’s been off. You’ve seen it. Everyone has. He’s…tense.”

Seb nodded slowly, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “And you’ve no idea where he goes?”

“Nope,” Carlos said immediately, then smirked faintly. “If we did, I’d have told you by now.” Charles gave him a look. “What? It’s true.”

Seb didn’t comment, just made a note on the clipboard resting against his arm. “If either of you do notice something, anything, tell me. Small details matter.”

They both nodded, though Carlos was still wearing that faintly wary expression.
“Alright,” Seb said, stepping back. “Switch sides. Let’s see if you can keep the flame stable from a different angle.”

As they moved, he let his gaze linger on them for a moment longer. Both were good students, competitive but steady, and neither had any reason to lie about noticing changes in Lando. Which meant whatever Lando was hiding, he’s keeping it buried deep.

For now.

-x-

The teleportation training hall always smelled faintly like air after a heavy rainfall, the air carrying that sharp tang of magic displacement. Jenson stood near the centre, hands in his pockets, watching Max reappear on the opposite platform in a clean blink of movement.

“Better,” Jenson said. “But you’re still hesitating before the jump. Again.”

Max scowled faintly but obeyed, vanishing and reappearing with only the slightest delay this time.

Jenson gave him a nod of approval before leaning casually against the nearest railing. “You’ve been sharing a room with Daniel again this year, right?”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Since first year. Why?”

“Just wondering how the dorm’s holding up.” Jenson’s tone was light, but there was something deliberate about it. “Anyone causing trouble?”

Max smirked. “Define trouble.”

“Let’s go with…changes in behaviour. Skipping meals. Missing curfew. Losing focus in class.”

Max’s expression didn’t shift much, but his eyes sharpened. “This is about Lando.”

Jenson didn’t answer directly. “Have you noticed anything?”

Max was silent for a few seconds, gaze drifting toward the floor. “He’s been…different. Tense. Distracted.” He shrugged. “I’m not his keeper, though. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s his choice.”

“Even if it’s affecting his control?” Jenson asked evenly.

Max’s jaw tightened. “If it gets bad enough, someone will deal with it. Until then…maybe don’t push him. He hates that.”

Jenson studied him for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Fair enough. Back to work, try for a double jump this time.”

Max rolled his shoulders, vanishing again with a sharp crack of displaced air. But Jenson’s gaze lingered on the spot where he’d been, filing away the reluctance in his answers.

-x-

 

The invisibility training chamber was dim and lined with mirrors, designed to pick up even the faintest shimmer of a failed concealment.

Daniel was pacing in a slow circle, his form flickering in and out as Kimi stood silently in the centre, watching. The quiet always unnerved Daniel, Kimi never filled it with small talk the way other tutors did.

“So,” Daniel said, voice carrying from somewhere to Kimi’s left, “are you always this chatty, or is it just with me?”

No answer. Just a faint tilt of Kimi’s head, tracking the distortion in the air.

Daniel reappeared fully with a grin. “Fine, fine, I’ll focus. You could at least make conversation, though. Everyone else has been talking about Lando all day, figured you’d ask too.”

Kimi’s eyes sharpened slightly, but his voice stayed low. “What about him?”

Daniel shrugged, slipping back into partial invisibility. “Oh, you know—vanishing for hours. Not telling anyone where he’s going. Coming back looking like he’s wrestled a tree or something.” He let out a short laugh. “I swear, the other night he had dirt in his hair.”

“When was that?” Kimi asked.

Daniel reappeared, considering. “Couple of days ago? Maybe more. He’s been doing it all term, though. I asked once and he just said ‘get out.’” He mimed air quotes with his fingers. “Real helpful.”

“Does anyone else know where he goes?”

“Nah. Max probably could guess if he tried, but he doesn’t push him. Oscar might know more, but if he does, he’s keeping it quiet.” Daniel grinned. “You’d think he was sneaking off to meet someone, the way he’s acting. Bet George would love to find out.”

Kimi’s gaze stayed on him for a long moment, unreadable. “Stay visible,” he said finally. “Again.”

Daniel groaned but obeyed, flickering out of sight once more. He didn’t notice the way Kimi’s expression shifted, just slightly, as if pieces of a puzzle were starting to fit together.

-x-

The healing practice room smelled faintly of herbs and old books, shelves lined with neatly labelled jars and rolls of clean bandages. The low afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, catching in the glass jars of salves stacked on the counter.

Alex was bent over a dummy, his hands glowing faintly as he coaxed a deep cut closed, while Oscar stood beside him, gently steadying the dummy’s arm. Nico moved between them, correcting the angle of Alex’s hands, then adjusting the pressure of Oscar’s touch.

“Better,” Nico said quietly. “You’re both improving.” He let them work in silence for a moment before speaking again, voice soft, almost casual. “You share a dorm with Lando, don’t you?”

Both boys looked up briefly. Alex nodded. “Yeah.”

“How has he been?”

Alex hesitated. “Fine…I guess. Just quieter than usual.”

Nico’s eyes shifted to Oscar, whose hands stilled for just a fraction of a second before he resumed. “Oscar?”

Oscar kept his gaze on the dummy. “Same as Alex said.”

“That’s all?” Nico asked gently, like it was no more than idle conversation.

Oscar hesitated again, the faint crease between his brows deepening. “He…disappears sometimes. Comes back late.”

“Where does he go?”

Oscar shook his head quickly. “I don’t know.” It was too quick, too flat and Nico caught the way Alex glanced sideways at him.

Nico didn’t push. Instead, he nodded slowly. “If you notice his control slipping again, more than it already has, come to me immediately. Both of you.”

Alex nodded. Oscar gave a single, small nod, still avoiding Nico’s gaze.

“Alright,” Nico said softly. “Let’s finish up. Same cut, different depth this time.”

As they returned to work, Nico stepped back, the suspicion settling firmly in his mind. Oscar knew more than he was willing to admit, but for now, the boy was guarding Lando’s secret like it was his own.

-x-

Fernando’s tutoring room was quieter than most, but that was by design. The air had that still, almost heavy quality that came from constant use of telepathy. There was no idle chatter here, thoughts needed to be sharper, more deliberate.

George sat at the small table opposite Fernando, eyes closed, hands resting lightly on the tabletop. Across from him, Fernando leaned back in his chair, voice smooth and measured.

“Push further,” Fernando murmured. “Not to overwhelm, just enough to catch the edge of intent.”

George’s brow furrowed, his breathing evening out as he concentrated. After a moment, he exhaled and opened his eyes. “Got it.”

Fernando gave a slight nod, then, almost as an afterthought, said, “You share a dorm with Lando, yes?”

George blinked, clearly not expecting the shift in topic. “Yes. Why?”

“How has he been?”

George’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Different. He’s…jittery. More than usual. Losing control in class. Slipping up in small ways, constantly.”

“You’ve all noticed?” Fernando asked.

“Everyone,” George said firmly. “He’s either in the dorm or gone without explanation, sometimes for hours. Comes back looking…I don’t know. Like he’s been somewhere he shouldn’t.”

Fernando tilted his head slightly. “And you have no idea where?”

“No,” George admitted, “but I’d bet Carlos’s prize chess set he’s hiding something. Even Max won’t say much, and that’s saying something. Oscar’s the worst, he acts like nothing’s wrong, but I’ve seen the way he looks at Lando when he thinks no one’s watching.”

Fernando didn’t let his own thoughts show. “If you hear, or sense, anything that might give us clarity, you’ll tell me.”

George nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“Good,” Fernando said, leaning back again. “Now once more, and this time keep your focus steady when I push back.”

As George closed his eyes again, Fernando studied him for a moment longer. There was no doubt in his mind now, whatever Lando was involved in, the other boys were circling it like wolves around something wounded.

-x-

The next morning, the moment Lando stepped into the first classroom, the shift in the air was obvious.

No one said anything to him, no snide comments, no direct questions, but the glances were there. Brief and sharp but quickly turned away whenever he looked up. Even the hum of conversation between desks seemed quieter when he was near.

It was elemental theory again first thing, and the sight of the suspended glass orbs waiting at the front made his stomach knot. He took his seat, pulling his bag onto the desk like a shield, and didn’t move when Seb started calling pairs forward.

“Lando,” Seb said evenly. “You’re up.”

“I’ll pass,” Lando said without looking up from his bag.

The pause that followed was short but heavy. “We’re not doing this by choice. Everyone takes part.”

“I’m not doing it,” Lando said, louder this time, the edge in his voice making a couple of heads turn. “Not today.”

Seb’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but he didn’t push, not here, not now. “Fine. Observe, then.”

Lando sat back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the others go through the exercise. Every time an orb wavered in someone else’s hands, he felt the back of his neck prickle, waiting for the inevitable glance in his direction.

In control application, he kept his hands shoved in his pockets, muttering something about not feeling well when Kimi told him to take a station.

In combat theory, when the pairs were assigned for the day’s drill, he stayed seated. “I’ll sit this one out,” he said. No explanation, no apology.

By the fourth class, the teachers weren’t even bothering to ask anymore, they just let him sit in the back, scribbling half-hearted notes while the rest of the class worked.

The whispers, though, were getting harder to ignore. Some were too low to make out, others were sharp enough to catch in pieces.

“…shouldn’t be in practical until he’s—”

“…wonder if they’re gonna—”

By the time the final bell rang, his head felt heavy and tight, his jaw aching from how hard he’d been clenching it all day.

He didn’t wait for anyone on the way out. He just slung his bag over his shoulder and headed straight for the dorm, the weight of the stares following him down the corridor.

-x-
The staffroom was quieter than usual, the low hum of voices kept to a more serious tone. A faint smell of coffee and old books hung in the air as Lewis took his seat at the head of the table. The rest of the tutors were already gathered, all with the same faintly grim expression.

Lewis folded his hands. “Alright. What did you get from your tutees?”

Seb was the first to speak. “Charles and Carlos both confirmed he’s been disappearing for hours at a time. They’ve noticed the loss of control, though they don’t know where he’s going. Neither seemed inclined to cover for him, which tells me they genuinely don’t know.”

Jenson leaned forward slightly. “Max was guarded. He admitted Lando’s tense and distracted but wouldn’t elaborate. Made it clear he doesn’t like people pushing him.”

Kimi’s voice was quiet but deliberate. “Daniel was less subtle. He mentioned Lando coming back late, sometimes dirty, like he’s been outside a long time. Didn’t think it was important.”
Nico nodded. “Alex noticed the same quieter, distracted. But Oscar…he knows more than he’s saying. Wouldn’t meet my eyes when I asked where Lando goes. I don’t think he knows but he’s still protecting him.”

Fernando steepled his fingers. “George confirmed the entire dorm is aware something’s going on. No idea where he disappears to, but they’ve all noticed the frequency. His control slipping is common knowledge now.”

Lewis listened without interrupting, his expression unreadable. “And in classes today?”

Seb’s mouth tightened. “Flat out refusal to take part in elemental theory. No attempt, no excuse just ‘I’m not doing it.’”

“Same in combat theory,” Jenson said. “Sat there with his arms folded the whole time.”

“In control application,” Kimi added, “he wouldn’t even approach a station. Said he wasn’t feeling well, but made no effort to leave or seek the infirmary.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, tapping one finger against the table. “So he’s avoiding practical work entirely.”

“It’s not avoidance,” Seb said grimly. “It’s fear. Either of losing control again, or of someone seeing just how much worse it’s gotten.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Nico asked. “Telekinesis isn’t something you just let stagnate, it’ll get more volatile if he’s not working on it.”

Lewis’s gaze moved around the table, calm but firm. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle Lando.”

The tutors exchanged looks, but no one argued.

-x-

The dorm’s common room was warm with lamplight, the hum of chatter mixed with the faint crackle from the fireplace. Most of the boys were sprawled across sofas or perched on the arms of chairs, books and half-finished homework spread around.

The door to the corridor opened and the moment Lewis stepped in, the conversation faltered.

Headteacher visits to the dorms weren’t exactly common.

He didn’t stop to explain himself, just crossed the room with that unhurried, deliberate stride that somehow carried more weight than if he’d marched in barking orders. His gaze was set on the stairs leading up to the rooms, but a few of the boys caught the faint crease in his brow.

George straightened in his seat, eyes narrowing. “What’s he doing here?” he murmured to Alex.

“Not here for a social call,” Carlos said under his breath, watching Lewis disappear up the steps.

Max didn’t say anything, just exchanged a glance with Daniel that spoke volumes.

The creak of the stairs was followed by a soft knock on one of the upstairs doors. Lando and Oscar’s room. There was a pause, then Lewis’s voice, low, calm, but carrying clearly enough for those in the common room to catch fragments.

“…we need to talk.”

Silence from inside the room. Then the door opened just enough for Lewis to step in and close it behind him.

Oscar appeared in the doorway a moment later, slipping out and coming down the stairs quietly, avoiding eye contact. That alone made Max sit up straighter.

“What?” Daniel asked him in a low voice as he passed.

Oscar just shook his head, heading for the far corner of the room.

Upstairs, there was no raised voice from Lewis, but the steady murmur of his tone carried through the ceiling, a rhythm of questions, pauses, and questions again.

George’s arms were folded now, his usual smirk replaced with something closer to concern. “If Lewis is getting involved,” he said quietly, “this isn’t small anymore.”

“Wasn’t small to begin with,” Max muttered.

By the time Lewis came back down the stairs alone, the room was silent again. He didn’t explain, didn’t look at any of them, just gave a brief nod toward Oscar as he passed and left through the main door.

The boys exchanged glances in the silence that followed. They didn’t know what was said upstairs, but they all knew one thing now whatever was going on with Lando, it had crossed a line.

-x-

Lando was sitting on his bed, while Oscar worked at his desk, the two didn’t say a word to each other when the knock came, sharp and deliberate. He froze, already knowing who it was.

“Lando,” Lewis’s voice said through the door, steady but leaving no room for pretending he hadn’t heard. “We need to talk.”

He considered not answering, but before he could turn away to ignore it, Oscar was up and, opening the door just wide enough for Lewis to step inside and for him to step out.

Lewis didn’t waste time. He closed the door behind him, the soft click sounding louder than it should in the small room.

Lando looked up at from his bed but didn’t say anything. Lewis stayed standing at first, his gaze sweeping over the boy, lingering on the fading bruises, the stiff way he held his shoulders, the bag half-tucked under the bed like it had been shoved there in a hurry.

“You’ve been avoiding practical work all day,” Lewis began, voice calm. “Refusing drills, refusing to participate in any session that involves your powers. That’s not like you.”

“Maybe I just don’t feel like putting on a show for everyone right now,” Lando muttered.

Lewis’s head tilted slightly. “This isn’t about performance. This is about control. And right now, your control is slipping.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “So what? I’m not hurting anyone by sitting out.”

“You already have,” Lewis said quietly. “And you will again if you keep running from it.”

That made Lando look up sharply. “You think I’m running?”

“I think you’re hiding,” Lewis replied, his tone still even but firm. “From your classmates. From your teachers. From me. And the longer you do that, the more dangerous this becomes for you, and for everyone else.”

“I’m fine,” Lando said, but it was too quick, too defensive.

Lewis stepped closer, his voice lowering. “I don’t believe you. And the bruises I saw last night tell me I’m right not to.”

Lando looked away, staring at a scuff mark on the floor.

“You don’t have a tutor right now,” Lewis went on. “I know that. But that doesn’t mean you’re on your own. You’re a part of this school, part of this community, and when something’s wrong, we deal with it together.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” Lewis cut in, not raising his voice, but the words landed heavy. “You can’t control this alone. And I won’t stand by while you burn yourself out trying.”

Silence stretched between them. Lando’s throat felt tight, and he couldn’t tell if it was anger or something else.

Lewis finally stepped back toward the door, his tone softening just a fraction. “You don’t have to tell me everything tonight. But this—” he gestured between them “—isn’t over. I’ll be checking in. Often.”

He left before Lando could reply, the door shutting quietly behind him.

Lando sat there for a long time, staring at the floor, heart still pounding, not sure if it was from Lewis’s words or the fact that for the first time in weeks, someone had looked him straight in the eye and refused to let him disappear.

-x-

The dorm was quiet. Too quiet.

Lando lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. The faint orange glow from the hallway light bled under the crack of the door, but it wasn’t enough to make the room feel less suffocating.

Every time he closed his eyes, Lewis’s words came back. You’re hiding. You can’t control this alone.

And worse, the fact that Lewis was right.

He sat up slowly, listening. Oscar’s breathing was steady and even across the room.

Lando swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for the bag under it. He’d already stuffed it earlier with one of the old books from the hut and a couple of different practice orbs he’d ‘borrowed’ from the training storeroom. The plan had been to go back eventually, just not this soon. But the pressure in his chest made the idea of waiting impossible.

He slipped on his shoes, grabbed the bag, and moved for the door, careful not to make the hinges creak. The corridor outside was dark and empty.

By the time he reached the courtyard, the night air was cool enough to sting his cheeks. He kept to the edges, moving from shadow to shadow until he slipped out the side gate and into the trees.

The hut loomed in the darkness like a crouching animal, its roof half-collapsed, the door hanging at an angle. Lando eased it open, the wood groaning in protest.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of damp and dust. His usual corner was just as he’d left it, but something was different.

On the warped wooden table against the wall, a neat stack of books sat where there had been nothing before. All of them were bound in deep green or faded brown leather, their titles glinting faintly in the light of his torch, showing off the now familiar symbol imprinted in the leather.

Advanced Telekinetic Control.

Applied Object Manipulation.

Projection and Self-Levitation.

Next to them sat a worn wooden crate, half-full of practice objects, smooth weighted spheres, flat discs, even a few carved blocks of varying sizes. They were clean, newer than anything else in the hut, as if they’d been placed here recently.

Lando frowned but didn’t touch the question half forming in his mind. Not yet.

Instead, he sat at the table, dragging the first book toward him. His hands itched to open it, to see what it might tell him, what else he could do beyond what anyone here had taught him.

The first book felt heavier than it looked, the leather warm under his fingertips. When he opened it, the scent of old paper and ink rose sharply, but the pages were crisp, the handwriting clean and deliberate, someone had again copied this by hand.

The first section was all about containment. Not in the sense the teachers used with simple drills to keep an object steady but in maintaining a mental ‘grip’ that locked an object in stillness, even under strain. The notes in the margins were full of shortcuts and mental cues Lando had never heard in class.

He tried it with one of the smooth metal spheres from the crate, setting it on the floor a few feet away.

Anchor it to you, the notes read. Not to the air, not to the room, make it yours to command.

He focused, feeling for the sphere the way he might reach for something in the dark. At first it wobbled, the air around it rippling faintly, but then it stilled, hovering midair, locked in place like it had been pinned there.

A slow smile crept onto his face.

He kept reading. The next section covered directional push, but with layers, subtle turns and angles that allowed for mid-flight control, rather than the blunt force launches he’d been taught in first year. He practised again and again, the spheres darting in clean arcs across the room, curving toward where he willed them without a single collision.

The hours slipped past unnoticed. Every time his control slipped, he stopped, re-read the instructions, and tried again. The bruises from the day before protested when he pushed too hard, but he ignored them.

By the time he reached the final pages, he’d started working on a technique called self-lift. Not full levitation, that was in the last book but lightening his body’s weight to the point where a jump became more like a slow, hovering step. He tried it near the centre of the hut, feet barely leaving the ground before his control faltered and he dropped back down. But even that was enough to make his pulse quicken.

The second and third books sat waiting on the table, but he forced himself to close them. He needed to master what he’d already read first.

When he finally looked up, the faint blues of dawn was seeping through the cracks in the roof. His body ached, but his mind was alight with possibility and for the first time in weeks, he felt like the power was in his hands, not the other way around.

Chapter Text

The first pale light of morning touched the courtyard as Lando slipped back through the side gate, hood up and bag slung low over his shoulder. The school grounds were quiet at this hour, most students still asleep, the halls empty except for the occasional early riser heading to the dining hall.

He kept his head down, climbing the stairs two at a time until he reached the dorm floor. The common room was dark, curtains still drawn, and his footsteps were soft against the carpet.

When he opened the door to his room, he hesitated. The air inside was warmer, still with that faint scent of the night and the settled quiet of sleep. Oscar was curled on his side, blanket half-kicked off, breathing slow and steady.

Lando exhaled quietly, easing his shoes off so the creak of the floorboards wouldn’t wake him. He set his bag gently under the bed, trying not to let the books inside thump against the floor.

But as he straightened, Oscar shifted. His eyes opened just enough to take in Lando’s outline in the blue dawn light.

“You weren’t here,” Oscar murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Lando froze. “Just…woke up early. Went for a walk.”

Oscar blinked slowly, his gaze dropping to the faint smudge of dirt on Lando’s sleeve. He didn’t press, just made a quiet, almost non-committal sound and rolled back over, facing the wall.

Lando stood there for a moment, uncertain if Oscar believed him or if he even cared enough to challenge the lie. Then he climbed into bed fully dressed, pulling the blanket over himself. His body was exhausted, but under the fatigue was a flicker of exhilaration he couldn’t quite smother.

Across the room, Oscar’s breathing settled again, but his eyes stayed open a moment longer, fixed on the far wall. He’d seen the empty bed all night.

By the time he reached the first lesson, the dull ache behind Lando’s eyes had settled into something heavier, like his skull was full of sand. He dropped into his usual seat at the back, the strap of his bag digging into his shoulder.

Elemental theory again.

The orbs hung in the air at the front of the room, glinting faintly in the morning light. Lando didn’t move when Seb called his name.

“Lando—front.”

He shook his head without looking up.

Seb’s tone sharpened. “You can’t avoid this forever.”

“I’m not doing it,” Lando said flatly.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

The silence that followed was tight enough to snap. A few students glanced between them, eyes darting away when Seb’s gaze swept the room.

“Fine,” Seb said finally, voice clipped. “You’ll observe. But you’re still taking notes.”

It was the same story in control application. The moment the stations were assigned, Lando stayed where he was, flipping his pen between his fingers.

“Station four,” the Kimi said, gesturing to the far side.

“Pass.”

“Not an option, Lando.”

“I don’t have to be here,” Lando muttered.

“Unfortunately for you, you do.” Kimi’s voice dropped. “You can either participate, or you can stay after for a separate session.”

Lando didn’t move. In the end, Kimi topped asking, clearly unwilling to start another public standoff.

By combat theory, the whispers were back, low, sharp, and impossible to ignore.

“…again? What’s the point of him being here—”

“—just waiting for another accident—”

Lando’s jaw ached from clenching it. He kept his eyes fixed on the desk while the others paired up and moved to the mats.

When Jenson passed him during a walk-around, he stopped just long enough to murmur, “We’re not giving up on you, you know.”

Lando didn’t answer.

By the end of the day, the same pattern had played out in every practical lesson, teachers trying to draw him in, classmates stealing glances, and him staying rooted in place, arms crossed or pen in hand, pretending to be busy.

It was easier to let them think he was stubborn than to admit the truth, that he was afraid the moment he used his power outside his hut he’d lose control again and this time, no one would walk away unscathed.

-x-

The dorm common room was warm with the fire burning low, the soft clink of mugs and shuffle of books filling the air. Most of the boys had drifted down after dinner, sprawled across the mismatched couches or perched on the edges of armchairs.

Max was stretched out in one corner, feet up on the coffee table, flipping a pencil between his fingers. Charles sat across from him, idly blowing a small breeze at Carlos, who kept batting at it with mild irritation. George was perched on the arm of the sofa near the fireplace, arms folded, watching the others with a critical eye.

Daniel dropped into the seat next to Alex, shaking his head. “Did you see him today? Didn’t touch a single thing in any class.”

“I saw,” Max said without looking up. “So did everyone else.”

Carlos leaned back, smirking faintly. “At this point, he’s not even trying to hide it. Might as well start sleeping in every lesson.”

George’s gaze narrowed. “It’s not funny. He’s drawing attention more than he already was after the last…incident.”

Alex gave a quiet sigh. “Maybe he’s just nervous it’ll happen again. If I nearly smashed half a classroom, I wouldn’t be in a rush to try again either.”

“But this is different,” George said firmly. “Avoiding one or two lessons is one thing. Every single practical? That’s deliberate.”

Charles set his mug down on the table with a faint thunk. “Lewis was in here last night. Went straight to his room. That’s not something he does unless he’s worried.”

Max finally looked up at that. “And if Lewis is worried, then yeah…something’s wrong.”

Oscar, who’d been sitting quietly near the far corner with a book in his lap, didn’t look up, but his hands stilled on the pages.

Daniel glanced toward the stairs. “Think we should…you know, check on him?”

Oscar finally spoke, voice low. “If he wanted company, he’d be down here.”

The group fell silent for a moment, the fire popping softly in the background.

Eventually, Carlos stood and stretched. “Fine. We leave him be. For now.”

But as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, more than one set of eyes flicked toward the staircase, half expecting to see Lando come down, and half knowing he wouldn’t.

-x-

Lando preferred his room to the common room most nights, it was quieter up here, but not fully silent.

Through the thin floorboards, the faint murmur of voices drifted up from the common room, indistinct words, occasional laughter, the creak of chairs shifting on the rug.

Lando sat cross-legged on his bed, the one of the new book from the hut open in front of him. His eyes moved over the same sentence for the third time without taking it in. He could picture them all downstairs, Max sprawled across a couch, Charles smirking at his own comments, George looking like he was running the place.

He didn’t have to hear his name to know they’d been talking about him.

The bag under his bed felt heavier just thinking about it. The thought of going to the hut sent a restless twitch through his fingers. Out there, the air didn’t feel so heavy. Out there, he could work without anyone watching for the smallest slip.

He closed the book, sliding it back into the bag. His eyes flicked to Oscar’s bed, empty for now. Maybe he was still in the common room. That made it easier.

A plan started to form. Wait until the voices downstairs softened. Wait until the fire had burned low. Then take the back emergency stairwell down, slip through the hedge again, and be gone before anyone noticed.

The old familiar thud of his heartbeat sped up, not from nerves, but from anticipation.

He glanced toward the darkened window, the black outline of the trees just visible beyond the glass. The hut was waiting.

The common room noise below eventually faded into the steady crackle of the fire and the muted shuffle of people heading to their rooms. Lando waited until even that had gone quiet before moving.

Bag over his shoulder, shoes laced tight, he slipped from the room, closing the door slowly so the latch didn’t click. The back stairwell was unlit, shadows stretching long across the walls as he made his way down.

The courtyard air was cold enough to sting, the kind that bit at his lungs when he breathed too fast. He kept to the edges, slipping through the gap in the hedge and into the cover of the trees.

The hut was exactly as he’d left it that morning, except for one thing. The pile of practice objects had grown again. This time, along with the spheres and discs, there were glass rods, small wooden figurines, even a few empty jars with lids. No dust on them, no cobwebs, someone had definitely placed them here recently.

Lando’s pulse kicked up, but he didn’t dwell on it. Not now.

He pulled the newest book from the stack, Applied object manipulation, and flipped through the chapters until he found what he wanted, refinement drills. The kind of fine control work he’d never been taught here.

The first drill was simple on paper, stacking discs without touching them. but the instructions made it clear it was about precision, not speed. Lando focused, the discs lifting one by one into the air and settling into a neat column.

The second drill ramped up, rotating objects in different directions simultaneously. He used two glass rods, making one spin clockwise while the other turned counterclockwise. It took several attempts before he could do it without one jerking out of rhythm.

Hours blurred together. He moved from discs to figurines, from rods to spheres, practising pull and push, hold and release, until sweat dampened his collar and his hands trembled from the effort.

Finally, he tried something from the last new book, the self-lift. He anchored his focus to the space beneath his feet, picturing himself as weightless. His body rose a few inches, heart pounding, before he wavered and dropped back down hard enough to make the floor creak.

By the time he stopped, his legs felt unsteady, his head heavy. He sat on the floor with his back to the wall, breathing hard, surrounded by scattered practice pieces.

Out here in the hut, it was just him, his power, and the quiet comfort that came with being able to control his powers again and again.

-x-

The dining hall was already buzzing when Lando walked in. The early autumn light streamed through the high windows, catching on steam rising from mugs and the clatter of cutlery.

He dropped into his usual seat between Oscar and Daniel, the weight of his bag thunking onto the bench beside him.

“You’re early,” Daniel said around a mouthful of toast. “It’s a miracle.”

“Don’t start,” Lando muttered, reaching for the nearest mug of tea without checking if it was his.

Max glanced up from his plate. “Rough night?”

“No,” Lando said too quickly, pouring milk into the tea and taking a sip that was far too hot. His grimace earned him a raised eyebrow from Carlos.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” Carlos said lightly, like it was an observation, not an accusation.

“I’m fine,” Lando shot back, sharper than he meant.

Oscar glanced at him sideways but didn’t speak, didn’t say anything about the empty, unslept bed he had woken up to.

-x-

In elemental theory, Seb called on him to read the next passage from the workbook.

“I’m not blind, I can see where we’re up to,” Lando said without looking up, flipping the page noisily.

By the second lesson, control application, his movements had lost their usual bounce. He leaned against the wall during demonstrations, eyelids heavy but mouth quick whenever someone’s aim slipped or a flame guttered.

Even in combat theory, where he usually had to be pushed to join in, he stayed on the edge of the mats, jaw tight, firing off short replies whenever the teacher addressed him.

By lunch, the shift was obvious he wasn’t storming through the day, but the shortness in his voice, the way he snapped answers, and the faint shadows under his eyes made it clear something was wearing him thin.

George muttered to Alex as they sat down, “If this is him rested, I’d hate to see him tired.”

Alex didn’t laugh. “I think we’re already seeing it.”

From across the table, Lando looked up sharply. “Seeing what?”

Alex hesitated. “Nothing.”

Lando gave him one last look before going back to stabbing at his food.

Seb caught sight of Lando halfway down the corridor after the last bell.

The boy was moving quickly, head down, bag slung low, like he was determined to get to the dorm before anyone could stop him.

“Lando,” Seb called after him.

Lando ignored him and kept walking.

“Lando,” Seb called again, sharper this time.

That earned a reluctant halt as Lando half-turned towards him. “What?”

Seb walked up, folding his arms. “You look exhausted. And judging from the reports I’ve had today, you’ve been short-tempered in every lesson.”

“I’m fine,” Lando said, the words clipped.

“You’re not. And if you’re going to keep showing up like this, I want to know why.”

Lando’s jaw worked, and then something in his expression cracked, not into vulnerability, but frustration. “I don’t know why you care. This school’s been pretty good at letting me get on with my own ability, so why don’t you stick to keeping out of my business!”

The words hung in the air for a beat, too loud in the otherwise empty corridor.

Seb’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “Detention. Tomorrow night. You don’t talk to me like that.”

Lando stared at him, something between shock and defiance flashing across his face, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked off, the sound of his footsteps echoing until he rounded the corner.

Seb watched him go, his frown deepening. There was more here than fatigue, and he wasn’t going to let it slide.

-x-

Lando didn’t go back to the dorm.

By the time Seb’s voice had stopped echoing in the corridor behind him, Lando’s pace had already quickened. His bag bounced against his hack, the strap biting into his shoulder as he cut through the side exit and down toward the trees.

The air was cooler now, carrying the sharp scent of damp leaves. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, not slowing until the thick cover of the woods swallowed the school from sight.

The hut appeared between the tree trunks, its crooked roof and sagging door more familiar now than half the classrooms he’d been in the past two and a bit years. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him and letting out a long, slow breath.

The quiet wrapped around him instantly.

He didn’t even bother lighting the small lantern on the wall straight away, just dropped his bag on the table and pulled out one of the books, flipping it open to the section on sustained object manipulation.

Within minutes, the small wooden figurines and glass rods from the crate were circling him in midair, twisting in slow, deliberate patterns. His anger bled into the control, sharper movements, tighter spins, but for once, it didn’t feel like they were on the verge of slipping.

When he’d had enough of that, he pushed into the self-lift drills again. This time, his feet left the ground for longer, his body hovering a good six inches before he landed with a soft thud.

The hours ticked by unnoticed. Every time his thoughts strayed back to Seb’s voice, detention tomorrow night, he poured more focus into the next drill, chasing the control that seemed to come so easily here, away from everyone else.

It wasn’t until his stomach growled and his arms ached from the effort that he realised night had fallen, the only light coming from the faint glow of the lantern he’d lit sometime in the last few hours.

He closed the book, set the objects back in their crate, and sat for a moment in the stillness. Relishing in the fact that in here, it didn’t feel like everything was slipping through his fingers.

-x-

 

The corridors were quieter after dinner, the last few students lingering on their way back to their dorms. Lewis was locking away a stack of marked papers in his office when Seb appeared in the doorway, his expression set somewhere between concern and irritation.

“Got a minute?”

Lewis glanced up, reading his face before nodding. “Come in.”

Seb shut the door behind him. “It’s about Lando.”

Lewis’s brow lifted slightly. “Go on.”

“He’s running on fumes—obvious exhaustion, snapping at teachers in class all day. I tried to get him to talk this afternoon, and he gave me a full-blown outburst.” Seb’s tone tightened. “Told me to keep out of his business. I gave him detention tomorrow night.”

Lewis’s eyes narrowed, though his voice stayed calm. “And where is he now?”

“That’s the other problem. He wasn’t at dinner. I checked the dorms just before coming here—he’s not there either. Oscar says he hasn’t seen him since classes ended.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers. “So he’s tired, irritable, avoiding practical work, skipping meals, and disappearing in the evenings.”

Seb nodded once. “Exactly.”

Lewis exhaled slowly. “Alright. I’ll have a word with the night staff, make sure they're keeping an eye on the gates. If he comes back late again, I want to know. And tomorrow…” He tapped the desk lightly. “…I’ll deal with him after your detention.”

Seb gave a short nod, the edge in his posture easing only slightly. “He’s hiding something, Lewis. And it’s getting worse.”

Lewis’s gaze stayed steady. “I know. We’ll find out what.”

-x-

The lantern in the hut burned low, the wick sputtering, when Lando finally decided to head back. He slung his bag over his shoulder, rubbing at the ache in his arms. The walk through the woods felt colder than before, the wind biting at his cheeks and tugging at the loose strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

By the time he reached the edge of the school grounds, the lights from the main building glowed faintly through the darkness and so did the beam of a torch moving along the courtyard path.

He froze.

Two night staff were making their rounds, their quiet voices carrying just enough for him to make out the occasional word. They were heading toward the path by the woods. Right by his hedge.

Lando’s pulse spiked. He backed into the shadow of the nearest tree, pressing himself against the rough bark as the beam of light swept across the tree line.

“…check the locks…”

“…Lewis said to keep an eye out…”

His chest tightened as the lopped back towards the building. He couldn’t risk trying to sneak through now. They’d see him the second he moved out of the shadows.

His eyes tracked upward toward the dorm building. His window was open a crack, Oscar must have left it that way. But it was four storeys up.

The decision was made before he had time to question it.

The climb was brutal. The stone walls were cold under his hands, and the metal drainpipe groaned faintly as he hauled himself up. His shoes slipped once on a wet patch, and his stomach lurched before he found a foothold again.

By the third storey, his arms burned from the effort. He kept his eyes fixed on the small rectangle of light above, the only goal that mattered.

When he finally reached it, he hooked an arm over the sill and pulled himself through, before landing on the carpet with a soft thud, knees bending to absorb the drop. He straightened quickly, hoping to slip into bed before Oscar stirred.

But the rustle of blankets came immediately.

The faint glow from the corridor light slipped under the door, enough to catch the sleepy squint on Oscar’s face as he pushed himself up on one elbow.

“…What the hell?” His voice was low but sharp, still thick with sleep. “Did you just come through the window?”

Lando froze halfway to the bed. “…No”

Oscar let out a humourless breath. “Try again.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing at his eyes before fixing Lando with a steady stare. “You’ve been disappearing for weeks. You’re never at dinner, you’re avoiding half your classes, and now you’re scaling four storeys to sneak back in?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Lando muttered, shoving his bag under the bed.

“It is a big deal,” Oscar said firmly. “Every teacher has been asking about you—Lewis, Seb, even Nico in my tutorial. They know something’s going on. And if you think I’m just going to sit here and watch you self-destruct, you’re wrong.”

Lando turned away, pulling his blanket back. “You’re not going to say anything.”

Oscar’s voice cooled. “Don’t be so sure. If I think it’s serious enough, there’s nothing stopping me from going to them with my concerns.”

That made Lando pause. He didn’t look back, but his grip on the blanket tightened. “…Goodnight, Oscar.”

Oscar sat there a moment longer, his eyes searching the back of Lando’s head, before climbing back into bed. The room settled into silence again, but it wasn’t the easy, comfortable kind they’d shared in the first weeks of term.

-x-

Oscar woke before Lando the next morning.

The boy was still buried under his blanket, the faint rise and fall of his breathing the only sign he was even conscious. Oscar stared for a moment, last night’s words echoing in his head, ‘nothing stopping me from going to them’.

By breakfast, Lando was up, but the shortness in his voice was there from the start. When Max joked about him beating the bell for once, Lando’s only reply was a flat, “Yeah, its a fucking unbelievable,” before shoving toast into his mouth.

Oscar watched him scan the room like he was tracking exits, shoulders tense every time a teacher walked past their table.

Between classes, Carlos cornered Oscar near the lockers. “Alright, you’re rooming with him. What’s going on?”

Oscar kept his voice even. “Nothing.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Please. He’s snapping at everyone, and he’s…I don’t know, different. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Oscar’s only answer was to shoulder his bag and walk away.

It was the same with George in the common room before lunch. “I know you know something,” George said, leaning on the back of the couch.

“I don’t,” Oscar said. It wasn’t technically a lie, he didn’t know what Lando was doing at night, just when he’d been coming in. But the way George’s eyes narrowed told him the non-answer had been obvious.

By the time his and Alex’s tutorial with Nico rolled around, the weight of it was starting to press.

They met in Nico’s office, the space warm from the sun through the tall windows. Alex launched into his update first, chatting easily about his progress with healing techniques. Oscar half-listened, eyes flicking to the clock, then to the closed door.

When Nico turned to him, his tone was gentle. “And you, Oscar? How’s everything in and out of class?”

For a second, the answer almost tumbled out, Lando’s late-night window climb, the missing dinners, the unslept in bed across the room. It sat heavy in his throat, the kind of thing that would be a relief to just let go off.

But then he thought about Lando’s face last night , tight, defensive, like the smallest crack would let everything spill.

“…Fine,” Oscar said instead, and it felt like swallowing a stone. “Nothing to report.”

Nico studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push. “Alright. But if something changes, you tell me. Understand?”

Oscar nodded, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

-x-

The classroom was empty when Lando stepped inside, the fading light from the tall windows casting long shadows across the floor. The desks were pushed into neat rows, a single one pulled out into the middle with a chair facing the front. Seb was already there, leaning against the teacher’s desk with his arms folded.

“Sit.”

Lando dropped into the chair, slouching back like he had no intention of pretending to care.

“You’re here because of your attitude yesterday,” Seb said, his voice even but carrying an edge. “And because you’ve been avoiding every practical exercise in your timetable.”

“I told you—”

“Yeah,” Seb cut in, “you told me to keep out of your business. I’m not going to pretend that didn’t stick.” He moved to lean on the edge of the desk right in front of Lando. “But here’s the thing. You are my business. As head of year, it’s literally my job to make sure you’re learning to control your ability before you hurt yourself or someone else again.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes fixed on a scuff mark on the floor.

“For the next hour,” Seb went on, “you’re going to be working on your control drills. Nothing complicated, just the basics. We’re not leaving this room until you’ve at least tried.”

“No,” Lando said flatly.

Seb’s brows lifted. “No?”

“I’m not doing it.”

“You’ve done this hundred of times before, it’s nothing but a simple lift and hold drill. Just try.”

“I’m. Not. Doing. It.”

There was a long pause where Seb just looked at him, measured, calm, but with that kind of silence that felt heavy. “You can’t hide from this forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” Lando muttered. “I’m—” He stopped himself, biting back whatever he’d been about to admit.

“You’re what?”

“Nothing.”

Seb sighed through his nose and straightened up. “Fine. If you don’t want to train, you can write. One thousand words. On why control matters for telekinetics.”

Lando’s lips twitched into something almost like a smirk. “That’s easy. Because if we lose it, everything falls apart.”

Seb’s gaze sharpened, but he didn’t take the bait. “Start writing.”

-x-

Lewis’s office door was open, warm light spilling into the corridor. He was halfway through marking a stack of essays when Seb stepped inside, the set of his shoulders making it clear the detention had not gone smoothly.

Lewis looked up. “How’d it go?”

Seb closed the door behind him. “He didn’t use his powers once. Flat-out refused from the start.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, pen resting against his palm. “You tried drills?”

“Yes. Said no. I tried through out to give him the simplest tasks I could think of, lifting one object, holding it steady, still refused. I even pushed him to at least attempt it, but he just sat there, staring me down.” Seb shook his head. “I gave him writing work, but even then…the way he phrased it, Lewis, it’s like he knows his control is slipping and just doesn’t care.”

Lewis’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Or he cares too much, and that’s why he’s avoiding it.”

Seb folded his arms. “Either way, he’s shutting us out. And every day he does that, the risk gets bigger. We can’t keep letting him walk into classes and just opt out.”

“I agree,” Lewis said, his tone calm but deliberate. “I’ll speak to him myself. Tomorrow. No detention, no audience, just me and him.”

Seb hesitated before adding, “And…there’s something else. He wasn’t at dinner again last night. Oscar says he hasn’t been around much in the evenings. If he’s sneaking off, we need to know where.”

Lewis’s gaze sharpened at that. “Then we’ll start watching more closely. If he thinks he can keep whatever this is hidden, he’s wrong.”

Seb gave a short nod and left, leaving Lewis staring down at the unfinished essay in front of him, his mind clearly somewhere else entirely.

-x-

The dorm was quiet after lights out, the muffled sounds of the common room long since faded. Lando lay still for a while, counting the seconds, waiting for Oscar’s breathing to even out.

When it did, he slid silently out of bed.

He crouched beside his wardrobe, easing it open just far enough to reach inside. A hoodie, a spare T-shirt, two pairs of socks, and his most worn pair of jeans went into the bottom of his bag, under the weight of the books. He shoved a packet of cereal bars in last, zipping it closed with a sound he hoped was quiet enough not to carry.

From behind him, there was a faint rustle of sheets. He froze, listening. Nothing, just the creak of the old floorboards as he stepped toward the door.

He didn’t notice when Oscar’s eyes open in the dark.

Oscar stayed still, watching the faint outline of Lando’s figure disappear through the door. His gaze shifted to the half-open wardrobe. The gap where two of Lando’s hoodies should’ve been was obvious, so was the missing stack of T-shirts from the bottom shelf.

His chest tightened. Lando wasn’t just sneaking out for an hour. He was preparing for…something else. Something bigger.

Oscar lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling, mind racing. He could still go after him, could still stop this. Or he could go straight to Nico tonight, before Lando came back.

But the thought of betraying him outright made Oscar’s stomach twist. So he stayed put, listening for the sound of the side door below opening, then closing before rolling onto his side, staring at the closed door Lando had just slipped out of.

The air was cold enough to sting as Lando slipped out through the side door, keeping his hood low and his steps quick. The bag felt heavier tonight, not just with books and practice orbs, but with the extra clothes and food tucked inside. He didn’t know if he’d stay in the hut past dawn, but at least he’d be ready if he decided not to come back.

The grounds were still, the grass wet with dew, the shadows of the trees stretching long in the moonlight. He kept to the darker edges, skirting the courtyard and aiming for the narrow path that dipped toward the woods.

Halfway there, a movement caught his eye too tall and steady to be the wind in the branches.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice stopped him cold.

Lewis stepped out from the shadow of the old stone archway, hands in the pockets of his coat, gaze locked on him. The moonlight caught the sharp edge of his expression, calm but unreadable.

Lando’s mind raced. “I was…just getting some air.”

“With a bag big enough to pack for a weekend?” Lewis asked, his tone mild in a way that made it worse.

Lando’s fingers tightened around the strap. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

Lewis took a step closer. “You’re a student here. It has everything to do with me—especially when you’ve been avoiding classes, skipping meals, and sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Lewis’s voice didn’t rise, but it carried enough weight to cut through the cold air. “You’re exhausted, short-tempered, and hiding something. Now you’re going to tell me what it is before this gets any worse.”

Lando glanced toward the trees, calculating the distance, wondering if he could make it past him.

Lewis’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if reading the thought. “Don’t even think about it.”

The bag strap dug into Lando’s shoulder. His pulse was loud in his ears. “I’m not staying here to be interrogated.”

“And I’m not letting you walk off into the dark with a bag full of clothes like you’re not coming back.” Lewis’s tone was final, leaving no gap for argument. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

For a long moment, Lando stood there, jaw tight, before finally muttering, “Fine,” before following him back toward the school, every step feeling heavier than the last.

Lewis shut the office door behind them, the faint click echoing in the quiet space. The only light came from the desk lamp, throwing warm gold across the piles of papers and the tall bookshelves lining the walls.

“Sit,” Lewis said simply, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.

Lando didn’t move at first, eyes darting between the shelves, the door, and the shadowed corners. Finally, he dropped into the chair, bag still on his shoulder like he wasn’t planning to stay long.

“Where have you been going at night?” Lewis asked. His voice was calm and steady, not the voice of someone looking for a fight. “And before you tell me it’s none of my business—everything you do inside and outside of classes is my business when it affects you here.”

“I told you,” Lando muttered. “It’s nothing.”

Lewis leaned forward slightly. “It’s not nothing. You’re exhausted, you’re avoiding your lessons, and I’ve had reports from half the staff that your control is slipping. That’s not sustainable and it’s dangerous.”

That word, dangerous, seemed to spark something in Lando. His hands clenched on the armrests, and the air in the room shifted, almost indistinguishable at first. Then a faint hum noise sounded through out the room.

Lewis’s eyes narrowed. “Lando—”

But the boy’s jaw was set, his breathing uneven. A faint rattle started somewhere on the shelves. One by one, objects lifted, pens, paperweights and books began floating a few inches from where they sat, trembling faintly in the air.

“Stop,” Lewis said firmly, moving around the desk.

Lando shut his eyes. His shoulders rose and fell once, twice, and then the trembling stopped. Every object in the room stilled mid-air. The pen on the desk hovered perfectly horizontal, the stack of books floated without a single page shifting.

Lewis froze, watching. This wasn’t a wild, uncontrolled flare, it was precise. Balanced and powerful.

When Lando opened his eyes, the objects lowered slowly, each returning to its exact place without a sound.

The room felt heavier somehow, like the air itself had weight.

Lewis studied him, really studied him. “How long have you been able to do that?”

Lando didn’t answer.

Lewis’s voice stayed low. “That’s not beginner control. That’s not even intermediate. You’ve been training, outside of here.”

Still nothing.

Lewis leaned back against the desk, his gaze never leaving Lando. “You’ve been hiding more than I thought.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet between them was heavy, not the awkward kind, but the kind that sat deep in the air and refused to move.

Lewis straightened, crossing back behind the desk. “Alright,” he said finally, his tone measured. “It’s late. Go back to your dorm. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Lando’s brows pulled together. “That’s it?”

“For tonight, yes,” Lewis replied. “But don’t mistake that for me dropping this. You’ve made it clear you’ve been keeping a lot from me…from all of us. That ends now.”

Lando shifted in his chair, clearly weighing whether to argue. In the end, he just stood, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. “Fine.”

Lewis didn’t miss the stiffness in his walk as he headed for the door, or the way he avoided looking at him as he slipped out.

When the door clicked shut, Lewis sank into his chair, running a hand over his face.

What he’d just seen, there was no mistaking it. Lando’s control slipping, it was the complete opposite. It wasn’t just good for his age, it was exceptional. More than exceptional. But there was a precision in it, a sharpness, that didn’t come from casual use. That was the result of deliberate, sustained training.

Training that Lewis knew for certain the school hadn’t given him.

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling.

If Lando could do that already, then the potential and the danger were far greater than they’d realised. And if he’d been teaching himself in secret…

Lewis’s jaw tightened. He’d have to be careful with his next steps. Push too hard and Lando would bolt. But leave it alone, and the boy could spiral out of control before they even saw it coming.

Either way, one thing was certain, Lando had just moved to the very top of his watchlist.

Chapter Text

Oscar had remained awake until Lando slipped back in not that long after he had left, which Oscar thought was weird, why would he pack clothes to leave to and then return so early. But he was back nevertheless so he let him self fall into uneasy sleep as his thoughts spiralled about where Lando was going so late at night.

Oscar was already awake when Lando stirred, though he pretended otherwise at first.

Now, in the pale half-light of morning, he risked cracking one eye open. Lando was sitting on the edge of his bed, lacing his shoes like he’d been up for hours. There was a tension in his shoulders, but not the usual kind, the restless, pent-up energy was still there, yet underneath it was something quieter.

Different.

“You’re up early,” Oscar said, his voice rough with fake sleep.

Lando didn’t look over. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Oscar pushed himself up on his elbows, studying him. “You went out again last night.”

Lando’s hands stilled briefly on his laces before resuming. “Yeah. So?”

Oscar frowned. There was no bite in the word, not the defensive snap he’d expected. Just a flatness, like he’d already had the argument with someone else.

“What happened?” Oscar asked.

“Nothing,” Lando replied, standing and grabbing his bag.

Oscar caught the way his gaze flicked briefly toward the door, measuring, calculating, as if the room was just a place to pass through, not stay in.

Oscar didn’t press, not yet anyways. But as Lando slipped out, he made a mental note to watch him even closer today. Whatever had happened last night, it hadn’t made him stop. It had only shifted something and Oscar wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

-x-

The Saturday morning drills were in full swing on the training field, groups scattered across the grass under the watch of their tutors. Lewis moved between them at an easy pace, his eyes scanning each section noticing forms, posture, just the usual.

But when his gaze swept toward the benches along the edge of the field, it lingered. Oscar was sitting there, stretching idly after finishing a run, his attention half on the drills and half somewhere else entirely.

Lewis changed direction.

“Oscar,” he said, stopping beside him.

Oscar straightened automatically. “Sir.”

Lewis’s tone was calm, almost casual. “I wanted to ask you something. About Lando.”

Oscar tensed, just slightly, but enough for Lewis to catch it. “What about him?”

“I know he’s been sneaking out at night.” Lewis’s voice was steady, without accusation. “Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve caught him outside after hours. You share a room. Have you noticed anything else?”

Oscar hesitated, eyes dropping to the grass. “…Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

He shifted in his seat. “He’s been gone a lot in the evenings. Misses dinner. Comes back late. Sometimes with a bag and yeah, I’ve seen him pack extra clothes.”

Lewis studied him, his expression unreadable. “Do you know where he goes?”

Oscar’s pause was longer this time. “…No.” He wasn’t lying, he didn’t know where Lando went, but he could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying.

Lewis didn’t push, though Oscar could tell he knew there was more. “If you find out, or if anything changes, you tell me. Immediately.”

Oscar nodded, his stomach sinking a little. “Yes, sir.”

Lewis gave him a short nod and moved on, but the look in his eyes before he turned away made it clear, he wasn’t going to let this drop.

-x-

Lando had staked out a spot near the far end of the field, leaning against the low fence that marked the training area. His hands were shoved into the pocket of his hoodie, and he’d been telling himself he was just observing the morning drills, not avoiding them entirely.

From where he stood, he had a clear view of the groups moving through their exercises. Max and Daniel were paired up for teleportation, invisibility relay work, George and Alex in the healing zone with Nico, Charles and Carlos sparring under Seb’s eye.

His attention was drifting, as it always did during these sessions, until a flicker of movement caught it at the edge of the field. Lewis.

The headteacher’s pace was unhurried as he crossed toward the benches. Lando’s eyes tracked him automatically, and his stomach dipped when he realised exactly who was sitting there. Oscar.

From this distance, Lando couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. The way Lewis leaned in slightly, the stillness of Oscar’s posture, the glances toward the field, it was a conversation about him. It had to be.

Lewis’s expression stayed neutral, but Lando saw the subtle shift in Oscar’s shoulders, the pause before he answered whatever question had been asked.

And then Lewis walked away, his gaze scanning the drills again like nothing had happened.

Oscar stayed sitting for a moment, eyes on the grass, before glancing briefly toward the far end of the field.

Right toward Lando.

Lando looked away instantly, jaw tightening.

If Lewis was talking to Oscar about him…that meant the clock was ticking faster than he’d thought.

By the time drills ended, Lando had already made up his mind.

He kept to himself through lunch, eating quickly and leaving before anyone could sit down across from him. The walk back to the dorm was quiet, most of the others still out on the field or hanging around the common room. Perfect.

Inside his room, he shut the door and turned the lock. His bag was still half-packed from the previous night,now he crouched and added more. Two more hoodies, an extra pair of joggers and a pair of gloves. He tucked them beneath his books and orbs so they wouldn’t be obvious if anyone peeked.

He hesitated, then stuffed his torch into the side pocket, along with a tall bottle of water.

If Lewis was watching him now, he needed to be ready to stay away longer, maybe the entire weekend without being caught. And that meant getting better at moving unseen and fast.

Levitation had been his focus in the hut before, but now he attacked it with sharper intent. If he could get more than a few seconds off the ground, he could bypass anyone on the ground.

He pictured it as he zipped his bag closed, rising above the courtyard, above the patrols, straight over the tree line toward the hut. No noise, no climbing drainpipes, no chance of being spotted.

His pulse picked up at the thought. If he could master that, then they would never be able to stop him.

He waited until after dinner, letting the hum of the common room carry on without him. The bag was already stashed under his bed, all he had to do was grab it and time his exit right.

The first attempt failed almost immediately. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, Max and Daniel appeared from the stairwell, still laughing about something from dinner.

“Where you off to?” Daniel asked, grinning.

“Library,” Lando said quickly, shifting the bag higher on his shoulder.

Daniel’s eyes dropped to it. “For the weekend?”

“Research,” Lando muttered, pushing past before they could press.

He made it halfway down the corridor before running into George, who was on his way back from what looked like a meeting with Fernando. George’s gaze flicked to the bag instantly.

“You’ve been disappearing a lot,” George said, his voice low but pointed.

Lando didn’t slow his pace. “And you’ve been nosy a lot.”

George’s brows rose, but before he could answer, Alex called to him from the common room, pulling his attention away.

Lando took the opportunity to slip down the back stairs again.

At the bottom, he nearly collided with Jenson, who was locking one of the side doors. The teleportation tutor straightened, eyeing him.

“Heading somewhere?”

Lando forced a casual shrug. “Just getting some air.”

“It’s after hours for being outside,” Jenson said mildly. “If you need space, the library’s still open.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lando muttered, stepping back and ducking into another corridor before Jenson could ask more.

By the time he reached main school hallways, his pulse was high, not from the sneaking but from the sense that everyone was suddenly there watching him in ways he wasn’t you to. Noticing things in ways no one had ever bothered to notice before.

He waited in the shadows holding his breath, until the footsteps from the next hallway faded. Then he slipped out through the upper years hallways and into the cold, the bag felt heavy on his shoulder as he made his way towards the woods before anyone else could stop him.

The hut was colder than usual when Lando slipped inside, his breath misting in the dim air. He shut the door quickly, leaning back against it for a moment until the pounding of his pulse eased. Too many people had been in his way tonight, too many eyes watching.

He shrugged off his bag, setting it down with a dull thud, and pulled out the levitation book from the farthest corner.

The book laid out in front of him read, ‘steady your centre. Focus your breath. Draw the air under you as if it were your own hands lifting you.’

He stepped into the middle of the hut, closing his eyes, feeling for that strange pull in his chest, the place where his power sat. The first attempt lifted him barely an inch before his balance wavered and his feet hit the floor again.

The second attempt lasted longer, and he could feel the ground slipping away beneath him. He gritted his teeth, pushing harder, ignoring the strain building in his legs and chest.

By the fourth try, he’d stayed up for a full five seconds, enough to drift forward toward the old table in the corner. His stomach flipped at the sensation, but he didn’t stop, he needed more height, more airtime, more control.

The orbs from the shelf floated up around him as if sensing his determination, spinning lazily at first, then whipping faster. He barely noticed when they knocked into the rafters.

When he finally came down, his legs buckled under him. Sweat ran down his temple, his head was light, but there was a rush in his chest he couldn’t shake.

If he could do that without losing his balance…he could be over the hedge, past the patrols and into the woods before anyone even realised he was gone.

He glanced toward the small, cracked window. It was late, later than he’d meant to stay. Again.

The school loomed darker than usual as Lando skirted along the outer hedges, avoiding the glow of the courtyard lanterns. The training earlier in the hut still hummed through his muscles, every step light despite the weight of his bag.

He slipped through the upper years hallway, down the corridor and up the back stairwell, counting the steps automatically. No voices, no footsteps, just the quiet hum of the building settling for the night.

When he reached the dorm room, he eased the door open, letting it close softly behind him.

Oscar was sitting up in bed.

The lamplight from his nightstand caught the tired set of his face, the way his arms were folded across his chest. “Where were you?”

Lando dropped his bag by the wardrobe without answering. “Out.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “It’s nearly one in the morning.”

“Didn’t realise you were my mum,” Lando said, pulling off his hoodie.

“Don’t start.” Oscar’s voice was low, but it carried an edge. “You’ve been gone nearly every night this week. And don’t pretend you’re just going for walks, half your clothes are missing, and I know you’ve been packing food.”

Lando didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

Oscar swung his legs over the side of the bed, leaning forward. “It is my business when you’re my roommate and every teacher in this place is asking me if I’ve seen you. You think they’re not going to figure it out?”

“Then don’t tell them.”

Oscar stared at him for a long moment, something caught between frustration and concern flickering across his face. “I can’t keep covering for you if you’re just going to keep disappearing.”

Lando didn’t reply. He moved his bag to under the bed, climbed in, and rolled onto his side, with his back to Oscar.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on, neither of them moving until the lamplight finally clicked off.

-x-

Sunday was the first night in weeks that Lando didn’t feel like slipping out.

Instead, he sat cross-legged on his bed with the duvet over his head and the old levitation book open across his lap. The diagrams were crude and faded, but the instructions had a precision the library books lacked, small adjustments to breath, posture, and balance that made the difference between a wobbly hover and sustained lift.

He traced a finger over a page about maintaining height outdoors, his eyes catching on the line, ‘greater altitude requires steadier focus. Do not attempt if distracted or fatigued.’

He smirked faintly. He was both distracted and fatigued, but that hadn’t stopped him yet. Tomorrow, he’d try it in the open air, away from the low ceiling of the hut. He wanted height, proper height, not just the few feet he’d managed indoors.

The sound of the door opening snapped his attention up.

Oscar came in first, tossing his bag on the desk. “You’ve skipped meals again,” he said, frowning. “Seb’s been looking for you.”

“Wasn’t hungry,” Lando muttered, sliding the book under his pillow and pulling the duvet down.

Before Oscar could reply, there was a firm knock, then the door opened again. Seb stepped in, scanning the room like he was expecting to find an empty room. His eyes landed on Lando immediately.

“You’ve been avoiding the dining hall all day,” Seb said, his tone halfway between concern and authority. “You sick?”

“No.”

“Then why not show your face?”

Lando shrugged. “Busy.”

Seb’s gaze drifted to the rumpled blanket in his lap. “Busy with what?”

“Homework,” Lando lied, keeping his voice even.

For a moment, Seb looked like he might press it, but instead he sighed through his nose. “You’ve got classes tomorrow. Eat something before lights out. And if you skip meals again, we’re going to have a problem.”

Lando nodded, keeping his expression neutral until Seb left.

Only when the door shut did he pull the book back out, thumbing to the page on outdoors levitation. Tomorrow, if he could get high enough, they’d never catch him.

-x-

Once again Lando walked into the first period of the week, elemental theory. The desks had been pushed to the sides, leaving an open space for practical work, the kind Lando had been avoiding for days.

He slipped in just before the bell, heading for the back corner.

“Not today,” Seb called, spotting him instantly. “Up front.”

Lando’s shoulders tensed. “I’ll just observe—”

“Up. Front.” The tone left no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Lando dropped his bag by the wall and stepped into the circle of students. Seb handed him a practice sphere. It felt dense and just heavy enough to require proper control to move smoothly.

“Float it to me,” Seb instructed.

“I don’t—”

“Float it. Now.”

A few of the others shifted to watch, Max with his arms folded, Charles smirking faintly, George already wearing that about time expression.

Lando gritted his teeth, focusing just enough to lift the orb off his palm. It hovered shakily, drifting forward before wobbling. He could feel the stares, hear the low murmur from the sidelines.

“Steady,” Seb said. “Breathe.”

This time it was the word breathe that pulled something tight in Lando’s chest, like a reflex. His eyes shut, his shoulders straightened, and just like in Lewis’s office, the air in the room shifted with a faint humming sound.

 

One by one, every loose object in the space lifted. Pens, notebooks, spare orbs began rising smoothly, without any hint of jittery uncontrolled energy.

The murmurs stopped.

Lando opened his eyes, holding the whole scene in perfect balance. The sphere floated to Seb and hovered at chest height, turning slowly in the air.

Seb stared at him, but said nothing.

Then Lando exhaled and everything lowered to exactly where it had been. No clatter, no crash. Just floated back down like a feather falling.

The silence was thick enough to choke on.

“Where did you learn that?” Seb asked, his voice quieter now.

Lando’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t.”

He grabbed his bag from the wall and walked out before Seb could stop him.

-x-

The door swung shut behind Lando, and for a moment, Seb just stood there in the middle of the training space, the weight of what had just happened settling in. The room was still too quiet there was no joking from Daniel, no smug comment from George, not even Alex breaking the tension with a nervous laugh.

Seb turned back to the group. “Alright, that’s enough for today.”

A ripple of surprise moved through the students. Ending early wasn’t his style.

“Pack your things,” he added. “You’ve got the rest of the period free. Go.”

Chairs scraped, bags were grabbed, and the room emptied fast. Even Oscar, normally the last to leave, didn’t hang around. Within two minutes, Seb was alone with only the faint echo of the door closing left.

He didn’t waste time. Striding out into the corridor, he headed straight for the main staircase, his pace quick and deliberate. He could still see it in his head, the way every single object in the room had lifted, held perfectly steady like it was nothing. That wasn’t a lucky trick. That was deliberate, focused control, at a level they had never trained him for.

He took the stairs two at a time, already scanning for Lewis. If anyone needed to know about this, it was him.

Seb spotted Lewis in the main hall, halfway through a conversation with Nico. The moment Lewis caught sight of him, his expression shifted, reading the urgency in Seb’s stride before a word was said.

“Give us a minute,” Lewis told Nico, who nodded and stepped aside.

Seb didn’t bother with pleasantries. “It happened again. The thing in your office, the full control, all at once. But this time, it was in front of the whole class.”

Lewis’s eyes narrowed. “How many saw?”

“Everyone in the class,” Seb said. “He lifted every object in the room, held them steady, then lowered them like it was nothing. No strain, no stumble, just…perfect execution. I’ve never seen control like it in someone his age. Especially not without training.”

Lewis let out a slow breath, his gaze flicking toward the corridor that led toward the dorms. “And I’m guessing he didn’t explain where he learned it.”

Seb shook his head. “Walked out before I could press him. I ended the lesson early.”

Lewis’s jaw tightened. “Alright. I want him brought in today, before dinner. If he’s hiding that much power, we can’t afford to let him vanish off on one of his little excursions.”

Seb nodded. “You want me to find him now?”

“No,” Lewis said. “I’ll do it myself. If he’s already on edge, we’ll get more out of him if he thinks it’s just a conversation. Keep the rest of the staff alert, though if he tries to bolt, I want to know immediately.”

Seb smirked faintly. “You think he’ll run?”

Lewis’s expression was unreadable. “I think he’s been preparing to for weeks.”

-x-

After leaving Seb’s lesson, Lando stuck to the edges of the corridors, timing his movements so he could slip into classrooms just as the bell rang. If he was in his seat before anyone else arrived, there was less chance of someone cornering him.

It worked for the first half of the morning, mostly.

In combat theory, Max dropped into the empty seat beside him without asking, leaning back like he had every right to be there.

“You pulled quite the stunt in Seb’s class this morning,” Max said quietly.

Lando didn’t look up from his notes. “Wasn’t a stunt.”

“Whatever it was, it’s got everyone talking,” Max pressed. “George nearly bit Daniel’s head off for joking that you could’ve smashed us all into the walls if you wanted—”

Lando snapped his notebook shut. “I’m trying to work.”

Max raised his hands in mock surrender but didn’t move away.

By break, the murmurs in the corridors were like static under his skin. He ducked into the library, sliding between two tall shelves near the back, hoping to ride out the twenty minutes in peace.

It didn’t last. Oscar found him.

“Skipping snacks again?” he asked, stepping into the aisle.

“Not hungry.”

“You’re never hungry lately.” Oscar’s tone was careful, like he was feeling his way around an unseen edge. “You know Seb’s been looking for you, right? And Lewis too?”

“Yeah, and?”

Oscar sighed, clearly wanting to say more but holding back. “Just…be careful.”

By the time afternoon classes rolled around, Carlos made his own attempt, catching Lando as he sat in the back of library.

“You know,” Carlos said, towering above him as he cornered him into his spot in the library, “if you wanted to make a statement this morning, you could’ve just—”

“I didn’t want to make a statement,” Lando cut in, stepping past him.

Carlos grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Lando kept his head down through the rest of the day, he skipped Lewis lesson entirely and only entered Kimi’s after the bell had rang and class was just starting.

Lando lingered at his desk once the bell had finally rung after a tortuous hour of pointed looks, he stood pretending to fish through his bag while the rest of his group filed out. He waited until he heard George calling Alex to hurry up, Carlos teasing Charles about Seb’s ‘torture drills’ they had to endure later and Max muttering something about Jenson making him teleport until he puked.

The second the corridor cleared, he moved.

Out the side door, down the back stairwell, slipping past the hall without looking in. His trainers barely made a sound on the stone floor as he cut through the courtyard, keeping close to the wall until he reached the shadow of the stone walls.

From there, it was a straight shot.

He ran towards the gap in the hedge and hit the tree line at a sprint, his bag thudding against his back. The cold air burned in his lungs, but it didn’t slow him, not when he could already see the faint outline of the hut through the branches.

By the time he reached it, his pulse was loud in his ears. He shoved the door closed behind him and let his bag drop to the floor.

The quiet here was instant like the air itself silenced the world around him.

He pulled the levitation book from his bag, flipping to the section on sustained lift. Today, he told himself, I’m going higher than the roof.

If Lewis or Seb were looking for him now, they’d be checking classrooms and corridors. No one would know where he went.

The air outside the hut was crisp and sharp with the scent of pine and damp leaves. Lando dropped his bag just inside the doorway and stepped out into the small clearing, the levitation book tucked under one arm.

He scanned the treeline, listening. But there was nothing but the quiet hiss of the wind.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s do this.”

The first few attempts were clumsy, hovering no more than a few centimetres off the ground before his balance gave way and he landed awkwardly in the dirt. He cursed under his breath, brushing off his hands, and tried again.

Each time, he held it a little longer. Two seconds. Four. Seven. The muscles in his legs and core burned from keeping himself steady, but he pushed through, hearing the words from the book in his head.

By the sixth try, he managed to rise a good five meters, the hut’s mossy roof just at eye level. His pulse was pounding, a mix of exhilaration and strain. He landed shakily, grinning despite himself.

Higher.

The next attempt lifted him above the hut entirely, the treetops closer than they’d ever been. The ground looked far away now, and for a second, he thought he could stay here forever.

But the strain came fast this time, his breath catching, his chest tightening, the burn in his muscles flaring into something sharp. His focus wavered.

The drop was sudden.

He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air out of him. His head struck the earth with a thud causing white light burst across his vision.

Lando tried to push himself up, but the world tilted violently in a mix of disorientated blurs. His body went limp, the sounds of the forest blurring into nothing as darkness pulled him under.

Chapter Text

Lando woke to the faint smell of damp earth and something faintly metallic in the air. His eyes opened sluggishly with a wary blink making the dim light of the hut waver.

He didn’t register the hut at first instead there was a warm weight resting across his shoulders. He glanced down and saw a heavy greenish-purple cloak draped around him, its fabric thick and velvety.

His brain lagged behind at the sight. He didn’t own a cloak. He didn’t even remember finding one and putting it on. Now that he thought about it he didn’t even remember falling asleep.

Then the dull throb in his head flared and he hissed through his teeth, bringing a hand up to his temple. His fingers came away sticky with something red.

He frowned at the stain, then at the cloak again. Questions bubbled in his head, how did he get back in the hut, who found him, where did the clock come from, but they felt too heavy to push through the fog in his skull for him to dwell on them for long.

The hut seemed quieter than usual. There was no hum of magic in the air, just stillness. It was starting to become unnerving.

Lando slowly pushed himself upright, swaying dangerously before bracing against the desk. His bag was on the floor near the wall, but he left it. Every movement made his head pound harder and the thought of bending down for it made his stomach twist.

He pulled the cloak tighter, whether for warmth or just because it was there, he didn’t know as he stumbled toward the door.

The air outside was cold enough to sting. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep the trees in focus as he staggered forward.

His boots caught on roots and dips in the ground, each stumble sending a fresh throb through his skull. The steady patter of blood dripping down the side of his face was almost louder than the crunch of leaves underfoot.

He fixed his eyes on the faint glimmer of light ahead, the break in the trees that marked the edge of the woods.

Just get there. One step, then another.

The school grounds were eerily still as Lando stumbled out from the treeline, the grass damp beneath his boots. The courtyard lamps were already lit, their pools of golden light stretching across the empty paving stones.

There where no voices or footsteps coming round from the courtyard.

Somehow, no one was there to see him cross the open space, one hand pressed to his temple, the other clutching the cloak around his shoulders. His vision swam, and every step felt too loud, but he kept moving, straight for the side entrance near the laundry block.

He slipped inside, the door’s quiet click echoing like a gunshot in the hush. Corridors were deserted, the faint hum of the building was the only sound as he half-walked, half-leaned his way up the stairs.

By the time he reached his dorm room, his breathing was ragged. The door swung shut behind him, and he sagged against it, blinking through the haze.

Some instinct told him not to leave the cloak out. Not where anyone could see it.

He crossed to his wardrobe, pulled the doors with clumsy fingers and showed the clock in under his winter coat, then shut the door like he was sealing a secret inside.

Lando barely made it the two steps to his bed before his legs gave way. He dropped onto the mattress fully clothed, trainers still on, the copper taste of blood sharp in his mouth.

The last thing he registered was the faint hum in his ears before darkness swallowed him again.

-x-

The door creaked open to the dim light of the dorm room as Oscar stepped inside, already halfway through pulling his jumper over his head, the warmth from dinner still lingering in him.

The movement died the second his eyes landed on Lando.

He was sprawled on his bed, shoes still on, head turned slightly toward the wall. Even in the low light, Oscar could see the dried blood matted in his hair and the ugly smear down the side of his face. His skin was pale, his breathing shallow.

“Lando—?” Oscar crossed the room in two steps, shaking his shoulder gently. No response, just a low, half-conscious murmur. Panic surged in him sharp and fast.

Oscar turned toward the open door and shouted, “Someone get Seb! Now!”

Daniel’s head appeared from across the corridor, expression shifting instantly when he saw Oscar’s face. “What—”

“Just get him!” Oscar snapped.

Daniel vanished, his voice carrying down the hall, “Seb! Seb, now!”

Oscar turned back to Lando, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. “Come on, mate, wake up for me.” His hands hovered, unsure whether to try healing the injury. They hadn’t cover head injuries yet in there tutorials and Nico warned them of how delicate they where.

Footsteps pounded up the corridor, before Oscar could think k much more about it.

Seb appeared in the doorway, eyes scanning the scene in an instant before striding in. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Oscar said quickly. “I came back from dinner and found him like this.”

Seb was already kneeling beside the bed, checking Lando’s pulse and tilting his head carefully to assess the wound. “Get Lewis. And Nico. Now.”

Daniel flew back down the corridor with Oscar not far behind him.

Daniel came back first with Lewis followed closely by Oscar and Nico.

Lewis’s gaze swept the room in a second, his posture stiffening when he saw Lando. “How long has he been like this?”

“Don’t know,” Seb answered without looking up from where he was still supporting Lando’s head. “Oscar found him like this after dinner. He’s cold, pulse is weak. Looks like he’s taken a heavy hit to the head.”

Nico stepped forward, medical bag already in hand. He crouched next to Seb by the bed, gentle fingers parting Lando’s hair to get a better look at the wound. His expression darkened. “It’s definitely fresh. A few hours, maybe less.”

Oscar shifted nervously at the foot of the bed. “He wasn’t at dinner. I thought he was in here the whole time, but—” he cut himself off, glancing at Lewis.

Lewis’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t push. Not yet. “Get him to the infirmary. Now. And keep this quiet.”

Seb and Nico moved in sync, Seb sliding his arms under Lando’s still form while Nico braced his head. Between them, they lifted him carefully, Nico keeping his grip steady to avoid jarring the head wound.

Lewis stepped into the corridor, where several of the boys had gathered, Max, George, Charles, and Daniel, all stood wide-eyed and whispering.

“Back to your rooms,” Lewis said, voice low but firm. “Now. You’ll be told if there’s anything you need to know.”

George hesitated. “Is he—”

“Rooms. Now.
They scattered reluctantly, glancing over their shoulders as they went.

When the corridor was clear, Lewis fell into step beside Seb and Nico as they carried Lando toward the infirmary.

“He’s definitely hiding something,” Seb murmured.

Lewis’s gaze stayed fixed ahead. “I know. And I think tonight, we might be closer than ever to finding out what.”

The infirmary was quiet but for the faint ticking of the clock and the soft clink of medical supplies on the tray beside Nico’s hand.

Lando lay pale and still on the narrow bed, the faint rise and fall of his chest the only sign of life. The ugly matted streak of dried blood along his temple looked worse under the bright medical lights.

Nico cleaned the wound carefully, using warm saline to loosen the dried clots before dabbing them away with precise, gentle movements. Every so often, his eyes flicked to Lewis, who stood a few steps back with arms folded, silent and unreadable.

“This hit was hard,” Nico murmured, almost to himself. “Too hard to be from a fall at ground level. And it’s not the kind of injury you get from tripping down a staircase or clipping a desk.”

Lewis’s gaze narrowed. “You’re thinking height?”

“Height, or…something solid coming at speed,” Nico said quietly, examining the edges of the bruise as the swelling began to reveal itself under the cleaned skin. “But the pattern’s strange, less like an accident, more like…” He hesitated, eyes shifting to Lando’s still face. “…impact in the open. No scuff marks, no defensive scrapes. And his clothes—”

Seb, leaning against the wall, cut in. “—aren’t dirty enough for him to have been rolling around on the ground, or have been out in the open for long.”

Lewis glanced toward the neat pile of Lando’s things on the bedside table. “And yet, he somehow made it back here presumably alone without anyone seeing him.”

“That,” Nico said, securing a fresh bandage around Lando’s head, “is the part that doesn’t add up.”

The three of them fell silent, the quiet only broken by the soft rustle of fabric as Nico adjusted the blanket over Lando.

And then just as Nico reached for a fresh roll of gauze, Lando’s fingers twitched. His brow creased faintly, and he let out a low, muffled sound, the kind that meant waking wasn’t far away.

-x-

The first thing Lando registered was the smell, sharp antiseptic mixed with something faintly metallic.

Then came the sensation of cool air brushing his skin, the warmth of a blanket tucked under his chin, and the dull, pounding ache at the side of his head.

He groaned softly, forcing his eyes open.

The bright white of the infirmary lights stabbed at his vision, making him blink rapidly until the shapes around him sharpened. Nico was leaning over him, one hand steadying his head, the other dabbing gently at the bandaged side of his temple with a swab.

Behind Nico, Lewis stood with arms folded, gaze locked on Lando. Seb was just off to the side, leaning against the wall but watching him with the same focused intensity.

The weight of their attention hit Lando all at once, and his chest tightened.

“You’re awake,” Nico said quietly, still working with the swab. “Try not to move. You’ve taken quite a hit.”

Lando swallowed, his throat dry. “Where—”

“Infirmary,” Nico supplied, tone calm but firm. “Oscar found you in your room in this state. You remember how you got here?”

Lando’s eyes darted briefly to Lewis before flicking back to Nico. “No. Just…head hurts.”

Lewis tilted his head slightly, studying him. “Funny. You made it back to your room without anyone seeing you, with an injury Nico says didn’t come from a fall in here. Makes me wonder where you were before that.”

Lando’s fingers curled in the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Seb gave a low hum, pushing off the wall. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, just lie still and let Nico finish.”

Nico’s hands were gentle but thorough, his eyes narrowing slightly as he checked the edges of the swelling. “You’re lucky,” he murmured. “Could’ve been worse if you’d stayed out longer.”

Lando bit back a wince and stared fixedly at the ceiling, pretending the knot in his stomach wasn’t growing with every second the teachers lingered.

Nico set the swab aside and reached for a small penlight.

“Follow the light with your eyes,” he instructed. Lando obeyed, though every movement made his temples throb.

After a few more checks, counting backwards, recalling words, testing his balance while still lying down, Nico straightened, his expression firm. “Concussion. You’re staying here tonight for observation. No arguments.”

“I’m fine,” Lando muttered.

“You’re lucky you’re fine,” Nico corrected, adjusting the blanket over him again. “You sleep here, I can keep an eye on you. Head injuries aren’t something to shrug off.”

Lando closed his eyes, partly to block out the light, partly to avoid the stares from the other two.

Seb moved toward the door, pausing beside Lewis. His voice dropped to a murmur. “We should check the grounds. If that hit came from height or something moving at speed, there’s a chance we’ll find signs, broken branches, disturbed ground, anything. Might even tell us where he’s been disappearing off to.”

Lewis didn’t answer right away, his eyes flicking back to the bed. “Do it quietly. Last thing we need is rumours before we know the truth.”

Seb nodded once and slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Nico busied himself with tidying the tray, but Lewis lingered in the corner of the room, arms still folded. His gaze stayed on Lando, silently watching like he was waiting for the boy to slip and give away more than he meant to.

But Lando only shifted slightly under the blanket, pretending to settle in, but he could feel the weight of it. The unspoken suspicion. The sense that his time keeping this to himself was running out.

-x-

Seb’s boots crunched over the gravel paths as he made his way across the school grounds, the last blush of sunset bleeding into the horizon. The air was sharp and still, perfect for picking out any sign of disturbance.

He started with the courtyard, nothing but the usual scuffs from passing students. The training fields were empty, grass flattened only where drills had run that morning.

It wasn’t until he reached the far edge of the grounds, near the laundry block, that he spotted something different, faint impressions in the damp soil, lighter than a boot print but too deep to be from fallen branches.

He crouched, running his fingers over the marks. “Not fresh,” he murmured, “but recent enough.”

His gaze drifted up to the treeline, the looming shadow of the woods just beyond the fence. The rules for students were clear, no entry without supervision. And Lando…Lando was just stubborn enough to ignore them.

Seb’s jaw tightened.

He stepped closer, eyes scanning for any snapped twigs or broken branches that might hint at movement through the undergrowth. He found one, there was a gap in the hedge just big enough for some to fit through, It was enough to make him consider Squeezing through until movement caught his eye from the main building.

He looked back toward the dorms, and there they were, Max, Charles, Daniel, and George, pressed up against one of the wide forth-floor windows. All four were watching him, their faces half-lit by the orange glow from their room.

The moment Seb’s gaze met theirs, Charles leaned back slightly, saying something over his shoulder to someone out of sight, probably Oscar.

Seb exhaled through his nose, stepping back from the hedge. The last thing he needed was the whole dorm spinning theories about what he was doing out here.

With one final glance at the shadowed line of trees, he turned and started back toward the main building.

-x-

The corridor outside Lando and Oscar’s room was dead silent after the teachers disappeared down the stairs. The sound of their footsteps faded, leaving only the faint hum of the building.

For a minute or two, no one moved. Doors stayed cracked just enough for curious eyes to peek out.

Then Daniel stepped fully into the hall. “Okay,” he said quietly, looking between the others, “what the hell just happened?”

Max emerged next, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, his expression unreadable. “Oscar found him,” he said simply. “Looked bad.”

George came out of his own room, shutting the door behind him with deliberate precision. “More than bad,” he said, lowering his voice. “There was blood. A lot. And I’ve never seen Nico move that fast unless someone’s seriously hurt.”

Charles wandered into the middle of the group, leaning one shoulder against the wall. “You think it’s connected to…y’know, how weird he’s been lately?”

“Obviously,” George said, almost too quickly. “He’s been avoiding us, avoiding classes—”

Max cut him off with a sharp look. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” George said, crossing his arms. “You’ve noticed it too. Something’s going on, and the teachers clearly know more than they’re telling us.”

Daniel frowned, glancing toward the closed dorm room door. “Oscar looked shaken. More than usual.”

From inside the room, they could hear the muffled sound of Oscar moving around, drawers opening, then closing again.

Charles tilted his head toward the noise. “Should we…I dunno…check on him?”

Max shook his head. “Give him space. He’ll tell us if he wants to.”

The group lingered for a while longer, exchanging quiet theories and half-formed guesses, until the tension became too thick to hold. One by one, they drifted back into their rooms, though nobody shut their door all the way.

It was clear none of them planned on going to sleep any time soon.

The dorm had settled into a restless quiet, doors remained half-closed, low murmurs leaking from a couple of rooms occasionally.

Max was at his desk pretending to read when Charles’s voice suddenly rang down the corridor.

“Oi! Get out here—now!”

Doors banged open almost in unison. Daniel was the first into the hall, grinning like he’d just been caught in the middle of a prank. “What, you set something on fire?”

“No, look.” Charles waved them toward the big forth-floor window at the end of the corridor.

They crowded around, elbows knocking as they all tried to see. Out on the far edge of the grounds, a lone figure was moving slowly along the hedge line.

“That’s Seb,” George said immediately, his voice a mix of surprise and suspicion.

“Looks like he’s…searching for something,” Max murmured, watching the way Seb kept crouching, scanning the ground, then looking toward the treeline.

Oscar emerged from Lando’s room, his expression tight. “Why would he be out there this late?”

No one had an answer.

Seb straightened suddenly, looking toward the dorm building. Even from this distance, they could tell he’d spotted them. For a beat, no one moved, then Charles stepped back from the glass, muttering, “Well, that’s not suspicious at all.”

George crossed his arms. “Bet it’s got something to do with Lando.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

They stayed by the window until Seb finally turned away from the woods and started walking back toward the school, his pace brisk, his head low. The group drifted back toward their rooms in uneasy silence, the image of him at the hedge burned into all their minds.

It was only about fifteen minutes after they’d spotted him outside when the sound of steady footsteps came up the dorm stairs.

Max, still at his desk, leaned back far enough to see into the corridor. “That’s Seb.”

The teacher appeared at the top of the stairs, scanning the hall with the kind of quiet authority that made even Daniel straighten up. He stopped halfway down the corridor, and the boys instinctively began drifting out of their rooms, gathering around.

“Everything alright?” Charles asked, trying to sound casual.

Seb’s eyes swept over the group before settling briefly on Oscar. “Lando’s stable. He’s in the infirmary overnight so Nico can keep an eye on him.”

Oscar gave a quick nod, relief flickering over his face for just a second before he schooled it again.

“What happened?” George asked, arms folded.

Seb shook his head. “We’re not entirely sure yet. He’s got a concussion and a nasty cut to the head, but nothing life-threatening. He needs rest and that’s all you need to worry about right now.” His tone made it clear that was the end of that particular question. He let his gaze pass over each of them. “And before anyone asks yes, I was outside earlier. No, you don’t need to know why. Focus on your own work and let the staff handle this.”

Daniel muttered something under his breath, but Seb ignored it.

His attention went back to Oscar. “You were the one who found him, right?”

Oscar nodded slowly. “Yeah. Came back from dinner, and he was just…like that.”

 

Seb studied him for a moment longer, then gave a short, almost approving nod. “You did the right thing getting us. If he says anything to you about where he was before that, you come straight to me or Lewis. Understand?”

Oscar’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he nodded again.

“Good.” Seb stepped back, already turning toward the stairs. “Get some rest, all of you. Classes as normal tomorrow.”

The group watched him go, the unspoken questions thick in the air, before slowly retreating to their rooms again, though none of them looked much like they were going to be sleeping peacefully.

-x-

The first thing Lando noticed when woke up was that the pounding in his head had dulled. It was still there, a low throb under his skin, but nowhere near the white-hot ache that had dragged him under the night before.

The second thing was the soft morning sunlight filtering through the half-open blinds, warming the edge of the bed. The infirmary smelled faintly of antiseptic and tea, and somewhere in the distance, he could hear the muted clatter of breakfast being served in the dining hall.

He shifted slightly, testing his body. No dizziness this time, just a faint heaviness in his limbs. His vision wasn’t swimming, and for the first time in hours his thoughts didn’t feel fogged.

The blanket was tucked neatly around him, and there was a folded towel on the side table next to a glass of water and a small dish with two painkillers. Nico’s doing, obviously.

Lando sat up slowly, careful not to jolt his head. The movement pulled faintly at the bandage wrapped around his temple, reminding him of the injury without bringing back the worst of the pain.

His eyes drifted to the empty chair beside the bed. No Lewis, no Seb, no Nico hovering, just quiet.

It should’ve felt like relief. Instead, it left space for the memory of the night before to creep back in. The cloak. The hut. The levitating.

He reached for the water, swallowing it down along with the tablets. They slid down easily, leaving behind the bitter aftertaste of hospital air.

He felt…better. Clearer. Like whatever haze had been clinging to him since the fall had finally burned off. Which meant he could think and thinking brought the same question as before, Who left the cloak? And why?

The door to the infirmary opened softly before he could think much more about it and Nico stepped in carrying a small tray, tea, toast, and a notebook tucked under one arm.

“You’re awake,” he said, the faintest relief in his voice as he set the tray down on the side table. “And you look a hell of a lot better than last night.”

“Feel better,” Lando admitted, shifting a little so he could sit up straighter.

Nico picked up the penlight from the counter. “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Mind if I run through the checks again?”

Lando shrugged. “Go for it.”

The routine was familiar now, follow the light, squeeze Nico’s hands, answer simple questions. Nico’s gaze was sharp but not unkind, watching for the smallest signs of strain.

When he was satisfied, he closed the penlight and slipped it into his pocket. “Your balance is better, focus is back. You’re still not leaving here until after lunch, but you’re not in any danger.”

“That’s good, then.”

Nico nodded, then poured tea into the waiting cup. “Yeah. It is.” He set it within Lando’s reach and leaned lightly against the counter, casual in a way that was almost too casual.

“You know,” he said, “we’ve been trying to work out how you ended up like that. Where you were before Oscar found you.”

Lando kept his eyes on the toast, breaking off a corner. “Told you—I don’t remember.”

“Hmm.” Nico’s tone was light, but his eyes stayed on Lando’s face. “Strange thing is, you made it back to the dorm on your own. Very little dirt on your clothes, no sign you’d been in a fight. And that head injury…that wasn’t from a fall into a desk or along a hallway floor.”

Lando took a slow sip of tea to buy himself a moment. “Guess I’m just unlucky, then.”

Nico gave a small hum, not quite agreement but not pushing further. “Eat something. Rest. And try not to make me keep you in here again.”

As he moved toward the door, Lando could feel the weight of his glance linger just long enough to make it clear the conversation wasn’t over, just paused.

The walk from the infirmary back to the dorm felt like stepping into a spotlight.

Lando had hoped, however unrealistically, that maybe no one would be in the corridor. That maybe they’d all be off in classes still or scattered across the school.

No such luck.

As soon as he rounded the top of the stairs, the door to their common room swung open.

“There he is!” Daniel’s voice rang out before Lando even got three steps down the hall.

In a blur, the others appeared from inside, Charles still half-chewing a piece of fruit, Carlos lounging like he’d been expecting a show, George and Alex standing a little too close to the doorway like they’d been eavesdropping for movement. Max looked up from a book, and Oscar, already in the hallway, went very still.

Lando froze, shoulders tensing. “Great.”

“You look like death,” Charles commented, walking over with that too-casual tilt to his posture. “Better than last night, though.”

“You didn’t see him last night,” Oscar muttered, folding his arms.

George stepped forward. “Where were you? No one’s saying anything. The teachers are tight-lipped, and you—” he waved vaguely toward Lando’s bandaged temple, “—look like you got hit by a falling building.”

“I didn’t,” Lando said flatly.

Carlos raised a brow. “Then what did hit you?”

“Or who,” Max added, voice quiet but cutting.

Lando looked between them. Charles’s teasing grin had faded into something more serious. Alex was watching him with worry. George looked like he was calculating something. Daniel’s usual playfulness had gone still. And Oscar wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

“I don’t remember,” Lando said, voice sharper than he meant it to be. “I woke up in the dorm, same as you. It’s not like I planned to end up in the infirmary.”

“That’s not what Nico said,” George challenged.

Lando’s jaw clenched. “Of course he did.”

Charles stepped in before anyone else could pile on. “Look, we’re not trying to push you. But it’s kinda hard not to worry when you show up with blood on your face and then Seb’s out sniffing around near the woods like someone dropped a clue there.”

That made Lando flinch, only slightly, but enough for Max to notice.

Max straightened. “So he was looking for something out there. You have been sneaking out.”

Lando opened his mouth, but no excuse came. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Drop it.”

“We just want to help,” Alex said gently.

“Well, I don’t need help,” Lando snapped.

The group went quiet at that, the silence growing thicker.

Oscar finally looked at him then. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. “You came back bleeding, you’re lying about where you’ve been, and you’re clearly scared. But sure. Fine. You don’t need help.”

He turned and walked back up the stairs into their shared room without waiting for a response.

The others lingered, awkward and tense, watching Lando in silence.

Lando swallowed hard. “I’m going to lie down.”

He walked past them and into the room without looking back.

The door clicked softly shut behind him, muffling the conversation still buzzing faintly below.

Lando stood just inside the room, the silence pressing down like a weight. Oscar was at his side of the room, grabbing his bag without a word. No glance. No acknowledgment. Just quiet, deliberate movements.

“Oscar…” Lando started, the name falling out before he could stop it.

But Oscar didn’t flinch. He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, pulled open the door, and left.

Lando stood there, blinking at the empty space he left behind.

His chest felt tight, too tight, and not just from the headache still lingering behind his eyes. He ran a hand through his curls and sank slowly onto the edge of his bed, staring at the scuffed floorboards beneath his shoes.

The books. His bag. He’d left them in the hut.

His stomach twisted. He hadn’t even thought about it when he’d stumbled back the night before, it had just slipped out of his focus entirely. And now, in the clear light of day, the idea of it sitting there unattended made his pulse spike.

What if someone found it? What if Seb had gone farther into the trees after they’d spotted him from the window? What if the staff had already found it and were just waiting for him to slip up again?

He stood quickly, pacing the short length between his bed and the door. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, class would be starting soon. The grounds would be mostly clear.

He could go now.

But…he was still light-headed. His legs weren’t exactly steady. If anyone caught him wandering again, especially so soon after what had happened, he wouldn’t get off with a warning this time. Not with how Lewis had been watching him.

His gaze drifted to the window. The sun was still high. Shadows were long but not yet dark.

He could wait until nightfall. He’d snuck out before. He could do it again.

Lando sat back down, gripping the edge of the mattress. His foot tapped restlessly on the floor as he weighed the risk against the need.

Lando sat there motionless for a long time after Oscar left, eyes fixed on the slowly shifting patch of sunlight stretching across the floor.

His chest still felt tight with frustration, guilt, and the sharp edge of something he couldn’t quite name. But over all of that was the gnawing anxiety about the hut. About the bag. About what would happen if someone else found it first.

He glanced toward the window again, it was still too bright outside. Too open. Anyone walking past could spot him. A teacher on patrol. Another student cutting across the field. Seb.

Seb had already been out there once.

Going now…it was stupid.

He bit the inside of his cheek and stood, walking to the window. From here, the edge of the woods was visible. The trees stood tall and quiet, casting long shadows like waiting arms.

In the light, they looked more like a trap than a sanctuary.

No, he thought. Wait. You’ve come this far. Don’t mess it up now.

He moved away from the window, grabbed a clean hoodie from his drawer, and tossed it onto the bed, preparing ahead of time, just in case. If he went after curfew, most of the teachers would be off patrol within the first hour. He could slip out. Blend into the dark. Make it to the hut and back before anyone even noticed.

And besides…darkness meant shadows.

And shadows meant control.

He sat down again, resting his head back against the wall as his eyes drifted closed, not quite sleeping, but waiting. Conserving energy. Listening to the dorm around him settle into its evening rhythm.

He’d go. But on his terms. When the risk was his alone.

The door creaked open just after the last bell rang. Lando didn’t look up from where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, textbook open in front of him, but not really being read.

He knew it was Oscar. He could always tell from the way he moved, quiet, careful, never heavy-footed like Charles or muttering to himself like Daniel.

Oscar crossed the room without a word.

His bag dropped onto his desk with a soft thump. Zipper. Notebook. Chair scraped slightly. Still no greeting, no sideways glance. Just the low rustle of paper and pencil as Oscar settled into quiet, focused work.

Lando didn’t move. He stayed curled around the book, the pages blurring in front of his eyes.

They sat like that for a long time, two bodies in the same space, worlds apart.

By the time the sky outside started dimming to orange, and the distant smell of dinner being served echoed faintly through the halls, the silence between them had grown so thick it pressed at Lando’s ears.

Oscar stood first. Pulled on a jumper.

Lando looked up, cautious.

Oscar didn’t look at him. He just stood by the door for a beat before saying, flatly, “Dinner.”

The word landed like a challenge, one Lando wasn’t sure how to meet. He nodded once but didn’t move.

Oscar waited half a second longer, then walked out. The door clicked softly behind him.
Lando sat still on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, the dim orange glow from the window creeping across the room like it was taunting him.

The rest of the common room beyond the closed bedroom door had gone quiet. Even the halls outside sounded different, emptier, softer.

Perfect.

He glanced at the clock. Another thirty minutes and it would be dark enough. He could slip through the courtyard, then skirt the edge of the hedges straight to the woods. Easy. He’d done it before.

His hoodie was already folded beside him. He’d tucked the little pouch of things he’d need, torch, gloves, a few snacks, into the inside pocket. Just waiting now.

His eyes drifted back toward the sky outside. The light was almost gone. Just a bit longer.

Suddenly a knock from the door sounded through the quite space.

His body snapped to attention like he’d been caught mid-crime.

The door opened before he could say anything.

Seb.

“Up,” the teacher said flatly, arms crossed, tone making it clear this wasn’t a conversation.

Lando blinked. “I—I’m not—”

“Not at dinner. Again.” Seb stepped into the room, eyes flicking to the hoodie and the suspiciously packed shape beneath it. He didn’t comment, yet. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not hungry,” Lando muttered.

“Too bad,” Seb said shortly. “You can sit at the table and drink water for all I care, but you’re going. You look half-dead and I’m not watching you faint because you’re too proud to eat.”

Lando’s jaw clenched. “Why do you even care?”

Seb’s gaze sharpened. “Because you’re my responsibility. Because no one else is pulling stunts like this. Because I’m tired of hearing your classmates whisper about whether they should go to Lewis.”

Lando said nothing. The anger was there, boiling under his skin, but so was something else, shame, maybe or just the exhaustion catching up again.

“Now,” Seb said. “Before I decide you’re spending the night eating in the infirmary again with Nico breathing down your neck.”

Lando grabbed the hoodie slowly and pulled it on, but left the packed pouch inside. The weight of it against his chest made him feel like a liar.

He followed Seb into the hallway without a word.

The dining hall was already buzzing when the doors creaked open again.

The long tables were full of students deep into their meals, voices overlapping, plates scraping, laughter bouncing off the high ceilings. Teachers were stationed at their usual posts along the walls, eyes scanning lazily but attentively.

Which made it all the more noticeable when Seb walked in with a very reluctant Lando at his side.

Lando kept his head down, hands stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie, the pouch inside pressing against his chest like it was daring someone to ask. His curls were more unkempt than usual, and there were still faint shadows under his eyes. He looked like someone pulled out of bed and shoved into the spotlight.

But worse, he felt it. Because as soon as they stepped fully inside, the room quieted just a little. But enough to notice.

Whispers sparked like static.

At their usual table, Charles leaned back in his seat, elbow nudging Daniel. Max, already halfway through his plate, set his fork down. George whispered something to Alex, who gave a quick glance toward the doors, frowning. Oscar seated at the end of the table froze entirely, lips tightening as his eyes found Lando.

Lando didn’t look at any of them.

“Sit,” Seb said quietly once they reached the end of the boys’ table. “Eat.” His voice was stern, but not cruel. He gave a brief look around the table, just long enough to dare anyone to comment then turned and walked toward the staff section without another word.

Lando slid into the empty space beside Alex without looking up.

No one said anything for a moment.

Then Charles, trying for something casual, “We saved you a spot.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” Lando muttered, still not meeting anyone’s gaze.

Oscar shifted slightly in his seat, like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

Daniel opened his mouth but got elbowed by Max before he could speak.

The silence at their end of the table was stark compared to the rest of the hall. The tension clung to them like fog.

Eventually, Lando reached for the water jug and poured himself a glass with stiff, slow movements.

Alex, quiet and gentle, passed him a roll without a word. He didn’t make a show of it. Just set it beside Lando’s plate and went back to eating.

That, more than anything, felt like a small mercy.

Lando took it but still didn’t eat.

The walk back from dinner was quieter than usual.

The courtyard was bathed in deep twilight now, lanterns flickering on in slow succession as students began trickling inside. The group of boys walked together but unevenly, the usual chatter gone. There was no teasing remarks or jokes as they made there way back.

Lando walked a few steps behind the others, his hood up, hands jammed into the front pocket of his hoodie where his hidden pouch still rested. His mind buzzed with one thought, wait until they’re in the dorm. Then slip out. Go back to the hut. Get the bag. Get back before lights out.

It was a solid plan. But Lando hadn’t noticed Max slowing down until the older boy stepped directly into his path.

Lando nearly collided with him. “What—?”

“Where are you going?” Max asked, voice low but unmistakably firm.

Lando’s eyes flicked toward the others, Charles, Daniel, Alex, George, and Carlos were up ahead, already moving through the front doors. Only Oscar lingered near the steps, watching with narrowed eyes, tension written all over his face.

Lando straightened up, expression guarded. “Back to the dorm.”

Max didn’t budge. “No, you were about to wait for us to go in so you could disappear again.”

“I wasn’t,” Lando snapped, sharper than he meant to.

Max’s brow lifted. “You really expect us to believe that? After everything?”

Oscar stepped forward, finally joining them. His voice was quieter, but no less heavy. “You’re planning something, Lando. We’re not idiots.”

“I’m handling it,” Lando said quickly. “Just leave it alone.”

Oscar’s jaw clenched. “You keep saying that, but we’re the ones cleaning up the mess after. Do you even realise how worried people have been?”

“You don’t get it,” Lando shot back. “None of you do. I’m doing what I have to.”

“Lando—” Max began, but the look in his eyes shifted from frustration to concern. “You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. You’ve been out in the woods doing—what? Training? On your own?”

Lando went still.

Oscar inhaled sharply. “So it is the woods.”

“I never said that,” Lando muttered, eyes darting toward the side door as if calculating if he could still make a run for it.

“You didn’t have to.” Oscar’s voice had dropped now, not angry just tired. “We’re not trying to trap you. But you’re not okay. And we’re done pretending that you are.”

Lando’s throat tightened, his breath coming a little too fast.

“I have to go,” he said, quieter this time, almost to himself. “I left something.”

“Whatever it is,” Max said, stepping aside, “it can wait until morning. Or you tell Seb. Or Lewis. Not like this.”

Oscar didn’t move. “Please don’t make us choose between helping you and reporting you.”

That stung. Lando stared at both of them , Max with his calm intensity and Oscar who looked hurt. Not furious, not disgusted. Just hurt.

He blinked hard. “I’m tired,” he lied. “I’ll go back. Alright?”

They didn’t look convinced.

But after a long, tense moment, Max nodded once and turned toward the door.

Oscar hesitated, eyes flicking to Lando’s hoodie. “You swear?”

Lando gave a jerky nod. “Yeah.”

Oscar turned slowly and followed Max inside.

Lando waited five seconds.

Then turned and ran.

Lando cut sharply around the side of the building, the air crisp and biting against his cheeks.

The shadows were thick along the edge of the path, and Lando stuck close to them, breath catching in his throat with every step. His heart was hammering, chest tight. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or adrenaline, maybe both.

Just get to the hedge. You’ve done this before.

His feet pounded over the grass as he cut through the gap behind the main building, where the light posts thinned out. He could already see the trees looming beyond the last stretch of open field, dark, familiar, waiting.

He rounded the corner…and froze.

Because standing in the middle of the path, arms folded, was Lewis. Once again.

Chapter Text

The headteacher’s expression was unreadable. His eyes caught the moonlight, sharp and cutting.

Lando skidded to a stop, barely keeping his footing. His breath came out in a white puff. “I—”

Lewis raised a hand. “Don’t. I’ve already heard enough excuses this week.”

Lando’s mouth opened, then closed again. He looked to the side, weighing if he could bolt past him, but something in Lewis’s stance made it very clear. Don’t try.

“You weren’t going back to the dorm,” Lewis said, voice calm but heavy. “And I think we both know exactly where you were headed.”

“I left something,” Lando muttered, avoiding his eyes.

“And I’m guessing it wasn’t a textbook.”

Before Lando could answer, or lie again, he heard the slam of the back door opening behind him.

“Lando?” Max’s voice cut across the courtyard, sharp with urgency.

Lando flinched but didn’t turn around. Of course Max came back. Of course he noticed.

Max jogged toward them, slowing when he spotted Lewis. “He didn’t go back,” he said unnecessarily.

“I figured that out,” Lewis replied dryly.

Max’s eyes landed on Lando. “You said you were going back to the room.”

Lando didn’t answer. He looked trapped, caught between guilt and sheer panic.

Lewis gave a slow nod. “Both of you. Inside. Now.”

“I need—” Lando tried one last time, his voice cracking. “I need what I left.”

“We’ll talk about that,” Lewis said, tone quiet but ironclad. “Later. For now, this conversation ends here.”

Lando stood frozen for a heartbeat longer before Max gently touched his shoulder. “Come on,” he said, voice low but not unkind.

Reluctantly, Lando turned.

He followed Max back across the grass, the trees at the edge of the grounds still watching him from the dark, still calling.

But he didn’t answer. Not tonight.

The walk back to the dorm was silent.

Lewis didn’t say another word after catching them. He walked behind the boys like a quiet shadow, steps steady and unhurried, his presence like a weight pressing between their shoulder blades. He didn’t need to raise his voice to remind them who was in charge.

Max kept glancing toward Lando, but Lando kept his eyes glued to the ground, fists stuffed in his hoodie pocket where the pouch still sat mocking him.

The lights of the dorm glowed softly through the windows as they reached the door. Lewis stopped at the threshold.

“Inside. No more slipping off tonight.” He didn’t say it like a warning. He said it like a promise.

Max opened the door, and Lando stepped through.

The common room was warm, with low murmurs coming from the hallway, Daniel laughing quietly at something Charles had said, George explaining something smugly to Carlos while Alex was reading in the corner.

But the moment Lando stepped in, the energy shifted.

Oscar was standing near the base of the stairs. He’d clearly been waiting. His head snapped up when the door opened and when he saw Lewis behind Lando and Max, his expression sharpened.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked. First at Max, who gave a slow shake of his head. Then at Lando.

Lando dropped his gaze immediately.

Oscar’s voice was quiet, controlled. “You didn’t go back to the room.”

Lando’s throat tightened. “Didn’t get far.”

Lewis gave Oscar a meaningful look before stepping back into the hall. “He’ll be staying in tonight,” he said simply, then closed the door behind him.

The rest of the group had mostly gone quiet by then. George raised an eyebrow from the couch, Daniel leaned halfway over the armrest to whisper something to Charles, who didn’t look away from Lando.

Oscar didn’t move. “You lied to me. Again.”

Lando’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to.”

Max stepped in, trying to defuse it. “He was about to run. Lewis stopped him.”

Oscar didn’t even look at Max. His eyes were still on Lando, cold in a way they hadn’t been in weeks. “What is it out there that’s so important you’d keep risking this?”

Lando shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me,” Oscar snapped, louder than anyone expected.

The common room fell into silence.

Lando flinched. “I can’t,” he muttered, voice cracking. “I just…can’t.”

He turned and headed straight for the stairs.

Oscar didn’t follow this time.

No one did.

And Lando didn’t stop until he was back in the room, door shut, back pressed to the wood, and the guilt rising in his throat like it might drown him.

-x-

Oscar didn’t move for a long time after Lando disappeared up the stairs.

The others were watching him now, not out of curiosity anymore, but with the quiet, tense awareness that something was actually wrong. This wasn’t one of Daniel’s pranks or one of George’s drama-fuelled rants. This was different.

Alex was the first to speak. “He’s really not okay, is he?”

Oscar let out a breath and sank into the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand over his face. “No. He’s really not.”

Daniel hovered nearby, his usual grin gone. “Okay, but…how not okay are we talking?”

Oscar hesitated, weighing his words like they might snap under pressure. He wasn’t even sure what line he was skirting anymore, betrayal or responsibility.

“I think…” He looked around the circle of boys. “I think he was going to run away.”

That made everyone sit up straighter.

George scoffed faintly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” Oscar said sharply. “I saw him packing. Clothes went missing. Little things. He had this…this bag hidden under his bed. And when he was sneaking back in the other night…” he paused, eyes narrowing slightly at the memory, “he didn’t come through the door.”

Max looked up from where he sat near the window. “What do you mean?”

Oscar met his gaze. “I mean he climbed through our fourth-floor window. In the middle of the night. After being out for hours.”

Carlos swore under his breath.

Daniel blinked. “You’re joking.”

“He’s come back dirty. Rubbing at his head and arms like they ache,” Oscar continued. “And when I asked, when I tried to talk to him, he just kept brushing it off. Lying. Getting defensive.”

Alex frowned. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I didn’t want to betray him,” Oscar said quietly. “I thought maybe if I waited…if I gave him space, he’d come to me. But it’s just getting worse. He’s exhausted. He’s hiding something out there, in the woods. I know it. And now Lewis and Seb are circling too.”

The room was still. For once, no one had anything smart or sarcastic to say.

Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So what do we do? Tell them?”

Oscar looked torn. “I don’t want to be the reason he stops trusting anyone altogether. But if he’s planning to disappear again…I don’t think we can keep pretending like this’ll fix itself.”

Max let out a long, tired sigh. “Then maybe we don’t wait for it to fix itself. Maybe we help him before he gets himself properly hurt.”

George shifted uneasily. “You really think it’s that bad?”

Oscar didn’t answer right away.

“Yeah. I do.”

-x-

Seb sat with his legs crossed at the edge of the training mat, arms resting casually on his knees as Charles sent a current of fire flickering between his fingers and Carlos manipulated a ripple of wind through the nearby candles.

But neither was really focused.

Carlos kept glancing over his shoulder, and Charles had let the fire flicker out twice already without realising.

“You two look like someone drowned your favourite plants,” Seb said dryly, finally breaking the silence.

Charles gave a weak huff. “We’re just…tired.”

“Mm,” Seb hummed, unconvinced. “Tired looks different on you, Charles. You usually run your mouth to stay awake.”

Carlos cracked a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Seb noticed.

He let the quiet settle again before saying, softer this time, “If there’s something going on in the dorms, something serious, you know you can talk to me.”

Neither boy responded. But their shared glance said enough.

Seb didn’t press. Not yet.

The teleportation room was filled with flickering shadows as Max paced slowly through a movement pattern, breath steady but thoughts clearly somewhere else.

Jenson watched from the side, arms crossed. “Your form’s off. Too grounded. You’re hesitating at the breaks.”

Max reset his stance, jaw tight. “Sorry.”

Jenson squinted slightly. “You don’t usually say that. You usually tell me why I’m wrong.”

Max didn’t answer. He just started the pattern again.

Jenson let it go for a few more minutes before finally asking, “Something happen with Lando?”

Max hesitated, just barely.

But Jenson still caught it.

“Look, I’ve taught enough kids with secrets to know what it looks like. If he’s in trouble, and you know something…”

Max exhaled slowly through his nose, gaze fixed on the glowing runes in the floor. “It’s not mine to share. Not yet.”

Jenson didn’t push him.

The air shimmered as the two invisible figures moved silently through the hallway, weaving between students unnoticed. Kimi’s footsteps were barely audible even now, and Daniel was unusually quiet as they snuck behind a trio of first-years.

Usually, Daniel couldn’t go five minutes without cracking a joke or messing with someone during these sessions.

Today, he’d barely spoken a word.

“You’ve never been this quiet,” Kimi said calmly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. Well.” Daniel cleared his throat. “Don’t really feel like being funny today.”

“You’re worried,” Kimi said simply. “About Lando.”

Daniel winced. “You heard.”

“Everyone’s heard. But I think you know more than most.”

Daniel kicked at a loose stone on the ground. “We all do.”

Kimi didn’t say anything else, just let the silence stretch between them as they continued walking, unseen but not untouched by the weight of it.

The infirmary felt warmer today, the kettle steaming gently in the corner while Nico adjusted a bandage on a training dummy. Alex passed over supplies without being asked, Oscar sat unusually still, eyes distant.

Nico noticed it immediately.

“You both look like you’re waiting to confess something,” he said lightly. “Should I be worried?”

Alex gave a soft chuckle, but Oscar didn’t even smile.

“I think…” Oscar started, then faltered. “It’s not just one thing. It’s everything. And none of us know how to fix it.”

Nico’s hands paused mid-wrap. “Does this have to do with Lando?”

Oscar nodded.

Alex added gently, “He’s slipping, and we’re watching it happen.”

Nico studied them both, silent for a moment. “You don’t have to carry it alone. When you’re ready, tell us what you know.”

George was usually eager in tutorials. Today, he sat stiffly in the chair, hands folded perfectly on the desk, posture immaculate and completely distracted.

Fernando leaned forward slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been staring at the same page for five minutes.”

George’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Fernando said gently. “And you don’t need to pretend.”

George’s fingers twitched slightly. “We should’ve done something earlier.”

“About Lando?” Fernando guessed.

George didn’t answer. But the silence was loud enough.

-x-

The classroom was quiet. Too quiet.

Usually, mornings had a buzz to them, books thudding onto desks, Max reminding Daniel to shut up, George already halfway through the reading before anyone else had opened their books. Even Lando, when he showed up, came with either a dramatic entrance or a clumsy stumble through the doorway.

But today, his seat sat empty.

The rest of the class was pretending to focus, but glances kept flicking toward the door, the windows, and each other. Even Daniel hadn’t cracked a joke since arriving. Charles was unusually still, and Max hadn’t even rolled his eyes at George once.

Seb stood at the front of the room, arms folded, gaze fixed on Lando’s empty chair. He hadn’t commented when class began without him. Hadn’t said anything when the minutes stretched long past Lando’s usual late threshold.

But now it was clear. He wasn’t just late. He wasn’t coming.

Seb’s brow furrowed deeper.

“Alright,” he said suddenly, the word cutting through the silence. Everyone looked up. “That’s enough.”

Oscar, seated stiffly between Alex and Daniel, blinked. “Sir?”

Seb’s eyes didn’t leave the chair. “Oscar. Go to Lewis. Now. Tell him Lando’s not in class and hasn’t been seen at all this morning.”

Oscar’s blood ran cold.

He stood quickly, pushing his chair back with a screech. “Yes, sir.”

And as he left the room, heart pounding, guilt prickling along his spine, every eye in the classroom stayed on that one empty seat.

None of them said it out loud. But the thought hung heavy in the air. What if he’s really gone?

Oscar’s footsteps echoed through the quiet corridors, each one landing heavier than the last.

He knew where to find Lewis. This early in the day, the headteacher often made the rounds through the east wing, speaking with the younger years or checking in with staff. And sure enough, Oscar spotted the tall figure just outside the Year Two classrooms, speaking quietly with a teacher near the noticeboard.

Oscar didn’t wait for the conversation to finish.

“Sir,” he said quickly, voice a little breathless.

Lewis turned at once, brows lifting when he saw Oscar’s expression. “Is he alright?”

Oscar swallowed. “He’s not in class. No one’s seen him this morning, I know he was still in bed when I left for my tutorial this morning, but I don’t know if he was actually still sleeping. Seb told me to come find you.”

Lewis didn’t ask for clarification. He nodded once, curt and focused. “Go back to class. I’ll handle it.”

Oscar hesitated, then gave a stiff nod and turned on his heel.

Lewis was already moving.

The dorm was quiet when Lewis stepped inside, his footsteps muffled against the worn carpets. The common room was empty as expected, but the air had a strange static to it, something he couldn’t quite place at first. A sense of energy humming just beneath the surface.

He climbed the stairs slowly, eyes scanning the hallway. All the doors were closed, except for one.

Lando’s and Oscar’s.

It was open just enough to spill a sliver of soft light into the corridor.

Lewis approached, his senses prickling as the static grew stronger. Felt like telekinesis energy.

He stepped inside, silent.

Lando was still in bed, curled on his side, blanket tangled around him. His curls were messy, his face pale against the pillow, and his breathing was slow and even, clearly still asleep.

But the room was not still.

Above Lando’s bed, three books floated in lazy orbits, spinning slowly through the air. One of his shoes hovered near the ceiling. A pencil rolled in slow circles over his desk without ever touching it. A hairbrush vibrated faintly, rising and lowering as if bobbing in water.

And at the centre of it all, Lando murmured softly in his sleep, unintelligible words, half-formed phrases. Each time his breath caught or his brow furrowed, the items in the room responded, shifting, lifting, spinning faster.

Lewis stepped carefully toward the bed.

He didn’t touch anything. Just stood, observing.

Was this is what he’s been hiding.

His level of control, even in his unconscious state, was impressive. Frightening, almost. But it wasn’t wild chaos. Not today. It was instinctual.

This wasn’t the accidental chaos of a panicked or angered student like last time. This was a mind working overtime.

Lewis exhaled slowly.

“Lando,” he said gently. No response. He tried again, a little louder. “Lando.”

The boy stirred. The shoe hit the ground with a thump. The pencil clattered onto the desk.

Lando blinked awake, groggy and disoriented until he saw Lewis.

He sat bolt upright.

And in that instant, the rest of the objects in the room fell, books hitting the floor, the brush skittering across the desk.

“…Sir?”

Lewis met his eyes calmly.

“I think it’s time we talked,” he said simply. “Really talked.”

Lando rubbed his face quickly, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes, trying to buy time.

He’d barely registered the floating objects. He could feel the ghost of them now in the corners of the room, the soft thuds where they’d fallen, the residual pull in the air that came with every loss of control.

But Lewis didn’t look shocked.

That scared him more than anything.

“I just overslept,” Lando blurted, swinging his legs off the bed. “That’s all.”

Lewis arched a brow. “Overslept through breakfast, first period and half of second period? With half the school asking where you are?”

Lando shrugged too quickly. “It happens. I was tired. Didn’t set an alarm.”

Lewis’s gaze was steady, unreadable. “And the floating objects?”

“I…dream weird.” Lando looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “It happens sometimes. Has before. Nothing dangerous.”

Lewis didn’t respond to that. He just stepped further into the room, casting a slow glance around, not judging, not even surprised.

Just calculating.

“I was going to come to class,” Lando added, voice stiff. “I just had a lay in, you know since I don’t actually have a first period on Wednesdays.”

“You’re not exactly known for sleeping through things,” Lewis said, voice gentler now, but still probing. “You’ve been out of sync for weeks, and I’ve let Seb handle it. But now? You’re hiding injuries, sneaking out, overexerting yourself, and pushing people away.”

Lando’s face flushed. “I’m not hiding—”

“Yes, you are,” Lewis said evenly.

“I overslept, alright?” Lando snapped, suddenly louder, a note of desperation in his voice. “Oscar usually wakes me if I’m not up, but he didn’t today, so I slept. Sorry.”

Lewis didn’t flinch. “Oscar wasn’t the one floating books in his sleep.”

That silenced him. Lando stood frozen for a moment, jaw clenched tight, his body tense as if preparing to bolt again. “I can handle it,” he said finally, the words flat and brittle. “I am handling it.”

Lewis looked at him for a long moment. “I believe you’re trying to. But that doesn’t mean you should be doing it alone.”

Lando didn’t answer. His eyes flicked toward the window for a split second, just once.

Lewis caught it and finally, with a slow breath, he stepped back toward the doorway.

“Ten minutes to get dressed,” he said. “Then you’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“We’re going to have a longer conversation. Somewhere more private.”

Lando didn’t argue. But the moment the door clicked shut behind Lewis, he sat back down on the bed, heart racing, thoughts spinning, and guilt sinking heavier into his chest.

The hallway felt colder than usual despite it being late morning now.

Lando walked a few paces behind Lewis, hoodie pulled tight around his frame, head down like he could disappear if he just curled into himself small enough. The floor creaked beneath their steps, every echo a reminder that this was real. He was being escorted through the school like he was a problem. Like something broken.

He knew the path they were taking.

He also knew exactly what classroom they had to pass.

And sure enough, as they turned the corner and passed the tall, wide windows of Seb’s class, a dozen eyes flicked to the hallway.

Through the glass, Charles noticed them first. His eyes widened slightly and elbowed Daniel, who turned to look. George followed, then Alex and Carlos, one by one, their heads turned toward the passing figures.

Lando didn’t look back. But he felt it. The shift in the room. The ripple of whispers. The weight of questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

Seb, standing by the far wall with his arms crossed, noticed too. He didn’t say anything, but his brow furrowed, and his gaze lingered long after Lewis and Lando had passed.

Lando clenched his fists inside his sleeves.

His head ached, not sharp, but low and steady, like the bruise from Monday hadn’t finished blooming. His temple still felt sore if he pressed against it. And worse, the nagging, persistent thought… his bag’s still out there.

He hadn’t gone back since Monday night since he’d woken up alone in the hut with that strange greenish-purple cloak around him, head pounding, barely able to walk.

He tried not to imagine who might’ve found it by now. He failed

By the time they reached the door to Lewis’s office, Lando felt sick with nerves. Lewis opened the door wordlessly and gestured for him to go in.

The space inside was warm but sharp in its quiet. No windows open. No students. Just the steady tick of a brass clock above the fireplace and shelves full of weathered books that looked like they hadn’t moved in decades.

Lewis didn’t sit at his desk.

Instead, he crossed the room and pulled two chairs toward the fireplace.

“Sit,” he said gently.

Lando obeyed, shoulders stiff as he perched on the edge.

Lewis sat opposite, folding his hands over one knee. Calm. Measured. Watching.

But not in a judging way.

“You’ve been managing this alone for a while,” Lewis said finally. “Longer than we realised.”

Lando didn’t answer. He stared into the small fire, avoiding his eyes.

“Seb’s reported the exhaustion. The outbursts. The loss of control. And I’ve seen some of it myself now.” A pause. “But what I saw in your room, that wasn’t chaos. That was discipline. Not something you learn overnight.”

Still, Lando stayed quiet.

Lewis leaned forward slightly. “Where did you learn it?”

Lando’s throat felt dry. His fingers dug into the sleeves of his hoodie. He wasn’t ready to talk about the hut. About the books. The drills. The cloak. Not yet.

“…Just practiced,” he muttered. “Needed to. No one else was going to teach me.”

Lewis watched him for a moment longer. “You’re not in trouble, Lando.”

That made him look up, eyes narrowing. “Could’ve fooled me. Being dragged out of bed. Hauled past Seb’s class like I’m some delinquent. Everyone saw.”

Lewis didn’t flinch. “Everyone already knew something was wrong. You’re not hiding it as well as you think.”

That landed like a slap. Lando looked away again.

“I didn’t want help,” he muttered. “I wanted space. I needed to figure it out on my own. And I did. You wouldn’t even know what I could do if you hadn’t barged in.”

“Maybe not,” Lewis said. “But now that I do, we can start doing this right.”

Lando’s hands curled tighter in his sleeves.

Lewis leaned in just slightly, voice quieter now. “But you have to stop running. Whatever’s waiting for you out there, it can wait a little longer. You’re not alone in this, not anymore.”

The fire crackled between them.

Lando didn’t speak. But he didn’t bolt, either.

And for now, that was enough.

The silence stretched just a moment too long after Lewis finished speaking. The room felt thick with something unsaid, the fire crackling between them like a metronome counting down to the moment Lando finally cracked.

“You keep saying this,” Lando said quietly, voice tight, “but that’s all you do. Talk.”

Lewis’s jaw tensed. “You want another detention?”

Lando didn’t flinch. He just stared into the fire like it might burn a hole through the floor and swallow him whole.

“I’m not punishing you,” Lewis said, more carefully now. “I’m trying to understand so I can help you.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Lando bit out, turning toward him now. “I’ve been here for years. I’ve been getting my powers under control. Isn’t that what this school is supposed to be for?”

Lewis’s expression didn’t waver, but something in his eyes flickered. “It is. And it’s my responsibility to make sure no student feels left behind.”

Lando scoffed under his breath and crossed his arms.

“I just want to know,” Lewis continued, voice low but clear, “how you’re learning this. Where you’re learning this.”

Lando didn’t blink. “Books from the library.”

Lewis tilted his head slightly, not buying it, but not pushing. “Which ones?”

“There aren’t many,” Lando replied quickly. “And they’re not that good. But it’s all I’ve got.”

Lewis studied him for a long moment. Not speaking. Not nodding. Just…watching.

Then the bell rang.

Its shrill tone echoed through the halls, and Lando was already halfway to standing before it finished.

“Can I go?” he asked, avoiding Lewis’s eyes. “I missed breakfast.”

Lewis leaned back slightly, folding his arms. “Fine. But bring me those library books after last period.”

That stopped Lando cold. He managed a flat, “Fine.”
But that was not fine.

Those books, the ones he’d actually been learning from, weren’t from the library. They were all still sitting in the hut, along with his bag, and all the practice supplies some had ‘borrowed’ some had just appeared them.

He should’ve gone last night after climbing into bed. He meant to. But he’d fallen asleep.

And now he had to figure out a way to sneak off and retrieve them, in the daytime. With Lewis, Seb, Oscar, and half the school now watching him more closely than ever.

He nodded once more, stiffly, and walked out before Lewis could say anything else.

His stomach was twisting, not from hunger anymore but from the clock ticking inside his head.

The courtyard buzzed with life, students moving between classes, scattered laughter from a nearby bench, the clatter of someone’s dropped book bag across the stone path.

But Lando barely noticed any of it.

He sat on the far edge of the courtyard wall, hood up, feet resting against the lower stone ledge as he pretended to scroll through a notebook. In reality, he hadn’t written a word. His eyes flicked constantly to the path that led toward the edge of the school grounds, it was so close, but not close enough.

There was no time after last period as well as too many eyes. And if Lewis asks for the books and he don’t bring them…

His mind reeled. Maybe he could fake it, bring a few random ones from the library, pass them off as his own. But that would only stall Lewis, not fool him. Not now. Not after what he’d seen.

And worse, there was the bag, filled with clothes, notes, evidence. If someone stumbled on it first…

“Hey.”

Lando jumped slightly at the voice, startled out of his spiral.

Oscar stood just beside him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Lando’s shoulders tensed, immediately defensive. “What?”

“You didn’t come down for breakfast,” Oscar said evenly. “Or Seb’s class.”

“I overslept,” Lando muttered. “Lewis woke me. We talked.”

Oscar sat down beside him, giving him a pointed look. “You know everyone saw you get walked across the school. Max said you looked like you were going to be sick.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Nice to know everyone’s watching.”

“Kind of hard not to,” said Charles, who appeared from behind the stone archway with Carlos trailing behind him.

And that was it, no more pretending. One by one, the others began to approach. Alex, Daniel, George, Max. All of them lingering nearby now, no longer whispering from corners, no longer pretending everything was normal.

“You gonna tell us what’s going on?” Daniel asked, more serious than usual.

Lando tensed again. “Nothing’s going on.”

George scoffed. “You disappear all the time, come back late looking like death, and now you’re getting summoned to Lewis’s office like it’s a standing appointment. You think we don’t notice?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Lando snapped, too fast, too harsh.

Oscar frowned. “We’re not asking for secrets, Lando. We’re asking because we care.”

Lando looked away. His hands curled into fists in his lap. His heart pounded against his ribs. He needed to get out. Now. If he could just get across the courtyard and down to the hedge line…

“You’re planning something,” Max said suddenly, quietly. Not an accusation, just a statement.

Lando’s jaw tightened.

“You need to stop this before it gets worse,” Alex added, voice gentle. “You don’t have to handle whatever this is alone.”

But Lando didn’t answer.

Because he was alone. And he had to get to the hut. Had to protect what was left of his control. He stood abruptly, notebook clutched tightly in one hand.

“I’ve got class.”

“You’ve got ten minutes,” George said flatly.

Lando didn’t look back. He was already walking.

Already planning. Already watching for the next opening to disappear.

Chapter Text

Lando slipped into the combat theory classroom just as the final bell rang, head down and hoodie drawn tight, sleeves tugged over his hands. He took his usual place toward the back, hoping, praying, no one would notice the missing bag, or that he hadn’t pulled out a single pen, paper, or textbook.

But Jenson noticed.

He always did.

The teleporter had eyes like a hawk and a radar for distraction. He didn’t say anything at first, just glanced at Lando, brow twitching subtly, before launching into the opening lecture.

“Remember combat theory isn’t just about physical strength,” Jenson said, pacing slowly across the front of the classroom. “It’s about reaction under pressure. Focus. Mental clarity. A lack of either can lead to serious consequences.”

Lando forced himself to look up, to nod along like he was listening.

But his mind was still in the woods, running routes, timing escape windows, estimating how long it would take to get to the hut, grab the bag and get back unseen.

“Pair drills,” Jenson called out, suddenly clapping his hands. “Shadow movement. Partner up. Max, you’re with Carlos. Charles, with George. Daniel—”

“Lando,” Daniel interrupted, already turning toward him.

Lando froze.

His stomach dropped.

“No bag?” Daniel asked, half-whispered as they met in the middle of the mats. “No gloves either? You good?”

“Fine,” Lando muttered. “Let’s just do it.”

But the moment they started, it became clear he wasn’t fine.

His stance was off. His timing lagged. Twice Daniel had to pull back mid-swing to avoid catching Lando off-balance.

Jenson crossed his arms by the side of the room, watching. Eventually, he strode over, voice low and sharp.

“Lando.”

Lando looked up, skin pale, breathing tight.

“Either you’re completely distracted or you forgot how to move.”

“I’m fine,” Lando said again, firmer.

“Then prove it. Pick it up.”

But Lando’s energy had already snapped like a worn thread. His limbs were sluggish. His head pounded with effort. He barely made it through the final drill without collapsing onto the mat.

As the class packed up, Max noticed it too, Lando didn’t bothering to grab anything because there was nothing to grab. He left the room with empty hands and clenched teeth.

If combat theory was physical, Kimi’s class was mental.

The room was full of small control stations, each one designed to challenge a student’s discipline. Today’s setup included levitation control, impulse management, and focus crystals used to measure output surges.

Lando sat down at his assigned station.

Still no bag. Still no notes.

Kimi walked slowly down the aisle, one hand clasped behind his back. He paused next to Lando’s desk, eyes scanning the untouched panel in front of him.

“Did you forget your supplies?” Kimi asked quietly.

Lando didn’t answer.

Kimi’s gaze didn’t change, but his tone shifted, just a touch firmer. “You’ve been very careful, Lando. All term so far despite everything, you’ve shown up, followed expectations, managed. But now I’m watching a student who’s trying very hard not to be noticed.”

“I didn’t sleep well,” Lando muttered.

“Not sleeping is one thing,” Kimi replied. “But if you won’t even try to focus, you’re wasting everyone’s time.”

That stung. More than he expected.

The rest of the class had turned their attention subtly toward him now, even if no one dared to comment. George kept glancing sideways. Oscar, from three rows in front looked worried. Alex’s brows were drawn in, watching every small twitch of his fingers.

Lando stared at the levitation orb sitting in its cradle. He knew exactly how to make it rise. Knew how to thread the air around it, wrap his energy carefully through its centre, twist the layers so it rotated at exactly the right pace.

But his hands didn’t move.

“Participate,” Kimi said quietly, giving him one last chance. “Or step outside.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. He slowly stood up and left the room without a word.

No one stopped him. But everyone watched him go.

The moment the classroom door clicked shut behind him, Lando walked fast.

Not enough to draw attention if anyone glanced out into the corridor, but fast enough that his heart thudded in rhythm with every step. Down the corridor. Through the courtyard, down towards the hedges and out into the edge of the woods.

No one followed. No one even noticed.

The forest swallowed him like it always did, quiet, protective, a barrier between him and the rest of the world. The leaves above filtered the light into gold and green, but Lando didn’t pause to look at it. His mind was racing, feet knowing the path by heart now.

By the time he reached the hut, sweat prickled at the back of his neck.

The door creaked as he pushed it open, the old hinges groaning in soft protest. Dust motes swirled in the dim beams of light leaking through cracked wooden panels. The air smelled like old wood, damp paper, and the faintest trace of something electric.

His bag was exactly where he’d left it, on the floor by wall next to the low bookseller. He dropped to his knees beside it immediately, yanking it free and flipping it open with practiced speed.

Inside the stacks of folded clothes, a few small practice orbs, a battered journal with scribbled notes, and most importantly the old leather books.

The books from the library were stacked loosely on one side of the bookshelf, all marked with the official academy barcode. Basic stuff. Telekinetic history, foundational psychic techniques, just two generic texts about energy focus and control.

These were fine. Safe. Boring, even.

But it was the others that mattered.

Tucked next to the library books were three more older books found in the hut, leather-bound, heavy, unlabelled and all with same branded symbol. The pages inside were packed with diagrams and notes in script far older than anything in the library. There were pages about projection, telekinetic weaving, power channeling beyond ordinary limits.

The kinds of books the academy didn’t make available. Especially not for telekinesis.

He pulled them out carefully and moved toward the rotted back cabinet. It took a minute of scraping and repositioning warped planks, but he finally uncovered the hollow gap in the wall he’d found last week behind a stack of firewood. He reached in, slid the all the hut-books deep into the space, and carefully re-covered it with the warped planks.

They where safe. For now.

He stood, dusted off his palms, and returned to the bag.

The library books went back in first. He zipped the bag shut slowly, methodically, then sat on the edge of the broken chair with a long breath.

The hut still felt like his space. Quiet and safe. Somewhere where no one was watching. Here, the buzzing in his mind quieted. The orbs didn’t tremble in the air around him. He could think.

But today he didn’t have the time to stick around thinking.

He stood again, slinging the bag over his shoulder. With one last glance around the hut, checking for anything left behind, any trace of the books he was hiding, before slipping out the door and back into the trees.

He still had time before lunch ended.

He just needed to look normal.

-x-

The dining hall hummed with chatter, the clatter of cutlery echoing off high ceilings as lunch carried on as normal.

Except at the usual third years corner table, where Max, Oscar, Charles, Daniel, George, Carlos, and Alex sat each with barely touched plates and eyes flicking toward the entrance every few minutes.

“Kimi looked pissed,” Carlos stated. “You know how rare that is.”

“He just got up and walked out,” George muttered. “Didn’t even look like he cared.”

Daniel was spinning a spoon between his fingers, brow furrowed. “Maybe Lewis pulled him again? Another meeting?”

“No,” Oscar said quietly.

All heads turned toward him.

He hadn’t said much all day, had barely touched breakfast, and only picked at his food now. His brows were drawn, mouth pressed into a tight line. He looked like someone holding a secret with both hands and trying not to drop it.

“How do you know?” Charles asked carefully.

Oscar shook his head. “I just…do. I don’t think Lewis knows where he is either.”

Alex leaned in a little. “Do you think he’s still skipping?”

Oscar didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the door again, searching and then finally he saw him.

Lando.

Walking in like nothing was wrong. Hoodie pulled up, shadows under his eyes. But this time, he had his bag.

Oscar’s jaw tightened. The others fell quiet.

Lando didn’t come to the table.

He grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water, barely made eye contact with anyone, and headed to a small table near the windows. He sat with his back to the group, hunched over the table like he was trying to make himself disappear.

“I thought he didn’t have his bag this morning,” George said.

“He didn’t,” Max confirmed. “I was behind him in Jenson’s. He didn’t even try to fake it.”

“So where the hell did it come from?” Carlos asked.

No one answered.

Oscar stared across the hall at Lando’s hunched figure.

He knew the answer, or at least part of it.

But something about this felt different. Like Lando was trying to cover his tracks. Hide something. Not just tired or overwhelmed anymore. Not just spiralling.

It was calculated.

And that scared Oscar more than the explosions. More than the floating objects. More than the lying.

He kept his eyes on Lando the whole time and quietly pushed his tray away.

-x-

The room was warm from the afternoon sun, slanted golden light spilling across worn desks and shelves full of half-faded textbooks. The subject matter was usually enough to lull students into a post-lunch haze but today, half the boys in the room were watching Lando instead of the board.

He had taken his usual seat in the second row. Bag now slung beside his chair. Hair still tousled. Shadows still under his eyes. But he was here. Sitting upright. Pen in hand, though he hadn’t written a single word.

And his reappearance with his bag hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Max, seated one row behind and to the side, leaned forward a little as the teacher scrawled something on the board.

“You didn’t have your bag this morning.”

Lando didn’t look at him. “Forgot it,” he mumbled.

“Right,” Max said under his breath, clearly not buying it.

Carlos, a few seats away, joined in, voice just above a whisper. “So where’d you forget it? Not in the dorm, that’s for sure.”

George turned halfway in his seat. “Didn’t see you for most of lunch either. And you weren’t in the dorm after class.”

“I wasn’t looking for it,” Lando snapped, voice too sharp. “I went back to the library.”

Alex gave him a quiet, concerned look. “We’re not accusing you of anything. We just…noticed, that’s all.”

“Everyone’s noticing,” Lando muttered, sinking lower in his chair.

Daniel, from the next row over, didn’t whisper. “Kimi was asking around after you left. Seb told him you had participated the other day, but then someone mentioned you didn’t even have your books, and he went quiet again.”

Lando gritted his teeth.

His grip on the pen in his hand tightened. He could feel the edges of his control fraying again, not enough to float objects or break anything, but enough that his mind buzzed under his skin. His thoughts were spiralling again.

The questions. The stares. The weight of every lie balancing on the edge of exposure.

“I don’t need to give you all a play-by-play of my day,” he said finally, eyes still forward. “Just drop it.”

The silence afterwards was tense. Not angry just uncertain.

Max exchanged a look with Charles. George glanced at Oscar, who sat quietly at the end of the row, arms folded, his expression unreadable, but still didn’t say a word as he continued watching.

The corridor outside Lewis’s office was quiet, the kind of late-afternoon hush that made every footstep echo. Lando stood in front of the door for a moment, his bag slung over one shoulder, hand curled tightly around the strap.

He considered turning around.

Just walking away. Saying he forgot. Drop the books in his mailbox later.

But he knew Lewis would only come looking for him. And at this point, avoiding things only made the questions sharper.

So he knocked.

“Come in.”

Lando pushed the door open, stepping into the warm, book-heavy office. Lewis was already at his desk, a steaming mug beside him and a pen resting atop a half-finished stack of notes.

“Good,” Lewis said, not looking up. “On time.”

Lando didn’t answer. He walked to the edge of the desk, pulling out the three library books he’d chosen carefully, and set them down without comment.

Lewis finally looked at him, eyes flicking to the covers.

Foundational telekinetics. Energy flow and mental boundaries. Telekinetic case studies: Vol. 1.

Lewis opened the first one, thumbing through a few pages. Then the second. Then the third. His face didn’t give much away, but Lando saw how slowly he turned each page, like he was searching for something specific.

“These are basic,” Lewis said eventually.

“I said they weren’t that good,” Lando replied flatly, arms crossed.

“You’ve learned more than what’s in here.”

Lando didn’t answer.

Lewis looked up again, his voice measured. “Let me ask you something else, then. Why didn’t you participate in Kimi’s lesson today?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You seemed well enough to walk out, but yet didn’t go to the infirmary.”

Lando clenched his jaw. “I didn’t want to risk anything.”

“What kind of risk?” Lewis asked, voice quiet but direct. “A loss of control? Or someone seeing what you’re capable of?” Lando hesitated for just a breath too long. Lewis closed the second book, tapped a finger against the cover. “You’ve been hiding your growth. Carefully. I’d respect the effort, if I wasn’t more concerned about the why.”

“I told you,” Lando said, a little too fast. “I’ve been practicing. Why does there have to be more to it?”

“And where have you been going to practise? Where did you go during that class after you walked out?”

“I went to the library—”

“You didn’t.”

That stopped him cold. Lewis wasn’t accusing. He didn’t even raise his voice. But the words landed like a steel weight on the desk between them.

“You weren’t in the library,” he repeated. “I checked. You weren’t in the dorms. You weren’t in the courtyard. And you weren’t anywhere near any other classrooms.”

Lando’s mouth went dry.

“So,” Lewis said softly, “where were you?”

Lando shifted his weight, hands tightening under his crossed arms. “Nowhere. I just walked around.”

Lewis watched him for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair.

“I can’t force you to tell me. Not yet. But I will keep asking. And others will too. You might think you’re keeping things hidden, Lando, but the cracks are showing.”

Lando looked away.

“I’m not here to punish you,” Lewis continued, his voice low. “But I can’t protect you if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

Lando stood there in silence, the weight of the lies suddenly heavier than ever. Not because he hadn’t been caught.

But because they were closing in.

During the whole conversation, Lando hadn’t sat down. As if making himself taller than Lewis sitting in his chair would keep him in control.

Now he stood there like he was to bolt at any moment, like Lewis might suddenly drop the patient tone and go full Headmaster. But it never came. Just silence now, heavy and deliberate.

Lewis finally exhaled, locking his fingers in front of him like a villain in bond film.

“All right,” he said, not pressing further. “That’s enough for today.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard at the sudden stop in his interrogation.

“But I’m not letting you disappear the second you walk out of this office.”

Lando shifted, already bristling. “You going to lock me up in a tower or something?”

“No.” Lewis stood, picking up the books and placing them neatly on a side table. “I’m going to walk you back to the dorm. Make sure you get there. And then—” he paused, giving Lando a sharp, knowing look, “—you’re going to go to dinner.”

Lando hesitated. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve said that every day for over a week.” Lewis picked up his jacket from the back of the chair. “You’re still going.”

He didn’t argue further, but his silence screamed the rest of the conversation he wasn’t ready to have. If Lewis wasn’t going to let this go, then neither was he.

The walk back to the dorm was quiet.

Not uncomfortable exactly, but heavy. Lewis walked beside him, not behind, not leading. Just next to him. He didn’t say much, didn’t try to force a conversation, but still made it clear he wasn’t letting Lando out of sight. They passed a few groups of students heading to their rooms or the courtyard before dinner but no one said anything.

It wasn’t until they reached the dorm landing that Lewis stopped him outside the common room.

The voices of the others filtered faintly through the wall, laughing, low chatter, the occasional scrape of a chair against the wooden floor.

Lewis knocked once, firmly, and pushed the door open.

The room fell quiet for a beat when they both stepped in.

The entire group looked up, conversations dropping mid-sentence. The silence wasn’t cold, but it was curious.

Oscar stood near the edge of the sofa, arms folded, eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on Lando.

“Gentlemen,” Lewis said evenly, scanning the room. “I have a favour to ask.”

Max raised an eyebrow.

“Make sure he goes to dinner,” Lewis continued, glancing toward Lando without naming him directly. “All of you. Together. If he tries to say no, don’t let him.”

Lando’s face flamed with quiet frustration, but Lewis didn’t flinch.

“You’re not being punished,” Lewis added quietly to him. “But I need you to stop running from the people who are trying to help.”

He turned back to the others. “Understood?”

A few nods.

Then George gave an awkward little salute. “We’ll get him there, sir.”

Lewis’s mouth twitched, just a flicker of a smile. Then he nodded once to them all and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, the room was dead silent again.

Then Max looked at Lando. “You really pissed him off this time, huh?”

Daniel raised a brow. “Or worried him. Hard to tell with Lewis.”

Lando muttered, “I didn’t ask for an escort service.”

Charles smirked. “Good thing he didn’t ask your opinion.”

And Oscar stayed silent as he sat back down without saying a word. But he didn’t take his eyes off Lando once.

Lando didn’t say another word, just slipped past the lingering stares, pulling his hood back up, and disappeared down the hallway to his room before anyone could stop him. The door clicked shut behind him.

The silence inside was a relief.

He dropped his bag at the end of his bed, letting it land with a dull thud, and slumped down beside it. Hands on his knees, head tipped forward. If he just stayed quiet long enough, stayed out of sight, maybe they’d forget. Maybe Lewis’s order would wear off by dinner. Maybe they’d all be too tired to care.

They never used to care this much.

But that was a lie now, wasn’t it? They had always cared, he had just never given them a reason to worry like he is now.

He lay back and stared at the ceiling, willing time to pass. If he waited long enough, maybe he could sneak down to the kitchen later, grab something cold from the fridge when no one was around.

Maybe he could make it through another day without having to talk, or lie, or explain.

His door opened without warning, mid spiral.

“Up.”

That was Max’s voice, flat and unimpressed.

Lando barely had time to sit up before Carlos and Daniel appeared behind him, like some kind of makeshift enforcement team. Max crossed his arms, standing just inside the doorway.

“I’m not going,” Lando muttered, swinging his legs off the bed. “Tell Lewis whatever you want.”

“Nope,” Max said. “Not our job to report you. Our job is to bring you.”

“By force, if necessary,” Daniel added, sounding far too cheerful about that idea.

Lando rolled his eyes. “What is this, a kidnapping?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “If it gets you to put food in your body, call it whatever you want.”

“I’m not hungry—”

“That’s not the point,” Max cut in, voice sharp. “You haven’t eaten properly in I don’t even know how long. You’re on edge. You’re slipping. And honestly? It’s starting to freak the rest of us out.”

Lando flinched. He didn’t mean to. But he did.

“Max,” Carlos said, warningly, but Max didn’t back down.

“Lewis said to bring you. So you’re coming.”

“I’m not—”

“Now.”m

Lando clenched his fists.

Every instinct screamed to push back, to argue, to shout or vanish into thin air and escape the whole situation. But as he looked at the three of them, Max’s narrowed eyes, Carlos’s furrowed brow, Daniel’s forced attempt at casual calm, he realised they weren’t going to leave without him.

And worse…part of him didn’t want them to.

So he stood, without saying a word.

Max nodded once, then turned on his heel and led the way out, with Daniel following and Carlos waiting for Lando to step out before closing the door behind them.

Down the hall the rest were already waiting by the stairs. No one teased. No one rolled their eyes. No one called it out.

They just fell into step beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The dining hall was busier than usual, students returning from late training sessions, tutors trickling in and out, chatter rolling through the wide space in low, buzzing waves. But around the third years usual table, the usual spot near the tall windows, a strange hush lingered.

Lando sat at the table.

Hood still up, posture tight, fork scraping at the edges of his food more than actually eating it. Oscar sat to his left, still not talking to him. Max, directly across, kept glancing up from his tray. The others filled in around them, but the usual rhythm of dinner wasn’t there.

There was none of usual easy banter. No laughter about training drills or who got caught sneaking snacks from the kitchen.

Instead there was only silence.

Daniel was the first to try brake it. “Seb tripped over a practice orb this morning. Didn’t even pretend it wasn’t his fault.”

A few chuckles. George smirked. Charles snorted into his drink.

Lando didn’t react, just kept his head down as he pocked at his food.

Alex nudged his tray slightly closer. “You should eat more than that.”

Lando just continued to push a small piece of bread around the plate. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that,” Max muttered.

Oscar didn’t speak. Just kept chewing, gaze fixed on the table. But his body was tense in a way that made it clear he was listening, not eating.

Carlos finally broke the quiet again, his voice level. “Where’d you go after Kimi’s class?”

Lando’s eyes flicked up. “Told you. Walked around.”

“No, you didn’t,” George said, blunt as ever.

Carlos added, “You didn’t look like you’d been walking around when you showed up with your bag.”

Lando set his fork down, jaw tightening. “Why does it matter?”

“Because we’re your friends,” Alex said gently.

“Then stop interrogating me like I’m hiding something.”

No one said anything for a beat.

Oscar let out a slow breath, then finally spoke, softly but with an edged. “You are hiding something.” Lando froze at that but Oscar didn’t back down. “And no one’s mad about that. We’re just—” He looked around, then back at Lando. “We’re worried. You’ve been disappearing. You look like you haven’t slept in a week. You were hurt. Now you’re acting like showing up to dinner is the end of the world.”

Lando stared down at his tray again.

His voice, when it came, was barely audible. “I didn’t ask you to care.”

“You didn’t have to,” Max said. “You’re one of us. That’s how this works.”

Another silence stretched across the table.

Then, without a word, Charles reached across and dropped a second roll onto Lando’s plate.

“You can ignore us all you want,” he said casually, “but if you pass out cause you haven’t eaten, I won’t be carrying you, I’ll just pull you by your foot.”

Daniel gave a low whistle. “Wow. Heartfelt.”

 

Charles smirked. “I try.”

The others relaxed slightly. Lando didn’t look up, but his fingers twitched toward the roll.

He still didn’t eat much. But he stayed.

He didn’t speak again. But he didn’t leave early either.

The halls were cooler by the time they left the dining hall, the sunset throwing streaks of pink and gold across the tiled floors. Shoes scuffed gently against stone as the group made there way back.

Max, Charles, and Carlos were at the front of the group, casually trading off comments about class and Seb’s less than impressed lecture style about keeping the common room tidy. George hovered near the middle, occasionally adding something snarky, while Alex and Daniel trailed behind, chatting about a rumour Daniel had heard regarding an upcoming field drill.

Lando walked in the middle, silent again. Oscar stuck close but didn’t press. None of them did, not right now. Not so soon after there mini ambush, but that didn’t mean they where going to let things go so easily.

When they reached the dorm landing, the door creaked open to the familiar warmth of the common room along with the soft lighting, the scatter of books on the table and a blanket crumpled on the back of the sofa, as if someone had napped there earlier. It felt lived in. Safe.

Lando stepped inside and immediately began to make a beeline to the stairs leading toward his room.

But Charles noticed. He turned from where he’d been unzipping his jacket. “Oi. No vanishing.”

Lando froze. “I’m just—”

“You’re just about to go hide,” Max cut in, dropping into the armchair. “Again.”

“I’m tired,” Lando muttered.

“Perfect,” Daniel grinned. “That’s the best time for card games. Lower reaction time. Easy to beat you.”

George sighed dramatically. “We don’t even know if he remembers how to play.”

“I do know how to play,” Lando said, the smallest flicker of annoyance in his voice.

“Oh, now that got a response,” Carlos said, raising a brow. “Bring it, then.”

Lando looked up toward the hallway again. To the stairs that would lead him to the sanctuary of his room. His safe place away from the hut.

But something in the air had shifted it wasn’t forceful or demanding. Just insistent.

He hesitated a second longer before slowly walking back into the room, tugging his sleeves down and sitting carefully on the floor near the coffee table, where someone had already shuffled the deck.

Daniel dealt cards with a flourish and a smirk. “Try not to cry when you lose.”

“I will genuinely throw something at you,” Lando muttered but there was no bite in it.

Max sat beside him, not close, but near enough that their shoulders might brush if either shifted. “No powers. No lying. No storming off.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” Max echoed. Then paused. “You’re bad at bluffing, by the way.”

“I’m great at bluffing.”

Oscar, curled up on the end of the sofa with his legs tucked under him, gave Lando a look. “You’re terrible at bluffing.”

That earned a tiny huff of something almost like a laugh. And slowly, cautiously, the others leaned into it, George narrating the game like a sportscaster, Charles cheating just to see who’d catch him, Alex shaking his head fondly as Daniel tried to convince them he had a full house.

Lando didn’t talk much. But he stayed.

And when someone passed him a packet of sweets halfway through the game, he didn’t say no.

The game ended long after the stars came out. Someone had lit the small candle in the corner, casting a warm glow across the room. The cards were a mess, the wrappers of shared sweets piled in the centre of the table, and most of the boys had slumped into that familiar post-laughter haze.

Eventually, one by one, they drifted off.

George with an over-exaggerated yawn, claiming he needed to review notes even though he was clearly falling asleep on his feet. Daniel trying to convince Alex to play “just one more round” before being dragged off by Carlos and Charles. Max gave Lando a tired look on his way out, a subtle nod that said we see you, even if you’re quiet.

That left Oscar and Lando as the last two.

The quiet between them wasn’t awkward.

Just…tentative.

Lando shifted where he sat, arms resting loosely on his knees. He was half-curled into himself, as if the moment he stood up the warmth of the evening would vanish. But eventually he did rise, stretching his arms over his head.

Oscar followed, silent as always, walking beside him up the stairs until they reached their room.

Once inside, Lando flicked the desk light on, bathing the space in an orange glow. The quiet buzz of the bulb filled the room for a moment as he sat on the edge of his bed to untie his shoes.

Oscar watched him from his own bed, hesitating before speaking.

“Lando?”

Lando paused, not looking up. “Yeah?”

Oscar’s voice was soft. Not accusing. Not angry.

“Don’t sneak out tonight.”

There was a beat of silence.

Lando looked up, frowning faintly. “I’m not—” Oscar raised an eyebrow, cutting him off with just the look.Lando sighed, letting himself fall back onto the mattress. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because you were the first friend I made here,” Oscar said, settling under his own blanket. “Because I saw your bruises. Because I found you passed out with blood on your face. Because everyone’s worried and you keep acting like you’re alone when you’re not.”

Lando didn’t say anything.

Oscar shifted onto his side, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “You don’t have to tell me where you’re going. Or what you’re doing. Just…stay. For tonight.”

A long moment passed.

Then Lando nodded, just once. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

Another pause. Then, quieter, “Yeah. Promise.”

Oscar didn’t press any further. He turned out the lamp and pulled the covers up to his chest, eyes fluttering closed.

Lando lay there in the dark, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. The pull of the woods was still there, strong, familiar, steady. But this time, it wasn’t stronger than the weight of the quiet promise between them.

Chapter Text

Fernando’s classroom smelled faintly of chalk and cooling magic. Ruins etched into the floor still glowed a soft blue from the last group’s session. Students filtered in with the sluggishness of early morning, books thudding on desks, bags slung carelessly aside.

Fernando stood at the front, arms folded behind his back, watching as the students took their seats.

Lando slipped into a desk near the side, back straight but eyes distant. He didn’t open his notebook. Didn’t even look at the small practice spheres placed neatly at the edge of every desk.

Fernando’s lesson began with theory, patterns of internal focus, balancing projection and restraint, but it was clear the class would move into practical work before the bell.

Around the room, students began levitating their spheres, the room humming with soft energy of multiple powers.

George glanced back at Lando, his brows pinched slightly. “They’re just orbs,” he said casually. “Not windows. You won’t cause trouble this time.”

Lando gave a tight smile. “I’m good.”

George didn’t press, but he didn’t look away either.

Fernando’s voice cut through the low hum. “Lando, would you demonstrate the focus tether I just explained?”

Lando stiffened. “I’d rather not.”

“Is there a reason?”

“I…I didn’t sleep well.”

It was flimsy. But Fernando only nodded and moved on, though his eyes lingered for a second too long.

Across the aisle, Oscar shifted in his seat, gaze flicking to Lando’s desk, his untouched orb still sitting motionless while everyone else’s hovered neatly.

Nico’s greenhouse was warm and heavy with the scent of crushed herbs. The class had split into pairs, working on creating cream ointment that responded to minor magical injuries.

Oscar and Lando were partnered.

Lando stood at the table, hands in his pockets while Oscar measured out powdered bark and crushed healing crystals.

“You’re not even going to stir it?” Oscar asked, voice quiet.

“I’ll mess it up.”

“You never mess this stuff up,” Oscar said softly. “This is of the one classes that you’re actually better at than me.”

Lando didn’t reply, but after a beat, he reached for the wooden spoon and began stirring slowly.

Nico passed by their table and paused, offering Lando a faint smile. “Good to see you trying again.”

Lando didn’t respond, but his grip tightened on the spoon.

Oscar gently nudged a vial toward him. “You can still do this, you know. Even if the other stuff is hard. You don’t need to use your powered for everything.”

Lando didn’t look at him, but he kept stirring until the potion glowed faintly green.

After brake they headed to Lewis lecture hall, the day was warming up and tension had started to build beneath Lando’s skin again. He sat in the back, slouched low, head down. Lewis was mid-lecture about the lineage of rare abilities, referencing a projection of old legends.

“Telekinesis,” Lewis said from the front of the hall, “one of the rarest abilities. Only one in ten thousand gifted possesses it. This had resulted in it having a long history of being misunderstood. Controlled, it is among the most versatile powers in the world. Uncontrolled…” His eyes swept the room, pausing a bit too obviously on Lando. “It can become something else entirely.”

Lando looked up, shoulders tense.

“Those with it need guidance. Trust. Patience. And the right people around them to make sure it doesn’t spiral.”

He wasn’t being subtle, almost everyone was casting him sideways looks.

Charles leaned over from two seats down and whispered, “He’s talking about you without actually saying it.”

“I’m aware,” Lando muttered.

“Then maybe take the hint?” Charles added, not unkindly.

The open sparring floor echoed with the sound of shuffling feet and clashing practice weapons. The class had been paired off for reaction drills, one student attacking, the other blocking or redirecting with their abilities.

Max was Lando’s partner, because of course he was.

They stood opposite each other, Lando with his arms crossed, feet planted but unmoving.

“Come on,” Max said, tossing a foam disc in one hand. “You’re literally built for this kind of stuff. Telekinesis is perfect for redirection drills.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Max stepped a little closer. “Look, I’m not going to push you. But standing there doing nothing just makes it worse.”

“I’m trying not to hurt anyone.”

“You won’t.” Max hesitated, then softened his voice. “And you won’t get better by hiding.”

Lando didn’t answer.

Max sighed, tossing the disc high in the air. “Fine. Just catch this, then. That’s all.”

The disc arced, spinning toward Lando slowly, deliberate in a hopefully harmless way.

Lando’s hand twitched.

The disc stopped mid-air. Just a second. Hovered there, wobbling then dropped gently into his palm.

Max grinned. “See?”

Lando didn’t smile, but he didn’t let go of the disc either.

The dining hall hummed with the noise of cutlery clinking, chairs scraping and laughter echoing from distant tables. The windows were cracked open, letting in a cool breeze and the faint smell of wildflowers from the school gardens.

Lando sat at the end of their usual table.

He hadn’t touched his food.

He wasn’t paying attention to see if anyone had noticed, the others were mid-conversation anyway, there voices rising and falling around him in a soft rhythm. It felt like the world had gone slightly muffled, like everything was happening just a bit too far away.

Carlos was arguing with George about field drills.

Charles was making some sarcastic comment about power ranking lists.

Daniel had just returned from the snack bar with three pastries and zero shame.

Oscar sat beside Lando, quietly finishing his own plate, occasionally glancing over but saying nothing.

That should’ve been comforting.

But it wasn’t.

Lando’s head was still spinning from the morning. From the way each of them, all of them, had tried, in their own quiet ways, to bring him back into the fold. Not with lectures. Not with force. Just with presence. With care.

And it had worked, almost.

That little disc from Max, the soft nudge from Oscar, Charles’s teasing whisper. He’d responded. He’d tried. But even that one act, catching a foam disc, had rattled something in him.

He’d shown to much to Lewis and Seb recently, but he still wasn’t able to trust it.

And now they were watching again. They’d seen him step up his control even if it was just a little taste of what he could actually do, and now they were waiting to see if he’d do it again. If he could handle it fully.

The pressure made Lando’s stomach twisted.

He wanted it ti go back to normal. He really did. But something in him still buzzed with fear. Of failing. Of losing control. Of being seen when he wasn’t perfect yet. The one place where that buzzing calmed was the hut, where the only voice pressuring and encouraging him all the same was his own.

His hand curled in his lap, fingers knotting in his sleeve.

A fork clinked against a plate beside him, and he blinked.

Oscar leaned slightly closer. “You good?”

Lando nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Oscar didn’t look convinced but said nothing more. Instead, he stood with his tray in hand and nodded towards the hall doors. “Come on. We’ve got Seb’s next.”

The others were already pushing their chairs back, conversations carrying on as they gathered their things. Charles gave Lando a light tap on the shoulder as he passed.

“You’ll like this one,” he said. “Seb’s in a good mood. He hasn’t had a chance to yell at Carlos yet today.”

“Yet,” Carlos muttered with a frown.

Max hovered a moment longer near the end of the table, waiting for Lando to rise.

So he did, not wanting to start something in the dining hall in front of so many.

He trailed at the back of the group dragging his feet as they made their way toward the stairs and the west wing. He kept his eyes low and his steps slow.

His mind, however, was racing.

Too many people were watching him now. To many people had clocked every shift in his behaviour this week. And if he messed up in Seb’s class again…

No. He wouldn’t.

He just had to hid. Be stubborn.

Then he’d go back tonight. Start practicing again. Start studying the books like his life depended on it. Because after all it sort of did.

He needed the hut. The space. The books. The stillness. It had become his life line.

If he wanted any chance at controlling himself the way they all expected him to, it had to come from there, not from this pressure. Not from these endless stares and whispers.

He just had to figure out how to get back through that hedge.

Seb’s class was flooded with natural light from the high arched windows, and the scent of fresh chalk and scorched stone hung in the air from earlier drills. The class was already beginning to split into groups when Lando walked in, trailing the others, his hoodie sleeves pulled down over his hands and gaze slightly distant, like he was somewhere else.

Seb stood at the front, arms folded, speaking clearly over the low shuffle of movement.

“Today’s about intent. Not power. You can have all the strength in the world, but if you don’t control your focus, you don’t control your element it’ll mean nothing.”

He let the words sink in before pointing to a set of practice targets lined up on the far end of the class.. Circular, weighted stands designed to absorb your elemental impacts.

“Pairs. Everyone takes a turn.”

The group scattered, forming their familiar duos, Charles and Carlos, Max and Daniel, George with Alex, Oscar stood alone for a second, hesitating before glancing over at Lando.

“Want to—?”

“I’m good,” Lando said quickly, stepping back.

Seb turned, catching the exchange. “Lando. You’re with Oscar.”

Lando’s jaw clenched. “I’d rather not.”

“Not an option,” Seb said, his tone calm but firm. “Come on you did it once, you can do it again. No more avoiding practicals.”

“That’s not—” Lando started, then cut himself off.

The others were watching. Not glaring. Not smirking. Just watching.

Somehow that made it worse. Like there eyes held to much pressure.

Oscar moved closer, slow and cautious. “We can just try the grounding drill. The basic one. You know how to do that—”

“I said I’m fine.”

Seb approached now, not aggressive, but with the unmistakable presence of a teacher who was done letting something slide.

“Lando,” he said, quieter this time. “You can do this. Just once. No one here’s expecting perfection. I just need you to try.”

“I don’t want to try.”

“Why?”

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again. His throat was tight.

The room was so quiet now. Everyone had stilled in favour of watching the pairs exchange.

Seb stepped back, giving him space. “Just the focus push. No target, no impact. Just you and the orb. That’s all.”

Lando’s hands shook slightly as he raised one toward the small levitation orb on the table. It trembled immediately before he even began to focus on it, like it was reacting to his anxiety, not his intention.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Tried to calm his heart. Focus on the orb. And breathe.

The orb began to lift then jolted sideways, hitting another.

A second rose sharply into the air, whirling far too fast and then everything else started vibrating.

The entire tray lifted and flipped violently, slamming into a table with a crash that echoed across the hall. Two practice targets shuddered. Sparks from a elemental channeling tools flickered out of control, singeing the edge of a near by papers.

Lando stepped back, breathing hard. Eyes wide. Shoulders shaking.

His powers weren’t exploding outward but it was clear to everyone that he wasn’t in control.

Not of his powers.

Not of his breathing.

And not of his emotions.

His face twisted as he tried to hold it in, the fear, the shame but the tears stung anyway, rising unbidden to his eyes, catching in his lashes. No one moved. No one laughed. It was painfully clear that this wasn’t dramatics.

It was helplessness.

Lando turned and bolted.

Seb didn’t hesitate. “Oscar—stay here,” he said quickly as the other boy began moving to follow but already moving toward the doors,

Lando shoved through the heavy classroom doors, chest tight, breath tearing ragged from his lungs. The hallway blurred past him, flickers of students and doorways and open windows all melting into one streak of motion as his trainers hammered against the floor.

Behind him, he could hear Seb’s voice, distantly calling after him.

“Lando! Lando, stop!”

But Lando didn’t stop.

He hit the main staircase, skidding as he turned sharply and leapt down two steps at a time. A teacher rounded the corner at the base, startled, but Lando didn’t register their face. His mind was buzzing too loud, heart drumming in his ears like a warning siren.

Get out. Get away. Run.

The back doors loomed, tall, heavy, and open to the courtyard beyond. Afternoon sunlight poured through, washing over the stone like a path, and Lando didn’t hesitate. He bolted through them and hit the grass sprinting.

The courtyard had only a few students lounging between classes. He dodged past them without slowing, heading for the far edge, to the hedges that ringed the school grounds.

Behind him, he heard the heavy foot falls of Seb again.

“Lando!” Seb’s voice was closer now, sharp with worry. “Stop, talk to me—!”

But Lando still didn’t even glance back.

His breath was burning in his lungs, his shoulder grazed a low branch, and then he reached the place he knew like muscle memory, the narrow gap in the hedge.

He threw himself through it, thorns scraped at his arms. But as the world dimmed as the greenery closed around him and the noise of the school, the noise of Seb, was swallowed up behind the wall of trees. Lando breathed, as collapsed to his knees just inside the tree line, panting.

The pressure was gone. The stares. The silence. The shame.

But the panic still clung to him like a second skin.

He dug his fingers into the dirt to ground himself, let the coolness of the shaded woods creep over him. He didn’t cry, not yet. He was too full of adrenaline. Of instinct. Of one repeating thought. Get to the hut.

-x-

Seb burst into the courtyard, eyes scanning wildly. The few students nearby pointed toward the far end, murmuring that they’d seen Lando run that way. Seb followed at a half-sprint, heart thudding.

He rounded the end of the courtyard and stopped.

There was no sign of Lando.

There was no open gate for him to go through. No rustling bushes as he tried to squeeze his way in. No visible trail at all.

Just the peaceful breeze and a few fallen leaves stirring where the grass ended.

“Dammit,” Seb muttered under his breath, turning in a slow circle as he scanned the trees beyond the hedge.

But he didn’t see the gap. He didn’t see where the woods had swallow a panting Lando whole.

Seb stalked back into the main building, jaw clenched, his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor. His eyes swept the hall, but it was useless, he already knew Lando wasn’t in the building anymore.

He’d ran. Really ran this time. And Seb had lost him.

At the top of the staff stairwell, he pushed open the door to the faculty lounge, only to find Lewis, Jenson, and Nico mid-conversation around the sideboard, coffee mugs in hand.

All three looked up immediately at Seb’s face.

“Where is he?” Lewis asked, straightening.

Seb shut the door behind him with more force than necessary. “Gone.”

Lewis frowned. “Gone where?”

“I don’t know.” Seb ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. “He bolted out of class. I tried to follow, but by the time I got outside, he’d already disappeared. I think he’s off the grounds. I think he’s in the woods.”

Nico lowered his mug. “You’re sure?”

“There’s no sign of him. I checked the courtyard, the halls. He’s not in the dorms. He didn’t go toward the library or the east side. No one saw him come back in.”

Lewis’ eyes narrowed, the weight of the situation already settling on his shoulders. “You think he ran into the woods.”

“I think…” Seb paused, reluctant. “I think that’s not the first time he has.”

That caught Jenson’s attention. “What makes you say that?”

Seb leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms tightly. “There’s been something off for weeks. He’s been disappearing for ages, he’s never in his dorm, not in the library and people would see him if he really was walking around the grounds. I think I spotted something on Monday, a gap maybe. Just now he blew apart another target set but it wasn’t like before, this wasn’t a lack of control, this was emotional. He’s barely holding himself together, and if he was to hide he would hid in there.”

“I’ve noticed the exhaustion too,” Nico said quietly. “And he never actually answered where he got that head injury from. Said he doesn’t remember. I didn’t believe him then, and I don’t believe it now.”

Lewis stood still for a moment, then said, “We need to search the grounds. Properly. If he’s been sneaking out and practising on his own, then that’s probably where he’s gone.”

 

“He’s more advanced than any of us realised,” Seb added. “That thing he did in your office and the thing he did in my class. It wasn’t a fluke. He’s been training somewhere.”

Lewis’s expression darkened. “And training alone.”

Jenson exhaled slowly. “That’s dangerous. Telekinesis on his level…that’s not something you develop in isolation without serious strain. If he’s losing control in lessons, he’s probably burning himself out trying to keep it together in private.”

“I tried pushing him today,” Seb admitted. “Thought he needed a little encouragement. Thought it might get him over the wall he’s built. Instead, it's made hum run. He can control it but not when he's exhausted and still has the lingering effects from that head injury.”

A heavy silence fell.

Then Lewis stood straighter, all business now. “Alright. Jenson, take the north perimeter. Seb, east. I’ll search the outer gardens and tree line myself. If any of us find signs of him or where he’s been going, we regroup and decide next steps.”

“And if we don’t find him?” Nico asked, eyes grave.

Lewis hesitated. “Then we wait. And we make sure that, when he does come back, he knows he won’t be punished. He’ll be helped. Because if he’s out there thinking no one will listen…”

He didn’t finish that thought. He didn’t have to. They all knew what happened to lonely, scared teenagers.

-x-

Lando burst through the crooked door of the hut, chest still tight with the effort of running and the weight of everything that had just happened.

The musty scent of old wood and moss greeted him like an old friend.

He didn’t stop to catch his breath.

He went straight to the back, dropping to his knees by the floorboards beneath the broken worktable. His fingers slipped into the narrow seam, pried open the lose floor board, and pulled out the books, his books. The ones he couldn’t let Lewis see. The ones that actually taught him something.

He stacked them hastily on the table and flipped open the levitation book to the marked page he’d been reading earlier in the week, mid-air adjustment and balance correction. The very concept that had eluded him last time.

Lando set his jaw and raised his hand.

Around him, several objects lay scattered across the floor, a few worn practice orbs, his bag, and an old stone rock. He focused on them, not gently this time, not cautiously.

He forced the energy up.

The orbs rose, but they were shaky, spinning erratically. The bag rattled against the wood. The rock hovered, then dropped with a dull thud.

No. Come on. Focus. He tried again, more control. More stillness.

One orb steadied. The others soon followed.

Lando breathed, eyes locked, jaw trembling. Slowly, he added more pressure, willing them higher.

They held. Wobbling but holding.

“I can still do this,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

But that wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

He spread his fingers wider, and the orbs spun into motion, mimicking the page’s diagram, forming a circular pattern around him. His hands trembled. Sweat began to bead at his temples. He focused harder, pushing, stretching the boundaries of what the book said was possible.

The orbs began to blur. Then crack! One slammed against the wall. Another shattered against the window beam.

Lando gasped, stumbling back as the remaining objects dropped suddenly to the ground.

His knees buckled, and he braced himself against the table, breathing hard.

His powers had obeyed…but barely. Not like they had before.

They were slipping, just like in class. Just like with Seb. Just like every time someone expected him to be fine and he wasn’t.

He looked down at the book, still open. His fingers clenched into the pages.

They’re going to find out soon, he thought. About this place. About what I’ve been doing. And when they do…what if they take it away?

What if this was the only place he could be something without falling apart?

-x-

The silence that settled after Lando bolted was sharp, awkward.

No one quite knew what to say.

The training orbs that hadn’t been shattered still rolled slowly along the floor. The targets at the far end of the room were lopsided, one scorched by accident. Oscar stood stiffly, hands clenched at his sides, still facing the doors Lando had disappeared through.

Max exhaled heavily, dropping the orb in his hand with a thud. “That was bad.”

“Really bad,” Daniel echoed, voice quieter than usual.

“Is he alright?” Alex asked gently.

“He ran,” George said flatly, still gripping his notebook but not writing a word. “Again.”

Seb hadn’t come back. They doubted he would.

Charles and Carlos exchanged a look, both unusually quiet.

It wasn’t until the bell rang, signalling the end of the period, that Oscar moved. He didn’t go for his bag. He didn’t even glance at the others.

“I’m going to find him,” he said.

Max fell into step beside him immediately. “Not alone you’re not.”

“Do you even know where to look?” George asked, frowning.

“No,” Oscar admitted. “But someone has to try.”

They left the classroom together all still shaken from what they’d seen but now buzzing with growing concern.

The group fanned out near the courtyard, unsure what they were even searching for.

“He wouldn’t go back to the dorm,” Max muttered.

“Maybe the library?” George offered.

“Too public,” Oscar said. “If he’s feeling like that, he’ll want to be alone.”

They circled around the main building, cutting through the east garden when Alex suddenly slowed.

“Wait…is that Seb?”

They all turned.

Across the far lawn, Seb was striding quickly toward the edge of the school boundary, scanning the area with purpose. Behind him, Lewis was emerging from the tree line, his expression unreadable. Jenson was coming up from the lower path near the lake, and a second later, Nico appeared near the side gate.

“…That’s a lot of teachers,” Daniel muttered.

“They’re looking for him too,” Charles said, sounding surprised.

“Wait—” Carlos narrowed his eyes. “They don’t know where he went either?”

The silence that followed was heavy.

“I thought he was in trouble,” George said, more quietly now. “But they’re not angry. They’re…actually worried.”

Oscar watched the adults for a long moment. Something in him twisted, guilt, maybe. Regret. Or was it fear.

Lando hadn’t come back.

He should’ve by now.

And clearly, no one, knew where he went when he disappeared.

The group hovered near the edge of the courtyard, half in the open and half beneath the shadow of the archway that led back to the east corridor. Oscar’s arms were folded tight, his mouth drawn in a hard line. Max kept glancing toward the woods, suspicion flickering behind his usually sharp expression.

“I don’t like this,” Alex said quietly.

“We shouldn’t just stand here,” Charles added, eyes following Seb as he disappeared again around the corner of the greenhouse, moving with purpose but not panic. Not yet.

“Come on,” Oscar said, suddenly breaking into a walk. “I’ll ask.”

No one stopped him this time.

The group trailed after him as he made a direct path toward the only teacher still close, Nico, who had just finished a sweep along the garden wall and was speaking quietly into a small radio clipped to his belt.

“Nico?” Oscar called, his voice tight but respectful.

The healer turned, his expression shifting the moment he registered who was calling him. “Oscar. Boys.”

He stepped away from the path and motioned for them to follow. “What’s going on?”

“We were going to ask you the same thing,” Max said evenly, stopping beside Oscar. “Is it Lando?”

Nico hesitated for just a second.

Oscar caught it. “You’re looking for him, aren’t you?”

Nico exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

“Where is he?” Charles asked. “He ran out of class and didn’t come back.”

“We thought he just needed space,” Daniel added. “But if you’re all out here…”

“We’ve been searching for a while,” Nico admitted. “He left the school building shortly after leaving Seb’s class. Seb tried to follow, but Lando was gone by the time he reached the edge of the grounds.”

“He just vanished?” George asked.

“Not quite,” Nico said, carefully choosing his words. “But he didn’t go where any of us could find him easily. We’re hoping it’s just a matter of time.”

The boys exchanged looks, some nervous, some uneasy, but all silent.

“He’s been…off,” Carlos said finally. “More than usual.”

“Pulling away,” Max agreed.

“And hiding something,” Oscar added. His voice was lower now. “We all know it. None of us said anything.”

Nico gave him a steady look. “And if you know anything now, Oscar…anything at all this is the time to speak up.”

Oscar opened his mouth…but then hesitated.

He thought of the bag. Of the clothes that had gone missing. Of the way Lando had climbed back in through the fourth-floor window like it was nothing. The late-night sneaking outs. And how none of it added up to any place on the school grounds.

But still…

“I don’t know where he goes,” Oscar said. It was the only thing he could say without lying.

Nico studied him for a second longer, then nodded. “Alright.”

Oscar looked away, guilt prickling along the back of his neck.

“If you see him,” Nico added, glancing at the others too, “don’t crowd him. Just tell one of us. He’s not in trouble. He’s not being punished. But he’s not okay. And he hasn’t been for a while.”

There was a long silence.

Then Charles said quietly, “What if he doesn’t come back this time?”

“He will,” Oscar said.

They all looked at him.

He didn’t sound certain. Not really.

But he wanted to be.

-x-

The sun dipped below the edge of the forest, casting long shadows across the school lawns. Golden light filtered through the trees, but the edges of the grounds were already softening into twilight. The air had cooled, and the usual hum of birdsong had grown distant.

The teachers regrouped at the edge of the eastern lawn, not far from the courtyard steps.

Lewis arrived first, having completed another sweep of the gardens. His sleeves were rolled, and he looked more tense than composed now, fingers tapping absently against his leg as he waited.

Seb followed, stepping out from behind the high stone planters, his face tight.

Jenson joined a moment later, breath shallow from the long circuit around the perimeter. Nico trailed behind, having just parted from the boys near the courtyard.

They gathered in a loose semicircle.

“No sign of him,” Seb said, low and clipped. “I checked the entire eastern hedge line. If he slipped through the hedge like I think he did…he’s gone deep.”

“The woods?” Jenson asked.

Seb nodded. “He’s done it before. I just couldn’t keep up with him to see exactly where.”

Lewis ran a hand over his jaw. “We don’t even know where in the woods. It’s acres of overgrown land. No pathways. No safe zones.”

“He wouldn’t have gone in blind,” Nico added. “Not with the head injury he had before. He knows that place well. That’s the problem.”

Jenson exhaled. “So we’re dealing with a student with unstable control, a knack for vanishing, and a location advantage.”

“And who’s clearly been training himself in secret,” Seb said grimly
.
Lewis turned toward the tree line, eyes narrowing. The last traces of sun had almost disappeared now.

“Then we need to rethink this,” he said. “We’ve been combing the edges hoping he’s still near the school. He’s not.”

“We need to go into the forest,” Nico said quietly.

“And we need to be smart about it,” Lewis agreed. “Not just search blindly. We need to think like him.”

“What do we know for sure?” Jenson asked, pulling out a small notepad.

“He’s been leaving at night. Likely from the dorm,” Seb said. “He’s returning before curfew, or shortly after. He’s been tired, which means whatever he’s doing is exhausting.”

“And he’s hiding books,” Lewis added. “Said they were from the library, but I’ve been through them all. What he did in my office that was not learnt from our books.”

“So he’s found something,” Nico said slowly. “A place. A source. A shelter, maybe. Something he’s been going back to over and over.”

Seb met Lewis’s gaze. “I think we need to start looking for structures. Old building. Sheds. Anything.”

“I’ll get a map of the forest from the archives,” Lewis said. “There’s bound to be old maintenance paths or shelters left from when the grounds extended farther out. If he’s hiding somewhere, it’ll be where no one goes anymore. We split into pairs. We search deeper tomorrow at first light.”

“If he doesn’t come back before then,” Seb added.

The silence that followed carried a weight none of them acknowledged aloud.

What if he didn’t come back this time.

Lewis finally broke the quiet. “We can’t force him to trust us. But we can make sure that if he falls again, we’re there to catch him. No matter where he’s hiding.”

He turned, voice firmer now.

“Rest tonight. Be ready in the morning.”

-x-

The only light inside the hut came from the faint green-blue glow of a hovering orb, steady, flickering, then still again as Lando narrowed his focus.

He sat cross-legged on the old floorboards, the ancient books scattered around him in a semicircle. His hair clung damp to his forehead, and his hoodie sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, arms trembling slightly from strain.

The hours had slipped past without him noticing. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t rested. His mind had latched onto the spinning pressure in his chest, the need to feel like he was in control of himself.

Floating objects was simple on the surface. He could do that in his sleep now.

But the real control, the refinement, that was what had been breaking him apart in class.

He couldn’t lose it again. Not like he had with Seb. Not in front of everyone.

The glowing orb shuddered mid-air as his thoughts slipped.

“No,” he muttered, exhaling hard. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, reaching again for the calm voice in his head that had once felt natural.

The orb stilled.

He opened his eyes slowly, and a smile almost touched the corner of his mouth.

Around him, more objects hovered, three more orbs moved in slow orbit around him like planets.

Lando lifted one hand and shifted his fingers, directing their movement, slower, steadier now. He could almost believe he was floating with them, untethered by everything pulling him down.

“I can do this,” he whispered. “I am doing this.”

His control was improving. He knew it. Every hour he spent out here, he could feel himself getting stronger. More focused. More…capable.

He didn’t know that back at the school, the teachers were gathering maps and planning coordinated search routes.

He didn’t know that Nico, Seb, and Lewis were now certain he’d been coming here for weeks.

Lando only knew this, that if he could just master this, if he could just prove it to himself, then maybe everything else would quiet down.

The floating orb suddenly dropped, thudding gently to the floor as his focus wavered again.

Lando flinched, blinking fast.

He hadn’t noticed his vision had started to blur. Or that the stars were out. Or that the cold was creeping in again.

Lando sat still, almost like a statue, surrounded by softly levitating objects that danced and circled above his head like flickering fireflies. His eyes were glassy from the strain, lips slightly parted as he focused on the tiniest movements, the precision of it all.

The books lay open around him, pages fluttering every so often from the breeze pushing through the warped slats of the hut’s walls. One of the diagrams on the page showed six rings orbiting perfectly around a central object.

Lando had managed four.

And held them there. For nearly ten minutes now.

His arms trembled from where they hovered slightly lifted.

But the energy it took…the kind that came from the gut and the spine and the mind all at once…it was wearing thin.

His back ached.

His breath stuttered.

And then, thunk.

One of the orbs fell to the floor with a dull, tired drop.

Lando flinched, blinking fast as if pulled out of a trance.

The other items slowed in their orbit, wobbling, then drifted down gently one by one. Another thunk. Then another.

Silence settled again.

Lando exhaled sharply, chest tightening as the cold finally broke through his focus. His hoodie felt damp. His fingers were stiff. And his nose, he hadn’t noticed until now, was slightly numb.

He glanced at the gaps in the wall. It had gone from blue to black without him realising.

Outside the hut the wind stirred the trees. The quiet had grown too deep. Even the soft animal calls of the early evening had stopped.

He wrapped his arms around himself suddenly, shivering, the chill now pressing into his bones. How didn’t even know how late it was.

He reached for his bag with a sluggish hand, fingers brushing the worn material, but didn’t open it. He just sat there.

Alone.

For all the power he’d just wielded, for all the control he’d clawed back, none of it kept away the sudden heaviness in his chest.

Maybe it was the cold or the silence.

Maybe it was the image of Seb’s face, frozen in shock and sadness, just before Lando had turned and fled.

He rubbed his face in frustration only to wince slightly when his fingertips brushed the bruise on his temple.

He hadn’t even remembered it was there, it felt like so long ago since Monday had happened.

With stiff limbs, he leaned back against the wall, tugged his hood up, and stared at the swirling shadows through the warped window frame.

For the first time all night, he realised, He didn’t want to stay here forever. But he also didn’t know how to go back.

Chapter Text

The boys trickled back into the common room in low silence, the kind that buzzed under the skin and said everything without needing to speak. No one had seen Lando. There wasn’t even a hint of movement near the hedge. The teachers hadn’t returned with good news either.

Oscar stood near the window for a long time after the others came back in, arms folded tightly across his chest. He hadn’t said a word the entire walk back.

Daniel was the first to break. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it, he’s gone off somewhere, again, and we all know it.”

Charles dropped onto the couch beside Carlos. “He clearly has a spot. A place. No one disappears that smoothly without planning it.”

George crossed the room with a huff, pacing. “And someone knows more than they’re saying.”

Everyone glanced toward Oscar.

He didn’t turn around.

“Oscar,” George said, more sharply now. “You’ve been quiet for days. If you know something—”

“I don’t,” Oscar snapped. “Not where he’s going. Not what he’s doing. And if I did, do you think I’d be standing here like this?”

George didn’t flinch. “I think you know enough. You’ve been covering for him. You’ve seen things.”

Max stood from the arm of the sofa, interjecting before Oscar could respond. “Alright, enough. This isn’t helping.”

“No,” George said, stepping closer to Oscar. “He’s been lying to the teachers. He lied to us. And you’re just…letting him?”

Oscar finally turned, eyes sharp and rimmed with exhaustion. “What would you even do if I told you? March into the woods like we’d have any clue where to go? Drag him back? Shame him in front of everyone? That’s not what he needs.”

“What he needs is help,” George said tightly.

“He doesn’t want help,” Oscar said, voice suddenly cracking with something deeper. Helplessness. “He wants to be left alone. He doesn’t trust anyone anymore. Not me. Not you. Not the teachers. And can you blame him?”

The silence that followed was brittle.

Charles looked between them, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Maybe we’re all just…tired.”

“No, he’s right.” Carlos rose, tone clipped. “This is going in circles. No one here knows how to fix it, and tearing each other apart isn’t going to make Lando show up.”

“Then what?” Daniel asked. “We just wait again?”

“Maybe that’s all we can do.”

Oscar shook his head and turned away, retreating from the conversation. George’s glare followed him, but he didn’t stop him this time.

“I’m done,” Charles muttered, already nudging Carlos toward the stair. “We’re not fighting each other over this.”

“Come on,” Max said to Daniel, dragging him by the sleeve as he tried to open his mouth again.

Alex gave George a silent look. One that said let’s not make this worse before they headed up to their room too.

In less than a minute, the common room had gone from tense and full…to quiet and hollow.

Oscar stood alone near the doorway to the boys’ hall, staring at the carpet.

He didn’t move for a long time.

The door clicked shut behind them as Carlos tossed his jumper onto his bed, rubbing his eyes. Charles moved slower, tossing his bag down by the desk and kicking off his shoes.

Neither spoke for a moment. The argument downstairs had taken the fight out of both of them.

“…Do you think he’s okay?” Charles asked eventually, voice low, more thoughtful than worried.

Carlos didn’t answer right away. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. “Not really.”

Charles nodded, dropping onto his own mattress. “Me neither.”

They didn’t say much after that. Just the occasional rustle of a page as Carlos opened a textbook and Charles propped himself up on one elbow, flicking through old lesson notes. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable just tired.

The kind of quiet that settles after a storm.

Meanwhile George paced the length of his room three times before Alex calmly nudged a chair out from the desk and said, “Sit down before you wear out the carpet.”

George huffed but obeyed, slumping into the chair. “We should have told someone sooner. I knew something was wrong.”

“You did,” Alex said. “We all did. But none of us knew how wrong. And now…” He trailed off, thumb resting on the spine of a book.

George rubbed his hands together, voice quieter now. “You don’t think he’s going to just…vanish, do you?”

Alex looked up. “No. Because if he was going to, he would’ve done it weeks ago.”

George frowned, but the logic was rooted somewhere deep. They both turned to their desks, the soft scratch of pens and paper soon taking over as they half-heartedly worked through assignments, neither were particularly focused, but both were trying.

Oscar eventually made his way to his lonely room, he shut the door behind him gently, blocking out the noise of the others. The room was cold without Lando in it and too quiet.

He stared at the bed opposite his untouched.

He wanted to scream. Or cry. Or run after him even though he had no idea where to go. But instead, Oscar sat on the edge of his bed and leaned his elbows onto his knees.

He stayed that way for a long time, staring at nothing.

Eventually, he shifted back, pulled his blanket over his legs, and turned the lamp off without changing or brushing his teeth.

Just darkness. He closed his eyes. And fell into a restless sleep.

The glow of a lamp spilled across their shared room, casting a soft yellow hue over the floor between their beds. Max sat cross-legged against the headboard, a book open in his lap, one hand resting on the page, though his eyes hadn’t moved in minutes.

In the room across Daniel laid on his stomach, arms folded beneath his chin, staring across at the wall.

“Do you think he even wants to come back?” Daniel asked.

Max blinked slowly. “I don’t know. I think he’s scared.”

Daniel shifted slightly. “I thought he was just stubborn. But…it’s worse than that now, isn’t it?”

Max didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The way his jaw set, the way his thumb pressed into the crease of the page it said enough on its own.

Daniel’s voice was softer then. “He’s not safe out there.”

“I know.”

“Do you think he knows we care?”

Max glanced at him, the dim lamplight catching the edge of his expression. “I think it’s the only reason he hasn’t completely disappeared.”

Silence returned, but neither turned off the light. The room stayed warm with that gentle glow, the last two still awake as the rest of the dorm gave in to sleep, restless, uneasy, and heavy with worry.

-x-

Lando sat huddled in the corner of the hut, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, the fraying hood of his sweatshirt pulled low over his head. The books were still stacked near the table, his notes scattered across the floor, but he hadn’t touched them in over an hour.

He was too cold.

The wind had crept in stronger as the night wore on, curling its way through the broken slats of the walls and floor, sneaking beneath his clothes and into his bones. The warmth from his earlier training had long since faded, leaving behind a dull ache in his joints and a jitter in his fingers that no amount of willpower could control.

His breath fogged in the air now.

He should’ve brought more layers. A blanket. Something.

But mostly, he shouldn’t have stayed this long.

He shivered again and pushed himself upright with a soft groan, knees stiff and palms sore from sitting too long on hard, cold boards. He gathered his books quickly, stuffing them back beneath the loose floorboard, before slinging his bag over one shoulder.

Outside the hut the forest was silent the kind of silence that came when even the wind had settled, replaced by the faint rustle of dying leaves underfoot.

He pulled his sleeves down over his hands and started walking.

By the time he crept through the break in the hedge and onto school grounds, Lando’s teeth were chattering. His shoes were damp with dew, and his thighs ached from climbing over fallen branches and uneven trails.

The building loomed above him like a warning. He paused under the cover of the trees, checking the windows.

No movement. No lights. Perfect.

He approached the wall slowly, knowing the route by heart now. He crouched under the gutter pipe, fingers finding their usual notches in the old stone. He climbed quickly and quietly even as his muscles screamed at him. He didn’t stop until he reached the fourth-floor windowsill.

He reached for the latch. Pulled but the window was locked.

He blinked, heart skipping.

He peered inside, squinting.

Oscar was there, curled on his side, back to the window, clearly asleep with one arm flung over the edge of his blanket, his chest rising and falling in a soft, steady rhythm.

Lando tapped lightly on the glass once. Then again. Nothing.

His jaw tensed. He couldn’t knock harder, if any of the teachers caught him outside his dorm at this hour, especially climbing the wall, he’d never hear the end of it.

He backed up slightly, pressing himself flat against the stone as he scanned the dorm window.

There…a thin strip of light, glowing faintly from under the dorm room door.

Someone was still awake.

His heart twisted.

It could be Max. Or Daniel. Maybe even Alex. Someone who could unlock the window. Someone who could help without questions.

Lando pressed his front to the wall and inched sideways, one foot placed carefully after the other, palms scraping along the cold, rough surface for balance. His breath came quickly in clouds of mist against the inky dark.

Below him stood four stories of empty air and grass fading into shadow. And above him a moonless sky and the overwhelming press of cold wind.

Every now and then, a loose bit of old brick crumbled underfoot, his foot slipping slightly before he caught himself and pressed tighter to the wall.

There was no other option. The only light was just around the corner. It had to be from one of the others, someone had to be awake, they would let him in.

He gritted his teeth and moved.

One step. Then another. He took a deep breath then a long stretch to reach the curve of the wall.

He grabbed the corner to steady himself, a light from Max and Daniel's room lit up the air around him.

Edging closer, Lando spotted the soft yellow lamplight pooled on the floor, casting long shadows on the walls. He could see the edge of Max’s desk, with a book still open and two mugs, one of which was still steaming.

They were still awake. Thank god.

He leaned slightly forward, lifting a stiff hand to knock.

TAP TAP TAP.

Inside the room, there was a pause then a startled scrape of something across the desk and a sharp intake of breath.

“Did you hear that?” Max’s voice came sounding tense.

Then the room went silent as Daniel turned towards the window in shock.

“…Max.” Daniel’s voice, slower. “Look at the window.”

Max turned and nearly fell out of his chair.

Lando stood just outside the glass, face pale, hair windswept, hoodie pulled tight over his head. His lips were blue at the corners, and his breath was fogging the glass. He looked half-frozen. His bag was slung over one shoulder, damp and heavy-looking, and he was clinging to the frame like his life depended on it.

“Holy shit,” Daniel whispered.

Max recovered fast rushing forward and fumbling with the latch. The moment it clicked open, he shoved the window outwards, and cold air burst into the room like a slap.

“Lando?! What the hell—”

“I need in,” Lando whispered through chattering teeth, voice hoarse and tight. “Please. Max—help—”

“Daniel, help me, grab his arm.”

Daniel was already moving.

Max reached out and hooked one arm around Lando’s shoulder while Daniel braced under the opposite. With effort, they pulled him in through the window, cold air whipping their faces as Lando stumbled into the room, half-falling over Max’s bed before collapsing to his knees.

The window slammed shut behind them.

Lando stayed on the floor, head bowed, bag still on his shoulder, breath shuddering through clenched teeth.

The silence that followed was only broken by the rush of blood in their ears and the quiet, ragged sound of Lando trying to calm his breathing.

“Lando,” Max said, kneeling down beside him. “What—what were you doing out there?”

Lando didn’t answer, he sat cross-legged on the floor, close to the small heater in the corner. Max handed him a thick hoodie from his wardrobe, and Daniel had shoved a half-drunk mug of tea into his hands. The light had been dimmed, casting the room in a gentle amber hush.

He hadn’t spoken since they dragged him in.

Max stood with his arms folded, near the door, blocking it from any further escape Lando may attempt.

“Where the hell have you been?” Max asked again, voice low and sharp, not angry, but demanding in the way only someone who cared too much could manage.

Lando looked up at him briefly, eyes tired and guarded. “Nowhere,” he mumbled, hauling himself to his feet and heading toward the door like it might be over just like that.

Max didn’t move.

“You expect us to believe that?” Max said. “You ran out of class. Seb sent out a search party. They were searching the woods for you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Lando muttered, trying to sidestep despite the fear that spiked through his heart at the thought of the teacher out in the woods.

“But it is,” Daniel chimed in gently. He’d settled on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. “You look frozen. And lost. So please, just tell us what’s been going on.” His voice softened. “What have you been doing?”

Lando stopped. His shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. Then, quietly like all the fight had drained out of him along with his warmth and energy.

“You all get to practice. You’ve got people helping you learn how to control your powers, to understand them.” He glanced between the two of them. “I got left in the dust. For all of last year no one helped me. So I taught myself.” He looked down at the floor, rubbing at his hands. “I found somewhere safe…and I learnt. What’s so wrong with that?”

Max’s voice dropped. “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with that at all.”

Lando’s jaw trembled slightly, though he quickly turned his face away. “I didn’t mean to cause all that stuff in class,” he said, voice small. “I wasn’t trying to be difficult. I just didn’t want to hurt anyone again.”

Daniel’s brows furrowed, lips parting slightly. “So you stopped yourself,” he said slowly. “You taught yourself control. In the woods. Where it was just you?”

Lando nodded, guilt threading through his features.

“But you’ve been out there for hours. I know you've spent most days out there and nights, it's cold out there,” Max said. He sounded part horrified, part impressed. “That’s dangerous.”

“There’s a hut,” Lando said quietly. “It’s old and hidden. I’ve got books and training orbs and everything in there. It’s…sort of cosy.”

There was a pause. A long one as the two stared at him in sympathetic horror.

Then Daniel leaned forward, chin resting on his hands. “We won’t tell.”

Max didn’t move from the door, but his expression shifted, no longer demanding, just determined. “But you’re taking us to this hut.”

Lando blinked. “You want to see it?”

Max’s brows lifted. “You really thought you could keep a secret training base in the woods and we wouldn’t want to see it?”

Daniel grinned slightly. “Come on. You made a secret lair. That’s kind of the most impressive thing any of us have done.”

Lando looked between them, something flickering in his expression. Hesitation. But still he nodded slowly, hoping that if they believed him they would keep all of this quiet. “Okay,” he whispered.

Max finally let Lando go but remained watching him as Lando slipped into the dark of his room as quietly as possible, careful not to wake Oscar, though a small, guilty part of him knew that Oscar was likely used to him coming and going like this by now.

The warmth of Max and Daniel’s room still clung to his skin, but as soon as the door clicked shut behind him, it vanished and the fear from earlier returned.

He stood frozen for a moment in the centre of the room, then dropped his bag softly onto the floor and stepped into the small bathroom, flicking on the light and locking the door behind him.

The mirror lit up, casting a pale glow over his face. He looked…wrecked.

Eyes bloodshot. Lips cracked. Skin pale and bruised. Hair matted slightly with cold sweat. He gripped the edge of the sink and stared at himself, breathing shallow.

They were searching the woods. Seb. Lewis. All of them.

What if they found the hut. If they found the hut, they'd find the books. And if they found the books, would they take it all away. If they took it away, what would he do, he would have nothing. No control. No progress. He’d become just another telekinesis that tuned into a liability.

He’d said too much. He told them too much. And now he’d promised to bring them. He couldn’t go back on that now. They would snitch, maybe not straight away but they will. Lewis will get it out of them. They have nothing to lose by telling. After all its not really like they're friends anymore.

His chest tightened, and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. He slid down against the wall, crouching by the cold tiles as the panic crept up his throat.

His fingers gripped his hair as he tried to breathe.

He was in so much trouble.

-x-

Oscar shifted in his bed, waking slowly to the low, familiar hum. It was soft but distinct. A vibration in the air that he’d only heard a few times before.

He knew it was Lando. It was the same hum that occurred right before the orbs exploded.

The bathroom light was on. He came back.

“Lando?” he called softly.

The answer that came was the sound of the hum growing slightly stronger.

Oscar frowned, pushed the blankets off, and padded barefoot across the room. He knocked once on the bathroom door.

“Lando?” Another knock. “Are you okay?”

“Go away!” Lando’s voice came out strained, high and tight.

Oscar froze. That wasn’t just tiredness. That was panic.

He hesitated for only a moment.

Then turned, grabbed his hoodie from the back of the desk chair, and ran out of the room, down the stairs, out of the common room and into the cold corridors.

Bang-bang-bang.

Seb groaned as the pounding reached him, one eye cracking open toward the door. Another sharp knock.

“Mr Sebestaian, sir—it’s Lando!” Oscar’s voice was frantic, muffled through the wood.

Seb was up in seconds.

“What’s happened?” he said, already pulling on a jumper as he unlocked the door.

“He’s—he’s in the bathroom. Lights on, door locked. He’s panicking, I can hear it but he wouldn’t let me in. There’s this sound a humming from his powers…I think it’s slipping again.”

Seb was already out the door.

The door to the dorm burst open and Oscar flicked the lights on while Seb crossed the room in three quick strides, halting just outside the bathroom door.

The hum was louder now. Not deafening, but undeniable. A steady thrum that vibrated faintly in the air, as if the very walls themselves were holding their breath.

Oscar hovered behind, barefoot and tense.

“Lando?” Seb called gently, crouching so his voice would carry low and even through the gap beneath the door. “It’s me. I’m outside the door with Oscar. We need you to open it, okay?”

No response again. Only the hum, now pulsing slightly, like a heartbeat.

Oscar stepped closer. “Lando, please…just tell us you’re okay. You don’t have to open the door, just say something—”

From inside, something clinked. A glass tipping over maybe or a bottle rolling?

And then Lando’s voice. Small. Muffled. Tired.

“I can’t…make it stop.”

Seb gently pressed one palm against the door. “Alright. That’s okay. You’re not in trouble, but I need you to breathe. Slow and deep.”

Oscar took another step forward, his face pale in the overhead light. “Why’s it happening again? What triggered it?”

“I don’t know,” Seb murmured. “But we’ve got to get him grounded before it escalates.”

Inside the bathroom, a second object shifted with a dull scrape, followed by a soft crack. One of the lightbulbs in the mirror fixture flickered, buzzed…then shattered.

Oscar jumped at the sound. “Seb—”

“Stay calm,” Seb said firmly, still crouched. “Lando. I know it’s a lot right now. But you’ve come back, which means you want to be safe. You want help. Let us in so we can help you.”

The bathroom remained silent for a beat, then Lando’s voice sounded again, barely audible. “Oscar shouldn’t have woken you.”

Oscar blinked, his chest aching. “You needed help.”

“I didn’t mean to…lose control,” Lando murmured. “I just needed a minute to think. I was—thinking about everything.”

Seb kept his voice soft. “That’s alright. You’re overwhelmed. That doesn’t make you dangerous.”

“You don’t know that,” came the small reply.

“Then open the door,” Seb said. “Let me help you figure it out.”

There was silence for several seconds. Then a faint click. The door creaked open an inch.

Seb straightened slowly and gently pushed it open further.

Inside Lando was sat slumped on the floor by the sink, his hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, tear tracks glinting faintly on his cheeks. The glass on the counter had cracked in two. The toothbrush holder had tipped. But nothing was levitating.

Lando looked exhausted and utterly defeated.

Seb crouched again, this time on Lando’s level, but didn’t crowd him. “You alright?”

“No,” Lando whispered honestly.

Oscar remained in the doorway, eyes wide. “You’re freezing, Lan.”

“I know,” Lando murmured.

“Come on,” Seb said gently. “Let’s get you off this floor, warm you up, and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Lando nodded, just once. Oscar had never seen him look so small and vulnerable.

Seb offered him a hand and after a moment’s hesitation, Lando took it.

After getting Lando off the floor and out of the bathroom, Seb gently guided him back to his quarters where it was quiet, and the lights were dimmed to a soft golden glow. The space was simple but lived-in, a small couch against one wall, books piled on shelves and end tables, a blanket folded neatly over the back of an armchair. The air smelled faintly of an ocean breeze and herbal tea.

Seb led Lando in gently, not touching him unless he had to, letting the silence sit between them as Oscar hovered just behind.

Lando moved like his limbs weren’t quite attached, like he was only halfway present. He dropped onto the couch without prompting, curling his legs up under him and tugging the sleeves of Max’s old hoodie tighter over his hands. His eyes flicked from the fireplace to the window to the floor, never meeting either of the two’s gazes.

Seb knelt near the small kettle in the corner, setting it to boil. He spoke over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry about another infirmary visit tonight. You’re here now, we’ll get you warmed up. No one’s mad, alright?”

Lando didn’t answer.

Oscar stood awkwardly near the couch, glancing between Lando and Seb, unsure whether to sit or stand. His fingers twisted in the hem of his jumper.

Seb walked over and pulled a soft throw blanket from the armchair, draping it lightly over Lando’s shoulders. The boy didn’t react.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Seb said, voice calm but deliberate. “And you can answer or not answer. That’s your choice. But I want you to think about the fact that Oscar is the one who found you tonight and that he came and got me because we all care. Got it?”

Lando still didn’t answer, just stared at the floor.

“Where did you go after you ran out of my class today?”

For a while, it looked like Lando wasn’t going to answer, then he shifted slightly. “Nowhere,” Lando said faintly.

Seb’s brow furrowed. “You want to try again?”

“I just…needed space,” Lando whispered. “I went for a walk.”

Seb exchanged a look with Oscar, who shifted uncomfortably.

“And you walked for hours,” Seb continued. “Where did you go? Did you leave school grounds?”

Lando’s breath hitched, but he didn’t reply.

“Lando.”

“I didn’t go into the woods,” Lando said quickly, eyes still fixed on the floor.

“I never said anything about the woods,” Seb replied quietly. Lando flinched. Oscar looked over sharply, but Seb lifted a hand to stop him before he could say anything. He crouched in front of Lando, lowering his voice. “Why did you run?”

Silence again.

“Lando.”

The boy’s chin dropped slightly, and his shoulders hunched further beneath the blanket.

Seb watched him for a moment more, then sighed.

He rose slowly and looked over at Oscar. “I think it’s time to let Lewis know we found him.”

Oscar straightened. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Seb turned back to Lando. “I’m not asking any more questions tonight. But that doesn’t mean they go away.”

Oscar lingered for a beat longer, watching Lando clearly torn before finally nodding and slipping out the door. The soft click of it shutting echoed in the warm, quiet room.

Lando didn’t move.

Seb crossed to the kettle, poured two mugs of tea, and placed one gently on the table near Lando’s elbow.

He didn’t speak. He just sat in the chair across from him. Waiting.

-x-

The halls were still, cloaked in a deep early silence that only came in the hours just before dawn.

Oscar padded down the corridor with cautious urgency, his steps soft but fast, hoodie sleeves tugged down over his hands. His mind raced ahead of him, looping back through everything that had happened, Lando’s panic, the locked door, the way he hadn’t spoken, hadn’t looked at either of them like he used to.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, how cold Lando had felt when they pulled him out of the bathroom or how quiet he was now.

The door to the headteacher’s quarters came into view. Oscar hesitated only briefly before raising a hand and knocking firmly, but not loud enough to cause alarm.

A few seconds passed. A faint sound inside. Then, the door opened.

Lewis stood there in a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants, barefoot, hair messy and expression immediately alert.

Oscar shifted on his feet. “We found Lando.”

Lewis blinked, straightening. “Where?”

“He came back on his own,” Oscar said carefully. “Locked himself in the bathroom. I woke Seb, and he brought him back to his quarters to talk.”

Lewis’s jaw tightened slightly. “What’s he like?”

Oscar hesitated. “Exhausted. And…quiet. Not saying much. But he’s okay. Physically.”

Lewis ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “What happened? Do you know where he went?”

Oscar shook his head quickly. “He won’t say. But he was outside. He's cold like he's been out there for hours. His hands were frozen when we pulled him out of the bathroom.”

Lewis’s eyes narrowed. “Pulled him out of the bathroom?”

Oscar blinked. “Yeah. I woke up to the sound of his powers humming. I think he was having a miniature panic attack.”

Lewis was silent for a beat, processing that. Then nodded once, sharply. “Alright. Go back to bed Oscar. We’ve got him.”

Oscar took a small step back, grateful but still pale. “I think he needs someone to listen to him. He barely looked at either of us.”

Lewis’s voice softened. “You did the right thing, Oscar. Thank you.”

Oscar didn’t respond. He just watched as Lewis stepped into the hallway, the quiet confidence of his stride already making the building feel a little more grounded.

Oscar leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly.

Something was still off. Deeply off.

And none of them had any idea just how far this really went.

Chapter Text

The knock at the door was soft but firm.

Seb opened it immediately.

Lewis stood there, his clothes more rumpled than Seb had ever seen, but his eyes were sharp and focused. He stepped inside without needing an invitation, his gaze immediately landing on Lando still curled in the corner of the couch, blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders and a barely touched mug of tea sitting beside him.

He looked smaller than usual, like he was shrunk in on himself as if he could develop the power to disappear.

Lewis didn’t speak at first. He stood across from him, arms crossed loosely, and waited.

Lando didn’t move. Didn’t even look up.

Seb gave a quiet shake of his head, a signal to Lewis that the boy hadn’t said much since Oscar left.

Lewis finally stepped forward, crouching in front of him, softening his voice. “Lando.”

Lando’s eyes flicked up briefly, then down again.

Lewis didn’t press immediately. He just studied him for a moment longer, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the redness in his skin, the tension still in his shoulders even beneath the blanket.

“Do you know how many people were out searching for you tonight?” Lewis asked, tone even.

Still no answer.

“I was ready to send staff into the woods at first light. We didn’t know if you were hurt. If you’d fallen. If you’d run.”

Lando shifted slightly, as if curling tighter.

Lewis sighed. “Look, I want answers. I need answers. But right now, I can see you’re barely holding yourself upright.”

He stood again, eyes flicking to Seb. “Walk him back. Make sure he gets to bed.”

Seb nodded, already moving to fetch the blanket and help Lando up.

But Lewis paused in the doorway, his voice low and firm, directed at Lando.

“But this isn’t done,” he said. “You and I are going to talk. Soon. And when we do, I expect honesty. You’ve been hiding something for weeks now and whether you want to admit it or not, it’s starting to spiral.”

Lando didn’t answer. But he didn’t argue either.

He just nodded, small, slow, and tired.

Lewis lingered for a beat longer, then left the room with quiet footsteps.

Seb moved to Lando’s side, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you back.”

The academy grounds were still cloaked in pre-dawn stillness. Only the soft steps under their feet filled the silence as Seb walked beside Lando, keeping just close enough to catch him if he stumbled.

Lando didn’t speak. He walked with the blanket still wrapped loosely around his shoulders, arms crossed tightly beneath it. His eyes were fixed on the path ahead, half-lidded with exhaustion.

Seb didn’t push him. Not yet.

As they neared the dorm building, Seb finally broke the silence, voice low and firm but not unkind.

“You can sleep through the morning lessons,” he said. “I’ll get you at break.”

Lando glanced up at him, surprise flickering in his eyes. “…Really?”

Seb nodded. “But this is a one-off. Not a habit.”

Lando looked away again, nodding once in quiet understanding. “Okay.”

Seb opened the door to the dorm building, letting a rush of warm air greet them as they stepped inside.

Seb turned to him again, this time with more softness.

“You were honest enough to let us in tonight,” he said. “That counts for something. But you need rest, Lando. You’re not going to hold it together by pushing harder. Even you have a limit.”

Lando shifted the blanket higher around his shoulders. “I know.”

Seb watched him a moment longer, then finally gave a small nod.

“Alright. Go sleep. I’ll come get you at break.”

Lando gave a small, tired sound that might’ve been “thanks,” then slowly headed up the stairs toward his room, footsteps dragging.

Seb watched him go, brow furrowed, before turning and disappearing quietly back into the hall.

-x-
The dorm was slow to wake that morning.

Maybe it was the tension from the night before still lingering in the walls or maybe it was the way none of them had slept properly, with the way worry gnawed at the edges of every restless dream.

The windows let in a dusty blue light, a sign that late autumn was approaching. A few golden leaves clung to the outside panes, like quiet reminders of the season slipping away.

Charles was the first downstairs, followed closely by George and Alex, both were unusually quiet. Carlos trailed behind them, yawning into his sleeve, while Daniel and Max came down last, a beat slower than the rest.

Still no Lando.

The tension in the group thickened with every unspoken thought.

As they made their way to the dining hall, heads turned in searching but again, no sign of him.

“Maybe he just needs space,” Charles murmured, piling eggs onto his plate, though his voice lacked conviction.

Oscar was sat at the table with his tray untouched, picking at the corner of his toast. He’d barely said a word all morning, eyes tired, like he hadn’t slept at all. Finally, when he caught the way Alex kept glancing toward the entrance and George was silently stirring his tea with a frown, he spoke.

“He came back,” Oscar said suddenly.

Everyone turned.

“What?” George blinked.

“Lando. He came back early this morning.”

“Are you sure?” Carlos asked, brows raised.

Oscar nodded. “I got Seb. He’s sleeping now though. Seb said he could skip morning lessons.

A collective exhale rippled through the group it was subtle but real.

“Oh thank god,” Alex muttered. “I thought after yesterday…I thought he’d…”

“We all did,” Charles finished quietly.

Daniel, sitting across from Oscar, didn’t say anything. He just quietly reached for his orange juice.

Max kept his head down, focused on buttering his toast. His jaw tensed and when Oscar glanced at him, Max didn’t meet his gaze.

Carlos narrowed his eyes. “You knew he was back too?” he asked, looking between Max and Daniel.

Neither of them answered. Not directly.

Max gave Daniel a side glance. Daniel raised a brow in return. They shared a brief look. It lasted no more than a second. But the table noticed.

George leaned forward. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Max replied evenly, finally meeting his eyes.

“That look.” George pointed between them. “You two know something.”

“Drop it,” Max said, returning to his food.

Daniel smiled faintly, but didn’t speak.

Carlos frowned. “You’re hiding something.”

“We’re not,” Max replied, too fast.

“Definitely are,” Charles muttered around a sip of tea.

Oscar glanced between them all, suddenly feeling like he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. And that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one Lando had trusted recently.

But whatever Max and Daniel knew, they weren’t planning on sharing it. Not yet.

And as the bell rang for first period, the mystery hung over the table like fog.

-x-

The dorm was quiet now.

The distant hum of early morning filtered in through the window, just barely audible above the soft rustle of the autumn wind. Somewhere below, a bell echoed faintly across the grounds, marking the start of first period.

But Lando wasn’t in class.

He lay curled beneath his duvet, still wearing the hoodie Max had given him. His hair was a mess, his cheek slightly pressed into the pillow. The blanket that Seb had thrown over his shoulders in the night was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, unneeded now, but not forgotten.

He’d tried to sleep. But rest didn’t come easy. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, his mind spinning too fast to settle.

He could still feel the cold sting of the wind against his face from the night before. The panic of finding the window locked. The light from Max and Daniel’s room. The way Max had looked at him stern but not angry. And Daniel, just watchful.

They knew. He’d told them. Not everything, but enough. Enough that he couldn’t take it back now.

They knew about the hut. They knew he’d been teaching himself. And they’d said they wouldn’t tell.

But what if they changed their minds? What if Seb or Lewis pushed too hard?

His stomach twisted.

He sat up slowly, eyes flicking to the closed bedroom door. Oscar was gone of to class, probably still watching him from afar like everyone else. Lando ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead.

He didn’t regret going back to the hut last night.

But he was regretting how close they’d all come to finding him. To finding the truth.

What if they had gone further into the woods? What if they still would?

He wasn’t sure how long he had before someone caught on.

The teachers had already been suspicious for weeks. And now both Lewis and Seb had said it “This isn’t done.”

The books from the hut were still stashed out there, buried beneath the loose floorboards. Lando just hoped they stayed there.

He lay curled on his side, still wrapped in the covers.

He had to get it right. He had to get better.

Because if things kept tightening like this, if the teachers got closer, if Max and Daniel slipped, if the others started putting the pieces together…he might have to leave.

And if that happened, he needed to be able to fly. He needed to be able to run.

-x-

The hallway outside the dorm was quiet, save for the distant shuffle of feet and chatter drifting up from the courtyard below. Most of the boys were already heading toward their break.

Seb knocked lightly on the dorm room door. Once. Twice.

No answer.

Not that he expected one.

He eased the door open slowly, mindful of the creak in the hinges, and stepped inside.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn halfway, letting only the pale mid-morning autumn light filter in. The air felt still, there was not a trace of the humming buzz from his powers working overtime.

In the bed nearest the window, lay Lando. Curled up tightly beneath the covers, hoodie pulled halfway over his face, one hand tucked near his chest, the other lying palm-up on the edge of the mattress. His dark curls were a little wild, sticking up at odd angles like he’d rolled back and forth restlessly before finally passing out.

Seb didn’t say anything. He just stood quietly, gaze softening.

Lando’s face looked younger like this. No scowl, no sharp lines of defiance. Just deep exhaustion. There were shadows under his eyes. His lips parted slightly with each slow, steady breath. And the rise and fall of his chest was the only sign that he was at peace.

Seb glanced around the room. Assignments were half-finished on the desks and textbooks littered the floor. The faint smell of books and rain-damp clothes still lingered, a hint of cold air clinging to the corners. There was nothing obviously out of place, but something about the stillness didn’t sit right.

Like the calm before a storm.

He didn’t touch him. Didn’t call out. Just watched for a few moments longer before exhaling through his nose, quiet and conflicted.

Then, Seb stepped back, pulling the door closed gently behind him. Let him sleep he thought.

But this wasn’t over. Not even close.

-x-

The bell had rung five minutes ago, and the hallway buzzed with movement, students spilling from break, shoving books into bags, and laughing over half-finished conversations.

But among the third-year dorm group, the energy was tense.

Charles walked ahead with George and Alex flanking him, his bag slung over one shoulder. Carlos caught up behind them, brow furrowed, as he glanced back toward the courtyard where they’d last seen Seb.

“He’s still not here,” Carlos said under his breath.

“Maybe he’s with Seb,” Alex offered, though his voice didn’t sound convinced.

George looked at Max and Daniel, who trailed behind quieter than usual, eyes flicking between each other like they were communicating silently again.

“That’s two full periods now,” George muttered. “It’s getting weird.”

“Maybe he’s still sleeping,” Daniel replied casually, though it was clear he wasn’t as relaxed as he tried to sound.

Max didn’t add anything. He kept his gaze on the floor, lips pressed tight.

Charles slowed slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “So no one’s seen him since last night?”

Oscar caught up then, shrugging quickly. “He came back this morning. I told you that already.”

“I know,” Charles said. “But he’s still not here. And considering how yesterday ended, that’s not nothing. What if he left again?”

Carlos looked over at Max. “You’ve been acting strange since this morning.”

Max didn’t respond.

Daniel sighed. “Look, he’s just tired, alright? You saw what yesterday did to him. Seb gave him the morning off, maybe he's just given him the whole day off.”

“Without telling anyone?” George frowned.

Oscar hesitated. “I told you, he told me this morning that Seb said he could skip the morning lessons, it's still break he could be waking up and getting dressed.”

“Oh, you he told? What else has he told you that you're not sharing?” George said, tone sharpening.

“Enough,” Charles cut in, glancing toward their classroom. “We’re not fighting over this. Lando’s probably just sleeping. We’ve all seen how wrecked he’s been.”

But the silence that followed made it clear, they didn’t quite believe that anymore.

Especially not with the way Max and Daniel kept exchanging glances.

Carlos narrowed his eyes. “You’re both definitely hiding something.”

“Then maybe stop asking,” Max snapped quietly. “If it was your secret, would you want the entire dorm grilling people about it?”

The group fell into a tense silence.

Oscar shifted uncomfortably, gaze flicking toward the far stairwell where Seb had disappeared during break.

“Let’s just…get to class,” Alex said finally. “We’ll check on him later.”

They filed into the classroom, still uneasy, still divided, but trying to pretend everything was normal.

Only it wasn’t. And everyone knew it.

If the tension had been thick in the hallway, it only pressed tighter once they sat down in class.

Fernando’s lessons were typically calm, filled with quiet thinking, deep questions, and carefully structured exercises that pushed students to connect theory with control. Normally, it was George’s favourite class.

Today, though, George found himself glancing toward the door every few minutes. So did the others.

Lando’s desk sat empty again.

Oscar barely touched his notes. Daniel, for once, didn’t crack a single joke. Max didn’t raise his hand once when Fernando started going through the worksheet. And Charles, who usually excelled in discussions, gave clipped answers with his jaw clenched.

Fernando noticed, of course.

But he didn’t call them out for it. Not yet, anyways.

If they’d expected a breather before lunch, Lewis didn’t give them one.

His lecture was energetic, fast-paced, full of dates and context and long questions about magical bloodlines and regional fluctuations in power expression. But even with all that, it didn’t stop the group from exchanging looks throughout his lecture, glances full of worry, frustration, and suspicion.

Lewis seemed sharper than usual to. Watchful in a way that made hairs on the back of the neck stick up.

Max caught him glancing at him once or twice. Daniel noticed too. They both sat stiff-backed through the class.

And when the bell rang for lunch, the group moved fast.

The group barely spoke as they headed toward the dorm.

Oscar was the one who finally said it. “I just want to make sure he’s still okay.”

No one disagreed.

When they reached the door, Oscar knocked lightly, once, then again. But there was no answer.

Max tried the handle. It creaked open easily.

Inside the room was quiet and dim, and there curled tightly under the duvet was Lando, fast asleep. His face was pale, brown curls half-covered by his hood, breaths shallow and even.

Charles stepped inside first, followed by Alex and Daniel. Carlos hovered in the doorway.

George lingered near the window, voice low. “Is he okay?”

Oscar crossed to the bedside but didn’t wake him. “Still sleeping…”

They stood there for a beat longer, unsure what to say.

Then the door behind them opened again.

They turned as Lewis stepped in, eyebrows raising at the sight of all seven boys crammed into the small bedroom.

“Well,” he said evenly, “this is cosy.”

Max straightened immediately. “We were just checking on him.”

“I can see that.” Lewis stepped in, gaze drifting to Lando’s still-sleeping form. “Has he been like this all morning?”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah. Looks like he’s barely moved since I left.”

Lewis studied him in silence, eyes narrowing just slightly in thought.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Out. Let him sleep. I’ll come back in an hour.”

The boys hesitated, no one wanted to leave first.

Then Charles nudged George. “Come on.”

One by one, they filed out Max being the last, glanced back over his shoulder once more before closing the door behind him.

Lewis stayed behind.

He crossed to the side of the bed and sat carefully on the edge, just watching Lando for a moment. There was a lot he still didn’t know.

But he would. Soon.

The door to Lando and Oscar’s room had barely clicked shut when the rest of the group drifted back into the common room.

No one really said anything at first.

Alex flopped onto the couch, head tilted back, eyes tracing the ceiling like he was trying to gather his thoughts. George stood by the bookshelf, arms crossed, fingers drumming against his sleeve. Charles paced slowly near the windows, glancing out every few seconds like expecting someone to show up. Carlos dropped into one of the chairs and immediately began fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

Max leaned against the wall with his arms folded keeping quiet. Daniel sat on the back of the couch, swinging one foot, gaze distant.

Oscar was the last to join them, sinking onto the edge of the coffee table with a small sigh.

“Well,” Charles finally muttered. “That didn’t feel reassuring.”

George scoffed. “He’s been sleeping for hours. That’s not normal.”

“He’s fine,” Oscar said quickly. “He’s just…tired.”

“Exhausted,” Max added, still watching the floor. “Completely burnt out.”

Carlos glanced between the three of them. “You all knew he was this bad off?”

“We didn’t know it was this bad,” Daniel said. “We just…knew he wasn’t okay.”

George turned sharply. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Daniel looked like he was about to respond, maybe to deflect, maybe to explain, but Max cut in. “Because we’re not snitches, George.”

“No,” George shot back, “you’re just really good at watching someone spiral and doing nothing about it.”

Alex raised a hand between them, quieting them before it escalated. “Enough. That’s not helping.”

They all fell into a weighted silence.

Oscar rubbed his hands together slowly, voice quiet. “He doesn’t want to be watched. He doesn’t want to be smothered.”

“But he needs help,” Charles said softly.

“Yeah,” Daniel agreed, quieter than usual. “But it has to be his choice.”

The bell rang overhead, sharp and distant, signalling the end of lunch.

None of them moved for a moment.

Then Max pushed off the wall and grabbed his bag. “He’s going to talk eventually.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “How can you be sure?”

Max just shrugged once, shouldering the strap. “Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to fall apart. And I don’t think he wants that.”

One by one, the boys gathered their things and split off into the corridors, heading toward their individual Friday tutorials, each of them carrying more questions than they’d started the day with, and an unspoken agreement that whatever Lando was going through they weren’t going to let him face it alone.

Even if they had to wait.

-x-

The quiet was soft and heavy. Sunlight filtered through the curtains in long, pale bands, casting lines of light across the floor and bedspread.

For a few minutes, there was nothing but the quiet sound of Lando's shallow breathing.

Until he stirred. It started with a faint shift beneath the covers. Then a slow, tired breath through his nose. Before his eyes blinked open, puffy and bleary, with the weight of sleep clinging to them still.

It took a moment for his mind to catch up to his surroundings. His room. The silence. The faint sounds of footsteps far below, probably others heading off to class.

And then a figure sitting just beside his bed, still and watching.

Lando flinched upright. His breath hitched. His heart skipped once, then pounded.

“Relax,” Lewis said calmly, not moving. “You’re safe. You’ve just been asleep. For a long time.”

Lando sat upright, blinking hard. His head felt fuzzy, but panic buzzed faintly under his skin.

“How long—?” he asked, voice raspy.

“Long enough to miss the morning entirely,” Lewis replied. “Seb let you sleep. I told him I’d come check on you.”

Lando didn’t reply. He rubbed at his face, suddenly very aware of how wrinkled his hoodie was, how dry his mouth felt, how warm the back of his neck had gotten under the duvet.

Lewis stood. “Get dressed,” he said, voice even. “Then come meet me in my office.”

That was it. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t sound angry. But the weight of those words landed hard.

Lando watched him walk to the door and pause.

“Fifteen minutes,” Lewis added, then stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him.

And Lando was left sitting on the bed, blinking at the empty space he’d left behind.

His thoughts were already spinning. What would he say? What could he say?

He glanced at his wardrobe. At the cloak tucked beneath his clothes. At the desk drawer where he’d stashed a notebook with notes from the hut’s books.

His chest tightened.

The door creaked open slowly.

Lando stepped in, hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie, his shoulders slightly hunched. The room was warm, faintly scented with old boos, ink, and something faintly earthy.

Lewis was already behind his desk.

He didn’t gesture for Lando to sit. He simply glanced up, eyes sharp and unreadable, a thin folder open in front of him. Several books, the ones from the library Lando had handed over, were stacked neatly to one side. A few had notes sticking out from the pages.

“Sit,” Lewis said, finally.

Lando slid into the chair opposite the desk, keeping his head slightly down.

There was a long pause as Lewis flipped a page in the folder.

Then, without looking up at him started talking, “You’ve had a busy week.”

Lando stayed quiet.

Lewis lifted his eyes. “Monday night you had an infirmary stay after you returned bruised, bleeding, and concussed. Thursday you disappeared in the middle of class. That’s two major incidents in five days, not counting all the missed meals, the classes you’ve skipped, and the number of practical sessions you’ve outright refused to participate in.”

Lando stiffened, jaw tightening.

Lewis closed the folder slowly, tapping a finger on the edge. “I’ve reviewed the books you returned. The notes inside. The sections you marked.”

Lando swallowed. “And?”

“They’re basic,” Lewis said. “They cover what your tutor covered with you in first year. It too basic for what you’ve shown me you're capable of.”

“I’ve been learning,” Lando said flatly.

“On your own.”

Lando didn’t answer.

Lewis leaned forward slightly. “The incident on Monday, how did you hit your head?”

“I tripped.”

“You were bleeding. You blacked out. You needed observation. Tripping doesn’t usually result in that.”

“I fell hard,” Lando said, voice low, defensive. “It’s not a big deal.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You’re still not telling the truth.”

Lando’s fingers curled in his lap.

“You said you’ve been learning on your own,” Lewis continued. “Let me be very clear, you’re not supposed to be learning on your own. That’s the point of this school. To teach you safely. To monitor your growth. Not to push yourself into exhaustion and panic and uncontrolled outbursts.”

Lando looked away, jaw clenched, throat tight. “No one was teaching me.”

Lewis didn’t respond for a moment. “I’m trying to figure out how a third-year student, who hasn’t had a tutor since his first term, is managing spells that should take months of guided practice to master.”

“I read,” Lando muttered.

“Don’t lie to me.” Lewis’s tone was calm but steel-edged.

Lando’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“I’m not lying. I read everything I could. I watched. I listened. I practised when no one else was around. Because that’s all I had.”

There was real heat in his voice now. The weight of months, years, behind those words.

Lewis held his gaze for a long moment. Then he leaned back in his chair. “You’re burning yourself out,” he said, quieter now. “And you’re doing it because we failed you. I know that.”

That caught Lando off guard. His expression flickered.

Lewis folded his hands. “But if you keep going like this, you’re going to hurt yourself. Or someone else. And I can’t allow that. Even if your intentions are good.”

Silence stretched.

“I need to know where you’ve been practising,” Lewis added carefully. “And where you’ve been disappearing to.”

Lando looked away again. And stayed silent.

Lewis watched him for a long moment, then finally exhaled and stood. “I’m not going to force it out of you today. But if you don’t start working with us, Lando…you’re going to find yourself with a lot fewer choices about how this plays out.” He moved to open the door. “You’re dismissed for now. I expect you at dinner tonight. No more skipping.”

Lando stood stiffly, moving toward the door.

“And Lando—” Lewis added, as he passed, “Don’t mistake silence for approval. I’ll be following up.”

Lando didn’t look back as he walked out the door just closed the door behind him with a soft click.

The walk back from Lewis’s office felt longer than it was.

Lando kept his hood up, head down, shoulders tense. His fingers were still curled tightly in the front pocket of his hoodie, knuckles aching from how long he’d kept them clenched.

The corridor was quiet. A few students passed on their way back from their last classes of the day, but none of them stopped him. None even looked twice.

By the time he pushed the dorm door open, he was already trying to plan what to say if Oscar was inside. Or worse all of them.

But the room he entered was empty.

Or at least, it was for about ten seconds.

The sound of voices filtered down the hall behind him, louder, familiar, laughing.

Lando froze mid-step toward the stairs.

Then the front door creaked open again, and the rest of the dorm group spilled in, bags slung over shoulders, conversation trailing behind them like a gust of wind.

Daniel walked in first, half-laughing about something Carlos had said. Max followed, eyes scanning instinctively until they landed on Lando.

He slowed. The conversation behind him dropped.

Oscar was the last to step in, stopping just inside the doorway.

For a second, no one moved.

Then Alex spoke, cautious. “Hey.”

Lando gave a stiff nod. “Hey.”

“Classes were weird without you,” Charles said lightly, but there was a searching tone behind the casual words. “Everything okay?”

Lando shrugged. “Just tired.”

George snorted softly from behind them. “Aren’t we all.”

Daniel dropped onto the nearest couch, stretching out. “You missed a very awkward silence in Kimi’s session.”

Oscar hovered by the side, his eyes flicking to Lando’s face, reading him. Watching. Trying to figure out how much damage had been done behind closed doors.

Carlos broke the lull. “What did Lewis want?”

The question landed sharp. Too direct.

Lando looked over at him, face unreadable. “He wanted to talk.”

Max frowned. “That’s it?”

Lando gave a small nod, already heading toward the hallway. “That’s it.”

“You’re not going to tell us more?” George asked, incredulous.

Lando didn’t answer. He disappeared up the stairs toward his room.

The rest of the boys just stood there.

After a long beat, Daniel exhaled. “So, that went well.”

Oscar sat down slowly. “He’s hiding something. Still.”

Max crossed his arms. “Yeah. But I think Lewis knows it now too.”

They all fell quiet again.

When Lando returned to his room, he didn’t turn on the lights, just the afternoon sun slipped through the curtains in pale beams across the bed, the floor, and the wardrobe. Still, everything felt dim.

He stood there for a moment, fingers still curled around the doorknob.

The conversation with Lewis was still running on a loop in his head.

You’re going to find yourself with fewer choices.

We failed you.

Lando moved slowly across the room, dropping onto the edge of his bed. He didn’t take off his shoes. He just sat there, elbows on knees, head in his hands.

Part of him had wanted to confess everything. The other part didn’t trust that it wouldn’t all get taken away if he did.

The hut. The books. The cloak still hidden in the wardrobe. His bag now shoved back under the bed.

His safe place. If they found it, if they searched for it, it’d all be over. And he wasn’t ready to give it up. Not when it was the only place he where he actually felt in control of his powers.

His fingers twisted into his hair just as a soft knock on the door came.

Lando didn’t answer. But the door creaked open anyway.

Max stepped in, slow and quiet, closing the door behind him with more care than usual. No quip. No eye roll. Just that unreadable look on his face, the one he wore when he was thinking harder than he let on.

Lando didn’t look up.

“I said it was fine,” Lando muttered. “You don’t have to check in.”

Max didn’t respond right away. He walked over and sat down across from him, at Oscar’s desk, folding his arms on the back of the chair.

“You’re a crap liar,” Max said calmly.

That earned a flicker of a look.

Max shrugged one shoulder. “That whole ‘I’m fine’ routine? Doesn’t really work when you’ve got the whole dorm worried and Lewis calling private meetings.”

Lando let out a slow breath. “He went through the library books.”

“And?”

“And he knows something’s off.”

“Is he right?” Max asked quietly.

Lando didn’t answer.

Max didn’t push. Not this time. Instead he leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to explain everything. But if you keep shutting us out, you’re going to crash hard. And I don’t think you have any idea how hard yet.”

Lando’s voice was hoarse. “I’m just trying to get better.”

“I know,” Max said, not unkindly. “But you’re trying to do it alone.”

Lando looked away. After a beat, Max stood again and walked toward the door, pausing before he opened it.

“I meant what I said last night,” he added, voice lower now. “About the hut. I’m not going to tell anyone. Neither will Daniel. But when you’re ready…take us with you.”

Then he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

And Lando sat there in the fading light, unsure if he felt more relieved or more exposed. Maybe he felt both he just couldn't tell anymore.

Chapter Text

The long, carved oak table in the centre of the faculty room was littered with paper scrolls, tea mugs, and the soft glow of several enchanted orbs bobbing overhead. The atmosphere was heavier than usual.

Lewis sat at the head of the table. His eyes were sharper than normal, not with anger but calculation. Quiet concern in hard form.

Seb leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Nico, seated beside him, was thumbing through the week’s incident reports. Kimi lounged on the windowsill, only half-paying attention, but that usually meant he was listening most closely. Jenson sat upright, brows slightly furrowed, while Fernando flipped through his notes without speaking.

“Let’s start with the obvious,” Lewis said. “Lando.”

Everyone shifted slightly at the name.

Seb was first to speak. “He ran out of my class yesterday and disappeared into thin air. Didn’t reappear until sometime after midnight. He looked half-frozen. And emotionally wrecked. But when I asked, he refused to say where he’d been.”

“I had him in my office after lunch,” Lewis continued. “He’s defensive. Tired. Knows we’re onto him, but still hiding things. He admitted to teaching himself, but won’t tell us where. Still claims he’s learning from library books.”

“We know that’s not true,” Seb muttered.

Lewis nodded once. “Exactly. Which is why I’ll be taking him out of Saturday drills and working with him one-on-one. Away from the others. I want to see how he’s been practising. If we can get him to show us what he’s hiding, maybe we can finally help him before something else explodes.”

Nico glanced up. “You think he’ll cooperate?”

“I think he wants help. He just doesn’t trust where it’s coming from.”

There was a long pause.

Then Jenson asked, “Do we call his parents in?”

Lewis’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been trying. They haven’t answered any of my calls on their crystal ball.”

Seb shook his head. “They’ve never answered, not once since he enrolled. He only goes home over the summer, and even then it’s a school escort that takes him to the station at least. They’ve never come to pick him up. Never dropped him off. Never show up to parent weekends.”

“That’s…unusual,” Fernando said quietly.

“It’s neglect,” Nico corrected, voice flat. “Which makes his independence make a lot more sense.”

“Is he safe in the dorms?” Kimi asked, eyes still on the window.

Lewis nodded slowly. “For now. But we can’t keep treating this as a disciplinary issue. It’s not defiance. It’s desperation.”

Seb straightened slightly. “You’re still not considering removing him from practical’s?”

“No. Not unless I see him lose control again with intent. So far, everything has been fear or he’s been overwhelmed.”

“And if Saturday goes badly?” Jenson asked.

Lewis was quiet for a moment, then met each of their eyes in turn. “Then we re-evaluate everything.”

Silence followed. No one liked that answer, but they all understood it.

-x-

 

The dining hall was half full when Lando slipped in, hood up, posture low.

He tried to walk like he wasn’t tired. Like he wasn’t dragging the weight of a long week behind him. Like he hadn’t just spent the afternoon in Lewis’s office being grilled for answers he wasn’t ready to give.

He slid into his usual spot at the end of the long table where the third years gathered. Daniel was already mid-conversation with Charles, Max was quietly eating next to him. Alex gave Lando a small nod as he approached. Oscar hadn’t arrived yet.

But it wasn’t the boys that made his stomach knot. It was the teachers.

Lewis sat with the staff at the front, sipping tea, eyes skimming the room like usual but they landed on Lando for just a second too long.

Seb followed his gaze shortly after, his expression unreadable.

Lando shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his plate.

Later, when Jenson entered late and passed behind the third year table, he gave Lando the smallest glance, just a flicker, but it made the hairs on Lando’s neck stand up.

He poked at his food without really eating. He could feel the invisible threads of tension starting to pull tighter. They were watching him. All of them.

And he didn’t know why. Not fully. Not yet.

The air was cooler when he stepped into the dorms again. Most of the group filtered toward the couches in the common room, Max tossed him a look, but said nothing.

Lando walked straight past them all and up into the quiet of his room.

Oscar was already there, sitting on his bed, flipping through one of his books. He looked up the moment Lando walked in.

They hadn’t spoken properly since the panic attack the night before. Not in ways that mattered anyways.

Lando hesitated in the doorway, then quietly closed the door behind him and crossed the room. He stood near his bed for a moment, then finally sat down.

Oscar broke the silence first. “You didn’t eat much.”

“Wasn’t hungry,” Lando replied quietly.

“I saw them watching you,” Oscar said.

“I noticed.” Another beat of silence stretched. “You know,” Oscar continued, voice softer, “you don’t have to keep doing this alone.”

Lando looked over at him, tired, guarded. “Doing what?”

“Whatever it is you’re doing,” Oscar said, setting the book aside. “Sneaking out. Hiding stuff. Avoiding everyone. Pushing until you break and pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”

“I’m not pretending anymore,” Lando muttered.

Oscar frowned. “Then what are you doing?”

Lando rubbed at his face. “Surviving.”

Oscar swallowed hard. “You scared us. Last night when you didn’t come back. Again when you showed up hurt.”

“I know.”

Oscar stood up slowly, walking over and sitting beside Lando on the edge of the bed. “Why won’t you just let someone help?”

“I am helping myself,” Lando said, voice suddenly taut. “I found somewhere safe, and I’m learning. On my own. Because no one else ever showed up. I waited for years for someone to care.”

Oscar was quiet for a long moment. Then he whispered, “But I do.” Lando turned to look at him. Oscar met his gaze evenly. “I care. Even when you’re shutting me out. Even when I don’t understand what you’re doing. I’m not asking you to stop. I’m just asking you to let me be there next time.”

Lando blinked hard, throat tightening. “I don’t want to drag you into it.”

“You’re not dragging me,” Oscar said. “I’m already here.”

They sat there in silence for the rest of the night.

-x-

The crisp air of mid-autumn bit at their skin as the third years filtered onto the training fields on Saturday morning. Breath misted in the chill, boots scuffed against the frost-touched grass, and the sky overhead stretched in a pale silver haze.

Groups split naturally, roommates pairing off, others stretching, adjusting jackets, or dragging their feet at the early morning chill.

Lando walked with the rest of them but hung slightly behind, his hoodie pulled up, his bag bouncing lightly against his hip.

He spotted Seb, already talking with Jenson near the equipment rack. Nico and Fernando stood off to the side of the field with clipboards in hand. Kimi was leaning lazily against a tree, but even he seemed more alert than usual.

Then Lando noticed that one teacher hadn’t joined the others. Until he heard the voice.

“Lando.”

He turned. Lewis stood just off the edge of the track, arms crossed, expression unreadable but firm.

Lando slowed, then veered off from the others. Several of the boys looked up, all with varying degrees of curiosity and worry. None of them said anything as Lando peeled away.

He approached Lewis cautiously. “What’s going on?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Lewis didn’t waste time. “I want you to show me what you’ve been doing with those library books.”

Lando’s stomach tightened. “What?”

“You’ve been training,” Lewis said plainly. “On your own. You admitted it. I’ve seen glimpses, so have your teachers. Now I want to see what you’ve actually learned. Away from the others. Just you and me.”

“I don’t think—”

“This isn’t a request.”

Lando hesitated, then glanced back toward the field where the others were pairing off into drills. Daniel had clearly clocked what was happening, he gave Max a sharp elbow and nodded toward Lando. Max looked but didn’t react.

Lewis waited. After a long pause, Lando nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

Lewis had led him to the smaller, more enclosed clearing off the side of the main field, usually reserved for one-on-one duels or private testing. It was ringed with trees and spell-dampening crystals.

A practice orb sat in the grass. Lewis turned and faced him. “Start simple. Show me control.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. He hated being watched. He hated how much colder the air felt without the comfort of the hut. But…something in Lewis’s tone didn’t feel like a trap. Not quite.

He raised his hand slowly. The orb wobbled, then floated. Higher and steadier.

Then he pulled another from the equipment bag with a flick of his fingers, and then another. All three floated with a soft humming sound.

Lewis said nothing.

“That enough?” Lando asked.

“Push further,” Lewis said. “Something I wouldn’t see in a classroom.”

Lando hesitated.

Then, closing his eyes, he inhaled sharply, just like the book said and focused.

The orbs didn’t just float now. They spun, sharply and precisely. Then they moved in a triangle pattern, like Lando was juggling with them. Lifting higher, syncing their motion to Lando’s breathing. A fourth slipped from the ground and joined them without a hitch.

Lewis still didn’t move.

Lando’s hands flexed. The fourth orb stilled in mid-air…then began to change shape, its surface vibrating, compressing slightly, shrinking in size.

His heart pounded. He opened his eyes.

Lewis stared at him. And for the first time since this all began, really stared.

Not confused. Not frustrated. Impressed.

He stepped forward slowly. “When were you going to tell us you could do that?” he asked softly.

Lando didn’t reply. But the orbs drifted gently back down to the grass, landing without a sound.

The four orbs rested quietly in the grass now, but the weight of their motion still hung in the air, like the energy hadn’t quite settled.

Lewis stood still, his gaze never leaving Lando, not even for a second. He had seen a lot in his years of teaching, raw talent, refined ability, incredible growth.

But this. This was something else.

He took a slow step forward. “Lando,” he said, voice low but even. “I know you didn’t learn that from the library books.”

Lando’s body went still. He didn’t answer. His hands curled slightly at his sides.

Lewis didn’t push. Not yet. But he crouched beside the orbs, eyes studying the smaller orb left behind in the one Lando had compressed with nothing but his focus.

He stood again. His tone shifted, just a degree gentler. Cautious.

“Do you realise how advanced that is?”

Lando still wouldn’t look at him.

Lewis didn’t expect him to answer.

Instead he continued carefully, like speaking too sharply might fracture the moment entirely. “This isn’t a problem of control. Not anymore. That much is clear.”

Lando shifted his weight. His shoulders rose, defensive, braced.

“I think your control is remarkable,” Lewis said. “What concerns me isn’t what you’re doing, it’s how you’re doing it. Alone and in secret. Pushing past limits with no one watching your back.” Lando’s lips parted, but he didn’t speak. Lewis didn’t stop. “You’re overworking. Isolating. And if you don’t stop, it won’t just be a concussion or a bruised rib next time.” He looked Lando square in the eye. “You will burn yourself out or worse.”

That got a reaction. Lando’s jaw tightened, eyes flashing with something sharper now, fear, pride, maybe both.

“You’re brilliant,” Lewis said, firmer now. “What you’ve taught yourself is extraordinary. But that doesn’t mean you have to do this alone. You’re still a student, Lando. You deserve to be helped. Properly. Not after you’ve broken.”

“I don’t need—” Lando started.

“Yes, you do.”

“You don’t understand,” Lando snapped, finally meeting his gaze, voice suddenly raw. “If I let you in, if I let any of you in, you’ll take it. The books. The progress. The one place I can actually breathe.”

Lewis’s brows knit slightly, cautious now. “What books?”

Lando bit the inside of his cheek. Too late. “It’s my power, not yours,” he said, voice dropping low and harsh. “You don’t get to decide what I do with it.”

Lewis didn’t flinch. “I’m not trying to control your power, Lando. I’m trying to keep you safe while you learn it. There’s a difference.”

Lando shook his head once, backing up a step. “You say that now. But as soon as you think I’m too much, you’ll lock me out. Just like before. Just like everyone has.”

There it was. Not defiance. Fear.

Lewis didn’t move closer. Didn’t try to force calm. He just said, quietly, “I’m not everyone.”

Silence hung for a moment.

Then Lewis exhaled and added, “I’m not asking you to stop training. But I am asking you to let us help you train safely.”

Lando didn’t answer.

Not yes. But not no either. And that was something.
The leaves rustled gently overhead as Lando and Lewis stepped out of the secluded clearing and began walking the narrow trail back toward the main training field. The sounds of spells, shouted instructions, and power drills filtered through the trees, distant but growing louder.

Lando walked a pace behind.

Neither of them spoke.

Lewis didn’t push. He walked with purpose, but he kept his hands loose at his sides, his gaze forward, not prying, not pressing.

Lando, on the other hand, was hyper-aware of everything. The way the breeze tugged at the loose hem of his hoodie. The slight ache in his chest from holding so much tension. The way his heart was still racing, not from the demonstration, but from the fear that Lewis had seen too much. He had said too much.

Now Lewis was going to tell the others. They’re going to find the hut. The books.

Lewis went straight to the other teachers. Seb, Jenson, Fernando, Nico and Kimi were gathered on the far side of the pitch, watching drills unfold. Lewis approached them quietly, said a few low words, and the group naturally turned in, forming a tight circle.

Lando watched carefully. Waiting to see if they’d look over. But they didn’t.

Lewis shook his head once. Firm. Not yet.

Lando’s shoulders dropped just slightly in relief.

Still, he didn’t move toward the group drills. He walked across the grass, slow and measured, until he found the low stone wall near the edge of the field and dropped down onto it, resting his elbows on his knees.

From here, he could see the others. Oscar sparring with Charles. Max and Daniel running a teleportation reaction drill. George rolling his eyes at Alex during what looked like a failed attempt at telepathic focus. Carlos lighting a practice dummy on fire with alarming precision.

They all looked…normal. Focused. Together.

And then there was him, still sitting alone. Still outside the system.

But not for long. He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing toward the tree line beyond the fields.

He needed to get back to the hut.

He needed to finish sorting the books, check none had been touched, and most importantly, get back to the levitation drills. His shape manipulation had impressed Lewis, sure but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t afford to slow down. Not now. Not after this morning. Not with them all getting so close.

But he couldn’t be seen leaving again.

He started mapping it out in his head, wait for dismissal, drift out with the others, fake heading back to the dorm, double back through the herb garden. Teachers weren’t usually stationed there during lunch.

It had to be Simple. Clean. No eyes.

He just had to make it through the rest of the drills without raising any more suspicion.

-x-

The whistle blew sharply across the training grounds. The drills wound down in scattered bursts, spells fading into smoke, elemental glows dissipating, physical dummies slumping to the ground with thuds.

Jenson clapped his hands once. “Alright, that’s it, gear down, cool down, then you’re dismissed. Good work.”

Around the field, students began stretching, unbuckling sparring gear, brushing off sweat or dirt. A few collapsed dramatically to the grass with groans, earning chuckles from friends.

Oscar, sweaty and flushed, slowed to a walk beside Charles, his eyes flicking toward the low wall.

He saw Lando, hood still up, sitting still, watching the rest of them with an unreadable expression. Not angry. Not sad. Just…watching.

Max passed Oscar a water flask with a sharp glance in Lando’s direction. “He didn’t do anything again, did he?”

Oscar shook his head. “Nope. Lewis pulled him before we even started.”

Daniel sauntered over, towel slung around his neck. “Think they’re finally trying to figure him out?”

Alex joined them as well, already rolling one shoulder. “Or maybe he finally let someone in.”

Oscar didn’t say anything. He just kept his gaze on Lando.

By the time the boys were gathering their things, Lando had already slipped from the wall and started walking.

Not rushing. Not hiding. Just…drifting.

He passed the equipment racks, ducked behind one of the tall hedges near the garden path, and disappeared toward the dorms with the slow, purposeful air of someone who wasn’t trying to be seen, but wouldn’t care if he was.

None of the others noticed he’d gone until they were halfway to the dorms themselves.

“Wait—where’d Lando go?” George asked.

“Again?” Carlos said, narrowing his eyes. “Did he even say a word the whole morning?”

Oscar’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He was with Lewis. That’s all I know.”

Max’s glance flicked over to Daniel, then back to the tree line.

And somewhere, in the back of all of their minds, the quiet realisation that Lando hadn’t really come back to them yet began to take root.

-x-

Lando reached the east wing side entrance just as a pair of younger students came out chattering loudly, letting the door swing shut behind them. Lando caught it without a sound and stepped inside. The corridor was blissfully empty, everyone else was still out on the field or headed to lunch.

His bag was still half-packed from Thursday's return, he slung it over his shoulder and paused just a moment at the window.

Unlocking it to allow for a safe route back in, without more people finding out his secret or getting suspicious about his comings and goings.

He eased the door open, scanned the hallway, finding it empty and slipped out again, heading not toward the main stairwell but down the back emergency stairs and out into the gardens.

Now came the careful part. He crouched low and skirted the edge of rose bushes, crossing the gravel silently until he reached the hedge that backed onto the outer edge of the school perimeter.

There, the gap he’d widened from all the times he'd slipped in and out of the woods.

Lando slid through once again it with practised ease, pausing just once to glance over his shoulder.

The academy was alive with noise. But no one was looking at him.

He turned and bolted across the tree line, breath hitching with something that wasn’t quite panic, but close.

Because he didn’t just want to reach the hut again.

He needed to.

The forest had thinned with the slow advance of autumn, yellowing leaves underfoot, wind weaving through the high branches in soft sighs. It had grown quieter too, the deeper Lando had pushed, until only the rustle of branches and the crackle of twigs beneath his shoes remained.

His bag thudded lightly against his back with every step.

When the hut finally came into view, half-covered in creeping ivy and slightly falling apart it felt like a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding finally escaped.

He was safe.

Lando crossed the threshold and pulled the door shut behind him.

Dust drifted in lazy beams of light through the fractured wooden boards. The worn chair. The table. The cracked window. The space was cramped, barely standing room in some corners, but it was his.

And most importantly was untouched.

He dropped his bag and moved straight to the back wall, where the floor creaked under uneven boards. He pried one up with careful fingers, heart thudding, then reached beneath.

Still there. The real books.

He pulled them out one by one, handling them with care.

Worn leather bindings. The weird markings of the three connected rings. The pages were brittle but beautifully marked with hand-drawn diagrams and tightly packed script in a handwriting older than anything the school library had to offer.

He opened projection and self-levitation and flipped to the chapter on sustained airborne movement.

The notes he’d taken in his personal journal were quick scratches in the margins: breath control, spine alignment, object grounding, centre of gravity shift.

Lando touched the page, reminding himself before shoving the books back under the floorboard.

Once he’d packed up, he opened the door again and stepped out into the clearing behind the hut.

The sun was peeking through the clouds, casting a gold wash over the grass. He set the bag down at the edge and stood in the centre of the clearing.

Rolled his shoulders. Breathed in. Breathed out. Closed his eyes. Focused.

He felt the energy before he saw it, like a tremor just beneath the surface of his skin. It answered him now, quicker than it used to. Less unruly. Still sharp, still volatile, but familiar.

He focused on his own weight. His centre.

He felt the grass flatten slightly beneath his shoes as pressure shifted.

Then slowly he lifted.

Only a few inches at first. His arms flailed slightly for balance, but he kept himself centred, teeth gritted, focus narrowed to a point.

Inhale. Exhale. Just like on Monday.

He rose higher. A few centimetres. Then a meter.

He wobbled. Shifted again.

Two meters.

His breath hitched, but he held it.

Up here, everything was quieter. Even the wind seemed distant.

Then, suddenly. He dropped.

His shoes hit the ground with a hard thud, knees bending, hands outstretched for balance.

He didn’t fall. But his legs shook with the impact.

Still, a faint smile pulled at his mouth.

It was working.

He crouched to catch his breath, eyes flicking to the tree line.

No one was watching. No one was stopping him.

Not yet anyway.

And he was going to make the most of it.

-x-

The bell rang softly through the school grounds, a gentle chime signalling the end of the lunch hour. The clatter of plates and low hum of conversation faded as students began rising from the long wooden benches, gathering bags and drifting toward the exits in slow-moving waves.

At one of the side tables, the dorm group still lingered. The third years were spread across one end, half-finished drinks and dessert trays pushed aside.

Max was the first to glance toward the door.

“He’s not coming,” he said flatly, adjusting the strap on his bag.

Daniel frowned. “He has to come. Lewis has been watching too much for him not to come.”

Oscar didn’t look up. “He was with Lewis this morning for training. He could still be talking to him.”

George scoffed. “Or he’s run off again. How many times this week is that now?”

Alex sighed, voice quieter. “Four, five, I don’t even know anymore.”

Carlos leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“He’s not doing it to mess with us,” Daniel muttered.

“No?” Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Then what is he doing, Daniel? Because the rest of us have shown up to every drill, every lesson. The least he could do is—”

“He’s scared,” Oscar interrupted, sharp and soft all at once. “That’s what he’s doing. Running because he’s scared.”

The table fell quiet. Max exchanged a look with Daniel.

George raised a brow. “You say that like you know something we don’t.”

Oscar didn’t answer. He stood slowly, grabbing his tray and pushing it toward the stack near the kitchen door. “I’m going to the library.”

He didn’t wait for anyone to follow.

Charles stood next, grabbing his own bag with a grunt. “Maybe he just needed space after this morning. Whatever Lewis had him doing out there could have been intense.”

Daniel ran a hand through his hair. “Still…he should’ve told someone.”

Max’s eyes narrowed, flicking toward the wide dining hall windows that overlooked the eastern tree line.

They all filed out eventually, drifting apart with the rest of the students. But none of them could quite shake it, the quiet realisation that no one had seen Lando since Lewis pulled him aside.

And that silence, once again, was louder than any answer they had.

-x-

The courtyard behind the main school building was a peaceful space, stone paths winding between hedges, planters blooming with late-autumn herbs, and a long table beneath the spreading arms of an old ash tree. It was where the staff often gathered when classes were done, especially on quiet Saturdays like this one.

Lewis was already seated, sleeves rolled up, a mug of lukewarm tea between his hands as he scanned the half-filled notes from the morning’s drills. He barely glanced up as the others began arriving.

Seb dropped into the seat opposite him, rubbing a hand over his face. “We’re not doing that again,” he muttered.

Kimi arrived next, sunglasses on despite the shade, hands tucked in the pockets of his coat. “That bad?”

“I thought Charles was going to set me on fire at one point,” Seb said, jerking his chin. “How did it go with Lando?”

“You pulled him early, right?” Nico asked, settling next to Kimi.

“I did,” Lewis replied, voice steady. “We went through a controlled power session. One-on-one.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow as he approached. “And?”

Lewis leaned back in his chair. “He’s been teaching himself to reshape orbs. Full structure manipulation. Sustained levitation too.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“From the library books?” Jenson asked, arriving last with a raised brow.

Lewis met his gaze. “Not a chance. He’s lying about where he’s learning it.”

Kimi frowned. “You think he has outside materials?”

“I think he’s been hiding something for a while,” Lewis said. “He didn’t say where or how he’s practising, but the control he showed this morning, if he were unstable, it would’ve been dangerous. But it wasn’t.”

Seb muttered under his breath. “Yet.”

Lewis turned his mug in slow circles on the table. “He’s not dangerous. He’s scared. He’s burnt out. And he’s isolating himself from every support system we’ve tried to give him.”

Nico crossed his arms. “Do we pull him from classes? Enforce supervision?”

“That’s only going to push him further,” Fernando said softly. “He’s not responding to structure. He’s responding to survival.”

“I’m more worried about where he’s disappearing to,” Jenson said. “Because he’s definitely not going to the library every time he vanishes.”

“I’ve tried to contact his parents again,” Lewis said quietly. “Still nothing. No response on the crystal. No answer last month, either.”

Seb leaned forward. “I said it before, they’ve never picked him up. Never called. Never visited. I’ve had students with detached parents before, but this…this is abandonment in everything but name.”

The silence hung heavy for a moment.

Then Lewis said, “He’s coming with me again next Saturday. Same time. I’m going to keep pushing him to use his powers safely, to explain where he’s learning. But I don’t want him to feel like we’re hunting him.”

“And if he doesn’t come to you?” Nico asked.

Lewis’s jaw clenched, just briefly. “Then we find him.”

There were a few nods around the table.

“But no accusations yet,” Lewis added. “No pressure. Not until we know more. If he’s built something outside school grounds, somewhere he’s hiding and practising, confronting him could backfire.”

“Assuming he doesn’t run again regardless,” Seb muttered.

“He won’t,” Lewis said. “Not if we do this right.”

“Half-term is a week away.” Kimi reminded.

Jenson gave a dry huff. “Feels like we’ve lived a whole term in the last five days.”

Seb didn’t smile. “That’s because we have.”

Lewis hadn’t touched his tea. “Half-term might give him a chance to breathe. Less structure. No official lessons. We can check in without the pressure of daily classes.”

“But it’s also a week where he could vanish without anyone noticing,” Fernando added quietly. “No class schedule. Fewer student obligations. More room to disappear.”

Nico frowned. “Do you think he’s planning to run?”

Lewis hesitated. “Not…permanently. I don’t think that’s what he wants.”

“He’s not the kind to throw everything away,” Seb agreed. “But I think he would disappear to protect what he’s built. That training space, wherever it is, it means something to him.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried he’d get hurt again before we can intervene,” Lewis admitted.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried the rest of the third years would start following him if we’re not careful,” Kimi added.

That caught everyone’s attention.

He adjusted her sunglasses. “Max and Daniel haven’t said a word about what happened Thursday night. Neither has Oscar. But the shift in that group is obvious. They’re covering for him. You can see it, there's a divide.”

“They’re loyal,” said Fernando.

“They’re kids,” Kimi corrected. “And Lando’s clever enough to exploit that.”

Jenson tapped his fingers against his mug. “So what happens at the following weekend? It’s parents weekend?”

Silence again.

Lewis finally looked up. “We plan for him to be alone. Again.”

Nico’s brow furrowed. “And if he runs then?”

“Then we stop him,” Seb said simply. “That weekend’s going to bring everything he’s been avoiding into focus, parents, evaluations, teachers talking progress.”

“And if he’s not ready for that spotlight…” Fernando started.

“He’s not,” Lewis cut in. “But that doesn’t mean we keep avoiding it. He wants to be taken seriously. He wants to prove he’s in control. So maybe we start giving him chances to do that but on our terms.”

Kimi tilted his head. “And if he refuses?”

“Then,” Lewis said, standing slowly, “we make it very clear he doesn’t have to go through it alone. Even if he still thinks he does. We’re not going to let him end up in the wrong fifty percent.”

Chapter Text

The sun had sunken lower, casting long shadows through the thinning canopy. The air was crisp and sharp with the scent of pine and damp bark. A quiet stillness hung over the forest now, broken only by rustling leaves and the dull thud of something hitting the ground.

Lando groaned.

He lay flat on his back in the clearing, staring up at the swaying branches above him as aches bloomed across his spine and ribs. Another fall. Another failed attempt.

Another reminder that he was not, yet, what he needed to be.

He sat up slowly, hissing as pain flared across his side. He pressed his hand there, fingers brushing what was definitely another new bruise. His sleeve was torn at the elbow, one knee of his joggers was scuffed through, and a shallow cut had opened across the back of his wrist from an earlier slip into low branches.

And still, he got up.

He wasn’t done yet.

This time, he didn’t start from the ground. He limped back toward the crooked tree on the far edge of the clearing, an old twisted oak tree with a low branch perfect for climbing and a thick enough trunk to brace his foot on.

His hands were shaking a little now, and his breathing was faster, more uneven.

But he climbed anyway.

Halfway up, he paused. Five meters, maybe twelve. High enough that failure would hurt worse, but also high enough to actually mean something if he succeeded.

He stepped carefully along the thick branch, boots scraping the bark.

He’d been trying to launch himself directly from the ground for days now, floating up from a standing start. But it wasn’t enough. If he wanted to sneak out easier he needed to be able to float from his bedroom window.

So he tried a new strategy. Drop to lift.

He stared down at the forest floor, tried to slow his breathing, and let the energy gather. Felt it curl behind his ribs, in his spine, pressing outward.

It built fast, too fast.

He leapt, hovered for a second only to lose focus mid-air, and slam hard into the earth a moment later, rolling through the underbrush with a shout.

He coughed. Grass and dirt filled his mouth and nose. His ribs burned. His arm throbbed where he’d landed on it, and his cheek scraped the edge of a rock.

He didn’t move for a long moment.

Then, dragging himself into a sitting position, he pressed the sleeve of his hoodie against the side of his face and squeezed his eyes shut.

He could feel every bruise now. Every cut. His whole body buzzed with pain and fatigue.

But more than that, beneath it all, there was this burning shame.

Because he was supposed to be better by now.

He’d been getting better.

And suddenly it felt like nothing was working.

Lando sat with his back against the tree, head tilted back, eyes closed as his pulse throbbed in his ears. His body hurt, everywhere.

A deep, pounding ache had settled into his arms, legs, and ribs, layered beneath the sharper scrapes on his wrist, elbow, and face.

His hoodie was streaked with dirt. The hem of his shirt had now also torn on the last fall. His hands were shaking faintly from exertion.

He could have stopped. He should have stopped.

But instead…he wiped the blood from his lip with the sleeve of his hoodie, rolled to his feet with a pained grunt, and turned back to the tree.

One more time.

He reached the first branch slowly, fingers digging into the bark. Every stretch and pull made his muscles scream in protest. But he climbed anyway, gritting his teeth, jaw tight. This time, he didn’t go quite as high.

Maybe three meters.

Just enough.

He exhaled hard through his nose, locked his knees, and steadied himself. Then he closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and drew the power up again.

This time, he didn’t jump. He let go.

He let his body fall for a terrifying half-second, then the energy snapped into place.

He started rising. It wasn’t graceful. His left side dipped low. But it worked.

He hovered, barely a few meters above the ground, arms shaking, core straining, but he was holding it.

A single breath passed. Then two. Then three.

And when he finally dropped to the ground, it was soft. Controlled.

Lando stood still for a moment, chest heaving, pain still twisting through his muscles, but a quiet breathless laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

“I did it,” he whispered.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

Then, as he looked up, the gold light through the trees had turned pinky orange. The shadows stretched long across the clearing. The sun was slipping behind the horizon.

Lando’s expression faltered. His smile disappeared. Dinner would be soon and he didn’t want Seb or Lewis to send out a search party again.

“Shit.”

He quickly limped back to the hut and yanked the hidden floorboard up, checked that everything was in order then brushed himself off with what little strength he had, and threw his bag over one shoulder, careful not to jostle the worst of his bruises.

By the time he left the clearing, the first chill of evening was biting at the back of his neck.

The path back felt longer than usual, maybe because every step made his body throb in protest. His foot slipped once on a slope and he winced, nearly biting down on his tongue. But he kept moving, trainers crunching dying leaves underfoot.

The school rose slowly between the thinning trees, lights in a few upper windows already glowing warm and golden in the dusk.

He stayed to the shadows as he crept behind the dormitory building until he reached the familiar gutter pipe and began to pull him self up the four floors.

Lando gripped the windowsill, every muscle trembling as he dragged himself over to the ledge. His palms stung from where the bark had cut , his arms ached, and he was certain the graze along his ribs had gotten more cut during the climb.

Just a little further he thought.

He swung one leg over the windowsill and pulled himself back into the room, landing with a low thud that sent a jolt through his knees. He stumbled, then caught himself against the bed, barely managing to stay upright.

And froze.

Oscar was sitting on the edge of his bed, halfway through pulling on a hoodie. The look of startled panic on his face could have stopped time.

“Lando?!” he gasped, standing so quickly the lamp on his nightstand nearly tipped.

Lando cursed under his breath. “I thought you might have gone down already.”

Oscar took a step forward, eyes scanning him from head to toe. “What…what happened to you?”

Lando blinked. “What?”

“Your face…your arms—” Oscar’s voice cracked with rising panic. “You’re covered in cuts. You’re…your shirt’s torn, and your hands are…Lando, what did you do?”

Lando tried to speak, but the words got caught somewhere behind his teeth. He hadn’t seen himself in a mirror yet, but now he was aware of the sting along his cheekbone, the dried blood on his forearm, the smears of dirt across his shirt. The bruises must’ve already started forming.

He looked like he’d been through a windstorm made of thorns and rocks.

“I…it’s not—” He shook his head, swallowing. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I just…tripped. Outside. Nothing serious.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you believe it,” Lando snapped, then winced. “I just…I need you to help me. Please.”

Oscar blinked. “What?”

“Heal them,” Lando said, eyes wide. “Please. Before Seb or Lewis see. They’ve been on my case for weeks, and if they see this…if they think I’ve been out again—”

“Have you?”

Lando didn’t answer. His silence was all the answer Oscar needed.

The room was quiet except for the sound of Lando’s uneven breathing. He stood in the middle of the room, scratched and scraped, looking not defiant but desperate. Eyes too big for his face, shoulders hunched like he expected someone to yell at him any second.

Oscar’s voice was quiet. “Lando, I’m not supposed to use my powers without—”

“I know,” Lando whispered. “I know, okay? But I can’t get in trouble again. Not right now. I’ll get through dinner, and then I’ll deal with it. But please. Just…please.”

Oscar hesitated, jaw tight, eyes flicking toward the door as though expecting a teacher to burst in.

Then he stepped forward. “Sit down.”

Lando dropped onto the bed without a word.

Oscar crouched in front of him, eyes scanning each bruise, each shallow cut. He lifted a hand, letting his magic pool into his palm, a soft green light that shimmered like trees in the spring.

Lando flinched at the first touch, then stilled as the magic moved through him, cool and warm at once, knitting skin, easing pain, soothing muscles.

“You shouldn’t be doing this to yourself,” Oscar said quietly.

Lando didn’t respond. He didn’t have the words. He just closed his eyes and let the magic do its work.

Lando walked half a step behind Oscar as they made their way down to the dining hall, his freshly healed skin still feeling oddly tingly, like it hadn’t quite settled. Oscar hadn’t said much after finishing the last bit of healing. Just stood up, washed his hands in the bathroom, and mumbled that they were late.

Now, neither spoke as they passed through the arched entrance into the glowing warmth of the dining hall. The long tables were buzzing with noise, laughter and chatter rising in waves. Other years had already gathered, while the third years were seated at their usual table.

Charles noticed them first. “Finally,” he muttered around a mouthful of potatoes, “we were about to send Max to retrieve you both.”

Max glanced up from his plate and immediately frowned. “Where’d you go?” he asked Lando directly. “You missed the end of drills. Again.”

Lando slid onto the bench without looking up. “Just needed some air.”

George raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Carlos, beside him, didn’t even try to hide his sceptical look.

“You and this ‘air,’” Daniel muttered. “You’re going to get blown away one of these days.”

Oscar quietly dropped onto the bench beside Lando. He reached for a roll, his hands moving with calculated calm. But the light hadn’t quite faded from his fingertips. A faint green shimmer still clung to his palms, almost invisible under the glow of the chandeliers, but not invisible to trained eyes.

Across the table, Alex noticed. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask. But he paused, mid-slice through his pie, and looked between Lando and Oscar with quiet thoughtfulness before returning to his plate.

The conversation continued on around them. Daniel joking about who fell hardest in drills, Charles accusing Carlos of ‘accidentally’ launching a fireball too close to his ear.

But Lando stayed quiet. Even as the laughter rolled over him, the weight in his chest didn’t lift. The others were noticing. The questions were starting. And somewhere in the back of his mind, behind the freshly healed skin and heavy limbs, his thoughts circled like a storm, they’re watching. They’re waiting. Don’t fail.

-x-

The common room buzzed with the soft hum of voices and the occasional burst of laughter. Lamps glowed warm in the corners, throwing long shadows against the walls, and the fireplace crackled gently beneath the tall mantle. A few students had started dragging pillows to the floor, sprawling out with cards, books or snacks stolen from the kitchen.

Lando stepped in just behind the others, lingering near the doorway as if unsure whether to commit to the space or slip away unnoticed.

Before he could decide, Max was suddenly beside him, hand firm on his elbow. “Come with me,” he said lowly, not bothering to look back.

Lando hesitated.

Max tugged again. “Now.”

Without another word, Max steered him away from the others, down the short corridor just past the stairs that led to the dorm rooms. The hum of the common room faded behind them, replaced by quiet footsteps and the distant rumble of water pipes in the walls as Max pushed him into the small supply room.

Lando glanced sideways. “What?”

“You went back to your hut in the woods, didn’t you?”

Lando’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do.” Max’s voice was flat. “And you came back in through the window again. I know you did. You didn’t come through the common room. No one saw you till dinner.”

Lando shifted, eyes darting toward the floor. “So what if I did?”

“So,” Max said slowly, “you’re not being subtle anymore. Everyone’s watching you now, Lando. You know that, right?”

“I didn’t ask them to,” Lando snapped.

“Doesn’t matter. George is already asking questions. Carlos too. And the more weird things you do, the more secrets you try to bury, the more they’re going to dig.”

Lando’s jaw clenched.

Max’s tone softened, just slightly. “I’m not saying this to rat you out. I haven’t. And Daniel hasn’t either. But you’ve got to stop acting like this is something you can keep hidden.”

“I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”

“I know.” Max paused. “But one wrong move, and someone’s going to get scared enough to do something stupid. You’re powerful. That makes people nervous. You don’t get the benefit of the doubt.”

Lando looked away, chest tight. “I don’t want your advice.”

“You’re getting it anyway.”

Lando didn’t reply, just stared Max down like he was a second away from growling at him. Max watched him a moment longer, then finally exhaled and turned, walking back toward the common room.

Oscar hadn’t said much all night, that wasn’t unusual for him but lately the others had been staring at him like his silence was some sort of crime.

Alex slipped onto the bench beside Oscar, who had been nursing a lukewarm mug of tea by the window, watching the stars. The others had spread out into pairs and clusters, absorbed in casual conversation and card games.

“You okay?” Alex asked softly.

Oscar flinched slightly but nodded.

“You used your powers earlier,” Alex said casually, his tone low and non-confrontational. “At dinner. Your hands were still glowing.”

Oscar sighed. “I—I know.”

“Was it Lando?”

Oscar hesitated too long.

Alex leaned in just a little. “I’m not going to tell. I just want to know if he’s okay.”

Oscar glanced at the others across the room. “He came back with scratches and bruises. I don’t know what he’d done to himself, but he was panicked. He begged me to heal them before anyone else saw.”

“Did you ask what happened?”

“I tried. He brushed it off. Said he tripped. But it looked worse than that.”

Alex sat back slightly. “He’s in deep with something. That much is obvious.”

Oscar looked down at his hands. “He’s alone, Alex. Like really alone. And if we don’t help him, I don’t think he’ll let anyone in until it’s too late.”

Alex nodded slowly, his brow creasing with concern. “Then we'd better figure out how to help him…before someone else decides how for us.”

The common room had slowly quieted as curfew crept closer. One by one, the others filtered off to their bedrooms, the laughter dimming into tired goodnights and the occasional thump of a book dropped too heavily onto a desk.

By the time Oscar pushed open the door to his room, the halls were still.

Lando was already inside, curled up on his bed, facing the wall. His hair was damp at the ends, probably from a rushed shower. He didn’t move when Oscar entered just shifted slightly, enough to show he was awake.

Oscar hesitated in the doorway. Then shut it quietly behind him.

He moved around the room with careful steps, kicking off his shoes, folding his jacket over the chair, pretending for a moment that this was normal. Just another tired Saturday. But the silence between them buzzed with everything unsaid.

Oscar sat on the edge of his bed and let the quiet sit for a few breaths before speaking.

“Alex saw my hands,” he said softly.

Lando didn’t respond.

Oscar continued, “At dinner. The glow was still there. He didn’t say anything to anyone else, but he came and asked me after.”

Now Lando shifted, slowly rolling over to glance across the space between their beds. His eyes were shadowed in that guarded sort of way that Oscar had become so accustomed to. “What’d you say?”

“I told him the truth. That I used my powers. That you asked me to.” Oscar’s voice was steady, but quiet. “He asked if you were okay.”

Lando looked away again.

Oscar didn’t push. Just let the silence stretch between them like a line neither of them could decide whether to cross.

After a while, Oscar said, “He won’t tell. But others are watching you more closely now. Especially after Thursday. Especially after…everything.”

He didn’t ask where Lando had gone. Not this time. He hadn’t figured it out yet and he knew pushing right now would just make Lando retreat further. But his eyes were tired. And worried.

Lando’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “Thanks…for not saying more.”

Oscar glanced at him, quiet for a long moment before replying, “I just want you to be okay, Lando. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Lando turned his head into the pillow, not answering.

Oscar lay back with a sigh, folding his hands across his chest. The silence between them felt less sharp now, softer in a sadder way.

Neither of them spoke again.

But long after the lights dimmed, Oscar lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of everything Lando still wasn’t saying.

And Lando lay curled beneath his blanket, heart racing, mind spinning through books, flight drills, and the old cloak still hidden in the bottom of his wardrobe.

-x-

The storm rolled in with the dawn.

Dark clouds pressed low over the grounds. Rain lashed the windows in bursts, wind howling through the old gutters with teeth. Even the usual warmth of the dorm felt distant beneath the grey. Someone had tried lighting the common room fire that morning, but the smoke had refused to draw, hissing back into the fireplace until they gave up.

The boys scattered slowly through the shared space after breakfast, quiet, restless.

Lando hadn’t left the building once.

He sat on the far couch with a text book he hadn’t turned a page in for the past half hour, his legs curled under him, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. His gaze wasn’t even on the paper, just vaguely toward the rain-streaked window, brows furrowed like the weather outside was happening inside him too.

He hadn’t tried to sneak out. Hadn’t disappeared. Not even once.

And that was almost more unnerving.

Across the room, Max dropped onto the arm of the chair beside him with a casualness that was clearly too casual. “You know,” he said, “if you’re gonna start sticking around like the rest of us, you could at least pretend you’re not brooding like a some vengeful ghost.”

Lando didn’t look up. “I’m reading.”

“You haven’t turned a page in fifteen minutes.”

Lando tensed, flicked the page with a little more force than necessary.

Carlos spoke next, leaning on the back of the couch with a half-smile. “No escape drills today then? Bit wet for tree climbing.”

Lando’s head snapped up for half a second, eyes narrowing but then he caught himself and sank back again.

“Didn’t feel like it.”

The others exchanged quick glances behind his back.

Charles had claimed the floor, sprawled beside the coffee table with a deck of cards he was pretending not to eavesdrop behind. “Bit wild, isn’t it?” he piped up. “The timing of it all. You, staying in. Big storm outside. Feels like the universe is trying to tell us something.”

George, perched in one of the reading chairs, didn’t even look up from his book. “The universe doesn’t care about your melodrama, Charles.”

Alex gave George a look. Then turned his attention toward Lando again. “You alright?” he asked gently. “You’ve been…quiet.”

Lando shrugged. “Fine.”

Oscar, sitting beside Alex by the edge of the fireplace, looked over at him carefully but said nothing.

Max shifted, voice low. “You’re sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?”

Lando finally looked up, meeting his eyes. And there was a warning in the flatness of his expression, soft, maybe, but final.

“I’m sure.”

They didn’t press. Not because they weren’t curious because they were. They all were.

But something about the way he was sitting there, curled into himself like the walls were closing in, made them tread lightly.

So the room settled again into silence, broken only by thunder outside and the occasional murmur of cards slapping onto the table.

But Lando didn’t hear any of it.

His mind was miles away, tangled in wind and branches, mud and falling.

The hut. The books.

The last levitation attempt that had left his ribs aching despite Oscar healing.

What if the storm flooded the hut?

What if someone found it? What if someone had already found it?

By dinner, the storm had turned nasty.

Rain didn’t just fall anymore, it battered. Thunder rolled more frequently, deeper, like a warning rumbling through the bones of the school itself. The lanterns lining the stone corridors flickered against the draft, casting dancing shadows that made more than one student glance behind themselves.

The third-years filtered into the dining hall later than usual, several of them casting long looks toward the windows as the wind whistled through the high eaves. The glass panes shook in their frames. A few dripped from a leak somewhere overhead.

Lando trailed in at the back of the group, hoodie hood pulled over his curls, shoulders hunched tighter than usual. He looked like he was trying to disappear into himself.

They claimed their usual end of the long table, the eight of them slotting into the same seats they always did. Max nudged a bowl of soup toward Lando. Carlos passed the bread.

But Lando didn’t move.

His tray sat untouched in front of him. A spoon sat idle by his hand. He was staring past it, eyes glassy and locked somewhere on the woodgrain of the table. His fingers tapped once against the tray. Then again. Then stopped.

Alex noticed first. His gaze dropped to Lando’s plate. “You alright?”

Lando blinked. “What?”

“You haven’t eaten anything.”

“Not hungry.”

George, sitting across from him, narrowed his eyes. “Your never hungry anymore.”

Oscar, sitting beside Lando, shifted in his seat but didn’t speak. He just kept glancing down at Lando’s hands, one of them balled into a tight fist in his lap, the other white-knuckled against the edge of the table. His skin was pale under the light. Paler than usual.

Daniel, mid-mouthful, looked around the group, then leaned forward and said, voice low, “You look like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

“Daniel,” Max warned under his breath.

But Lando didn’t snap. He didn’t even roll his eyes.

He just lowered his head a little further. “Storm’s just loud,” he said flatly.

But they could all see it now, clearer than ever.

He was worried. Not just distracted. Not just tired. Worried.

About what, none of them could say. Not for sure.

But the look in his eyes, the faraway flicker and the subtle tremble in his jaw told them all they needed to know.

-x-

The teachers rarely linger outside the dining hall once the students were seated, but tonight the storm had brought a kind of unease that none of them could quite shake. The wind howled through the old stone corridors like a warning, the flickering lantern-light cast long, quivering shadows against the flagstones.

Seb stood just beyond the doorway, arms loosely crossed, gaze fixed through the crack in the door toward the third-year table. Beside him, Nico leaned against the opposite wall, frowning thoughtfully. Kimi had his hood up, barely visible at the far end, but his eyes flicked toward the table every few seconds.

It was Lewis who stepped up quietly last, arms folded.

“Still not eating?” he murmured under his breath, nodding toward Lando’s hunched form.

“No,” Seb confirmed quietly. “Barley eaten all week. He’s barely spoken today either.”

“He looks like a student about to bolt,” Kimi offered simply from the shadows.

“Or one who already has,” Seb replied. “And is terrified someone’s going to catch on.”

They all watched as Oscar glanced over toward Lando’s untouched plate, whispering something low, to which Lando gave the barest shrug. The rest of the boys looked uneasy. Max, in particular, kept glancing up the table like he wanted to ask more but couldn’t.

Lewis exhaled slowly.

“Whatever’s going on,” he said, “it’s coming to a head.”

“We’ve given him space,” Nico said, his voice tighter now. “Time. Patience. But it’s not enough, and it’s not helping anymore. He’s more withdrawn than ever.”

“He’s terrified,” Seb said. “And still completely alone in this. It’s not just the power. It’s that no one’s been there for him with it. Not properly and definitely not consistently. He’s trying to carry it by himself and that power wasn’t built to be carried alone.”

Kimi nodded once. “You’re going to have to confront it. Whatever he’s doing. Before it gets worse.”

Lewis’s jaw tensed. “I know.”

He glanced back into the hall, watching the boy at the end of the table who sat in the middle of a group but looked like he might as well be a world away. Haunted by something they hadn’t seen yet.

Not fully.

“But when I do,” Lewis said quietly, “I need to be sure I don’t break him further.”

-x-

By Monday morning the storm was raging.

Though the rain had stopped battering the windows, a dull mist hung over the grounds, pressing in low against the glass and seeping cold into the stone walls. The lanterns flickered half-heartedly against the greyness leaking into the classroom. Chairs scraped softly as the third-years filed into their seats, jackets damp, uniforms rumpled from a restless sleep.

Seb stood at the front of the room, sleeves rolled up, fire curling gently around his fingers as he summoned a small, focused flame for demonstration.

Lando barely looked at it.

He sat at the far end of the middle row, slouched low in his chair, one hand tapping lightly against his thigh. His notebook was open in front of him, but the page was blank. No scribbles, no diagrams. Not even his usual tired attempts to copy Seb’s explanations.

He stared ahead, eyes unfocused, barely blinking.

Across the room, Carlos and Charles both had orbs of flame hovering obediently over their palms as they tested out the balance technique Seb had just walked them through. Max, partnered with Carlos, had his arms crossed but was clearly listening. George whispered something to Alex, who nodded and lifted a hand toward the candle flame Seb had given them.

Lando didn’t move. Didn’t try. Didn’t even pretend to try.

Seb’s eyes flicked over to him more than once, but he said nothing. Not yet.

By the end of the lesson, the students were just beginning to settle into the rhythm of practice when the bell rang sharply through the room. Chairs scraped back again, and the familiar shuffle of books and bags followed.

Seb straightened, snapping his fingers to extinguish the classroom’s flames.

“Before you go,” he called, reaching to his desk and pulling out a small stack of folded forms, “these are for parents weekend, which is next weekend. Return them filled in by Friday.”

The papers were passed row to row. Murmurs rose as students skimmed the forms most grumbling about having to write letters or pretend to care.

But Lando didn’t even glance at his.

He took the sheet without a word, walked straight to the front, and dropped it on Seb’s desk, unsigned, unfolded, untouched.

Seb caught it as it fluttered down.

“Lando,” he said quietly, watching the boy already turning toward the door, “stay a moment.”

The room was still filled with voices and motion, but the sound dulled suddenly in Lando’s ears. He paused at the doorway, shoulders stiff, then turned back slowly.

Oscar lingered near the door, clearly hesitating to leave, but Seb gave him a nod.

“I won’t keep him long.”

Oscar nodded, shooting Lando a look before stepping out with the others.

Seb waited until the last student had filed out and the door clicked shut behind them. Then he turned back, holding Lando’s blank form between two fingers.

“You didn’t even look at it.”

Lando didn’t respond.

“Lando.”

He met Seb’s gaze reluctantly. “There’s no point.”

“It’s still school policy—”

“They’re not coming,” Lando said, flatly. “They never do.”

Seb watched him for a long moment, any humour gone from his expression.

“I know,” he said softly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Lando muttered, voice quieter now, eyes already flicking toward the floor.

Seb placed the form gently down on the desk. “Alright. I won’t press you on it now.”

There was a pause. Lando looked ready to bolt.

Seb didn’t stop him but he added before the boy could fully turn away, “You were somewhere else the whole lesson. And I’m not just talking about the lack of notes.”

Lando said nothing.

“I won’t push today,” Seb said, stepping aside. “But Lando, keep running like this, and eventually someone’s going to trip.”

Lando’s jaw twitched. Then, without another word, he left the classroom.

The combat theory classroom had been transformed into the usual wide mat-strewn training hall by the time Lando arrived, trailing behind the rest of the class with his bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder. The air buzzed with the thud of sparring dummies and the sharp bark of Jenson’s instructions echoing from the front of the room.

“Pairs,” Jenson called, pacing between groups of students.“Controlled power, controlled movements, same rules as always. I don’t want anyone in the infirmary today unless you’re actively trying to impress Nico, which I don’t recommend.”

A few scattered laughs, the usual tension-breakers.

Lando didn’t laugh. He barely looked around the room.

Max had already claimed one of the closer mats, turning when he noticed Lando hanging back. He gave him a brief, silent nod and beckoned him over.

“C’mon,” he said. “Just the basic pattern today, nothing fancy.”

Lando didn’t respond, but he walked over and dropped his bag beside the wall before stepping onto the mat. His stance was off. Shoulders hunched, feet barely set.

Max hesitated. “You good?”

“Fine,” Lando mumbled.

They took their stances. Max moved first, light, controlled steps, faint shimmer of teleportation just behind his movements as he demonstrated what Jenson had gone over earlier. A step, a pivot, then a faint jab, not hard, just part of the flow.

Lando didn’t move.

Max pulled the hit short just barely grazing his shoulder but it startled Lando enough to flinch violently.

“You’re meant to block,” Max said, frowning. “You’re not even looking.”

“Sorry,” Lando muttered, rubbing at his face.

Max sighed and reset. “Alright. Again.”

They tried the sequence again, Max slower this time, but Lando was even more out of step now, blinking too much, jaw tight. Max threw the final part of the combo,, clearly meant for Lando to dodge.

But Lando didn’t move.

Max’s fist caught him square in the nose.

“Shit—!”

Lando stumbled backward, sinking into the mats in his knees as both hands flying to his face as blood immediately began pouring from his nostrils.

Jenson spun around at the sound. “What happened?!”

Max dropped to his knees instantly, grabbing Lando by the shoulders. “I didn’t mean to! He wasn’t reacting, I thought he was gonna dodge, Lando, let me see—”

Lando swatted at his hands but winced hard, blood already dripping onto the mat.

Jenson was crossing the room now, expression unreadable. “Get him to the infirmary. Now.”

“I’ve got him,” Max said quickly, already rising and half-pulling Lando up with him. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Lando muttered something that sounded like “I’m fine”, but he was clearly dazed, one eye already watering as the blood showed no sign of stopping.

Max kept a firm hand on his back as he guided him out of the room.

Jenson didn’t speak again until the door clicked shut behind them, but when he did, it was to quietly mutter, “Not fine at all.”

The infirmary was quiet when Max pushed through the double doors, one arm still braced around Lando’s shoulders. The soft scent of herbs and steriliser clung to the air, a faint mix of dried lavender and something sharper, clean, familiar.

Nico looked up from his desk at the sound, his usual calm expression shifting quickly into concern as he spotted the blood running from Lando’s nose and down his chin.

“What happened?”

“It was an accident—” Max started quickly, helping Lando to the nearest bed. “Combat class. He didn’t dodge. I didn’t mean to actually hit him.”

Nico moved fast, already collecting supplies from the cabinet with practiced hands.

“Sit him down. Tilt your head forward, not back,” he added, as Lando instinctively leaned up and back in his seat.

Lando winced but obeyed, both hands hovering awkwardly near his nose, unsure what to do with them.

“I’m fine,” he muttered again, voice stuffy from the blood.

“You’re bleeding all over your jumper and you look like you just ran face-first into a wall,” Max shot back, standing nearby with his arms folded. “You’re not fine.”

Nico crouched in front of Lando and gently tilted his face toward the light. He worked quickly, cleaning away the blood, checking the bridge of Lando’s nose for a break. His movements were gentle but thorough, eyes narrowing as he examined the swelling.

“It’s not broken,” he said finally, voice low and professional. “You’ll have bruising, though. And the bleeding isn’t slowing as fast as I’d like.”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the cabinet again. “I’m going to heal it, just enough to stop the worst of it. Then I want you lying back for at least ten minutes. Understood?”

Lando nodded once.

Nico placed his fingertips just beneath Lando’s nose, and a faint green glow spread across his skin, pulsing gently. Lando tensed at first, then let out a slow, shaky breath as the ache in his face dulled almost instantly.

“There,” Nico murmured, standing again. “That should help.”

He handed Lando a damp cloth and gestured for him to lie back. “Ten minutes.”

Lando obeyed without argument this time, easing onto the bed, one hand still clutching the cloth. He looked pale, more than just from the punch and Max stayed rooted beside the bed, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“You’re really not okay, are you?” Max asked finally, once Nico had stepped away to wash his hands.

Lando didn’t answer right away.

He just stared at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded, the earlier tension returning in the lines of his jaw.

“I’m tired,” he said at last. Quiet. Honest.

Max exhaled. “Yeah. I can tell.”

Nico returned with a small cup of water and placed it gently on the side table. “Sip that. And you’re staying until I say otherwise.”

Lando nodded silently.

Max didn’t move from his post.

By third period Lando had been released by Nico just as the storm had rolled back, growling across the skies and rattling the old windows as students filed into the third-floor classroom. Lightning lit up the grey morning, casting flickering shadows across the tall bookshelves that lined the walls. Thunder followed close behind, heavy and sharp.

Lando entered last, slow and quiet. His face was still pale, the bruising around his nose faintly visible even under the soft glow of the overhead lanterns. He kept his hood up, sleeves pulled over his hands. While the others took out their books and settled into a dull pre-lesson chatter, Lando dropped into the seat furthest from the window and rested his head on the desk without a word.

Lewis was already standing near the board, halfway through writing the lesson title, glanced over, pausing mid-sentence. His gaze lingered a moment too long.

As the room quieted, Lewis finished writing, set the pen down, and walked across the classroom toward Lando. The others stilled. Conversations dropped off completely when Lewis crouched next to Lando’s desk, one hand braced lightly on the edge of it.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, voice low enough that only Lando could hear. “I heard what happened in Jenson’s class.”

Lando didn’t lift his head.

“I’m fine,” he said eventually, muffled by the crook of his arm. “It’s just the rain.”

A flicker of emotion passed over Lewis’s face, but he didn’t push. “Alright,” he said softly. “But you can always come to me, Lando. You know that.”

Lando said nothing.

The moment passed. Lewis straightened and addressed the class with a clap of his hands. “Let’s get started.”

The lesson dragged. A few students tried to whisper behind their notes, but the storm outside made the whole room feel smaller, more oppressive. Lando didn’t participate. His head remained down, his mind drifting.

Near the end of the class, Lewis wrote a single word on the board in thick letters, TEST.

Groans erupted instantly.

“Yes,” Lewis said, hands raised in mock surrender. “Test. End of this week. Covering everything we’ve studied this term so far. It’s not a punishment, I swear.”

More groaning.

From the back, Lando didn’t even react.

The storm hadn’t let up by the time they crossed the courtyard to the next lesson. Water streamed down the windows in thick rivulets, and thunder cracked overhead as the group shuffled into the high-ceilinged lab where Kimi waited.

The room was set for two halves of work, one side of the space cleared for practicals, the other set with desks and lab notes.

Kimi stood at the centre, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as always. He greeted the class, his gaze briefly flicking to Lando as he entered and hovered awkwardly near the back.

“Split as you need,” Kimi said, nodding toward the room. “You’ve all been assigned your current focus areas, those doing practicals, warm up with the basic sequence. Others, grab a study sheet from the front and get reading.”

Most of the students moved without question, some grabbing orbs and heading for the cleared space, others dropping bags at desks.

Lando lingered.

Kimi’s voice cut through gently. “Lando.”

He looked up.

“You’re down for a practical today,” Kimi said. “But I’ll give you a choice, practical or theory?”

Lando blinked, surprised.

“Theory,” he said quietly. “No one can get hurt with theory.”

Kimi gave the smallest of nods. “Alright. Take a sheet.”

Lando moved to the desk, took a sheet from the pile, and sat, shoulders still hunched beneath his hoodie. But as he opened the workbook, Kimi stepped over and stood beside him for a moment longer than necessary.

“After half term,” he said, voice low but firm, “you’ll be back in practical’s. You can’t learn if you avoid it.”

Lando didn’t respond. Kimi didn’t wait for one. He turned and walked back to the practical group, calling out corrections in his usual calm, steady tone. But he glanced back toward Lando more than once, just like Lewis had.

And Lando felt it. The eyes always watching, always waiting.

Chapter Text

The storm hadn’t let up. Rain streaked across the tall windows in relentless sheets, thunder cracked like bones overhead, and the sky remained a shifting bruise of grey and black. The air in the corridors of evernox was heavy, humid, and buzzing faintly with static. It pressed down on everything on the creaking wooden floors, the groaning old doors, and especially on Lando.

He didn’t know why he felt like this. Why everything felt…floaty. Untethered. Like if he didn’t hold himself together tightly enough, his own thoughts might start levitating.

It had stormed plenty of times before. Hell, evernox was practically built to withstand brooding skies and dramatic weather. But today, something felt different. He couldn’t explain it. He only knew it was like the storm was pressing on his shoulders and coiling itself into his ribs, weighing him down and winding him tighter with every breath.

The others had disappeared off to their tutorials. And for once, Lando didn’t follow his usual instinct to sneak off to the woods and the safety of his hut. He didn’t trust it today. Not with the lightning overhead and the wind snatching at tree limbs like claws. He didn’t really feel like getting fried out in the woods during a lightning storm.

So instead, he wandered through the hallways keeping his head down, hoodie drawn up, as he drifting along the hallways like a ghost. The hallways were mostly empty, everyone either in class or tucked away in the library or dorms. Only the occasional echo of footsteps in far-off stairwells reminded him he wasn’t completely alone.

His thoughts, however, were firmly back at the hut.

Back with the books he desperately needed to check on, probably even move at this point.

The weight of needing to practice never left him now. But as he turned a corner and stared out at the water-lashed courtyard, a new anxiety prickled at his thoughts.

The weather.

If it kept like this, he wouldn’t be able to keep using the woods. Wet ground and soon to be frosted ground meant footprints. And footprints meant someone could follow.

He needed a new space. Somewhere closer. Somewhere inside the school. Somewhere no one would think to look.

His feet carried him without much thought, weaving between hallways rarely used by third years, wings of the school that were mostly sealed off or labelled staff only. But labels had never stopped Lando when he was desperate.

That’s when he found it. Down a narrow stone passageway just past the old records room, a door with a faded sign half-fallen from its hinges. Out of bounds , maintenance access only.

The wood was warped with age, paint peeling. But the rusted handle still turned.

Lando glanced over his shoulder spotting nothing. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

It was darker in here. The narrow spiral staircase beyond the door coiled up like a spine, steep and ancient. The kind of thing the school definitely didn’t want students going to. Which made it perfect.

As Lando climbed, the stone walls grew colder and the sounds of the storm grew louder and fainter at the same time as the mechanical ticking of something above him grew more noticeable. The clock tower.

At the top of the staircase, the passage split one way leading to the back of the great old clock, its hands visible through the cloudy glass from the inside, and the other toward what looked like a sealed-off attic space. Lando hesitated, then moved toward the attic.
It took some effort, one of the wood panels had to be forced aside but eventually, he pulled himself into the space.

It was cramped at first, dust thick in the air, but it opened up slightly the deeper he crept in. A forgotten crawlspace, long-abandoned storage room and lookout all in one. The air smelled of dust and old books.

Perfect.

Lando dropped his bag and looked around. No furniture. No reason for anyone to come up here. His own hidden space…inside the school.

He smiled to himself for the first time all day.

-x-

Over the course of the following week the rain stayed.

Day after day, it lashed against the academies walls and bled down the glass panes in wavering streaks. The sky remained a washed-out grey and the constant roll of thunder in the distance was like a ticking clock counting down the moments until Lando broke.

By the time Thursday morning, his nerves were wound tight.

Every lesson blurred past in a haze of half-listened explanations and careful avoidance. He barely touched his food at meals, and every glance out a window brought another wave of anxiety.

His books were still out there hidden under the warped floorboards of his hut. Every night that passed without him checking felt like a risk. What if someone stumbled across it? What if the rain finally forced something loose and exposed what he’d been building for weeks?

He hadn’t dared go out since the storm started. He couldn’t leave muddy tracks or get caught soaked to the skin and he definitely wouldn’t be able to climb up to the window. The teachers were watching more closely now. Even George had narrowed his eyes at him one too many times. And Lewis…Lewis had been quieter lately, but Lando could feel it. A shift. A wariness.

He had to be careful.

But at least he had the attic now.

The hidden attic next the clock tower had become his new sanctuary, his backup base. He’d stolen a few old cushions from a forgotten storeroom and dragged up a thin blanket from the bottom of his wardrobe. One of the orbs had already made its way up there too, wrapped tightly in cloth at the back, behind a beam. He’d tested levitating it once or twice in the dusty space, just to make sure he still could.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was safe enough.

Saturday training drills had just been cancelled, announced by Lewis over dinner Thursday evening, supposedly due to the storm making the fields unsafe. That gave him a small window. No drills meant the teachers would be more relaxed. Less supervision. Less chance of being followed.

He just had to get through Friday.

One more day of acting normal. Of pretending everything was fine.

And then, if the rain let up even a little, he’d sneak out. Retrieve what mattered most. The books that had taught him more than any class at evernox. More than any teacher. He couldn’t leave them to rot out there. Not when they were the only reason he’d come this far.

They had to be kept close from now on. He’d keep them hidden and safe close by.

Even if that meant hiding them under the floorboards of his bedroom.

By the time Saturday morning finally rolled around the storm had eased but left its mark.

The grounds were still slick and heavy with water, the grass damp and darkened with fresh mud. The trees beyond the fields swayed gently in the post-rain hush, their bark darker and dripping, their leaves clinging with mist.

It wasn’t sunny, but it wasn’t storming anymore. And that was enough.

Lando stood just inside the dorm corridor, hoodie zipped, trainers double-knotted. His bag emptied out save for a blanket to wrap the books in, hung loosely over his shoulder. The others were scattered around the school, soaking in the rare bit of weekend freedom now that drills had been called off. He’d caught Oscar trailing after Alex toward the greenhouse, and Max and Daniel were clearly planning something stupid near the common room with a stack of cards and a highly suspicious grin. No one was watching him for a change so he slipped out the side exit expertly quietly, through the back courtyard and out the edge of the field and into the woods.

Every footstep squelched and left a faint mark but he kept moving, although he was really wishing he had practised levitating more now it would make this so much easier.

The air in the woods was colder, still damp from the storm, it clung to his skin like mist. The trees hung low and heavy with the weight of rain, and every so often a drop would fall on the back of his neck, making him flinch.

But still…he moved faster the closer he got.

By the time the small, crooked outline of the hut came into view through the thinning fog, his heart was pounding. Relief mixed with urgency.

He reached it, ducking through the rotted doorway. Inside, it smelled faintly of wet earth and wood rot. One of the cloth bundles had been slightly disturbed, water trickling in through a leak in the corner of the roof, but nothing was ruined as of yet.

Lando crouched at the edge of the warped floorboards and pried them up. There, underneath, were the books. Bound in old leather, hand drawn complex diagrams, and each cover with an in print in the corner of faint interlocking ring symbol he still didn’t understand but didn’t really care to dwell to much on.

He grabbed all the books, wrapped them tightly in the blanket before shoving them carefully into his bag. His fingers trembled slightly, not from fear but from the adrenaline and relief of finally having his books back. Safe with him. He was getting them out.

He looked around the hut one last time. Not knowing when it would be safe enough for him to come back.

There were still a few of the practice orbs, cracked glass sticks, diagrams on damp paper pinned to the wall with old nails. He left most of it, only tucking one small orb he had previously compressed into his hoodie pocket to bring to the attic later. The rest could wait.

The books couldn’t.

With one deep breath he slung the bag over his shoulder and stepped back out into the trees.

He didn’t take the same path back. He looped wide, careful not to walk over the wettest ground twice, doubling back on his own tracks. It took longer, but it was safer. Smarter. The last thing he needed was one of the teachers deciding to walk the edge of the woods and seeing footprints leading to a building no one was meant to know about.

When the academy came back into view, his hoodie and jeans were damp, but his bag was dry. He cut through the hedge again, creeping through the courtyard and back through the doors. No one saw him.

His heart only stopped hammering when he shut the dorm room door behind him and collapsed onto his bed, bag clutched tightly to his chest.

The books were safe. He’d made it. And now he just had to hide them.
He didn’t even drop his bag, just crossed the room straight to his bed and dropped to the floor. He pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands before prying at the loose board beneath where he slept, the same way he had dozens of times in the hut.

It took a bit of work, his fingers slipping on the tight wood, but eventually the board lifted with a low creak. There wasn’t much space beneath, only a few centimetres but enough for the books to pilled two high.

Carefully Lando unzipped his bag and unwrapped the books from the old blanket and placed them gently into the floor cavity, stacking them neatly side by side before he lowered the floorboard back into place.

It didn’t quite sit flush, but it was close enough that no one would notice unless they knew exactly what to look for.

Lando exhaled and leaned back on his hands, breathing heavily.

The books were safe. They were here, in the one place no one would expect them.

But now he had to be careful. He needed to get the teachers off his back.

He needed to act normal. Blend in again. Go to meals.

Talk. Make jokes. Maybe even participate in a classes again, if he had to.

But now the books were here, his secret tucked right beneath where he slept, and one wrong slip would have them hounding at his door again.

By the time Lando slipped into the dining hall, the others were already halfway through their meals.

The clatter of cutlery and low buzz of conversation filled the long room, the windows were dark with rain still sliding in quiet rivulets down the panes. Lando scanned the space quickly, no teachers were giving him suspicious looks for once so he then made his way toward the third-year table with his hoodie pulled low and hands shoved in his pockets like he’d just been in the library.

Oscar looked up first, surprised then relaxed just slightly. Max gave him a small nod from his spot, elbow-deep in some stew. Daniel raised a brow but said nothing. The others all shifted slightly to make room for him without question.

“Didn’t think you were gonna show,” Charles said, not unkindly, his voice muffled slightly through a mouthful of food.

“Wasn’t planning on skipping,” Lando replied with a shrug as he dropped into the empty seat between Alex and George. “Got caught up, that’s all.”

If anyone questioned what he got caught up in, they didn’t press.

Alex slid the breadbasket closer to him wordlessly.

For a few blessed minutes, the focus returned to the table, where dessert was being debated and second helpings fought over and Lando kept his head down, eating slowly and quietly.

“So…” Carlos leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “A week of no classes. You lot got plans?”

“Sleep,” Max said flatly.

“Fixing the loose leg of my chair,” George muttered, side-eyeing Daniel.

Daniel just grinned innocently.

“I might go down to the lake if it clears,” Alex offered. “It’s quiet down there. Good spot to think.”

“And freeze,” Charles added.

Oscar nudged Lando lightly. “What about you? Any plans?”

Lando shrugged, trying not to flinch at the pressure against his bruised side. “Might catch up on work.”

“Or,” Max cut in, “you could not spend all week with your nose in a book and actually rest.”

The others nodded, some teasing, some serious. Lando just smiled thinly.

He didn’t mention that the books were already under his bed. Didn’t mention that rest still didn’t come easily. Didn’t mention that even now, his mind was spinning with diagrams and training drills and the next time he could be alone.

“Guess we’ll see,” he said quietly, and returned to his food.

Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance again. No one seemed to notice, too full and too content with the break ahead. But Lando noticed. His eyes flicked to the windows.

The storm hadn’t passed yet.

As dessert trays were cleared and most of the hall was starting to thin out, the conversation at the third-year table shifted, as it always did when parents' weekend rolled around.

“Parents’ Weekend,” George said with a sigh, pushing his empty plate away. “Who’s actually got someone coming this time?”

Daniel made a face. “Mine are coming. Which means I’ve got less than a week to make my room look like I’m not a walking catastrophe.”

“Too late for that,” Carlos muttered under his breath.

Daniel kicked him under the table. Carlos yelped.

Charles chuckled. “My Mum will probably turn up. She likes making the rounds, seeing who’s got the strongest powers this year like it’s a bloody competition.”

“Isn’t it, for them?” Max drawled, eyebrows raised.

Charles just smirked, not denying it.

Alex smiled faintly. “My mum said she’ll try to come again. She made it last year, but it was a tight squeeze.”

“She better,” George said with a soft grin. “Your mum makes the best baked goods. Last year’s lemon cake nearly made Nico cry.”

“Not as much as the healing salve she left him,” Alex replied. “He still swears it worked better than anything he’s brewed himself.”

George turned to Lando then, casually but there was a thread of something gentler in his voice. “You heard anything yet?”

Lando stiffened, barely for a second. He knew what George meant.

He shrugged, keeping his tone even. “They don’t come. Never have.”

There was a pause. The kind that hovered for just too long before someone filled it. No one at the table said anything mean, no one laughed or pushed but the silence spoke volumes.

Oscar was the first to quietly move things on.

“I heard Seb’s having a full showcase day planned. All the years demonstrating their control progress and abilities. Jenson’s organising mock duels again.”

“And Nico’s doing a potion brewing open lab,” Alex added, slightly excited. “He’s been prepping for it all week.”

“And Lewis?” Max asked, half-turning toward George, who was always the first to know. “What’s he doing?”

“Something dramatic, probably,” George replied with a roll of his eyes. “Headmaster’s Showcase. Power and their potential, or something like that.”

“Ugh.” Carlos groaned. “I bet that means we all get dragged into group demos.”

“Lando,” Charles said suddenly, voice quieter now. “You…going to take part?”

Lando glanced up, wary eyes flicking across the table.

The idea of standing in front of parents and teachers, controlling floating orbs, trying not to break windows, or worse made his stomach knot.

But he just shrugged again. “Haven’t thought about it. Not like there will be anyone in the audience.”

Oscar didn’t look at him, but the way his jaw tensed gave him away. Neither did Max. But Lando felt his eyes, steady and watching.

“Well,” George said softly, breaking the growing tension, “it’s optional. Just saying. No one’s going to force you.”

“Right,” Lando murmured.

But he wasn’t so sure.

The boys slipped back into lighter conversation again, someone brought up Nico’s new pet owl, and someone else joked about starting a betting pool for which parent would accidentally insult a teacher this year, but Lando stayed quiet.

His thoughts were already far from the dining hall. Far from absent parents. Far from showings and demonstrations. They were back in the attic, under the floorboards, with his waiting books.

-x-

The academy always grew quieter during half-term break.

No lessons. No drills. No structure beyond mealtimes and the occasional optional workshop. A free week, as the staff put it, to ‘rest, review, and reflect.’

For Lando, it meant only one thing. Time.

Time without constant eyes on him.

He still went to meals. Made it a priority in fact. Oscar had grown more observant ever since the panic attack. If Lando missed too many meals again, people would start watching again. So he showed up to the dining hall on time, always.

He smiled just enough. Laughed when he had to. Nodded through conversations. Sat through long afternoon chats in the common room without twitching toward the exit.

And then, when no one was looking, he vanished.

Not completely, just enough to stop the twitching in his fingers.

He never took more than one book at a time. They rotated, one slipped into the bottom of his bag each morning, switched out each night beneath the floorboards under his bed.

On Monday, it was the one on fine object manipulation with detailed sketches of orb forms, blade extensions, and layered movement.

Tuesday, the book with the chapter on shielding and defensive redirection. That one made him feel…safe.

By Wednesday, he was diving into mental focus practices, exercises that demanded both emotional control and external finesse. It was exhausting and fascinating.

He brought an old practice orb up to the attic and made a routine of it, levitating, stopping, shifting. Precision became a ritual.

The attic, for its part, had become his own.

He’d cleaned the dust from the cracked windows. Piled up old cushions from a supply cupboard no one used anymore. Moved one of the broken desks under the sloped window for light. It was high up, mostly forgotten by students. Only storage was kept up there and with the stormy weather keeping most people indoors and uninterested in exploring, no one had come close.

No one but him.

But by Thursday, a few of the boys were starting to notice, again.

“Where’s Lando keep disappearing to now?” Charles asked lazily that afternoon, sprawled in the common room with a deck of cards.

“Library maybe?” Alex offered, not quite convinced.

“Maybe just avoiding George’s third ‘parents visit checklist’,” Max added with a smirk.

George huffed. “Some of us are trying to make a good impression, thank you.”

Oscar didn’t say anything.

He was watching Lando across the room, who had a book half-tucked under his arm and that distant look in his eyes again.

He always looked more tense after a few hours away. Like he’d been holding too much in. Like something inside him was straining.

Still, he was showing up. He was present. He wasn’t getting worse. That seemed…enough. For now.

The teachers noticed the to shift.

“Lando’s been attending meals consistently,” Nico mentioned in the staff lounge Thursday evening. “Quieter, but seems stable.”

“I’ve seen him reading more,” Lewis said, “still won’t talk much about the contents of the library books, but he’s been seen in the library. Doesn’t look like he’s been off school grounds once. That’s something.”

“Still slipping away, though,” Seb added. “He leaves the dorm, he may have been seen in the library but he's not always there and he’s not in the training hall. He’s going somewhere. Somewhere different, closer, I just don’t know where.”

-x-

The dining hall was buzzing on Friday morning.

Laughter rang louder than usual. Plates clinked under the rush of animated conversation. It was one of the few mornings in the half-term when everyone was wide awake, fully dressed, and down early for the event that hovered over them like static.

Parents’ weekend.

It didn’t officially begin until later that afternoon, but excitement had started to spill over the moment the sun crept in.

Charles was halfway through a croissant, gesturing wildly about something his mother had said in her last letter. “—and I told her absolutely not to bring that stupid dog again. Last time he ate through my textbooks.”

“Your dog ate a book?” Alex blinked.

“He’s got taste,” Carlos smirked.

George, sitting beside Alex, nodded. “My parents are bringing pastries from the city bakery. I told them the dining hall could really use the upgrade.”

“You told them to cater for the school?” Daniel asked, mouth full of toast. “Of course you did.”

Carlos grinned. “My parents are bringing food too. There’s this empanada stall they love, Dad said he’s sneaking a whole tray in.”

Daniel looked up from his plate, grinning. “That’s it, I’m spending the afternoon with you.”

“I thought your parents were coming too,” Max said.

“Yeah, both of them.” Daniel sat up straighter. “Mum already told me she’s got one of those embarrassing tote bags with my baby photos on it. Can’t wait.”

Oscar let out a quiet chuckle next to Lando, pushing a spoon around his bowl. “Mum says she’s bringing my baby blanket. ‘Just in case I’ve forgotten my roots.’”

A wave of laughter rolled through the table.

Everyone was buzzing. The mood was light, electric, like the weight of the school's expectations had briefly lifted.

Everyone except Lando.

He was quieter than usual, and he had been pretty quiet recently. He stirred his drink more than he drank it. Ate half a slice of toast and nothing else. Every time the word parents came up, something in his expression stiffened.

He didn’t look upset. Just tired. Edges dulled. Like someone trying very hard to stay steady while everything swirled around them.

Max noticed first.

He nudged Lando gently under the table. “You alright?”

Lando blinked, startled, before nodding too quickly. “Yeah. Just didn’t sleep well.”

Oscar glanced over, brows slightly drawn. “You sure?”

“I’m fine.”

George was already launching into a description of his father’s new business venture, unaware of the undercurrent. Everyone else drifted back into their conversations.

Lando kept his eyes on his plate. No one asked who was coming for him, they all already knew the answer.

No one was.

He’d never had visitors, not in first year, not in second, and certainly not now. His parents had sent him here because it was far, and they didn’t want to deal with what he was. That truth had stopped stinging years ago. Mostly.

But something about the table, about the laughter, the casual complaints and family jokes, it made the space around him feel tighter.

He picked at his toast again.

Oscar’s hand brushed his knee under the table, barely a touch. Not quite a comfort. But an anchor.

And Lando swallowed, quietly grateful.

-x-

The sound hit before the sight.

Car engines rumbling up the long gravel driveway. Doors slamming. Laughter. Footsteps, so many footsteps, echoing into the stone courtyards and down the arched hallways of evernox.

Mothers with umbrellas tucked under their arms. Fathers with overnight bags, navigating the school’s winding halls like explorers in unfamiliar terrain. One family had already set up a picnic blanket under a wide oak tree near the eastern wing, despite the lingering dampness of the storm.

Up in the third-year dorm, the mood was almost giddy.

Charles had bolted down from the window the second he’d spotted a very fashionable woman in oversized sunglasses step out of a sleek black car. “She’s here!” he yelled before darting toward the stairs. “Carlos don’t touch my side of the room!”

Carlos rolled his eyes, checking his reflection in the dusty mirror before following. “Wish me luck. Dad’s going to quiz me on elemental formations again.”

Daniel was already halfway to the door, dragging a raincoat behind him. “I can hear my mum’s laugh from the hallway. Let’s go, Max.”

Max hesitated just a moment, glancing toward Lando.

Lando sat on the windowsill, pretending to look through a textbook. But his eyes didn’t move across the page.

Max opened his mouth, then closed it as he followed Daniel out.

George and Alex were next. George’s voice floated ahead of him, “Mum and Dad should be parked near the west garden, they hate gravel driveways.”

Oscar lingered. He stood by the doorway of the dormitory nervously adjusting his sleeves as the faint chatter of approaching families echoed up the stairs.

Lando didn’t look up when Oscar grabbed his jacket from the hook.

“See you at dinner?” Oscar asked.

Lando gave a noncommittal hum.

Oscar waited…then nodded once and left.

Then it was quiet again.

The kind of quiet Lando had grown used to.

He leaned back slowly, listening to the distant noise outside, parents laughing, footsteps on the stairs, someone yelling “he’s taller than last month!” and the familiar shuffle of shoes in the hallways.

No one was coming for him.

He knew that. He always had. But somehow this year it felt heavier.

Lando toke to wandered alone in the late afternoon. Not far, just enough to breathe.

Parents filled the grounds, catching up with teachers, students leading them around like guides.

Seb walked past at one point, smiling as Carlos introduced him to his mother. Kimi stood near the east wing, deep in conversation with Max’s mum. Nico was crouched beside Daniel’s dog, brought in on a lead with Daniel’s dad insisting, “he’s part of the family, he had to come.”

Lando kept walking.

Some of the teachers noticed him. A few offered nods, polite smiles.

But none approached and that was fine.

Really, it was.

He wandered toward the library, then doubled back. Spotted the edge of the woods, his woods, and turned away quickly.

Eventually, he found himself on a bench near the clock tower, just close enough to feel like he was still part of it all, but far enough away that no one really saw him.

He tucked his hands into his sleeves and stared at the soft grey clouds hanging low above the trees.

Tomorrow the parents would watch demonstrations, Sunday there would be a big banquet, Monday classes would start again and most would be gone with only a handful remaining to observe.

And after that…things would go back to normal.

The sun was starting to dip behind the clouds, casting a muted orange hue through the rain-speckled windows when Lando returned to his room. From the dining hall downstairs, the hum of conversation drifted faintly up the open window, laughter, cutlery clinking, the buzz of families reunited.

But Lando stayed where he was, perched on the edge of his bed, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, chin resting just above them. His boots were still wet from his earlier walk across the courtyard.

The knock on the door wasn’t a surprise, he’d heard the familiar steps a moment before.

Still, he didn’t answer.

The door creaked open anyway.

“Lando.”

Sebastian’s voice was quiet, not scolding or forceful. Just there.

Lando didn’t look up. “I’m not at dinner.”

“I noticed,” Seb replied, stepping into the room fully, closing the door behind him. “Everyone’s wondering where you are.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Seb didn’t say anything right away. He walked across the room and lowered himself slowly into Oscar’s chair, folding his arms across his knee, waiting.

“I’ve seen you at every meal this week,” Seb said gently after a moment. “I don’t think that’s happened in quite a while.”

Lando gave a small shrug, eyes still fixed on the floor.

“You’ve been doing well,” Seb continued. “Showing up. Trying. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

Lando’s shoulders twitched slightly, almost like he wanted to flinch but held it back. “…It’s loud,” he mumbled finally. Seb tilted his head slightly, listening. “Everyone’s down there catching up with their parents,” Lando said, his voice barely audible. He paused, and when he spoke again, it cracked slightly. “I’m used to them not being there. I just…”

Seb’s tone softened even more. “It’s okay.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “I just don’t want to be reminded,” he said quietly. “Of what I don’t have.”

Silence settled again, thick but not uncomfortable. The kind that comes when something honest has been spoken aloud.

Seb exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to go down,” he said. “Not if it’s too much. But… you’re not alone here, Lando. Whether they showed up or not there are still people who see you. Who care.”

Lando gave a small, shaky nod. He didn’t look up, but his grip around his knees loosened slightly.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” Seb added gently as he stood.

Lando still didn’t answer, but just before Seb reached the door, his voice came again, softer now. “Thanks.”

Seb turned just enough to offer a quiet smile. “Anytime.”

Then he stepped out, the door clicking closed behind him.

-x-

The buzz of conversation didn’t falter as Seb re-entered the dining hall. Parents sat clustered around the long wooden tables with their children, catching up over plates of warm food. The lights glowed a little softer than usual, casting a cosy, welcoming feel over the room.

At the far end of the hall, Nico, Kimi, Jenson and Fernando were seated together. While Lewis stood nearby, casually leaning against the edge of the buffet counter as he sipped from a mug of coffee, eyes scanning the room with the quiet alertness of someone used to managing chaos with a glance.

Seb made his way over, he didn’t sit just rested a hand lightly on the back of a nearby chair.

“I found him,” Seb said, his voice low but firm. “He’s in his room.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You not dragging him down?”

“No,” Seb replied. “He’s not up for it.”

Nico frowned faintly from across the table, setting down his fork. “You’re not forcing him anyways?”

Seb shook his head. “No. He’s tried so hard to pretend it doesn’t bother him, you know? That his parents never call, never show up. But today…” He let out a slow breath. “It’s harder to ignore when everyone else is surrounded by their families. When it’s being shoved in your face from every direction.”

“He didn’t say all that, did he?” Jenson asked gently.

Seb gave a small shrug. “Not exactly. But I could see it. I’ve seen it building all week—how quiet he’s been, how carefully he’s been holding himself together. He’s just trying to survive the day.”

Lewis’s gaze flicked toward the doors, expression unreadable. “We knew this weekend might be hard for him.”

“We did,” Nico agreed quietly. “But I don’t think we realised how much it would hit.”

Seb nodded. “I’m going to take him something to eat. He didn’t ask but…I think the gesture will matter.”

“Good,” said Fernando, his voice barely above the clatter of cutlery. “Let him know we haven’t forgotten him just because his parents did.”

Seb gave a tight smile at that, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. “I’ll bring him something warm.”

Then, with another glance toward the softly glowing windows and the low murmur of the room, he turned to head toward the kitchens, leaving behind a quiet silence between the staff that said more than words ever could.

-x-

The dorm was quiet now. Seb had brought up food not that long ago before returning back downstairs.

Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked. A faint laugh echoed before it was hushed quickly by a roommate. Rain tapped softly against the windows, steady and constant, wrapping the building in a kind of heavy stillness that settled deep into the bones.

Lando lay curled on his side, facing the wall. His blanket tugged up to his shoulders, but he hadn’t slept. His eyes burned from keeping them open too long, but even when he shut them, rest wouldn’t come.

He could still hear the echoes of laughter from dinner. Parents hugging their children, stories exchanged in excited tones.

He hadn’t been missed at dinner. Not by the group, not really. They were kind, but they had their families. And Lando…Lando didn’t have anyone waiting at that table. Not ever.

His fingers twisted in the blanket.

He used to imagine his parents might show up one day. That they’d walk through the gates by surprise, all stern and polished and proper. Pretending they’d missed him, that they’d cared. But that hope had died years ago. After the second Christmas without a phone call. After the birthdays without even a letter.

They didn’t want a son like him. Not one who made cutlery rattle when he was upset. Not one who ruined things.

The rain spattered harder for a moment against the glass, wind rattling the window frame.

Lando let out a breath, shallow and tight.

The attic had helped. The quiet up there, the peace. It was dry, safe and hidden. But it wasn’t the same. The clocktower room was borrowed space, tucked just far enough into the building to be out of sight, but never far enough to feel like his. Not like the hut.

The hut…that place was his. The soft wooden floorboards he’d cleaned himself. The hidden creaks he’d memorised. The books that had been left on the table. The orbs, the scuffs from training, the place where he’d first floated an entire bench and held it steady.

It called to him, even now. Whispered like it was waiting.

He could still sneak out. He’d done it before, his jacket was by the door, his shoes dry, tucked under the bed. He knew how to move without drawing attention.

He rubbed at his arm, fingers brushing a faint bruise from last week’s training.

He knew it was stupid. Dangerous, maybe. But part of him needed to see it. To make sure it was okay. Because that hut wasn’t just a place to train. It was the only place he’d ever built something for himself, something that didn’t belong to the academy, or the teachers, or the expectations piled on him like bricks.

It was his and his alone.

And no matter how loud the storm got, the thought of it out there, soaked, forgotten, maybe ruined, gnawed at him like a loose thread he couldn’t stop pulling.

His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Nearly 2am.

Lando closed his eyes, tried to breathe deeply, tried to talk himself out of it.

He could wait just a little bit longer.

He could slip out tomorrow during the demonstrations.

No one would notice his classmates would be too preoccupied with showing off to their parents and teachers would be too busy being hounded by the parents for progress updates on their beloved babies.

No one would be there to ask about him, there would be no to show off to. He could simply disappear into the woods for a short while. Breathe again.

Chapter Text

The campus was buzzing with life on Saturday morning. Families strolled the paths, no longer huddled under umbrellas as the rain finally cleared. Teachers stood in small groups near demonstration setups, their powers glimmering in quick bursts of controlled displays meant to impress. Laughter echoed off the stone walls, and the air felt lighter than it had all week, but Lando kept himself to the edges.

He hadn’t meant to stop walking. He’d made it halfway to the back courtyard, his bag slung across his shoulder, a flimsy excuse of a plan in his mind. Wait until the elemental demonstration started, duck out through the back, slip along the tree line until he could cut into the woods unnoticed. He’d done it before, it would be easy.

He just had to pause. Something had pulled his gaze sideways to where the others stood in the courtyard. Carlos was grinning while his mum snapped a photo of him and Charles mid-practical. George was laughing with both his parents, trying to dodge a very eager demonstration from Alex’s mum. Daniel stood proudly beside his father, nodding as Jenson showed off a complex teleportation trick. And Max had been lifted off the ground by his mum in the middle of a hug so tight Lando wondered if he could still breathe.

Lando watched, stomach twisting. He should’ve kept walking. Should have ignored them all.

A shadow fell beside him. “Where are you going?”

Lando jumped slightly and turned to find Lewis watching him, arms loosely folded, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. Lando froze, lips parting but offering no answer.

“You just gonna stare at me?” Lewis asked, brow arching.

Lando’s fingers tightened on the strap of his bag. “I was just going to get out of everyone’s way,” he muttered. “The school doesn’t need me to have an episode with all the guests around.”

Lewis studied him a moment. “You want to get out of here for a bit?”

Lando blinked. “We’re not allowed.”

“I have a feeling that’s not stopped you.”

Lando’s silence gave him away. Lewis only gave a small nod in return.

“You spend the better part of the year here,” Lewis added, glancing around at the families, at the joy and belonging threaded through the crowd. “I think we can allow for you to get out. Just for a bit.”

Lando hesitated. His voice dropped. “Really? This isn’t some trick and you’re gonna drop me at the station and tell me I’m too much, that my powers are…that they’re…”

Lewis turned to face him fully, voice gentler now. “Whatever they’ve said, Lando, it’s not true. This isn’t a trick.”

Lando’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered. “But if you take me to the station…”

“I’m not taking you to the station,” Lewis said, almost smiling. “Now go. Get a jacket. Lose the bag. You look like you’re trying to escape, not go for a walk.”

Lando gave a breath of a laugh, dry, shaky but he nodded anyways.

“I’ll go tell Seb, just in case he comes looking and freaks everyone out when you’re not here.”

“Thanks,” Lando mumbled, already turning back toward the dorm.

Lewis watched him go, that half-smile fading as his gaze lingered.

Seb was mid-conversation with Nico and Jenson near one of the demonstration tents when Lewis approached, pulling his coat tighter against the cool breeze. The sky remained overcast, but the clouds had thinned letting shafts of sun breakthrough in patches over the courtyard.

“Seb,” Lewis called softly, cutting across the chatter of families and the buzz of controlled spells. “Can I grab you for a second?”

Seb turned, immediately catching the tone. “Everything alright?”

“I’m going to take Lando out for a bit,” Lewis said without much ceremony. “Just into town. Bring him along for some errands.”

Seb’s brow creased. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Lewis exhaled, glancing back across the courtyard in the direction Lando had disappeared. “Not really,” he admitted. “But it looked like he was going to run again. Had his bag packed, eyes flicking towards the tree line.”

Seb crossed his arms. “And you think letting him leave the school grounds is going to stop him from running?”

“I think,” Lewis said slowly, “being away from the school, away from the stares, the family reunions might do him some good. Might show him we’re still on his side as the term starts up again.”

Seb studied him for a long moment, expression unreadable.

Lewis added, more quietly, “Maybe if he sees we’re not here to trap him, it’ll help him open up. He’s barely hanging on, and we’ve all seen it.”

Seb sighed. “He’s been better this week. Quieter, yeah, but he’s been showing up. I thought the pressure might be letting off.”

“It is. Just enough that he’s breathing again. But not enough that he trusts it.”

A beat passed before Seb gave a small nod. “Okay. Just don’t let him talk you into a train ticket.”

Lewis gave a soft, wry smile. “He's more worried that's where I'm actually taking him, he doesn't want to run. He just wants to be understood.”

“He’s scared,” Seb muttered, watching the students gathering for the next demonstration. “But I think he wants help. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it yet.”

Lewis looked toward the dorms again. “Then I’ll try asking first.”

-x-

Lando stood just inside the towering front doors, his coat zipped high against the wind and the dull grey sky pressing low above. The familiar ache of anticipation twisted in his stomach, but he kept his arms folded tightly, doing his best to look calm. A part of him still didn’t believe Lewis had actually meant it, that he hadn’t reached his limit and was ready to give up on Lando like everyone else in his life had.

He glanced down the long gravel drive just as the headmaster appeared, striding from the courtyard with a satchel slung over his shoulder and car keys jingling in one hand.

“Ready?” Lewis asked, his tone neutral but not unfriendly.

Lando nodded, stepping out from under the cover of the front doors. The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they crossed to the staff car parked just before the enchanted boundary.

As they climbed in, Lando hesitated just a moment before sliding into the passenger seat and breaking the silence.

“So…if you’re not taking me to the station,” Lando muttered, side-eying him, “then where exactly are we going?”

Lewis chuckled softly, starting the engine. “Into town. I’ve got a few errands to run.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. “Such as…?”

“I need to pick up some books from the shop,” Lewis said, putting the car in gear. “And a few small things, boring grown-up tasks. Groceries, class supplies, something for Nico’s tea obsession.”

“Wow. Riveting,” Lando deadpanned, settling into the seat as the car rolled forward.

Lewis glanced at him. “You’ve been reading a lot lately. I figured you’re probably sick of the same few library books.”

“They’re not that bad,” Lando said, though the slight lift of his shoulders betrayed the truth.

Lewis smiled faintly. “Well, I’ll let you pick something out. My treat.”

Lando looked over suspiciously. “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“It has to be educational,” Lewis said smoothly. “I am still your headmaster.”

Lando scoffed. “What if I want a zombie novel or a stack of comics? Those are educational.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “In what universe?”

“In case of a zombie apocalypse,” Lando said, as though it were obvious. “Come on, that’s basic survival prep.”

Lewis smirked. “Alright then. If that’s your angle, I suppose I can’t argue.”

The conversation lulled after that, Lando stared out the window watching the thick forest thin into uneven hedgerows and old stone walls. The road curved down into the valley, revealing rooftops nestled among winding streets and ivy-covered buildings.

He’d never been to the nearby town before, not once since he’d come to evernox. It felt like stepping into an entirely different world. Quiet and quaint like something out a picture book.

Lewis parked just off the high street and gestured for Lando to follow.

They walked side by side past a bakery with steaming windows, a florists overflowing with dried herbs and colour and a second-hand shop stuffed with trinkets. Lando kept his hood up and head low, uncertain how to exist here among people who would probably banish him the second they found out what he is.

Lewis held the door open to a cosy bookshop, bells jingling above as they stepped inside. The air was warm and smelled like dusty paper and dried flowers. Shelves rose all the way to the high ceilings of mismatched book.

“I’m going to speak to the attendant about a few holds,” Lewis said, gesturing to the long central counter. “Take a look around.”

Lando didn’t need telling twice.

He wandered slowly, fingers drifting across worn spines and glossy covers. He tried not to look like he cared, but something eased in his chest as he lost himself between the aisles.

Eventually, he found a quiet corner. When he spotted on a high shelf, half-hidden behind a newer volume on magical theory, a book titled a history of telekinesis, the downfall and the powerful. It was bound in deep indigo leather, the title embossed in silver.

His stomach twisted, but he didn’t put it back. Instead, he cradled it gently in his arms, the weight strangely comforting.

“Find something?” Lewis asked, appearing beside him again, holding a small paper bag full of a stack of texts for himself.

Lando nodded, holding up the book. “Think this counts as educational?”

Lewis smiled. “Absolutely,” before heading for the counter.

Just as they stepped outside again, Lewis spoke, softer this time, almost out of nowhere, “You know…just because your ability’s rare, doesn’t mean it’s something to hide from.”

Lando’s expression twitched. “It is. That’s why they never come around. That’s why I got sent here in the first place.”

Lewis didn’t argue instead he glanced up at the darkening, cloudy sky. “Come on. Let’s get this done before the rain starts again.”

Lando followed him quietly, book clutched to his chest like a shield.

After the bookshop, they crossed the street to a small apothecary tucked between a tailor and a traveller’s market stall. The scent of dried herbs and oils met them as the door creaked open.

Lewis passed Lando a small basket. “Since you’re here, you can help. Nico needs more valerian and burn balm. The green jars with the copper lids.”

Lando scowled slightly, but didn’t argue. He trailed behind Lewis through the narrow aisles, collecting jars and bottles with care. For all his reluctance, there was something soothing about the quiet order of the shop, the warm yellow light and the sound of rain starting to patter lightly against the windows.

Lewis chatted briefly with the apothecary, Lando didn’t say much, but he watched everything with sharp eyes and a calculating look behind his quietness.

From there, they stopped at a supply shop, where Lewis browsed pens and enchanted notebooks, before guiding Lando down a quieter street toward a small, weather-worn grocer.

“You eat bananas?” Lewis asked, casually tossing a few into his basket.

“Uh…sometimes?”

“Good. We’re getting some. You need potassium.”

Lando made a face. “You sound like Nico in that health class.”

“He’s rubbing off on me,” Lewis said dryly. “And he’d give me hell if I brought you back without a proper lunch, so would Seb.”

By the time they stepped into the cafe, a cosy, slightly crooked building with stained-glass windows and thick velvet drapes, the clouds had dispersed again and a light golden light hung in the air. The bell above the door jingled as they entered, warmth wrapping around them like a blanket.

A waitress led them to a table near the back, partially screened by a shelf of plants. The table was small, tucked by a window that fogged lightly from the difference in temperature.

Lando shrugged off his coat, folding it over the chair beside him. His new book was still clutched tight under his arm.

They ordered simple food, soup and warm bread, tea and a slice of cake to share. The waitress smiled when Lando stumbled over his words. Lewis didn’t say anything, just quietly thanked her for both of them.

For a while, they ate in silence.

Then Lewis, sipping his tea, asked without looking up, “You ever been to town before?”

Lando shook his head. “No.”

“Not even during drop-off days?”

“I've only ever seen the school and the station,” Lando said quietly.

Lewis nodded once, slow and thoughtful.

Lando looked down at his bowl. “They don’t…really want anything to do with me. Not since I started showing my power. It freaked them out.”

“They should’ve helped you,” Lewis said, tone flat but quiet. “You’re just a kid.”

“It is what it is,” Lando mumbled, fiddling with the edge of his napkin.

Lewis leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “I’m not going to pretend that everything about your power is easy. But you’re not broken, Lando. You never were.”

“You say that,” Lando said, still not meeting his eyes. “But if you saw what I could do…what I have done…”

Lewis didn’t push. “I’m not scared of you.”

Lando looked up at him, face unreadable. “You should be.”

A silence fell between them. Not heavy, just real.

After a while, Lewis spoke again, gentler this time. “You found something at the bookshop you like?”

Lando nodded. “Yeah. No one's ever said a lot about telekinesis, why is has such a bad rep. I just want to understand myself more.”

Lewis watched him for a beat, “Then it’s a good thing we got it.”

Lando said nothing. But his fingers, curled protectively around the book on his lap, tightened slightly.

The car ride back was quiet, only the hum of the engine blending with the soft drum of rain on the windshield could be heard. The world outside was grey again, trees disappeared under the weight of the mist and the fading light. The book rested on Lando’s lap, and though he hadn’t opened it yet, his fingers traced the spine again and again.

Lewis glanced over as they neared the winding road that would take them back up to evernox’s gates.

“I know it’s hard,” Lewis said gently, breaking the silence. “With all the parents around this weekend. But please don’t run. Just…stay on school grounds, okay?”

Lando let out a soft breath, his gaze fixed on the window. “You don’t want me causing issues, I get it.”

Lewis frowned. “You don’t cause issues, Lando. You’re a student. It’s our job to worry. To care. And to look out for your well-being. Not to punish you for struggling.”

There was a pause again, and then barely audible, Lando muttered, “Okay.”

They passed through the outer gates, the familiar spires of evernox began to rise above the tree line, the clock tower casting a long shadow across the field.

“Classes start up again on Monday,” Lewis said, his voice a touch firmer now, though not unkind. “I want you participating again.”

Lando didn’t respond.

Lewis continued, quieter, “No one is scared of you, Lando. They’re scared for you. And the longer you try to hide your power, the more it’ll feel like it controls you. You need to let yourself be helped.”

“If I hurt someone again…” Lando whispered, his voice cracking.

“You won’t,” Lewis said immediately, turning to face him even as he slowed near the gravel path. “I’ve seen what you can do. What you’re capable of. You’re not a danger, Lando, not if you focus. Block out the fear, the noise, the doubt. You’re stronger than that. But I won’t lie to you, if you keep trying to do it all alone, your power will consume you.”

Lando swallowed thickly, his hands tightening on the book.

“I won’t let that happen,” Lewis said. “But you have to meet us halfway.”

Lando was quiet for a long time. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I’ll try.”

Lewis nodded back. “That’s all I ask.” He pulled the car up outside the front arch of the school. “Now go on. Enjoy your book.”

Lando hesitated for a moment, then gave a small, sincere, “Thank you, sir.”

He climbed out into the damp evening air, the heavy doors of evernox waiting before him. With the book clutched tightly to his chest, he slipped back inside.

-x-

The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of paper. The dim light from Lando’s bedside lamp cast long shadows against the wall, flickering every so often as the storm outside rolled lazily on into the night. Rain tapped steadily against the tall windows and the familiar scent of paper filled the room.

Lando sat curled up in bed, knees tucked to his chest, the newly bought book open across his lap. The cover was worn, clearly old stock from the shop, but the title gleamed in silver script under the light. He had barely blinked since he opened it, drinking in every diagram, every passage, like it might explain everything that had ever gone wrong within him and how to fix it.

The door clicked open, and Oscar stepped in, a grin still on his face and hair tousled from the wind. He paused when he spotted Lando, already in hid pyjamas, sitting in bed, completely absorbed with the book in his lap.

“Where were you all day?” Oscar asked, voice neutral but edged with something like concern. A quiet tension threaded through the question.

Lando blinked, his head lifting. “Huh?”

Oscar didn’t move from the doorway. “You weren’t at any of the demonstrations. Or the banquet. I didn’t see you once. So where did you go off to?”

Lando hesitated, fingers still resting lightly on the open page. The answer came slower than it should have. “Lewis took me out. Into town.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, stepping further in. “He what?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, his voice a little lower now, unsure if he should feel defensive or not. “He saw me hanging back while everyone was with their families. Thought I might try to bolt.”

Oscar sat down heavily on the edge of his bed across from Lando, processing that. “Did you?”

Lando shrugged, eyes flicking down to the book again. “I don’t know. Maybe. But he didn’t take me to the train station or anything. We ran errands. Went to a bookshop and a cafe.” He paused, like he was still trying to decide if it had been real. “It was…okay.”

Oscar leaned back on his hands, glancing at the book. “He bought that for you?”

“Yeah,” Lando nodded. “Said it had to be educational. But I think he just wanted me to have something new to learn from.”

Oscar was quiet for a moment. “That’s…kind of nice. Weird. But nice.”

Lando let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Don’t get used to it. He’ll be back to handing out surprise tests and page-long essays on Monday”

Oscar smirked faintly. “Noted.”

The storm crackled again in the distance again as Lando leaned his head against the wall, book still open in his lap. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to hide it.

Oscar sat with him for a few more minutes before starting to get ready for bed, both of them saying little more, but the silence was different now.

Not uncomfortable. Just calm as they settled in for the stormy night. Lando didn’t ask how the parents' visit was going, Oscar didn’t expect him to he just let him continue to read in the faint light of the lamp, hoping that Lando was getting better.

-x-

The warm golden light of the staff lounge spilled across the polished wooden floors, soft lamplight reflecting off the tall windows streaked with rain. A fire crackled quietly in the fireplace, casting gentle warmth into the room where a few of the teachers had gathered with teacups in hand as the usual end of demonstration day tension gave way to tired conversation.

Lewis entered, shaking off his coat, his expression was unreadable, but there was something steadier in his shoulders as he crossed the room.

“Evening,” he greeted, voice calm as he nodded toward the others. “How did everything go today? Demonstrations run smoothly?”

Jenson, seated near the fire with a mug in both hands, nodded. “No injuries, no mid-jump collisions during teleportation. I’d call that a success.”

“Parents seemed pleased,” Nico added from the armchair near the bookshelves. “Some of them even asked intelligent questions this year.”

Kimi grunted in agreement, legs stretched out in front of him. “Alex’s mum asked if he could heal migraines. Told her to take it up with the healers’ guild.”

Lewis chuckled softly and dropped into a seat, already sensing who would ask the next question.

Sure enough, Seb leaned forward slightly from his perch on the window ledge. “And how was Lando?”

The room stilled, just a touch. It wasn’t hostile, but Lando’s name always brought with it a quiet undercurrent of collective concern lately.

Lewis exhaled slowly, resting his forearms on his knees as he spoke to the whole room. “Better than I expected. He looked like he was going to vanish again, so I offered to take him with me on errands. Figured it was safer than pretending I hadn’t noticed.”

“And? Did he try to run?” Seb’s tone was careful, but the edge of worry was still there.

“No, he came. We went into town. Got lunch. He picked out a book from the shop, something about telekinesis history.” Lewis paused.

Seb frowned slightly. “So he’s reading properly now? Not just panicking and hiding out?”

“I think he’s trying,” Lewis said quietly. “But he’s still bracing for us to punish him. Everything he does, he acts like it’s going to be used against him.”

“That’s because no one’s ever given him a reason not to think that,” Nico muttered.

Seb folded his arms. “Do you think he’s still training alone somewhere? I mean, he hasn’t disappeared for days on end like we expected him to in half-term, but he's still not fully here.”

“I’m sure of it,” Lewis said. “He’s been improving too quickly not to be. But he hasn’t said anything. And I’m not about to push, not yet.”

“Do we think he has something dangerous?” Jenson asked carefully. “Something he’s found or been using?”

“I don’t think so,” Lewis said. “The books from the library looked standard. But something’s taught him more than we have. That much is clear.”

Seb rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So what now?”

“Now,” Lewis said, standing slowly, “we keep watching. Monday, classes resume. I’ll be making sure he’s participating again. If he doesn’t, we'll have to step in harder.”

“He’ll bolt,” Nico warned. “If he thinks we’re forcing him.”

“Then we don’t force,” Lewis said. “We offer support. And we make it very clear that he’s not alone. Not anymore.”

Kimi nodded slowly. “And if that doesn’t work?”

Lewis looked toward the fire, the flickering glow reflected faintly in his eyes.

“Then we figure out what he’s really scared of,” he said quietly. “And make sure it never gets to him.”

-x-

The courtyard was filled with the soft sounds of muffled goodbyes, the roll of suitcases on damp stone, and the occasional awkward hug from a parent trying too hard or not quite hard enough to not cry. The skies were grey but dry for the first time in days, and a cool breeze stirred the early autumn leaves across the path as families trickled out one by one.

Lando stood just outside the dorm entrance, half-hidden beneath the archway. He didn’t make a sound, just leaned against the stone with his hands deep in his pockets, watching the scene quietly.

Across the courtyard, Daniel’s parents hugged him in tandem, his mum whispering something into his ear that made him roll his eyes fondly. Carlos and Charles walked back slowly from the gates where they’d just waved off Charles mum, their heads bent close in easy conversation. Max’s mum was fussing over the scarf at his neck before finally letting him go with a tight hug and a kiss to the cheek that made him squirm but not pull away.

But George’s parents…they hadn’t left at all.

They stood off to the side, smartly dressed, posture sharp, holding polite conversation with Seb near the staff entrance. George was doing his best to appear relaxed but kept adjusting his cuffs like they were suddenly too tight. His dad’s eyes followed everything like he was judging everyone in a hundred different ways.

“They’re staying for the Monday observation schedule,” Alex muttered as he walked up beside Lando, holding a coffee from the dining hall. “Just like they always do.”

Lando didn’t reply. His eyes flicked across the yard once more, then back to the floor.

Oscar approached a moment later, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re nearly all gone now. Most of them, anyway.”

“Good,” Lando muttered.

Oscar frowned. “You alright?”

“Fine.”

Max, returning from the gate, gave Lando a quick glance before tossing his bag onto the stone bench. “You’re not gonna start disappearing again, are you?”

“No,” Lando replied, a little too fast. “I’m just watching.”

Oscar, Alex, and Max exchanged looks, but no one said more. It wasn’t worth pushing, not here, not now. But Lando knew it would start again soon and it would be extreme than before.

Daniel came bounding up a second later, hair wind-tousled, backpack bouncing on one shoulder. “Anyone up for raiding the common room stash now that the parents are gone?”

“Someone already cleared the biscuits,” Charles sighed, falling in beside him.

“Was it you?” Carlos asked.

“…Maybe.”

The group slowly filtered back inside, their energy quieter than usual but no longer heavy. It was the shift back to normalcy, even if it wasn’t truly normal for everyone.

Lando lingered behind a moment longer, gaze flicking to George’s parents as they stepped inside with Seb, their voices low and clipped. He caught George’s eye from across the courtyard for a brief second before George looked down quickly.

Oscar nudged Lando’s arm. “Come on.”

With a reluctant exhale, Lando pushed off from the wall and followed him in.

-x-

Lando lay in bed long after lights-out, the pages of his new book resting open but unread across his chest. The soft rustling of Oscar’s even breathing filled the room, but Lando’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, lit faintly by the moonlight filtering through the window.

He made himself a promise in that stillness. A silent vow pressed between his heartbeats.

This half term would be different.

He’d blend in again. He’d have no more episodes in classes and no more disappearing acts. He’d participate, just enough. The bare minimum required to convince everyone he was fine. He would show up, eat meals, attend classes. He’d smile again, even laugh when someone cracked a joke. He would make them believe he was okay.

He had to. Because the alternative, those looks from the teachers, from his classmates, that constant question of what’s wrong with Lando, was becoming exhausting. It was easier to pretend.

He longed for the hut, the wild privacy of the woods where his magic answered to him without a fight. But he could settle for the attic. It wasn’t perfect, but it was quiet and out of sight. It allowed him to stay within the walls of the school, it would allow for him to be seen more, and that’s what he needed right now to erase all the suspicion and eyes.

The attic wouldn’t let him work on everything, his levitation drills would be impossible without the open space around the hut, but it was something. A compromise he could deal with for little while.

-x-

The hum of returning routine buzzed through the halls of Evernox academy on Monday morning. Students spilled into classrooms with the same sleepy groans of a Monday but it was tinged with the renewed energy from the half-term break.

But Lando still felt like his limbs carried the weight of stone.

He trailed into Seb’s elemental theory class, with his shoulders hunched and head ducked. His sleeves were tugged low as he crossed the threshold, his eyes lifted just slightly, only to catch a pair of sharply dressed figures standing against the side wall, arms folded, expressions politely unreadable.

George’s parents.

They were well known throughout the school. They were major donors. Powerful and observant. The kind of people who never spoke unless it was to say something cutting with a smile. They hovered like hawks along the classroom edge, nodding as Seb greeted them, then scanning the students as though inspecting the produce of their investment.

Lando’s stomach turned.

He kept his head down and slid into a seat near the back, trying to ignore the quick glance George shot him from two rows ahead, like it was a warning not to cause trouble. To not have any slip ups.

Lando hated when the donor parents stayed behind to observe classes. He hated being watched, scrutinised like he was a puzzle missing pieces, or worse, a ticking bomb no one quite knew how to disarm.

He clenched his jaw and reached for his pen.

Just blend in, he reminded himself.

Just pretend you’re fine.

Seb’s voice filled the room with its usual calm authority as he launched into the week’s topic of elemental balances in group combat scenarios. There was a faint hum of interest from most of the class, students leaning forward slightly, jotting notes, already imagining how they might apply the theory in Saturday drills.

Lando kept his eyes on his page, scribbling when Seb looked his way. His handwriting was jagged and inconsistent, more a performance than actual note taking. He wasn’t really following the lesson, not properly. He could feel George’s parents watching him.

He didn’t actually know if they were watching him, he was determined not to turn around in case they accidently make eye contact but the weight of their gaze pressed against the back of his neck like a brand without him even having to look.

His powers prickled underneath his skin. Not dangerously, just in that familiar, frustrating way. Like they were aware of the tension too. It always happened lately when he felt boxed in. Watched. Judged.

Seb walked along the rows as he spoke, gesturing to diagrams on the chalkboard. “In situations where two or more elemental types are combined, synergy becomes essential. You can’t just throw a fire wielder and an earth shaper together and hope for the best, it’s about balance, about communication—”

Lando shifted in his chair, adjusting his sleeves.

The pen on his desk twitched in the air.

He stilled.

It was just a flicker, a tremble. Barely noticeable. But enough that he noticed and enough to make him quietly push the pen into the groove at the top of his notebook, anchoring it like it might otherwise take off again.

Across the room, George was answering a question with calm, articulate, confident. His parents smiled faintly, the corners of their mouths lifting in tandem. Lando watched them briefly. That warm, quiet pride. The kind he’d only seen in passing. Never aimed at him.

Seb circled closer to the back, explaining something about the way water and air elements could be used in tandem to disorient opponents. As he passed behind Lando, his hand rested for just a moment on the back of Lando’s chair, a subtle gesture meant to be grounding.

Lando didn’t flinch. But he didn’t relax, either.

“You all need to start thinking about what your strengths are,” Seb said, louder now as he turned back to the front. “And how to use them in partnership. Power doesn’t mean anything without control and control doesn’t mean anything without trust. We work in teams for a reason.”

Lando’s jaw tensed.

He was trying.

He really was.

But he couldn’t trust anyone not with this. Not with telekinesis. Not when even a flicker of emotion could make something lift, something break, something bleed. So he sat still, his breath shallow, his power coiled tight behind his ribs.

When Seb gave them a written scenario to work through in pairs, Lando turned just enough to pair with Oscar without needing to speak. Oscar didn’t push. Just offered a slight nod and bent over his own page, eyes scanning the sheet.

Lando glanced once, just once, to the back of the room.

The donors were still watching.

The sheet Seb had handed out detailed a theoretical battlefield scenario, two teams, varied elemental users, and a mission to secure a central objective. Each pair of students was asked to analyse how different powers could be used in combination to succeed. It wasn’t about winning through brute strength, it was about strategy, control, and cooperation.

Oscar angled the paper slightly so Lando could see it better, his elbow brushing lightly against Lando’s as he shifted. Neither of them spoke at first.

Lando had his head down, pretending to read, but the words barely registered. He could still feel eyes on him. The donors were quiet now, tucked near the doorway speaking in low tones with one of the another but that didn’t make it easier to breathe.

Oscar finally broke the silence between them. “Okay,” he said softly. “You want to take lead or want me to?”

Lando didn’t answer right away. He gave a half-shrug. Then, after a beat, “You can start.”

Oscar nodded, patient as ever, and began sketching out a plan on the back of the worksheet. “Okay, so…if we’ve got an air shaper and a fire wielder, we can use that combo to create a defensive ring, sort of a heated updraft to push back the enemy and obscure vision. If someone like George is around, he could keep track of enemy positions through the smoke and try to read there minds to figure out there next moves.”

Oscar paused and tapped the pencil gently against the paper. “And you,” he added, voice still quiet, “you could—float the supplies? Keep them out of reach? Or move debris to create cover?”

Lando glanced sideways at him, unsure whether to speak. His stomach twisted. He hated this talking about his powers like they were normal. Like he wasn’t terrified of them. “I don’t have that kind of control,” he muttered, keeping his voice low. “It’s not…consistent.”

Oscar didn’t argue. Just nodded, like he’d expected the answer.

“But you’ve used them before,” he said. “And it worked. The drills you did with Lewis, the stuff with the orb…I saw some of it. You were in control. And this is just theory.”

“That was different.”

“Why?”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “Because no one else was around. No one was watching, waiting for me to mess up.”

Oscar’s brow furrowed. He glanced subtly toward the back of the room, where George’s parents stood talking again with their arms folded. Then he looked back to Lando.

“They’re not watching you,” he said quietly. “Not like that.”

Lando didn’t respond.

Oscar didn’t push.

Instead, he went back to the scenario. “Alright. What about defence? If someone’s coming up the ridge and we need to stop them without hurting anyone?”

That was easier. Lando took the pencil and drew a quick line through the diagram. “Lift the ground under them. Not too hard, just enough to knock their balance. Or stack debris in the path. If I could hold it midair, time it right…”

“You could block them,” Oscar finished, nodding. “Clean. Non-lethal. Smart.”

They kept going after that, slowly, cautiously. Lando didn’t relax, exactly, but the distraction helped. He could focus on the lines, the theories, the what-ifs instead of the actual fear clenching his chest.

By the time Seb called time, they’d managed a full strategy across both offences and defences.

Oscar didn’t say anything more as he passed the sheet forward.

But before Seb dismissed them, he walked past their desk and gave the page a quick glance, then looked up at Lando with a small, unreadable nod.

Lando looked away.

-x-

As the last students filtered out, their footsteps fading down the hall toward Combat Theory, Sebastian stayed behind in the classroom, wiping the chalkboard clean with methodical strokes. He didn’t need to look up to know the two figures lingering by the door hadn’t moved.

Mr. and Mrs.Russell, George’s parents and two of Evernox’s most influential benefactors, remained exactly where they’d stood for the duration of the lesson, arms folded, expressions unreadable, the kind of people who watched with keen interest but rarely revealed what they were thinking.

Seb finally turned. “I hope the class met your expectations.”

Mrs. Russell offered a small smile. “Always enlightening. It’s impressive how diverse the power sets are this year.”

“Yes,” Mr. Russell agreed, “though there was one student we were particularly curious about.”

Seb nodded once. He knew exactly who they meant.

“Lando,” Mr. Russell continued. “The telekinetic.”

Seb’s expression didn’t change. “Yes. He’s in his third year. Gifted. Quiet.”

“Unusual, isn’t it?” Mrs. Russell tilted her head. “To have a telekinetic. Even here.”

“It’s rare,” Seb allowed carefully, “but not unheard of.”

Mr. Russell narrowed his eyes slightly. “He didn’t use his power once during the practical portion.”

“He contributed through strategy,” Seb replied, calm. “The assignment was designed for collaboration, not displays of power. He worked well with his partner. Offered thoughtful suggestions. There wasn’t really a need for it today, the first class back is always more getting them back into the rhythm.”

Mrs. Russell exchanged a glance with her husband, then looked back to Seb. “Even so he seemed…closed off.”

“He’s had a complicated year so far,” Seb said evenly. “But he’s showing progress.”

“You’re not concerned?” Mr. Russell asked.

Seb’s jaw tightened just enough to notice. “If I were concerned, he wouldn’t be in class. He’s doing the work. That’s all we ask.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Mrs. Russell gave another pleasant smile. “Of course. We trust your judgment, Mr. Vettel.”

“Thank you,” Seb said. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.”

The couple nodded, stepped out into the corridor, and Seb let out a slow breath once they were gone.

-x-

The boys barely had barley stepped into Jenson’s class before they were ushered into the wide mats of the combat theory room, where Jenson waited, arms crossed and an easy grin already in place. George’s parents had not followed them which at least lifted a little weight from Lando’s shoulders.

“Morning, team,” he said. “Let’s try not to break noses today.”

Max gave Lando a guilty side glance. Lando pretended not to notice, already edging toward the back of the group.

“Paired drills again,” Jenson called, clapping his hands. “Control, agility, focus. Not just power, got it? Keep it clean. And keep it smart.”

The class broke off into pairs, Max drifting toward Lando again, slower this time.

“You sure?” Lando asked under his breath.

Max gave a short nod. “It ill be fine. I’ll take it easy on you.”

Jenson moved through the pairs, correcting stances, offering pointers. Lando kept his movements light, staying defensive, focused only on staying upright and not overreacting. He still didn’t use his powers. But he didn’t freeze like last time. That was something.

After brake the sky outside had turned back to grey with rain streaking down the tall windows and pooling in the corners of the courtyard below. Lando trailed behind the others, his shoulders hunched slightly as he stepped into the familiar room of Lewis class.

The large board at the front already has the topic of lesson written neatly in all capitals, the role of public opinion in power legislation. A neat outline followed underneath, breaking down key laws passed over the last two centuries, many of which directly affected those with more dangerous or rare abilities.

Lando took a seat in the second row, Oscar settling beside him with a quiet glance. George’s parents were there again too, seated at the back with notepads in their laps like this was some sort of performance review.

Lewis began the lesson with his usual measured tone, walking the class through the shifting legal and social perception of power users.

“In the early 1800s,” he said, “telepaths and elementals were feared in equal measure. But it was the unpredictable nature of abilities like shapeshifting and telekinesis that led to real restrictions. Why?”

Hands went up but Lando didn’t move.

“Because they were seen as uncontrollable,” George offered.

“Exactly. Unpredictability equals fear. Fear becomes law.”

As Lewis wrote on the board, he spoke more freely. “It’s important to understand how society reacts to powers, especially those it doesn’t understand. Not just for history’s sake, but for your own safety and agency.”

His gaze skimmed over the room and lingered, just briefly, on Lando.

Lando looked away as he pretended to be occupied with note taking.

As the storm rolled deeper across the sky, the students filed into Kimi’s advanced control lab. The windows here were narrow and high, and the tall ceiling echoed with every drop of rain that hit the roof.

Kimi stood at the front, as impassive as ever, flipping a page in his notebook. George parents having not followed once again.

“Today’s task is precision,” he said, gesturing to the collection of targets, floating rings, and delicate objects spread across the room. “No brute force. No flare. Control and restraint only.”

Lando shifted nervously in place, choosing a station at the edge of the room.

“You may use your powers,” Kimi added, “but you may also observe or focus on theory if you’re not ready.”

That last bit wasn’t just for Lando, but it still felt directed.

Most of the class moved toward the targets. Lando, however, hovered near the edge, eyes darting between a cracked vase on a stand and a set of levitating rings. His fingers twitched slightly, but he didn’t move to try.

Max glanced over once but didn’t say anything.

Instead of pushing, Kimi moved through the room quietly, pausing by each student, offering quiet corrections or letting their failures stand.

When he came to Lando, he paused but said nothing at first. “Still theory?”

Lando nodded mutely.

“You’ll run out of theory eventually,” Kimi said.

“I know.”

Kimi looked at him for a long moment, then simply nodded once and moved on.

Chapter Text

After lunch, as the others drifted off in different directions for their tutorials, Lando quietly slipped away from the main corridor, unnoticed in the shuffle of students and teachers. His feet took him down one of the lesser-used passageways the now familiar cold, narrow stone hallway behind the library wing, where old portraits hung crooked and the old lanterns still hung flickering lowly.

He passed the dusty old records room, its heavy oak door long warped with time and moisture, until he came to the door at the very end of the hall. The sign attached to it was brittle and faded, its edges curled like paper held too close to a flame still reading the same warning, out of bounds, maintenance access only, with one of the hinges broken, leaving it dangling at an awkward angle.

Lando checked behind him once, then again before he pressed his hand to the wood and slipped through the narrow crack in the door. He moved fast, ducking into the shadows and starting the climb up the steep spiral staircase, each step creaking underfoot. The deeper he went, the louder the sound of the great clock above became, a rhythmic, heavy tick, tick, tick, like school's heartbeat hidden behind stone.

Eventually, the he reached the top of the tower where he made his way towards the crawl space. He pushed aside the loose panel and squeezed through, emerging into what had once been an abandoned storage room tucked next to the clock tower. Now, it was something else entirely.

It was his.

The attic space was dusty but had taken on a certain comfort over the past weeks. A few worn blankets had been laid across crates, pillows had been piled in a corner to create a reading nook, and few glass orbs glimmered faintly from where he’d left them last time. It was his new hideaway, a training room, a place where he could stop pretending, at least for a little while.

He hadn’t planned to come here today. He’d told himself this week would be different.

He was going to go to the library. Be visible again, keep the teachers off his back. Especially with George’s parents hovering in those two lessons like hawks. He wasn’t even sure if they were watching him, but it felt like they were. It always did when donor parents came to observe. Like he was under a magnifying glass, just waiting to crack.

Still, the first day back hadn’t gone badly. He’d managed to get through it without using his powers. He’d been quiet but present. Barely there, but still there.

But the itch remained. A low, restless thrum just beneath his skin. A pull.

It was strange. He didn’t want to use his powers. He feared what they could do, what he might become if he lost control again. And yet…there was something in him that longed for it. Like an ache in his bones or a second heartbeat under his own.

It was like there were two of him. Lando and the telekinetic.

He glanced down at the orb now resting in his palm. It shimmered faintly, his magic already beginning to wake at the touch, a familiar tingling sensation crawling up his spine like electricity.

He hadn’t brought any of the hidden books with him, not today. After all he hadn’t meant to come here, to train. He was just going to breathe. Maybe sit for a while and remember who he was without the weight of expectations or fear.

But the orb pulsed softly.

And he knew, without needing to read a single word, that he wasn’t going to leave it untouched.

Not today.

The orb shifted in his palm.

Lando turned it slowly with his fingers, just feeling the familiar weight and smooth surface, before letting it float a few inches above his hand. He didn’t rush. There was no one here to impress or hide from. No eyes watching, no expectations curling around his ribs like tight vines.

Just him and the quiet. And the steady ticking of the clock next door.

He exhaled slowly.

“Okay,” he whispered to no one.

He started simple, basic memory drills from the first year. Controlled lifts. Hold and release. Letting the orb hover, steady and still, then lowering it again without letting it wobble. He didn’t even reach for more than one object at a time. No stacking, no spinning, no reshaping. Just basic control.

It took focus, real focus. He’d neglected the foundation in pursuit of strength. All the nights spent throwing his powers against themselves, stretching his limits in the woods and later here, alone in the attic. But this…this was different. This was rooted.

His breath fell into rhythm. Lift, hold, lower, repeat.

The orb moved with him.

Soon he added a second, smaller object, a rusted coin he’d found between floorboards and began to alternate their movements. Up, down. Side by side. A little faster. Then slower again.

His fingers moved along with his mind.

The tingling sensation up his spine grew warmer, less sharp. Not that frenzied, prickling power that had surged out of him in Seb’s class, or the trembling chaos in Lewis’s office. This was calm. Controlled.

This, he thought, is mine.

By the time he let the objects fall still again, Lando realised his shoulders had dropped. His jaw had unclenched. His lungs were no longer tight. He hadn’t even noticed the shift until he sat back against the wall and felt how light his chest had become.

He let his head rest back, eyes closed for a long moment.

The wind outside howled and he could hear the rattle of rain against the tower windows, but it felt like it belonged to a different world now. One he wasn’t tangled in for the moment.

He smiled, a small, tired, but real smile.

By the time Lando stepped back into the main building, the last remnants of the day’s storm had dissolved into a light drizzle once again.

It was already loud inside the hall, a stark difference to the quietness of the attic. Laughter echoed, chairs scraped along the floor, and the hum of overlapping conversations filled the space. As he slipped in, Lando spotted his group at their same table. Max and Daniel were halfway through arguing about something, Carlos was waving his fork for emphasis in a debate with Charles, and Oscar was deep in quiet conversation with Alex and George.

Lando hesitated only a second before sliding into the seat beside Oscar. A few heads turned. Max gave him a nod. Daniel offered a slight smirk. Oscar didn’t speak, but his foot bumped against Lando’s under the table, grounding and familiar.

“You missed Carlos nearly setting the curtains on fire in Seb’s tutorial,” Charles grinned, nudging his roommate.

“I told you that was part of the demonstration,” Carlos shot back. “Controlled flame manipulation. Emphasis on controlled.”

“Sure,” Charles deadpanned, “That’s why Seb turned a lovely shade of panic red.”

Lando gave a soft laugh, low but genuine. He listened more than he spoke, letting their words roll over him. The others were still buzzing from the first day back, sharing how their tutorials had gone, theories for the Saturday drills coming up, and bets on who would forget their assignment first.

Oscar leaned slightly closer at one point, speaking just for Lando.

“Better day?”

Lando nodded. “Yeah…better.”

By the time dessert arrived. Daniel was trying to swipe a second serving of cake for a midnight snack without the staff noticing, while George was in the middle of explaining a mind-to-mind communication technique that had him accidentally reading Alex’s internal monologue.

“It’s not my fault you were thinking about pudding,” George protested.

“I wasn’t thinking, you yanked it out of me!” Alex said, flustered.

Lando smiled to himself. The noise, the chaos, the teasing, it was normal. For the first time in a while, it didn’t feel like he was on the outside looking in.

Just maybe…maybe he could keep this balance going.

At least for a little while longer.

Across the hall, the teachers had settled into their own table at the front. Their plates were half-finished, conversation more measured but no less active.

“I think it went better than expected,” Seb said, setting his fork down. “George’s parents were watching everything like hawks, but they seemed impressed by how the students work together but were a little curious about the lack of practical work today.”

Lewis sat back slightly, arms folded. “They’ve been heavy donors for years. They expect thorough training, but I think they forget these are still students.”

Seb nodded. “They asked about Lando, you know.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “What did you tell them?”

“That he’s working hard. That progress doesn’t always look loud.”

Lewis hummed quietly, eyes scanning the room until he found Lando, head slightly bowed over his food, but part of the group. He was listening, not being loud like he used to but he was there.

“Let’s hope that’s enough for now.”

Kimi was quiet, until he added, “Better today than he’s been in weeks.”

Nico nodded from where he sat beside him. “We’ll keep building from that.”

-x-

Over the weeks that followed, autumn fully settled across the academy grounds, painting the forest in shades of rust and deep orange. The trees began to thin, baring twisted arms to the grey sky, and the rain had now become a permanent fixture, slanting against the old stone walls and making the windowpanes shiver in their frames.

The cold crept in along with the rain. Not all at once, but enough that breath began to mist in the early mornings, and scarves reappeared around necks as the students trudged between buildings. No one questioned it anymore, it was just the season. A slow, steady descent before a long winter.

Lando’s descent, however, was more complicated.

He had carved himself a new rhythm once again. This one was fragile, stitched together from obligations and secrets.

After classes each day, he would walk with the others to the library or common room. He’d sit at the same desk near the back of the library, a lamp flickering low beside him, and pore over his textbooks with a grim kind of determination that came after Lewis had handed him back his failed history test with a deep sigh and a furrowed brow, murmuring something about wasted potential and responsibilities, and Lando had sat through it without flinching. He deserved it, he knew he did. He had fallen behind, had become too distracted with the pull of the woods and the hut with his secret training and orbs and rituals he couldn’t explain.

Afterwards he followed the others to the dining hall, he kept pace through casual conversation with a faint smile and a half-finished plate. He’d grown good at appearing fine, like he was better than he’d ever been. There were no more skipped meals, no more obvious disappearances.

But the attic still remained.

It had become his sanctuary, his secret second life.

He didn’t go there every afternoon, not even most anymore. But some. He planned it now, learnt how to be discreet. He would slip a book from beneath the floorboards in his room, just one at a time, and tuck it into his bag beneath all his real assignments. When the others had their tutorials or after studying, when the others returned to their dorms or dozed off in the common room, he would vanish. Not for long. Just long enough to breathe.

The attic was always waiting.

Up the narrow passageway behind the records room, through the warped maintenance door and the spiral staircase of cold stone steps. Past the ticking of the old clock, into the forgotten crawl space that smelled of dust and old wood and something faintly magical.

Lando had made the space even more his own. He had moved a few of the old into the space, creating a little table of sorts, he’d cleared a spot near the back window with a view over the fields. He had a threadbare blanket now, and few candles tucked in the corners.

He’d gone up there at the end of the second week back when all the others had their tutorials, he was only going to spend a sort time up there. Have a few practices of levitating and rotating several orbs together. He’d made his way into the attic when he noticed it.

A new book, sitting on his makeshift crate table.

It hadn’t been their last time, he was sure of it. He made sure to never leave any books up here. The thin layer of dust on the crate beside it was undisturbed, but the book was pristine. Just sitting there. Waiting for him.

His pulse had jumped the moment he saw the marking. The same one. The small interlocked rings, carved into the bottom of the cover.

He’d opened it. Not without hesitation. Not without checking the attic twice. Someone knew he had moved out of the hut, and they knew he had gotten bored with the other books. But who, Lando didn’t know. He didn’t really care they were giving him opportunities no one else was so he opened the book was a small buzz of excitement.

The contents were different from before. This wasn’t simple practice drills or strengthening techniques. This one was deeper, more advanced. It taught him how to reverse things. Not just move or lift but unmake and remake. Take broken things and stitch them back together. Undo impossible knots. Pull objects apart at the seams and reassemble them in midair.

He’d tried it, tentatively at first with a cracked shard of a mirror Lando had found when he was sorting through the attic. Carefully Lando read the passage of instructions before he stared down at the fractured pieces of the mirror and restored it in seconds with a whispered focus and a glint of power between his fingers.

It was…exhilarating.

But something darker lingered, too.

He didn’t notice it, the way the instructions sometimes became fragmented, or the diagrams took on strange, inhuman shapes. How some spells mentioned blood without explaining why it was needed. Or how, when the orb floated in front of him now, it pulsed with a strange new energy, like it was becoming alive in his palm.

Lando didn’t question it. Not yet.

He was too focused. Too enthralled by how far he’d come and how far he could go.

Too committed to finally mastering what everyone said was unteachable.

-x-

To anyone else, there was nothing unusual about Lando’s routine. He went to class, he showed up at meals and he studied in the library. The weeks had passed, and the whispering unease that once followed him through the halls had dulled into something quieter. Almost normal.

But only Oscar knew better.

He was the only one around to see the small signs, the odd marks on Lando’s hands, the way Lando sometimes came back late after dinners smelling like candle wax and old dust.

And now, as Lando leaned over the crate in the attic, breath shallow and heart pounding, he knew he’d made a mistake.

The rod just a slim, delicate-looking piece of enchanted glass, had appeared beside the newest book. Almost like someone knew he’d left the others in the hut.

The instructions in the margins of the new book were vague, barely legible. They described the ability to unravel matter at its source, to shift energy and then restore it. It wasn’t just standard telekinesis. It was something else entirely. A layer deeper than movement and control.

It had taken him an hour of preparation, his fingertips tingling with strain. The rod shimmered in the air above his palm, turning slowly on its axis. He’d found the right pull and the glass had started to stretch and lengthen, a shimmer of light splitting down its center.

Then crack!

A noise like lightning through a storm.

The rod exploded in midair.

Glass sprayed everywhere. A thousand tiny cuts like icy fire lashed across his face and neck.

Lando cried out, falling backwards against the wall, clutching his face with trembling fingers. Blood trickled fast and warm down his cheek, across his chin and dripped onto the floor. He stared at the scattered shards, heart hammering in his ears, panic rising like bile.

He shoved the book back into his bag, barely registering the sting of broken glass still stuck to his jumper. His only thought was to get out and clean up before someone noticed.

By the time he stumbled into the dorm, the halls were mostly quiet. His jacket was zipped halfway, blood continued to drip down his face and neck. He didn’t know where else to go.

The door creaked open under his shaking hand.

Oscar looked up from his desk, then froze with his jaw open.

“Oh—Lando?!”

Lando flinched as Oscar surged forward, hands already halfway raised.

“What—what the hell happened?” Oscar’s voice had shot up, rough and urgent. “You’re bleeding. You’re bleeding all over your face, sit down, sit down—”

“I’m fine,” Lando gasped, stumbling past him, pressing a sleeve to his cheek. “It’s—it’s nothing. I just—just need you to fix it—”

“You need to go to Nico—”

“No!”

The word tore out of him before he could stop it. Lando shook his head violently, stumbling again as the floor tilted beneath him.

“No infirmary. Please, Oscar. You can’t tell anyone.”

“You’re covered in blood!”

“I can’t!” His voice cracked, and he sank against the wall near his bed. “You don’t understand, I can’t go to Nico, or Lewis, or Seb they’ll know, they’ll figure it out—please.”

Oscar was pacing now, one hand in his hair, the other hovering like he didn’t know whether to help or shake him.

Lando’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll give you money if you want. Please. Just…please fix it.”

Oscar turned sharply. “You think I care about money right now?”

“No, I— I don’t know, I just— I can’t have them see me like this—”

The breath hitched in his throat. He could feel the blood dripping along his jawline, soaking into the collar of his jumper. The cuts throbbed, some shallow, but others deep and burning.

Oscar’s jaw clenched.

Then he stepped forward, slowly, and crouched in front of him.

“Hold still.”

Lando’s heart kicked against his ribs. His eyes fluttered shut as Oscar reached out with steady hands, one hand cupped his jaw while the other held the back of his neck with fingertips that were already beginning to glow faintly green.

It was gentle and warm.

Each cut fizzled beneath the touch, the pain fading slowly into a low throb and then nothing at all.

After a long moment, Oscar pulled back, the last traces of green fading from his skin.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go get Nico,” he muttered. “Or Seb. Or Lewis. Whatever you’ve done was stupid. You could’ve—”

“I know.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a long time. “Next time, I might not cover for you. Just…think about that.”

Lando nodded once, wordless, throat tight.

He didn’t know what to say. Only that he was thankful. And that, somehow, the shame was worse than the glass.

From that day onward, Lando had been more cautious about his practices in the attic, especially when he was coming back to Oscar's silent stares, like he knew he'd been up to something.

He didn’t know what it was exactly, guilt maybe or shame, or the fear that if Oscar pressed even a little harder, the whole fragile web of lies and secrets would unravel.

So when he swapped out the books from under the floorboards, he made sure Oscar wasn’t anywhere nearby. He waited until he’d gone to the dining hall or wandered to the common room. Lando had gotten good at listening, really listening, for the faintest signs of movement. The soft creak of the door, the familiar scuff of shoes in the hallway. He timed everything to the minute, careful not to draw attention.

He didn’t even flip the floorboard up unless he was absolutely sure.

Even then, his heart would beat like it was trying to claw its way out of his ribs.

The memory of the glass exploding had branded itself into him. He still caught himself flinching when he touched his cheek, even though Oscar had healed the cuts so cleanly it was like they’d never existed, but Lando remembered.

And lately, he found himself remembering a lot. That hum of magic just before it overloaded. The way the glass had cracked not from pressure, but from something inside it splitting apart. The shimmer of energy twisting just beyond his control. The practice wasn’t just about learning anymore. It were about managing, about not losing control again.

And even more than that…it was about changing his own narrative. So that one day he could stand in front of his classmates and use his powers with confidence just like the rest of them did.

-x-

That morning, Lando waited.

He sat on the edge of his bed, fingers twisted loosely together, watching Oscar move through his usual routine. The quiet rustle of clothes, the soft clink of his belt, the way he brushed a hand through his hair, absent-minded but precise. Lando knew it all by heart now, and this morning, he used it to his advantage.

Oscar slung his bag over one shoulder and glanced back.

“You coming?”

Lando gave a faint nod, eyes flicking up with a practised, neutral expression. “Yeah. Just need to grab something. I’ll be right behind you.”

Oscar hesitated for a moment longer. His gaze lingered, like he might say something else, like he knew. But instead, he just gave a slight shrug and headed out into the corridor, the door swinging shut behind him with a quiet click.

Lando held still until he heard Oscar’s footsteps disappear fully down the stairs. Only then did he move.

He crouched next to his bed, crawling underneath to the loose floorboard where he pulled out the new book that was already waiting at the top of the pile. He slipped it into the bottom of his bag between his usual notes and textbooks, layering the visible ones carefully over the top.

Out in the hallway, the sounds of the school waking fully stirred around him, voices, footsteps and laughter echoing faintly off the walls from below.

Lando adjusted his bag on his shoulder, smoothed down the front of his jumper, and finally left the room.

When he reached the dining hall, Oscar was already seated with the others, halfway through buttering a slice of toast. He looked up as Lando passed but said nothing, just raised his brows slightly in that casual, wordless question.

Lando offered a small shrug as he took the empty seat beside him, grabbing an apple from the basket and pretending his stomach didn’t feel like a knot of nerves and magic.

“Long night?” Oscar asked quietly, almost joking.

Lando bit into the apple and gave a noncommittal hum.

And just like that, another secret settled in beside him at the table, silent but heavy.

Elemental theory with Seb always started slow. A quiet room, low murmurs, the scent of scorched stone and old chalk hanging faintly in the air as students filed in, half-awake, half-dreading whatever practical exercise Seb had planned.

Lando kept his head down as he entered the classroom. He took his usual seat, not at the back, but near enough that he could blend into the shadows of more enthusiastic students. Max dropped into the seat beside him with a grin and a loud yawn, while Charles and Carlos debated heatedly across the aisle about whether air or water had the stronger offensive capability.

It was routine. The petty arguments, but Lando’s stomach still twisted.

The book in his bag weighed heavy beneath the table, even as he avoided looking at it.

Seb entered the room with a stack of papers in one hand and a large bowl of polished stones in the other, setting them both down on the front desk.

“All right, everyone, time to wake up properly,” Seb said, clapping once. “We’ve been covering theoretical breakdowns of elemental channeling, but it’s time to apply a little pressure. Today, we’re working with elemental resonance through focus objects.”

There were a few groans. A few interested hums.

Lando’s pulse ticked faster.

Seb passed out the small, flat stones, each of them humming faintly with static, carved with old runes that shimmered when touched. “These will react to magical signatures,” Seb explained. “You don’t need to be an elemental to use them, in fact, I want non-elementals to try today too. It’s about control, not strength.”

Max turned to Lando immediately. “Want mine?” he grinned, wiggling the stone between his fingers. “Bet yours explodes before mine does.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Lando muttered, staring down at the faintly glowing rune on his own stone. It vibrated under his fingertips subtle, barely there, but enough to make his jaw tighten.

He could feel it. That creeping hum of power. It never stopped anymore, just sat behind his ribs like something coiled and waiting.

Seb moved around the room as the class began, offering instructions. “Channel your energy into the stone gently. Don’t push, don’t force. Think of it like lighting a match, not starting a wildfire.”

Lando hesitated. Others were already focused in, Carlos’s stone lit up like a flame caught inside a prism, Charles’s sparked a little at the edges. Even Max, who didn’t care much for finesse, had managed a soft flicker of light.

Lando inhaled slowly.

And reached for that place inside himself.

The stone glowed instantly, too fast, too bright. The rune markings flared like stars under glass, then cracked once with a loud pop before dimming again. Lando flinched. A few heads turned. Oscar’s brows creased from two rows over.

Seb was already walking over.

“Hey,” he said gently, crouching beside Lando’s desk. “It’s okay. You didn’t push too hard, the stone just couldn’t hold your signature.”

Lando shook his head, fingers curling slightly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Seb didn’t move away.

“Lando…that was controlled. Strong, but controlled,” he said, voice lower now. “That’s a good sign.”

But Lando’s shoulders had already started to rise defensively. His eyes flicked to the others, to the few who were still watching, not in fear, but in quiet caution.

He hated that look.

He didn’t say anything else for the rest of the class, even when Seb offered him a second stone to try again. He just stared out the window, watching the clouds roll by. Last weeks storm had passed, but he could still feel the static of it in his bones.

By the time the bell rang, he was already packing up fast, barely hearing Seb’s quiet reminder about reflective journals being due by the end of the week.

As he slipped out the door, Oscar caught up with him, brow furrowed but silent. Lando didn’t offer anything as they walked together to there next class.

Combat theory was normally one of the classes where Lando could keep his head down. Jenson didn’t believe in forced participation, not since the bloody nose accident.
Whenever Lando was in a daze or there was a big group session, he’d been mostly content to let Lando watch from the sides, scribble down footwork diagrams, and observe partner drills from a safe distance.

But today, there was a buzz in the air.

The class had started with warm-ups, Max teleporting from point to point with effortless ease, Daniel flickering out of visibility and back again as he zigzagged around cones. Oscar and George were partnered up, the two of them working together in a carefully choreographed defensive drill. It was all fluid and fast, bursts of power kept just under dangerous thresholds, until someone overshot and sent a dummy flying into the wall.

“Focus!” Jenson barked from across the mat. “This isn’t a brawl. This is control.”

Lando, staying firmly in the back corner, kept his focus on his notes and made it through the class unnoticed. For the most part.

Until the final bell rang.

In the sudden scramble to pack up, voices filled the room, laughter bouncing off the high windows as students gathered their things.

Lando knelt quickly, tossing his notebook and spare quills into his bag, the fabric bulging awkwardly from the too many books he’d crammed inside. His fingers fumbled at the zipper and the weight shifted.

The bag fell. Hard.

With a thud and a sound like splintering spine, the bag tipped over and spilled its contents across the polished floor.

Notebooks. Pens. Crumpled papers. One battered text book.

And the thick, weather-worn volume slid out last, landing with an audible slap near Jenson’s boots.

The air went still.

“You’ve got a lot of books…”

Jenson didn’t move at first, just stared down at the small dark book, black leather, gold-inked markings curling across its worn spine. A single, unmistakable symbol etched deep into the cover.

Lando froze.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, reaching forward, but Jenson stepped forward faster, stooping and picking up the book before Lando’s fingers could reach it.

His expression changed.

The colour drained from his face, like ice water had flooded his veins in an instant. His eyes scanned the strange cover, the edges of his jaw tightening with something between alarm and disbelief. “Come with me. Now.”

Lando’s eyes widened. “What––”

But before he could finish, Jenson had already taken a firm grip of his wrist, tighter than necessary. It wasn’t aggressive, not quite, but it wasn’t gentle either.

Lando barely had time to snatch his bag off the floor before he was being pulled out of the classroom, the confused chatter of his classmates trailing behind them like echoes in the hallway.

“Sir?” Lando asked, trying to twist slightly. “What’s going on—?”

“Not a word,” Jenson said, voice low but strained. “You’re going to Lewis’s office. Now.”

And with that, he dragged him briskly down the hall, past the stairs, past the startled glances of younger students peeking from open doors, straight toward the carved wood door of the headmaster’s office.

Lando’s pulse was thudding hard in his throat.

He knew that look in Jenson’s eyes. He knew something about that book.

And now Lando was really in for it.

Chapter Text

The door slammed shut behind them as Jenson marched Lando inside Lewis's office. Without waiting for instruction, he shoved the boy gently but firmly into the leather-backed chair that faced the headmaster’s desk.

Lewis looked up from the paper he’d been marking, his brow furrowing instantly at the tension in the room.

Jenson didn’t waste a second.

“This just fell out of his bag,” he said, holding up the book, his voice low but urgent. “Look at the symbol. Recognise it?”

Lewis’s eyes fell on the cover, catching sight of the symbol, his face changed into something stormy.

His chair scraped back as he stood slowly, reaching for the book with a calmness that didn’t match the building anger in his expression. His thumb traced the aged leather, the faint mark pressed into the cover like a brand.

“Where did you get this book?” he asked with his voice clipped.

Lando, sitting stiff in the chair, just shrugged.

Lewis’s gaze snapped up. “Don’t shrug at me when I ask you something.”

“I found it,” Lando muttered, arms folded tightly across his chest.

“You found it where?” Lewis’s voice sharpened, but Lando just continued to sit silently, “Lando.”

“Why do you care?” Lando snapped, the sudden flare of anger catching both teachers off guard. “It’s just a book and it’s actually teaching me stuff about my powers, unlike any of you.”

That was enough. Lewis had taken the months of lying, the sneaking off but that book, that symbol, it was too far.

“Jenson,” Lewis said tightly, “go get Sebastian. Search his room. See if he has any more of these.”

“You can’t do that!” Lando argued, shooting up from the chair in outrage.

“Sit,” Lewis barked. “We’re far past what you think we can or can’t do. Now tell me what does this symbol represent?”

“What?” Lando blinked.

“The symbol Lando. What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” he spat. “A book cover design? How should I know?”

Lewis slammed the book down on the desk. “This isn’t in the library. You haven’t received any packages. Where did you get it?”

“I found it,” Lando repeated, teeth clenched.

“Found it where?” Lewis asked again. Lando returned to giving him the silent treatment. Lewis let the quiet fill the room, hoping that the tension would cause Lando to crack. Lewis waited for over ten minutes but still Lando remained silent. “You can't ignore me forever. This is dangerous stuff.”

“But it was teaching me,” Lando pushed back. “I got my control back, didn’t I?”

Before Lewis could continue, a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Lewis said, jaw tight.

Seb entered first with Jenson behind him. Seb held a stack of books and resting on top of them was the cloak. The same one Lando had awoken in that night in the woods.

“Found all of these,” Seb said, watching Lando closely. “Hidden under his bed. And this cloak.”

Lewis’s voice dropped low, steady as stone. “Start talking. Now.”

Lando’s eyes flicked to the books, then to the cloak. He swallowed hard.

“The cloak…” he began, voice barely audible. “I woke up with it around me after I…after I hit my head that time.”

“What were you doing that made you hit your head?” Lewis pressed.

Lando hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. “…levitating.”

Seb swore under his breath.

Lewis’s stare didn’t waver. “And how did you learn to do it?”

Lando glanced down. “One of the books.”

“Where did they come from?” Lewis asked again, quieter now but with a sharper edge.

“They just appeared, okay?” Lando’s voice cracked. “Some were in boxes, some just left on the table.”

“On the table? In the common room?” Seb asked, confused.

“No.”

“Then where?” Lewis snapped. “Lando, I am not playing around. Where?”

Lando’s jaw locked. “Why are you so mad about books teaching me about my powers? Isn’t that what this school is meant to do? Or do you just pick and choose who gets help?”

Lewis moved around the desk, his voice rising with something between frustration and fear. “Books can only teach so much about telekinesis. None of us can ever teach you properly because we don’t understand it. It’s not our ability.”

“So you should be glad I found a way to understand,” Lando fired back. “My control at the beginning of the year was slipping, you all saw it, said nothing, did nothing. Now I’ve got it under control so I’ll take my books back now.”

“You won’t be getting these back,” Lewis said firmly. “These books are dangerous.”

“They helped,” Lando shouted.

“I know,” Lewis said, and the way his voice broke on it, quiet and honest, made Lando freeze. “I know it feels that way, but you have to trust us. Whatever these books are…whoever left them for you…they can’t be trusted. I promise you it's for your own safety.”

“You’re not fucking teachers,” Lando whispered bitterly. “You’re just frauds and thieves.”

“Do not use that tone with us,” Lewis said sharply. “We know more about where these books are from than you think. This isn’t just theory, Lando. These symbols, this magic, it’s tied to things we don’t touch for a reason.” He paused, breathing heavy to try to regain control of his emotions. “Seb, keep him with you until the end of the day. I don’t want him going anywhere alone. We’ll talk again at lunch. Jenson, lock the books in my office.”

Seb nodded slowly. Lando didn’t fight as Seb gestured for him to stand but the heat in his eyes never dimmed.

The corridors were quiet as Seb walked Lando away from Lewis’s office, the boy trailing half a step behind, arms crossed and jaw clenched.

He hadn’t said a word since they’d left.

Seb unlocked the door to his small back office, tucked behind the main classroom and gestured for Lando to go inside. It was a cosy space with a desk cluttered with papers and magical objects, a couple of worn chairs and the soft tick of a clock in the corner. A kettle sat on a low table, beside a tin of tea leaves and two mismatched mugs.

“Sit,” Seb said gently, moving to close the door.

Lando didn’t sit.

He dropped his bag with a thud beside the nearest chair and stood, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight that it ached. He didn’t look at Seb, didn’t speak, didn’t breathe deeper than he needed to.

Seb rubbed a hand down his face, already exhausted. “Lando—”

“Don’t,” Lando cut in, voice low and sharp.

Seb sighed. “This doesn’t have to turn into a battle.”

“Doesn’t it?” Lando barked a humourless laugh. “Because it feels like I’ve already lost.”

“You haven’t lost anything,” Seb said, trying to keep calm. “You still have us. You still have the school—”

“The school just took the only thing that was actually helping me,” Lando snapped, finally meeting his eyes. “The only thing that made me feel like I wasn’t drowning.”

“Those books—”

“—taught me.” Lando’s voice cracked. “They taught me control, they helped me understand how I work. You all just stood around watching me slip and fall and shake apart, and now that I’m putting myself back together, you want to tear that apart too?”

Seb stepped forward, carefully. “No one’s trying to tear anything apart,” he said. “We’re trying to protect you.”

“I didn’t ask for protection,” Lando hissed.

“No,” Seb admitted. “You didn’t. But you’re still a student here. You’re still a kid. It’s our responsibility to keep you safe, even from yourself.”

Lando turned away, teeth grinding.

Seb watched him for a long moment before trying again. “Where did you find them?” he asked, gentler now. “Where did they come from? We need to know.”

Lando didn’t respond.

“Lando,” Seb tried again. “Where have you been practising? This is bigger than just sneaking off for alone time, if someone’s been leaving these for you, if there’s someone else involved—”

“There isn’t,” Lando muttered.

“Then where did the books come from?”

“They appeared.” Lando practically spat, the venom from earlier back in his voice. “Like I said. Some in boxes, some just there. I don’t know who left them. I don’t care. They helped.”

“And the cloak?” Seb asked quietly. “The one you woke up in after the concussion?”

Lando went back to saying nothing.

Seb’s hands dropped to his sides, his patience wearing thin. “We’re trying to help you. But you keep shutting everyone out. Hiding things and lying. You think this is how trust works?”

Lando turned on him, eyes wide. “You never trusted me. None of you did. You were all just waiting for me to break. For my power to prove what everyone already thinks, that I’m a risk.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is!” Lando’s fists curled. “You all just say nice words and then treat me like a glass about to shatter. Well guess what…I’m already broken.”

Seb’s face shifted with something like hurt behind his calm. “Fine. You don’t want to talk, that’s your choice. But you’re not going anywhere for now.” He turned to the door, hesitated, then looked back over his shoulder. “I have two classes to teach. You’ll stay here until I or Lewis say otherwise.”

Lando didn’t respond.

Seb left the office with a final glance, shutting the door behind him.

Lando waited until the footsteps faded.

Then he sank into the chair with rage simmering beneath his skin like a second pulse.

They’d taken everything. Everything that had given him hope. His control. His progress. His freedom.

And now they expected him to stay.

To play nice. To fall back in line.

He looked toward the small window, the glass misted from the chill outside.

He needed out, not just from the office but from the entire school itself.

-x-

Rain tapped insistently against the high windows of the faculty conference room as the teachers gathered around the old oak table.

Seb stepped in last, brushing damp hair from his forehead as he shut the door behind him. His face set in a tight line.

Lewis didn’t wait for him to sit before starting.

“He say anything to you?”

Seb shook his head, dropping into his usual seat. “Nothing useful. He's just anger, like the whole world’s against him.”

Across the table, Jenson leaned back with a sigh, arms folded tightly. “He doesn’t know what the symbol means at all?”

“Not that he’s said,” Seb replied. “But he’s defensive as hell, won't say a thing about where he got them from, but those books aren't dangerous to him. He thinks we’re the threat and monsters for taking them away.”

The books they were talking about sat between them all in the middle of the table. That symbol, the interconnect rings, started back at all of them, glistening in the light, sending shivers up spines.

Lewis didn’t sit. He stood at the head of the table, arms behind his back, eyes fixed out the window as if watching the storm roll in over the field.

“I want eyes on him at all times,” he said finally. “Lock him down. No more wandering off after meals. No walking out of lessons. I want it found where he goes to practise.”

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” Nico asked, brow furrowed. “He’s gotten better. Hasn’t missed a meal since parents weekend, sure he's still quieter in classes than what he used to be but he's been participating more.”

“He's gotten stronger as well, hasn’t had any outbursts or incidents,” Kimi added, calmly studying the books in front of him.

“He got there on his own,” Lewis said sharply, turning to face them. “That control is unregulated, it's not been taught safely. He’s experimenting with powers no one here has the experience to manage.”

The room went still. They all had heard stories of what telekinesis was capable of. They knew what those linked to that symbol had done. If Lando really was that powerful, there would be no stopping him.

Jenson’s jaw tightened. “When we run drills next, I’ll test his combat instincts. See if the control holds under pressure.”

Lewis nodded. “Good. I’ll start taking him during tutorial periods. I want to see what he can actually do, because there's obviously got to be a lot more based on the amount of books here.”

Fernando leaned forward, tapping the edge of the symbol on the top book. “There’s another piece here we’re missing. These books, the cloak, these weren’t just left behind or stumbled upon, someone’s got to have been watching him, following him even.”

“You think he’s met them?” Seb asked his voice low with worry.

Lewis shook his head. “No. If he had, he’d know what the symbol meant. He’s young he’d be using it more recklessly and he probably wouldn’t still be here.”

That statement and the what if behind it silenced the room, the only sound that could be heard was the rain against the windowpanes as all the teachers sat there thinking about the danger a boy in their care has just stumbled across.

“He’s thirteen.” Lewis’s voice was firm now with resolute. “We keep this away from him. We keep them away from him.”

“Even if it means lying to him?” Nico asked.

Lewis turned his gaze toward the window again.“We have no choice. I’m not letting those people get to him. I won’t let him get hurt or worse on my watch.”

The group sat in silence for a moment longer, until Seb finally stood again, rubbing a hand down his face. “You want me to go bring him to you now if you're taking him for tutorials?” he asked.

Lewis nodded, his expression grim. “Yes. I’m getting the truth out of him one way or another.”

Seb gave a short nod and turned toward the door, already steeling himself.

-x-

Lando sat curled in the worn armchair in the corner of Seb’s back office, knees tucked to his chest, hoodie pulled tight over his head. He hadn’t spoken since Seb had left to teach, only stared at the wall, jaw set, eyes dull with brewing resentment.

When the door opened again, he didn’t even flinch.

Seb stepped in, gaze wary. “Let’s go,” he said quietly.

Lando didn’t move.

“Lando,” Seb tried again, voice firmer. “Lewis wants to speak with you.”

At that, Lando dragged his gaze upward, eyes narrowing. “Course he does,” he muttered, pushing himself up. “Gotta finish stripping me of what little I have left, right?”

Seb didn’t respond. Just opened the door and let him walk ahead.

Lewis stood behind his desk as Seb ushered Lando in, then quietly closed the door behind him. The rain drummed softly against the windowpanes a steady, dull rhythm that filled the silence between them.

Lando was tense, every inch of him on edge. Lewis didn’t sit.

“We’re going to try this again,” Lewis said quietly but firmly. “And you’re going to tell the truth.”

“And you’re going to give me my books back,” Lando shot back, chin high, voice cracking with heat.

Lewis narrowed his eyes. “Those books will be burnt.”

“Don’t you dare!” Lando snapped, fists clenched, jumping out of his chair in rage.

“Sit back down,” Lewis ordered, voice rising just a little. “You don’t understand where those books come from.”

“Who cares?! You were so impressed at the training drills on the field that time, where do you think I learned that from?” Lando’s eyes were wide, pleading now, but furious too.

“I knew it wasn’t from the library,” Lewis admitted, face darkening. “But never, never, did I think you would have gotten your hands on this.”

“You know what the symbol is, don’t you?” Lando demanded, stepping forward. “Why don’t you tell me what it is then?”

Lewis’s jaw clenched. “It’s something you don’t need to worry about anymore.”

“Liar!” Lando’s voice cracked, wild with frustration. “You won’t tell me anything, so I’m not going to tell you anything either!”

“You don’t have a choice,” Lewis said, stepping closer now. “Where did you get the books from?” He waited for a while but Lando’s silence was deafening. “Don’t just stare at me, Lando. This stuff could hurt you. Could hurt others.”

“I. Found. Them,” Lando hissed through clenched teeth.

“You can’t keep lying to me,” Lewis growled. “I will find out.”

Lando’s laugh was hollow. “And then you’ll what? What are you gonna do? Call my parents? Newsflash they don’t care.”

Lewis took a breath that softened him. “But we do.”

Lando’s expression twisted. “Only because you have to. Nine to three, Monday to Friday, that’s when you care.”

Lewis’s voice rose now, finally showing his own frustration. “Then why were we searching the woods for you into dark last half term, huh? Why did I take you out into town?” He stepped around the desk. “We are your teachers, yes and we do have an obligation of care. But, Lando, you are not an obligation. You’re not a chore. You are not broken.”

Lando’s lip trembled. “Then why’s it taken all of you so long to start showing that?” His voice rising in frustrated anger at every word. “Why have you still not bothered to find me a tutor, to give me a space to practice like all the others?! Why did you not care back then?!”

In a flash of movement, almost as if the anger itself had become too overwhelming to and needed a physical way out, Lando grabbed a glass globe paperweight off Lewis’s desk and hurled it at the floor. It exploded in a burst of glittering shards.

Silence fell over the room again. It was the same silence as before, though it was different, like the glass shards scattered across the floor had finally broke a spell so intense that there was nothing for the occupants to do but stare at the shards sparkling in the low light.

Lewis stared at the wreckage for a long moment before speaking quietly, but with iron behind the words. “I think that’s enough for today. Come on.”

Lando’s eyes snapped to him. “You finally kicking me out?”

“No,” Lewis said, already walking to the door, holding it open. “I’m walking you to your dorm, where you will stay for the rest of the evening until I come get you for dinner.” Lando didn’t move. “Now, Lando.”

Reluctantly, still fuming, jaw tight and breathing heavy, Lando shoved past him and into the corridor.

Lewis followed with silent steps behind him.

The hallways were quiet as Lewis guided Lando back toward the third-year dorms, as all the other boys were still in their tutorials.

Lando walked two steps ahead of Lewis, his pace quick and angry, hands clenched at his sides. He didn’t look back once. At the dorm door, he paused only because Lewis spoke again.

“You stay here,” Lewis said firmly. “You’re not to leave this room until I come for you. I mean it.”

Lando gave a slow, exaggerated nod that was too theatrical to be sincere.

“I’m serious, Lando,” Lewis added, eyes narrowing. “I understand that you’re angry. But if you go anywhere without permission again, you’ll lose the trust we’ve been trying to build and after everything with these books—”

“I get it,” Lando snapped.

Lewis didn’t flinch, but the edge of his voice sharpened. “No more secrets. Stay in your room.” And with that he closed the dorm door, which Lando was half expecting him to seal the door shut, but miraculously the headmaster turned from the door and left.

The moment the door clicked shut, Lando stood frozen in the middle of the room his back still stiff, jaw clenched and rage simmering just beneath his skin.

They’d taken his books. Torn them out of his hands. They hadn’t even tried to understand what they meant to him, how far he’d come because of them. They only cared because it scared them, because it hadn’t come from them.

He turned, pacing the floor in tight circles. The memory of Lewis’s words, Seb’s narrowed gaze and Jenson grabbing his wrist, they all blurred together.

They thought they could lock him up like he was a threat or a misbehaving child. Like he was broken.

They didn’t know what it had felt like at the beginning of the year, losing control with every step, flinching every time something floated or cracked under the weight of his thoughts and now…he had control. He had power.

And now they were taking it away.

His eyes flicked toward the window. Beyond the glass to the grey washed sky. He needed to leave. He needed the attic or the hut. Somewhere they hadn’t poisoned with rules and locked doors.

And maybe this time, he wouldn’t come back.

-x-

The sound of the bell still rang in Oscar’s ears as the group left the combat training room. Jenson had stormed off with Lando without a word, leaving everyone stunned in his wake. The look on Jenson’s face when he’d picked up that book, it had scared Oscar more than he cared to admit.

Now as brake was finishing and Lando hadn’t returned, the boys walked quietly with a sharp tension about them. They all thought that it was getting better, that whatever Lando had been going through, he'd worked through. Clearly he hadn’t, instead he had just gotten better at lying and hiding.

“Did you see his face?” Carlos asked in a low whisper as they walked.

“Jenson?” George said. “Yeah. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

“No,” Carlos muttered. “Like he’d seen something worse.”

Oscar stayed quiet, the sound of his own heartbeat loud in his ears.

He couldn’t get the image of the book out of his head, the hard leather ancient looking book which had made Lando flinched when it fell and the way he’d scrambled to pick it up like it was something sacred.

But he also remembered the blood. He remembered healing those cuts a week ago. How Lando had brushed it off but Oscar had felt the panic in his voice, the sheer desperation.

Something had been building for weeks, probably months and none of them had said a thing. They’d watched and gossiped but never really done anything, and now they where all wracked with guilt.

When the group walked into the history of powers classroom they were met by Lewis’s unreadable expression from where he stood at the front of the room. He didn’t acknowledge Lando’s absence, but Oscar noticed the tightness in his jaw. The way his hands curled slightly from where they were crossed in front of him.

Oscar spent most of the lesson pretending to take notes but in reality he wasn’t even trying to focus. He kept glancing at the empty seat beside him, tapping his pen against the page and biting the inside of his cheek.

His mind wouldn’t stop thinking about Lando. Was he trouble? Was he okay? What was that book that had made Jenson so mad?

He didn’t know which question felt heavier.

Across the room, Max looked just as distracted. He kept sending quick glances toward Oscar, his brow furrowed like he was trying to piece something together like he wanted to ask if Oscar knew anything.

Oscar didn’t. Not really.

And yet he knew deep down that something about that book, about the cuts, about the way Lando was still disappearing. That something was very, very wrong, and it had finally come to a head.

And Oscar didn’t know whether to feel relieved or scared about it.

Even Kimi, usually the most hands-off of all their teachers, paused as he scanned the room. His gaze landed briefly on Lando’s empty chair, then shifted away without comment, but the pause was noticed, especially by Oscar.

When Kimi assigned a paired task, Oscar barely registered the instructions. He didn’t care. He couldn’t, right now.

Lando hadn’t come to lunch either. His plate sat untouched at the end of their table. One of the kitchen staff had come to clear it before the boys even sat down.

It made Oscar feel sick. Where had he gone? What was going on?

By the time Oscar made it to the infirmary wing for his healing tutorial, there was an itch that made him want to scream at the teachers. He just wanted to know where Lando had gone, he just wanted to know if he was okay.

Nico was already setting up supplies on the long table with Alex seated at the far end, quietly flipping through the chapter on regenerative techniques. Everything felt normal, painfully normal, and Oscar couldn’t shake the gnawing unease in his chest.

He lingered in the doorway for a moment too long just watching with a sick feeling growing in his stomach.

“You coming in, Oscar?” Nico asked, not unkindly. “We’re reviewing energy transfer for healing today.”

Oscar stepped inside, forcing himself to nod. His hands fidgeted with the strap of his bag as he dropped into the seat beside Alex.

But after a few minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you…do you know where Lando is?” Oscar asked suddenly.

Nico didn’t look up from where he was sorting tincture vials. “He’s being supervised for the moment. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“But is he okay?”

Nico glanced over, his mouth tight. “He will be. Focus on your work, Oscar. That’s the best thing you can do right now.”

Oscar hesitated, frustration bubbling behind his ribs now. He wanted to push but Nico’s tone had that final edge, and even Alex was giving him a side glance that said, don’t poke the bear.

So Oscar turned back to the book, for the rest of the tutorial he didn’t read a word.

The moment Oscar stepped into the dorm, he knew something was wrong.

There was movement coming from their shared room, fast, frantic movement. Drawers opening, a zip tearing shut. His stomach dropped.

He pushed the door open to find Lando, standing beside his bed, shoving clothes and items into an old duffle bag with jerky, angry movements.

“What are you doing?” Oscar blurted, heart already racing.

Lando didn’t look up. “I’m not staying here anymore.”

“What?”

“They don’t want me here,” Lando snapped. “They never have. Why should I stay in a place that doesn’t teach me anything?”

Oscar stepped forward cautiously. “Lando…just calm down. Whatever happened, just talk to me. Please.”

“You don’t get it!” Lando barked, finally turning around. His face was flushed with anger and something far worse, betrayal and desperation. “You get help with your abilities. You get Nico. You get healing books and encouragement and tutorials. I was drowning and no one cared!”

Oscar flinched but didn’t back down. “We all cared—”

“No, you didn’t!” Lando’s voice cracked. “You say you did, but none of you noticed! And then I found something that helped me, really helped me and now they’re taking it away. I don’t want to go back to before, I can’t. I won’t.”

Oscar’s heart broke at the words. Lando’s hands were shaking now, still gripping the half-packed bag like it was a lifeline.

“It’s okay,” Oscar said, voice soft but steady. He stepped closer. “You’re not on your own. We’ll help. Okay?”

Lando turned away, shoulders trembling. “You can’t.”

“I’m going to anyway.”

That finally made Lando go still.

Oscar stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Lando’s shoulder. He didn’t shrug it off this time. Just stood there, frozen.

“I’m going to find Lewis,” Oscar said carefully. “But I’m not leaving you alone.”

He stepped back toward the door, poking his head out into the corridor. “Max!” he called quietly.

Footsteps padded quickly, Max appearing a moment later, eyes narrowing when he saw the state of the room. “What’s going on?”

“Can you just sit with him?” Oscar asked. “Please. Don’t let him leave.”

Max didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Of course.”

Oscar turned back to Lando, who still hadn’t moved. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And then he was gone, running down the corridor with the storm still echoing through the windows and Lando’s pain heavy on his shoulders.

Oscar didn’t bother knocking.

He stormed through the heavy door, his damp shoes squeaking on the polished floor as Lewis looked up from a stack of papers with raised brows.

“Oscar?” he asked, surprised. “Everything alright?” Oscar has never been trouble, he had never even seen the inside of the headmaster's office. So storming through those doors was very bold and out of character move.

“You need to give him whatever you took back,” Oscar snapped, breathing hard.

Lewis blinked, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Sorry?”

“Lando,” Oscar said, voice sharp. “You need to give him back whatever you took. He’s terrified. He was losing control at the start of this year and you all just…did nothing. Not after the window incident, not even after he made all the orbs explode in class and now you’re shocked he taught himself?”

Lewis’s expression tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“This is your fault,” Oscar continued, voice cracking now. “You didn’t help him. You saw him struggling and you ignored it.”

“We know,” Lewis said quietly. “But you have to understand, Oscar there are no other telekinetics here. He is rare. We didn’t have a proper framework—”

“Then make one!” Oscar snapped. “The rest of us all have tutors. At least give him somewhere to practice. How did you expect him to control his powers with no help, no guidance, and no space to learn?”

Lewis looked down for a moment, jaw clenched. “…we should have, I see that now.”

Oscar took a step forward, anger and worry burning behind his eyes. “Before half term, he was sneaking out. He'd be gone for entire nights. He was climbing in through the window, Lewis. He came back in with bruises, with cuts. One time he begged me to heal him, even tried to pay me when I hesitated.”

Lewis’s eyes flickered up again at that, some deep line of guilt etched across his face. “We’re going to help him,” Lewis said at last, voice low. “We just…need to figure out the best way to do that now. The books we discovered has made it clear that it’s not just about Lando’s safety anymore. But I hear you. I do.”

Oscar nodded tightly, but his fists still shook at his sides. “He’s my best friend. I don’t want to see him struggling anymore. You have to do something. Please.”

Lewis nodded. “We will. Thank you for telling me all of this, Oscar.”

Oscar hesitated at the door, then added, softer now, “He was packing when I got back to the dorm. Had a whole duffle bag ready to leave.”

That finally made Lewis curse under his breath. “Shit.” He pushed back from his desk and stood up quickly.

“I’m going to him now,” he said. “I need you to go find Seb. Tell him what you just told me.”

Oscar didn’t argue. He was already moving towards the door, hoping that they were finally listening and were going to actually help Lando.

Chapter Text

The door clicked shut behind Oscar, his footsteps fading quickly down the hallway.

Lando stood frozen in place, the half-packed duffel bag still open on the bed. His hands hovered above it like he wasn’t sure whether to finish packing it or start unpacking it.

Max sat on the edge of the bed across from him, arms loosely draped across his knees. Watching out the corner of his eye.

“You’re not actually going to leave, are you?” Max asked after a moment, voice quiet but not unsure.

Lando didn’t answer. Just turned slightly to sit on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands. His fingers dragged through his hair like they were trying to pull the panic out of his skull.

“They took everything,” Lando muttered, voice muffled. “All of it. And they won’t tell me why. I was finally starting to feel like I had control.”

Max didn’t rush him. He glanced at the bag. He heard the broken edge in Lando’s voice.

“You were doing it alone,” Max said eventually. “That’s not nothing. But you can’t carry on lie like that forever. You’ll snap.”

“I already did,” Lando whispered. “Earlier today.”

“Not all the way.” Max tilted his head. “You’re still here.”

Lando looked up at him. His eyes were red, rimmed with the kind of frustration that didn’t always need tears to be real. “They don’t trust me,” he said.

“No,” Max said simply. “They’re scared for you. Which, let’s be honest, is better than them not noticing at all.”

Lando huffed a breath, almost a laugh, but not quite.

Max leaned back a little, stretching out his legs.

“So what now?” he asked.

Lando didn’t answer.

Max nudged the duffel bag with his foot. “You could unpack or at least stop deciding between fight or flight every five minutes.”

Lando looked down at the bag. Then back at Max. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “You think I’m being stupid.”

“No,” Max said. “I think you’re exhausted.”

That finally cracked something in Lando’s expression. Not a full collapse, not yet, but a sliver of honesty breaking through the defiance. His shoulders slumped as he sat back.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted quietly.

Max stood, crossed the short space between the beds and sat beside him.

“Then wait,” Max said. “Wait until you do.”

Lando let out a breath. His hands had stopped shaking.

The silence settled between them again, heavier now, but steadier.

They didn’t say much after that.

They just sat, waiting.

For Oscar. For Lewis. For whatever came next.

The duffel bag still sat half-packed beside them like a silent reminder of how far everything had spiralled.

Footsteps sounded outside the dorm room, they were soft but certain, causing Lando’s head to snap up the second he heard them.

Max didn’t move, he only glanced sideways, but he heard them too. They weren’t the footsteps of any of the other boys.

The door opened a heartbeat later and Lewis stepped in.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stood in the doorway, eyes scanning the room, then landing on Lando. The bag was still on the bed that was still open.

But Lando was still here, he hadn’t left.

Lewis let out a breath he didn’t seem to realise he’d been holding. His shoulders dropped just slightly. “You’re here,” he said quietly.

“You said I couldn’t leave,” Lando replied, his voice stiff but controlled.

Lewis nodded, taking a cautious step further into the room. “Oscar found me,” he said. “Told me what happened.”

Lando stared at him with an unreadable expression.

Max stayed where he was, a steady weight at Lando’s side.

“I’m not here to fight,” Lewis said after a pause. “I just wanted to check.”

“To see if I’d run?” Lando asked, and there was a bite to the question, but it wasn’t sharp if anything it was more tired than angry.

“To make sure you’re okay,” Lewis corrected gently.

Lando didn’t answer.

“You have every right to be upset,” Lewis said, his tone even. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice so much in the office or left you feeling like you couldn’t trust any of us.”

“You still took everything.”

“I did and we’re still figuring out what to do with it.” Lewis stepped closer but didn’t try to sit. “But I’m glad you’re here. That you didn’t run.”

Lando swallowed, his throat thick. “I thought about it,” he admitted.

“I figured.” Lewis gave a faint, tired smile. “But you didn’t.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Lewis took another breath. “You don’t have to talk to me now. Not if you don’t want to. But tomorrow we’re going to sit down again, you and me. Calmly this time. Okay?”

Lando hesitated. Then nodded.

“Okay,” Lewis echoed, softer now. “Try and get some rest. I’ll come get you for dinner soon.” He turned to leave but paused in the doorway. “Max, thank you.”

Max didn’t reply, just gave the faintest nod.

Lewis closed the door behind him, and for a long while, the room was quiet again.

Lando didn’t speak and Max didn’t press.

But the duffle bag still sat untouched, forgotten for now.

It wasn’t over.

But at least he hadn’t run.

-x-

Sebastian was bent over a stack of exam papers, red ink was already bleeding notes across the margin of a poorly written answer about the difference in elemental types, when the knock at the door came. It was fast and urgent with no pause. Before he could answer, the door opened and Oscar stepped in.

“Oscar?” Seb frowned at the sudden intrusion, immediately alert. “What’s wrong?”

“I just told Lewis.”

Seb stood properly now. “Told him what?”

“Everything,” he said. “I told him everything, he said to come tell you. I told him about Lando sneaking out before half-term and that he was coming back in through the window. He’s had bruises and cuts, which he asked me to heal. I told him Lando offered to pay me to do so. I'm worried Seb.”

Seb’s change into something hardened behind his eyes but still soft in his expression.

“I told him about the bag too,” Oscar continued, voice lower now. “He was packing it, I came back from my tutorial and it was half filled with clothes.”

“You did the right thing,” Seb said quickly, crossing the room. “Thank you for telling us. That must’ve taken a lot.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Oscar admitted, jaw tight. “I just didn’t want him to disappear without anyone noticing until it’s too late.”

Seb nodded, already striding past Oscar toward the hallway. “I need to go find him.”

Seb was almost running to the dorm, with Oscar trying to keep up behind him when he nearly collided with Lewis, who was just closing the dormitory door behind him.

“Have you seen him?” Seb asked.

“I just left him,” Lewis confirmed. “He’s in the room. Bag’s still on the bed, but he’s not going anywhere, for now.”

Oscar caught up behind them. “He’s staying?”

Lewis nodded. “Max stayed with him. He didn’t run.”

Oscar let out a breath like he hadn’t realised he was holding it.

“I’m going to get him for dinner in a bit,” Lewis added, speaking more to Seb now. “Let him calm down.”

Seb gave a quiet nod, but the tension hadn’t faded from his shoulders.

Oscar hovered awkwardly between them, then stepped back. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

“You did good, Oscar,” Seb told him gently. “Thank you.”

Oscar gave a small nod and walked into the dormitory.

Seb turned back to Lewis.

“He was ready to leave,” Seb said.

“I know.”

“Do we tell him?” Seb asked after a long pause. “About the symbol. About them?”

Lewis hesitated, his eyes drifted to the closed dorm room door that Oscar had just walked through.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted. “He’s only thirteen. It’s too much.”

“But he’s not going to stop,” Seb said. “Not if we keep treating him like he can’t handle it. He’s too deep in it all already and if we keep lying to him…”

Lewis sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “If we’re going to stop him from running again, then you're right we might have to.”

Seb nodded, grim. “Then we’d better make sure we do it right.”

-x-

The dorm door creaked open quietly as Oscar stepped in, eyes scanning the room. Lando was still there, sitting on the edge of his bed, legs drawn up, head resting against the wall like the fight had drained out of him entirely. The duffel bag was still on the mattress, open but not touched any further than when he left.

Max was seated on the bed next to him. He looked up when Oscar came in, then stood, sensing it was time to go. “I’ll leave you two,” he said quietly, brushing past Oscar with a quick pat to his arm. “He didn’t try anything.”

Oscar nodded, watching Max disappear into the hall, then he turned to Lando.

Lando didn’t look at him. Just stayed curled up with his head tipped back, eyes on the ceiling, like he was trying not to feel anything at all.

Oscar didn’t say a word.

He walked over, stood beside the duffel and began unpacking it. One item at a time.

A sweatshirt, some docks, even a few notebooks at the bottom, along with an orb he must’ve stolen from a class room and extra pair of boots.

Lando didn’t move, he sat silently as he watched Oscar unpack his stuff. But when Oscar paused on one of the notebooks, Lando’s voice finally cut through the silence. “I was going to go,” he murmured, eyes still unfocused. “I really was.”

Oscar placed the book beside the bed. “I know.”

“Do you think I’m messed up?” Lando asked, so softly Oscar almost didn’t hear it.

“No,” Oscar said immediately, his voice firm. “I think you’re scared. I think you’ve been alone in this for way too long. But messed up? No.”

Lando pulled his knees up tighter to his chest.

Oscar went back to folding the jumpers back into the wardrobe.

They sat in silence after that, the quiet kind that didn’t demand anything. Outside, the rain was still coming down, soft against the windows, and the light from the desk lamp cast a faint orange glow across the room. The duffel sat empty at the foot of the bed now, no longer bulging with the weight of escape.

After Oscar has unpacked the bag he sat at his desk, silently working and occasionally shooting Lando looks as if he thought he was going to vanish any second. Lando meanwhile remained sitting on his bed, his head now resting n his knees as he stared out the window at the darkening sky.

The knock at the door came gently. Oscar stood first, but the door opened before he could get to it and in Lewis stepped.

His eyes swept the room, landing on Lando first, still sitting where he’d been for the past few hour, then on the empty duffel. Before finally, on Oscar, standing quietly to the side.

Lewis exhaled a breath of relief. “You ready for dinner?” he asked Lando, his tone more cautious now.

Lando didn’t answer straight away, but he finally, reluctantly pushed himself upright and stood. “I guess,” he said quietly.

Lewis nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

As Lando stepped past Oscar, their shoulders brushed. Oscar gave him a small nod, one that said I’m still here.

Lando gave the smallest nod back.

They both followed Lewis out into the fading light of the halls. The flickering torches along the walls cast long shadows that moved across the stone floor as Oscar walked beside Lando, Lewis trailing quietly just behind them.

None of them said much. The air between them still felt fragile, like a glass dome that could shatter if too much weight was placed upon it.

But Lewis stole a glance at Lando as they descended the final steps toward the dining hall. The boy’s jaw was set tight, his arms folded across his chest, and there was a faint tremble in his hands that Lewis suspected had nothing to do with the cold.

“You don’t have to talk to anyone,” Oscar murmured to Lando under his breath. “Just sit with us, yeah? It’ll be fine.”

Lando didn’t answer but he didn’t turn away either.

They pushed open the doors.

The noise of the dining hall didn’t immediately hush when they entered, but several heads turned. Whispers started before they’d even made it halfway to their table. A few students from other years stared openly.

Lando kept his eyes forward. Lewis gave a then a nod as he passed them to head for the staff table, leaving Lando and Oscar to slide into their usual seats.

The others looked up in surprise.

George blinked first. “You’re here?”

“Yeah.” Lando’s voice was flat, guarded.

Charles leaned forward across the table. “Where have you been?”

“Locked up,” Lando muttered, stabbing his fork into the plate in front of him though he didn’t eat.

Daniel frowned. “Why did Jenson drag you out of class earlier?”

“He found my book,” Lando said, voice tight.

Alex raised a brow. “Why did he get so mad about a book?”

Lando looked up, eyes sharp now. The simmering emotion that had been held back all afternoon came bubbling up to the surface.

“Because this school is full of frauds who don’t teach me anything about my powers,” he spat.

The moment the words left his mouth, the air around the table shifted.

A metal goblet on the table near George gave a sudden clink as it lifted an inch into the air. A handful of utensils vibrated faintly. A napkin twisted on its own.

The boys stared silent and wide-eyed as the objects hovered for a breath, untethered by gravity. Whispers spread like wildfire through the hall. Heads turned.

At the staff table, several teachers stopped mid-conversation, all eyes locking on the third year table.

“Lando,” Oscar said softly, hand just barely brushing his friend’s elbow. “It’s okay. Lan, just breathe, it’s getting sorted.”

But Lando’s chest was rising and falling too fast now, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Leave him alone, guys,” Max snapped suddenly, eyes cutting toward the others. “He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

The tension fractured slightly at Max’s voice, the weight of his authority breaking the silence.

The metal goblet thudded back down onto the table. The vibrations stilled.

Lando shoved his plate forward with a sharp scrape and dropped his head into his arms.

Across the room, the teachers were still watching.

Oscar leaned closer, whispering something that didn’t carry.

Max shifted closer too, as the other boys exchanged nervous looks, none of them really knowing what to say, not with everyone else staring.

It felt like the whole world was watching Lando unravel.

And Lando just sat there. Not saying anything more. Not even touching his food.

-x-

The dorm had fallen quiet hours ago. The lights were out. The storm had retreated to a distant drizzle against the windows and the soft hum of the academy settling around them filled the silence.

But Lando was still awake.

He lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the covers twisted around his legs and one hand resting flat against the thin mattress. Across the room, Oscar’s soft breathing had evened out long ago, the rise and fall of his chest visible in the faint glow of moonlight cutting through the rain-streaked window.

Lando hadn’t moved in nearly an hour.

His mind wouldn’t stop.

The day replayed in loops, every word, every stare, every flicker of power that had lifted from his skin without him meaning it to. Every question the teachers refused to answer. Every question he refused to answer in return.

What was so wrong about his books? They’d helped him.

Those books had given him control and way to practice when no one else gave him one. He hadn’t exploded anything in classes in weeks now. He hadn’t hurt anyone. He wasn’t slipping anymore.

And yet they’d taken it all in a heartbeat. Like it meant nothing. Like he meant nothing.

Lando’s jaw clenched.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the symbol. The way Lewis’s expression had changed the moment he saw it. Not confused but afraid.

What could possibly be so dangerous about a symbol on a book?

He had flipped through every page, studied every word, followed the instructions, practiced the techniques. There were no curses. No dark rituals. Just lessons of control and knowledge no one else had ever provided.

Was that really what scared them?

That he’d gotten stronger without them?

That he didn’t need them?

He turned onto his side, fists curled in the blankets now. The ache in his chest had nothing to do with his powers and everything to do with how small he suddenly felt again. Like he was wrong for even trying.

He didn’t feel dangerous, but the look in their eyes said otherwise.

He shut his eyes tight against the wall, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing not for more power or for more books but just for someone to tell him he wasn’t a mistake.

And that whatever he was becoming wasn’t something to be afraid of.

-x-

The fire had burned low in the fireplace in the headmasters office as midnight struck, the low flames still casting long shadows across the room, but Lewis hadn’t moved to stoke it again.

He sat at his desk, unmoving. His elbows braced against the worn surface, his fingers absently tracing the outline of the symbol on the leather cover of the topmost book.

He knew that symbol, had read books upon books about it and it had no right to be here in his school. None of these books did.

But what haunted him more than the symbol was how familiar the wear on the books felt. Pages turned a hundred times. Margins marked in messy, rushed handwriting. Diagrams dog-eared, corners smudged with ink. These weren’t untouched relics, they had been used. Studied and relied on by a child who had no one else to turn to.

Oscar’s voice still echoed like a bruise in the back of Lewis’s mind, ‘this is your fault, you didn’t help him. You saw him struggling and you ignored it.’

He didn’t try to defend himself. He couldn’t really because the truth was simple, they hadn’t actually done anything to help.

They’d seen Lando slipping. They’d seen his fear, heard the quiet panic behind every lie about his whereabouts and every refusal to participate. They’d lectured, warned and waited but they hadn’t helped. Not really, not in ways it mattered.

He should’ve given Lando a space or a guide. Just Something. Anything.

Instead, Lando had turned to this.

Lewis knew he should burn them. He’d said he would but instead…he opened the first cover.

Just a look, a quick glance only to understand what Lando had been reading. What he had been learning on his own.

The first book was basic enough, object levitation, simple control patterns, grounding techniques. The basics that Lewis knew he was taught in his first year. Nothing seemed wrong or dangerous. Yet.

Lewis swallowed hard and picked up the next book. This book went further into object manipulation. Twisting and compressing forms. He paused at a familiar diagram of a sphere being compressed it was the exact trick Lando had shown him weeks ago during drills.

Then came the levitation book. Lewis frowned as he flipped through it, until something slipped out between the pages. A handwritten note, folded and crumpled at the edges, like it had been tucked in to the pages again and again.

He unfolded it carefully finding Lando’s handwriting, unmistakably messy.

Don’t panic. Don’t push. Just breathe. Let the weight go. Start small. You can do this. You’re not going to fall. You’re not going to fall.

Lewis shut his eyes. The note trembled slightly in his hand. How many nights had the boy repeated those words to himself? How many bruises had it taken to convince himself it was working?

And then the last book.

The one that made Lewis’s stomach twist.

He hadn’t opened this one yet. Hadn’t dared to. The energy coming off it was different.

Still…he opened it.

At first glance, it mirrored the others with formulas, instructions and techniques. But it didn’t take long to see the shift. The language turned colder, more forceful. There were sections on how to extract power from others written in a strange language that he prayed Lando didn’t understand . There where parts about how to bind objects to your will, runes disguised as diagrams. All while the pages hummed with old, dark energy masked as telekinetic training.

Disguised and hidden in plain sight.

This wasn’t education. It was corruption and Lando had been reading it for weeks.

He should never have known these books existed, Lewis thought, slamming it shut with a trembling hand. He should have been taught properly. Safely. Like every other student in this school.

Now he had to do the impossible.

He had to sit down with a furious and frightened child whose entire sense of safety had been built around these books and tell him why he could never touch them again.

He had to find the words that would keep him here within the safety of these walls and some how find a way to make him trust again.

And then, worse still he had to find out who had left those books. How they got into the school. Who had crept past the staff and the protections and slipped them into a space only a desperate, lost boy would stumble across.

Because whoever had left them knew exactly what they were doing.

And Lewis would not let them come near his school or any of his kids again.

-x-

The next morning, Oscar was already halfway into his uniform when he glanced over his shoulder, frowning at the still form curled stubbornly in the bed opposite. Lando hadn’t moved since the moment Oscar had gotten up. His duvet was pulled high over his head, the only sign of life being the faint twitch of movement every time Oscar accidentally let his wardrobe door slam shut.

Oscar double checked his books, stuffing an essay inside before finally speaking.

“You getting up?” he asked, voice cautious but not overly hopeful.

“Nope.” Came from beneath the duvet.

Oscar sighed through his nose and zipped his bag shut. “They’re going to come looking.”

“Don’t care.”

“This isn’t going to help your case, you know.”

There was a pause. Then, a mutter from somewhere in the blankets. “Go to class, Osc.”

Oscar exhaled again, heavier this time, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He lingered for another second before finally giving in. “Ughh, fine. But if Lewis comes looking don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

No response came back as Oscar grabbed his bag and left, boots thudding lightly as he went down the stairs.

Then the room fell quiet once again as Lando stayed curled up in his bed.

He lay motionless, arms wrapped around a pillow as the sun outside shone weakly through the late October sky. He could hear the faint sounds of the day starting down in the dining room but other than that the room remained peacefully silent, just how he liked it.

The room remained that way until the door creaked open.

“Come on. Up.”

Lando didn’t even flinch at the voice. Just curled tighter into himself.

“No,” he said flatly.

“It’s breakfast,” Lewis replied, tone already tired, “and you’ve got classes after.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m not going.”

Lewis’s sigh filled the room like a slow-building pressure. “Then you can sit in my office all day.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Nope. Can’t do that.”

“You can,” Lando snapped. “All you have to do is walk out that door and forget I exist.”

“As your headmaster, I cannot let you lay in bed all day avoiding classes when you’re not ill.”

“What if I am ill?”

“Then I will take you to the infirmary,” Lewis replied coolly. “Which I suppose I should do anyway if you’re refusing to eat.”

“I hate you,” Lando muttered, the venom in his voice undercut by the exhaustion in his body.

“I am very aware.”

Lewis stepped fully into the room now, arms crossed over his chest, gaze steady.

“Get dressed. I’ll be waiting in the common room. If you’re not down in ten, I will come back and drag you out in whatever state you’re in. Pyjamas, bedhead, sulking face and all.”

The door shut firmly behind him, but not harshly.

Lando didn’t move right away. His eyes burned. His hands ached. His throat felt tight with frustration he couldn’t swallow.

With a reluctant breath, he sat up. He threw the sheets off in one swift motion and dragged himself to the end of the bed. He dressed in silence, each movement heavy with resistance. Shirt, hoodie, trousers. He put no effort into smoothing anything down nor did he bother checking in the mirror. He didn’t care how he looked, not today.

When he finally opened the dorm door and walked down the stairs into the quiet common room where he found Lewis waiting with a book in hand and that unreadable expression of quiet resolve.

Neither said a word as Lando crossed the room. Lewis merely nodded and turned, leading the way.

They walked side by side through the school corridors, the low morning murmur of students heading to breakfast rising around them. Lando kept his gaze on the floor, hands shoved deep in his pockets and said nothing when they reached the dining hall. Lewis gave him a gentle nudge toward the third-year table before disappearing toward the staff seating.

Breakfast was a blur. He took a slice of toast he didn’t eat and sat stiffly at the end of the boys’ table. The others watched him, but no one said anything, not after the night before. Not after what he’d said. Oscar sat close but gave him space, only brushing his shoulder against Lando’s in quiet support.

Then classes began.

Lando sat in the back row, shoulders hunched, staring at the board without really reading it. Seb’s voice filled the space, calmly reviewing elemental fundamentals. Lando didn’t speak. Didn’t lift his hand when Seb asked questions. Didn’t even reach for his notes.

Seb glanced at him more than once but didn’t say a thing.

The gymnasium felt too big and too loud. Everyone was partnered up before Lando even stepped through the door.

He ended up with Daniel.

But while Daniel circled warily, trying to keep things light, Lando didn’t respond. He stood still as Jenson gave instructions, then simply shadowed the movements with minimal effort, not blocking, barely dodging.

Jenson didn’t call him out but his disappointment was heavy in the air.

At brake he found a quiet corner in the library outside and sat with his knees tucked up, head against the wall. No one approached him. The others passed in slow clusters, Max or Oscar would glance his way, but neither attempted to make conversation.

He didn’t eat anything. Didn’t want to.

It was strange, being in Lewis’s class just hours after he’d practically dragged him out of bed. The usual rhythm of the lesson barely registered.

Lando laid his head on the desk.

Lewis didn’t stop the lesson, but once mid-sentence he paused. Lando didn’t look up, but he felt it. That pause and that searching glance and then the lesson continued like normal.

In potions he sat at the edge of the table, away from any mixing equipment. Nico assigned group work and offered suggestions, and while the others ground herbs and measured liquids, Lando simply watched.

He couldn’t focus. He didn’t trust himself near glass, didn’t want to send them shattering over anyone, by the end, he hadn’t contributed a single thing.

He tried to vanish at lunch. Slipped into the hall late, tray barely touched. He sat again at the edge of the boys’ table, body curled in on himself. When Oscar sat beside him, Lando just kept his head low, trying to shrink into the background.

They didn’t talk and no one made him.

The class was quieter now, tired from the long day. Kimi had them reviewing partner techniques, basic control methods through theory alone. No powers, just verbal breakdowns.

Lando didn’t answer questions. He copied nothing from the board.

He just sat and stared.

By the time the final bell was about to ring, Lando felt like he’d run a marathon. His legs ached, though he’d barely moved all day. His shoulders were tight with tension and his head buzzed with the beginnings of a headache.

He didn’t care that there was a potions exam next week, didn’t care that he hadn’t even opened a textbook for. He didn’t care that others had barely spoken to him or that teachers had stopped trying to coax answers from him.

He just wanted to go back to his room. Curl into bed and pretend none of it existed, but the world wasn’t done with him yet.

As the final period began winding down, there was a knock at the door. Kimi looked up, then nodded once to Lewis, who entered the classroom.

His gaze swept the room and found Lando immediately.

“Come on,” he said, voice calm. “Let’s go.”

Lando groaned quietly as he packed his bag, deliberately slow, dragging his feet all the way out of the classroom and down the corridor.

Of course it was Lewis. Of course he’d come to collect him. After dragging him out of bed that morning, it was only fair he’d end the day by pulling him into yet another conversation. Lando was too tired to argue.

They walked in silence, until they reached the office Lando was starting to know a little too well.

Lewis opened the door and gestured for him to enter.

“You want to know what that symbol means?” Lewis said, voice unreadable.

“I thought you weren’t going to tell me,” Lando replied coolly, dropping his bag on the floor with a dull thud.

“I wasn’t. But I think you need to know.”

“Okay, so I find out the meaning of the symbol…then do I get my books back?” Lando snapped, a spark of hope mixed with resentment sharpening his words.

“No,” Lewis said simply. “And I’m not sure you're going to want them back when I tell you the history of that symbol.”

Lando leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

His tone was defiant. “We’ll see. Go on.”

Chapter Text

Lewis leaned back in his chair, the air between them heavy. He took a moment, as if weighing whether he should even say the words out loud. But then his gaze settled on Lando who was looking so defensive, tired and scared all at the same time so he began.

“Hundreds of years ago,” Lewis said quietly, “when the world still feared anyone with abilities, telekinetics were among the most feared of all.”

Lando didn’t respond, he sat there with his shoulders stiff but he was listening.

“It was chaos back then,” Lewis continued. “If you had a power of any kind, you hid it or risked being hunted. That’s why evernox was founded, to give gifted children a place where they could be safe, where they could learn control. Back then there was more of you, scattered all across the world, but evernox became the only place willing to take you in.”

He paused, eyes drifting for a moment to the window to the autumn winds outside.

“It’s why we have the highest training success rate in the world, because we're the only ones willing to try for centuries. Long before you were born, classes here weren’t just by age, they were by ability. It wasn’t unusual to walk past a room that looked empty, only to see pens writing themselves or to hear nothing at all yet see a whole class passing materials and answering questions.”

Lando was still sitting, quietly listening, looking at him rather intently now.

“There was a group of telekinetics here once. Four students they were bright, talented students who could have been exceptional, even. They bonded quickly, maybe too quickly. Everyone thought they were just ambitious students pushing each other to get better. But they were doing more than that. They were sneaking out into the forest. Experimenting with their powers. Creating spells that weren’t sanctioned, pushing themselves to limits no one had tried before.”

Lewis’s voice had grown lower now, more serious.

“They weren’t just floating objects anymore. They were finding ways to bend them and break them before putting them back together without a single word. They figured out how to unravel spells and even people’s powers. Then they began testing on others.”

Lando’s brow furrowed, and he shifted in his seat with discomfort flickering across his face.

“They believed telekinesis could be more than moving things, they believed it could be used to take things to control people, to strip others of their abilities and absorb them like fuel. And worse they started writing it all down. Their experiments, their rituals, their theories. They passed those books on to younger students, to others like them, telekinetics who were scared, alone and desperate to understand their powers.”

Lewis hesitated then, cause although Lando liked to pretend otherwise, that is exactly what he was. A scared boy who was desperate for control after struggling alone for years.

“But they weren’t trying to help them,” he said grimly. “They were harvesting them. Strengthening themselves. Each new book they gave out was another lure. And one by one…those students started disappearing.”

Lando’s eyes widened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“They found the bodies in the woods. Sometimes drained of energy, sometimes completely broken apart and then just as the school began to realise what was happening the four vanished. Everyone assumed they’d fled, that maybe they’d died, or turned on each other but a few years later…they returned.”

Lewis’s gaze darkened.

“Cloaked in rich velvet, faces hidden and eyes like black fire. They didn’t just return to Evernox. They attacked anyone with power. Towns, villages, even other schools. They slaughtered children, burned down safe houses. Some of the strongest magical defences fell in seconds and everywhere they went, they left behind only two things, bodies and a burnt symbol carved into the walls.”

He picked up one of the books from his desk, running a thumb across the cover where the faint design of the interlocked rings sat etched into the leather.

“This,” he said, holding the symbol up to Lando, “was their mark. It became a brand and a declaration of war.”

Lando’s voice was small now, uncertain. “But they…they were like me.”

“They were,” Lewis admitted. “And maybe once, they were just scared kids too but they made a choice. They wanted the world to submit to their power and they didn’t care how many people they had to destroy to make it happen.”

“What happened to them?” Lando asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“No one knows. One day, the attacks stopped. No trace of them was ever found again. Some say they died. Others believe they went mad, consumed by the very powers they’d tried to master. But there are some who say they’re still out there. Just watching and waiting for someone else like them. For a telekinetic strong enough to finish what they started.” Lewis’s voice dropped into a whisper. “And the only thing that remains…are their books and that symbol.”

The room fell silent. The wind rattled the windows.

Lando stared at the floor, mind racing, chest tight.

“And you think…these books…came from them?” he asked quietly.

“I think someone wants them back in circulation,” Lewis said softly. “And I think someone knew exactly where to leave them for a scared boy who was desperate for control.”

Lando’s lips pressed into a line, his throat working hard.

“You were never supposed to find them, Lando,” Lewis added. “But now that you have…you need to understand why we’re so scared.”

Lando didn’t say anything for a long time. The silence between him and Lewis sat heavy in the air, broken only by the tick of the clock on the far wall and the low whistle of wind outside.

He finally spoke, voice low and uncertain. “So that’s why everyone’s scared of me.”

Lewis looked up from the book, brows furrowed. “No one is scared of you, Lando.”

“They are,” Lando said flatly. “They try to hide it, but I can see it. It’s like they’re just waiting for me to snap. Like I’m already halfway to becoming something dangerous.”

Lewis sighed, folding the book shut. “What happened back then, it left a scar on everyone. It shaped how the world sees telekinetics. Even now, people carry that fear but that doesn’t make it true of you.”

Lando looked down, twisting his fingers together. “But what if it could be?”

“That’s why we teach you to use your powers responsibly. Why we train for if you ever do have to use them to protect yourself,” Lewis said. “I know we failed you—”

“You did,” Lando cut in, eyes sharp, wounded.

Lewis nodded. “I know. I should have given you a space to train. I should have made more effort to guide you instead of just watching. I assumed you’d tell me when you were ready. That was wrong.” Lewis leaned forward after, his voice a bit gentler. “Where did you find the books, Lando?”

Lando’s jaw tightened. His foot tapped anxiously against the floor. “I told you…they just appeared.”

Lewis studied him, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push he didn’t want to fight with Lando again. “Fine. We’ll come back to that but know this someone put them there for you and they didn’t do it out of kindness.”

Lando looked away, almost like he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. Those books had helped him more than the school had so someone must of seen he was struggling and decided to help, surely it couldn’t have been from those old students, Lewis said it was hundreds of years ago, they where surely dead.

Lewis straightened in his chair. “Tomorrow morning, first period tutorials you’ll come with me.”

Lando blinked. “Why?”

“Because I’ve realised my mistake,” Lewis said. “And I’m going to give you a space to practise. Somewhere safe but I’ll be supervising, every time. No more sneaking off and no more running from classes. You want control? You’ll learn it but not alone.”

Lando looked sceptical. “You took my books.”

“You shouldn’t have had them to begin with,” Lewis said firmly. “But you’re not going back to nothing. If you’re willing, we’ll work through other material. Safe material.”

Lando didn’t answer, his frown deepening.

“I’ll sit with you we can read through some together, if that’s what it takes,” Lewis added. “But no more secrets and no more risking your safety.” Afterwards Lewis stood and grabbed his coat. “Now come on, it’s dinner and you will eat tonight.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then you can spend the night in the infirmary with Nico,” Lewis warned, already heading for the door.

Lando groaned under his breath but followed.

Lewis and Lando walked side by side down the corridors toward the dining hall, the hum of conversation growing louder with each step. Lando kept his gaze low, footfalls slow and dragging but Lewis didn’t say anything more.

The warmth of the room hit first, followed by the familiar scent of baked bread and roasted chicken as laughter rolled from table to table.

Lewis walked with Lando to the third year table, just as the boy was about to Lewis whispered just loud enough for the rest of the boys to hear. “Eat something, I will be checking.”

Then he gave each of the boys a deliberately pointed look, a silent message that said ‘if I ask, and you lie for him, I’ll know.’ With that pointed look he peeled off toward the staff table.

Lando exhaled through his nose and slid into the empty spot between Oscar and Max. He hadn’t even touched his plate before the questions started.

“Why’d he take you out of class again?” George asked, already halfway through his wrap.

“He said he’s giving me somewhere to practice tomorrow morning,” Lando muttered, reaching for his fork but just to push some salad around.

“Wait, actually?” Charles blinked. “Like properly? Not just breathing down your neck in every class?”

Lando shrugged. “Well…he said he’d be supervising.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Oscar asked gently.

“Maybe,” Lando said. “If he sticks to his word.”

“At least you won’t have to keep climbing through the window anymore,” Max murmured under his breath so only Lando could here. Lando just narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t deny it.

“Eat something,” Alex chimed in, nudging Lando’s foot with his own. “It’s chicken wraps, you love chicken wraps.”

“Yeah, and I’m not lying for you again,” Carlos added, glancing pointedly toward the teacher’s table where Lewis sat with a fork paused halfway to his mouth, clearly watching their table.

Daniel snorted. “Yeah, no thanks mate. He’s got that look that says if we lie, we’ll be writing lines into our twenties.”

That got a small smile out of Lando. It was tiny, but real.

He finally picked up the wrap and took a bite.

Oscar, beside him, leaned just a little closer, “Tomorrow will be okay. One step at a time, yeah?”

Lando didn’t answer right away but he didn’t pull away either.

For now maybe that was enough. Just one step at a time.

-x-

Come Wednesday morning the dining hall was unusually calm. There was a low buzz of conversation that filled the room as plates clinked and morning sunlight bled in through the tall windows, turning the steam from porridge bowls into golden wisps.

Lando stirred the spoon in his own porridge with little interest. He hadn’t eaten much, he never really felt like eating much anymore but he kept up appearances forcing a few spoonfuls down every few minutes, especially seeing as Lewis had eyes like a hawk these days and has made several threats of infirmary stay which Lando knew if given the chance he would follow through with and he was not in the mood to spend hours or potential days under Nico’s watch.

“You excited?” Charles asked, snapping Lando out of his thoughts as he nudged him with his foot.

Lando blinked up, frowning slightly. “For what?”

“Your tutorial, duh. Lewis is finally giving you one again. You said it was starting today, right?” Carlos asked. Lando sighed, he should have known they weren’t going to just leave it, they were a bunch of nosy gossipers.

Across from them, George raised an eyebrow. “Must be a bit of a relief.” Lando just shrugged.

Oscar nudged Lando’s arm gently. “I thought you’d be happy to have a proper space again.”

Lando just hummed as he began pushing the porridge around the bowl, giving up any further attempt to swallow some down.

In truth, he didn’t know how he felt. He should be glad, he’d fought so long to be treated like the others, to have a safe place to practise. But since the hut, since the books appeared, he’d started making real progress on his own terms and he begun to like it. In the quiet with no eyes watching him, control had finally felt attainable, his power had finally felt like his, like he owned it instead of it being the other way around and now all that had been ripped away. All the books, all the hidden pages of notes, gone.

Now he was back where he started, only with everyone watching closer and acting like he was some delinquent for finding something that helped.

Finally being given a training space inside the academy didn’t feel like he thought it would. He always thought that if he was ever given a space again then it would make him feel seen or just valued. Instead it felt like a punishment, like he'd become a problem they couldn't ignore anymore.

No one said anything about it for the remainder of breakfast, they still sent him looks and Oscar tried to nudge him to eat something, he just ignored it all. At the end of breakfast, Lewis appeared at their table.

“Let’s go,” he said, with a short nod toward the doors.

Lando stood slowly, slinging his bag over one shoulder and trailing behind Lewis without a word. The corridor was busy as they walked. Lewis didn’t speak either, not even as they passed his office and descended the narrow staircase toward the older wing of the school that was usually reserved for older students or dangerous demonstrations.

The door to the old training room came into view as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Lando paused as a strange mix of familiarity and unease washed over him.

He hadn’t been here in years, not since the end of his first year when he’d still had a proper tutor and there was hope that he might be like everyone else, back when he still believed he could be taught, that there was chance he would end up in the good fifty percent. As he entered the dark room the smell of old books and dampness hit him.

Lewis walked to the desk at the far side, placing a stack of papers down with a sigh and turning back to Lando.

“I’m marking essays,” he said simply, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a few thin books. He handed them over without a glance.

Looking down at the covers, Lando noticed the familiar titles. They were the exact same ones Lando had been claimed to be learning from.

“You can start with the simple stuff,” Lewis said, gesturing to the clear space in the centre of the room. “I’ll be here.”

Lando stared at the books in his hands. His jaw tightened.

Simple stuff. He wanted to scoff in Lewis's face, but he didn’t.

He wanted to say these books were useless, outdated and vague. That the confiscated books had been clearer, more advanced and understanding. Instead he said nothing, it was probably better that way. He did not want a detention, he was actually kind of surprised he hadn’t been given one, but then again he did have to sit in Seb's office for half a day, so he supposed that counts.

He turned away from the desk and moved slowly to the centre of the room where he set the books down before turning towards the old supply chest in the corner that now had a thin layer of dust settled on it and toke out a simple training orb before returning to the centre and sitting with a soft thump.

He flicked open the top books to no particular bag just for the appearance, he already knew nothing in them would be new or even remotely challenging. If Lewis wanted simple then he would get simple.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the orb in his hands before picturing it floating upwards.

The orb hovered, steady in the air between Lando’s fingers.

Round and round it went in flat, circular movements like a spinning coin suspended midair. He wasn’t even thinking about it anymore, his magic was barely a whisper at the base of his skull, it had become so familiar now that it responded like muscle memory.

He was supposed to be practising control, but as the orb floated mindlessly above his fingers, all he could think about was them. The four.

The orb twisted faster, rising higher.

Lewis had told him the story like it was meant to frighten him. Like revealing the symbol’s origins would be enough to scare him off. Murderers. Power-hungry madmen. An ancient threat that vanished as suddenly as it rose, but Lando hadn’t felt fear. Not really.

He didn’t care all that much about the horrors the four had committed centuries ago. What gnawed at him, what kept his thoughts circling like the orb was how they had found him.

How had they known?

How had the books ended up there, in the hut?

They weren’t just left behind like forgotten things. They had been hidden just enough that he would find them. That he would be intrigued by them.

But how did they know he’d be the one to find them?

How had they known when he’d started using the attic instead?

How had more books shown up just days after he'd found the attic?

Had someone been watching him?

How had they known he wasn’t going back to the woods?

A new thought crept up his spine with a shiver as he thought about the woods. Was it them that got him to go into the woods?

He frowned, the orb stuttering in its spins.

He remembered the first time he wandered into the woods. The first day back after summer, how all the others had gone off to their tutorials while he’d been left with nothing. Not one teacher had even approached him about it, not Seb, not Lewis. His control was non-existent and yet there was no help. There hadn’t even been an offer. There was no check-in, no questions, just silence.

He’d felt alone. He’d felt scared and desperate and angry all at the same time.

He’d been walking the grounds as he had nothing better to do, he did t really think much about going into the woods, just saw a slight dirt path and a gap in the bushes and in he went.

But now as he thought about it, why was there a path?

Why had no one else noticed it?

What if they’d planted that?

What if it wasn’t really his idea to wander into there?

The orb wobbled and dropped. Lando blinked and caught it just before it hit the floor, his fingers trembling slightly as he clenched it in his fist.

Were they still alive?

He didn’t think so. Lewis had said they disappeared centuries ago. No one can live that long, not even those with magic.

But still, someone knew enough about them to leave behind those books. Someone with access to the same knowledge. Someone who’d been close enough to slip into the school and not be seen.

What if it wasn’t them?

He looked across the training room to where Lewis sat at the desk, his pen was moving lazily across a stack of papers, he was completely oblivious to what Lando was doing.

So if it wasn’t any of the four, then who was it?

That thought, it was the one that chilled him more than the story of the four. Someone now, someone real, had found a way to him. Had been watching him. Had even moved him while he was unconscious.

But maybe he could use that to his advantage.

The books were gone now but if they wanted to reach him again, he had no doubt they could. Maybe he could be the one to reach out this time. Just ask for more book.

He looked at the orb in his hand and glanced down at the useless library books Lewis had given him. They weren’t they same, Lando wanted his books back.

He wasn’t scared. He was curious.

Lando sighed, resigned that for at least now he was going to be stuck floating the same orb up and down. Opening up his hand he let the orb float up, held in the by tired magic and a mind far from the present.

“All right,” Lewis’s voice cut across the room as he slid the stack of marked essays into his bag. “That’s time.”

Lando blinked, the orb faltering. He let it drop into his palm without ceremony.

Lewis approached with a nod toward the books still laid out beside him. “Get anything out of them?”

Lando shrugged, noncommittal. “Same as always.”

Lewis didn’t push, just gave him a look that said I’m not fooled before gesturing toward the door. “Come on, you’ve got elemental theory next. Don’t keep Seb waiting.”

They walked together in silence, out of the training room, Lewis didn’t ask anything else. While Lando didn’t even glance back at the training room, his mind was already elsewhere.

As he entered Seb's classroom, the warmth of multiple light candles burning at every desk, probably set during his tutorial session, hit him. He had forgotten how cold the old telekinetic training room in the basement was. Charles and Carlos were already mid-debate with a sheet in front of them when Lando slipped into his seat.

Seb didn’t say anything about his slight lateness, just nodded in greeting and gestured for him to join the others in reviewing elemental reactions.

Lando tried to follow the worksheet along. He stared at the diagrams, the charts and the others in conversation around him but he just couldn’t focus, his mind kept drifting with a single thought.

What if I left a note?

It wasn’t like he could just go and demand more books, especially now that everything was being watched so closely but if whoever left the others was still watching then they must know his books were taken.

What if then they were waiting for him to reach out?

Lando shifted in his seat, tapping his pencil against the edge of his desk.

What would he even write?

Could he just explain the situation?

That this school was against him. That it allowed everyone else to explore their abilities, to learn and challenge their potential, while he was given the basics.

Would that be enough?

He startled when the candle in front of him flickered too high, flames briefly licking upward. Carlos turned with a raised brow.

“Little jumpy there,” he muttered.

“Didn’t sleep much,” Lando said quickly.

Carlos didn’t press, but Seb was watching now.

By the time brake came Lando was exhausted, he slumped onto the couch, wedged between Max and Oscar with a half-eaten apple in his hand. His eyes kept darting to the windows.

It had stopped raining for the first time in what felt like years.

The woods were still half hidden in a cloak of mist but the break in the weather stirred something restless inside him.

He could slip out tonight or maybe even leave the note now. Maybe during lunch?

He’d done it before. Left and returned without anyone noticing.

He chewed his lip, deep in thought.

“You all right?” Oscar asked softly beside him.

Lando nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Nico’s classroom smelled of crushed mint and warm rosemary. Bottles lined the shelves, their contents either glowing, pulsing or settling in slow, lazy swirls.

Nico was discussing sleep tonics, something Lando probably could’ve used.

He was supposed to be listing the ingredients. Instead, he was writing down possible phrases.

I would like more books.

I need to keep learning.

They took the others away.

Please.

He crossed them out one by one.

They were either too desperate, too obvious or too vague.

Nico passed behind him, pausing just long enough to glance down at the page.

Lando quickly flipped it over, pretending to reach for another textbook.

In combat theory Jenson didn’t even look at him when he handed out the sparring assignments.

Clearly he was still pissed about Monday. That was fine, he didn’t need his approval anyway.

So Lando kept to the edges. He ducked and weaved and moved like he was present, but his magic stayed dormant, his focus fractured.

The hut had been untouched since before half-term.

He wondered if the floorboards were damp now. If the orbs were still there. If the pull would still be there when he stepped inside.

Was someone even out there waiting for him to come back?

Jenson barked his name, breaking the spiral in his thoughts.

Lando looked up blankly.

“You need to actually move if you want to avoid getting punched again.”

“Right,” Lando muttered, adjusting his stance.

The rest of the session passed in a blur of noise and motion, but none of it stuck.

At lunch he was back to barely touching his food.

The others were talking loudly either about the upcoming potions exam or how Seb nearly set his sleeve on fire earlier or about Charles accidentally icing up the hallway again.

Oscar nudged his plate towards him. “Eat something.”

Lando took a bite of bread just to shut him up.

His fingers itched to write. He needed to draft something. To get it out of him and hidden beneath the old floorboards before he chickened out or got caught.

If he left it soon then maybe by the morning there would be something waiting.

Kimi had a strict tone today as he moved from student to student while they practised dampening and reigniting small magical pulses. The objective was restraint.

Lando barely tried. He flicked the orb, watched it spin once, then set it down.

Kimi stopped beside him. “You’re not trying.”

“I am,” Lando said without looking up.

Kimi crouched, meeting his gaze. “You are somewhere else.” Lando didn’t reply. After a beat of just watching him, Kimi stood. “Don’t waste the space you’ve been given.”

Lando said nothing. He just watched the orb roll to the edge of the table and fall, stopping it just an inch from smashing on the ground. He let it float back up into his hand all while staring at Kimi with a bored expression.

By the time the final bell rang, he had decided what he was going to write.

Lando trailed behind the others as they made their way back towards the third-year dormitory. Some were discussing how they had found the lesson, others were asking for help in revising for the potion exam. No one turned to ask him anything.

When they arrived back to the dorm the others all immediately sprawled across the sofas in front of the lit fire. Lando didn’t join them, instead he made his way up to his room and slipped inside, letting the door shut softly before he leaned back against it, his pulse racing.

He had made up his mind.

He was going to leave a note in the hut and he was going to do it now. Before dinner, before Oscar came upstairs and started peppering him with questions or threats of going to Lewis.

He crossed to his bed and dropped his bag onto the blanket. He pulled out a thin notebook and a pencil, which he stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie, all while his mind began mapping out the familiar route.

He couldn’t go through the common room, not with all of them down there. Charles would crack a joke, George would ask to many questions, while both Max and Oscar gave him that look.

That left the window.

He pushed it open to the cold air of an late October evening, damp and frigid from the weeks of rain. The courtyard lay just below, slick stone glinting like teeth. Students were still moving between wings, while some teachers could be seen at the far end of the field.

If he climbed down, someone might see. A student would cause a scene while a teacher would start a lecture, before he was once again being marched to Lewis' office.

But if he levitated…

Lando climbed up onto the windowsill and perched on the ledge with his legs dangling out while his heart hammered in his chest. The drop looked further from his perch in the window, the ground was nothing but a fuzzy smear of dark shapes and puddled light.

He closed his eyes just like he had done in the training room this morning and started concentrating.

He could do it. He’d done it once before, from the branch in the woods.

Sure, that was maybe three times lower than this, but still.

His fingers gripped the cold stone. The chill bit into his palms.

He could survive a four-story fall.

Surely it was possible, he just had to land the right way.

So basically not on his head.

The thought spiralled, dark and heavy.

Did it even matter if he didn’t?

The wind gusted, ruffling his hair and stinging his eyes.

My parents don’t care. They haven’t cared since my powers presented.

I haven’t been a friend to anyone in ages.

The school would probably be relieved if I just…went.

He closed his eyes and drew a breath.

His magic hummed faintly at his fingertips, ready and eager.

Just as he was about to push himself off the ledge a hand clamped around the back of his jumper and yanked him hard, dragging him back inside.

Chapter Text

George found his powers both a blessing and a curse.

People assumed being telepathic was all perks, from always knowing when someone was lying to being able to predict conversations and read every emotion. But no one ever talked about the static. The constant buzz of half-formed thoughts, the emotional noise, the screaming silence that wasn’t really silent.

What was worse was that no one mentioned how it never turned off.

How even though he was supposed to block people’s thoughts, it was respectful and the school had rules which Fernando had drilled it into him from day one, but blocking constant thoughts was hard when you were tired, when the room was quiet, when emotions ran too high.

Exams were a nightmare. He’d sit there, pen in hand, trying to focus on his own questions while Max narrated every answer like a podcast and Lando looped the same sentence over and over, stuck on one word until George thought he’d start bleeding from the ears.

On the bad days it dissent mattered how hard he tried to block others thoughts, they still came through in a constant stream until it felt like someone was drilling inside his head and today had been a bad day.

Wednesday meant mind drills with Fernando first thing in the morning. Which meant all afternoon his skull had felt like it was clamped in a vice. So when he’d finally made it back to the common room after last period, he’d all but collapsed on the sofa by the fire.

He just needed thirty minutes of no talking, no thinking, just silence.

“Long day?” Alex asked, sliding onto the adjacent sofa.

“Fernando’s drills are so draining,” George groaned, rubbing his temples.

“Humm, I’ll make you a tea,” Alex said, and padded off toward the small kitchen.

George finally let himself relax. The fire was warm, his weight sunk into the sofa just right. His mind was just beginning to drift when a voice cut through the fog. Not an actual voice but Lando’s thoughts. Unfiltered, loud and clearer than they’d been in weeks.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, truly, but Lando had always been different. Louder, somehow, in George’s mind and lately George had been listening. Not actively, not on purpose, but more than he should, because Lando had changed and none of them had been able to figure out why.

He hadn’t heard Lando in ages, it was like instead of George trying to block Lando, Lando was trying to block George. So when Lando’s voice slid into his head, sharp and cold and terrifying, George sat up fast, the pounding in his head replaced by something far worse.

He’s going out the window.

He’s going to levitate down.

He's thinking about what would happen if he fell.

He doesn’t care if he falls.

He thinks no one cares if he falls.

He thinks they’ll all be relieved.

George was on his feet in an instant, the movement so abrupt it startled the other boys in the room, he didn’t stop to explain. He just ran.

He took the stairs two at a time, with his heart hammering in his chest, he turned hard down the hallway to the rooms. Lando’s door was open, not fully but just enough for him to rush in. The air was colder than it should’ve been. The window was wide open and Lando…

Lando was sitting on the windowsill, legs dangling out, staring down.

For half a second, George froze.

Then he surged forward.

He didn’t give the other boy a chance to react. He wrapped his arms tight around Lando’s waist and yanked him back. They stumbled backwards and landed heavily against the frame of the bed. Lando hit the mattress with a startled sound, trying to twist away, but George didn’t let go.

“What the hell are you doing?!” George snapped, his voice trembling.

“Get off me!”

“No!” George barked. “What were you thinking?! You were going to jump!”

“I wasn’t going to fall—!”

“You don’t know that!”

They were both breathing hard. Lando’s face was flushed with anger and something that looked like fear, his hands were clenched by his side and his body was tight like a wire about to snap.

George sat back slightly, still keeping himself between Lando and the window. “You don’t get to say no one would care if you got hurt or…or…worse.”

“You heard me?” Lando asked, voice quiet now. George didn’t answer. “You weren’t meant to hear—”

“Well I did.” George swallowed thickly. “And I don’t regret it. You don’t know what you’re doing! You think no one cares? That we wouldn’t notice if you just died?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

The shouting was loud enough to have attracted the other boys now. Oscar appeared first, then Max, Alex and Charles not far behind them were Daniel and Carlos.

Shocked gasps sounded as they found George holding Lando’s arm while Lando was shaking with wide-eyed, backed into the wall and was beginning to hyperventilate.

“George, stop—!” Oscar snapped, rushing in.

“What’s happening?!” Alex asked at the door.

“I don’t know! He I just heard yelling!” Charles answered.

Lando’s breathing grew sharper and shorter as the others drew nearer, making his panic turn into something worse. His hands clawed at the duvet, shoulders shaking as objects began to rise, first pencils, books and pieces of clothing fluttering from the floor pulled by the force spinning off him in waves.

“George, get out,” Max ordered.

“What—?”

“Get out!” Max ordered as he shoved George hard toward the door. “You’re making it worse.”

George stumbled out of the room, his face pale as he watched Oscar drop beside Lando, holding his hands up like he was wanting to touch him but not sure if he should.

“Lando, hey, hey—look at me, just breathe, alright? You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re not in trouble. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

But it wasn’t working.

The air vibrated. The lights flickered. A glass from the desk cracked.

They heard the door downstairs smash open again and soon they hear footsteps rushing up the stairs. Seb was in the lead, closely followed by Nico, Kimi and Jenson.

“What happened?!” Seb demanded as he reached the cluster of boys.

“I don’t know,” Max said, staring at Oscar as he tried to talk Lando down, “George just ran in and started yelling—”

“Okay. Okay. Lando,” Seb tried to soothe as he stepped into the room and crouched by the bed, keeping his voice low and steady, “you’re alright. Just breathe, okay? No one is going to hurt you.”

But the more they spoke, the more the objects in the room rattled mid-air like they were caught in a storm.

“Seb—!” Oscar called urgently, crouched protectively next to Lando, who was now covering his ears and rocking slightly.

“Someone get George, find out what happened!” Seb barked.

“I’m here—” George said stepping into the doorway, his face stricken, “I…I could hear him. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t trying, but it was so loud.”

“Okay, it’s alright. Just, what did you hear?” Seb asked carefully, trying to edge closer to Lando.

George hesitated, his voice shaking. “He was planning to levitate out the window but then he…he started wondering what would happen if he fell. Then if it would…if it would kill him…”

“George, stop,” Oscar hissed, eyes flicking to Lando, who was trembling more violently now, his eyes clenched shut as he started rocking more.

George ignored Oscar as he continued with a heavy thickness in his voice, “he started thinking it didn’t matter, that no one cared—”

CRACK! The light bulb in the lamp shattered. The desk chair rose a foot into the air.

Then Lewis was there, along with Fernando, having just caught the end of what George was saying.

“Okay, thank you, George that’s enough,” Lewis said tightly, stepping between him and the others.

“He’s not calming down,” Nico said grimly, arms lifted as he kept a floating set of drawers from rising higher.

“Half the objects in the school are flying,” Fernando muttered, trying to keep his voice down as he watched Lando rocking on his bed.

“What do we do?” Jenson asked tensely.

“I have an idea,” Fernando said, stepping forward slowly. “You might not like it, but I don’t think his parents are going to be complaining.”

“We don’t use our powers on the kids—” Seb began.

“He’s not calming down,” Fernando cut in, eyes locked on Lando. “He’s going to burn out. You know how telekinetics spiral. If he continues to spike, he’ll black out, his powers will consume him, he’ll be lucky to only hurt someone.”

“Okay. Fine,” Lewis said, jaw tight. “Do it.”

Fernando moved with careful precision, cutting through the chaos, the energy in the room almost humming with static. He knelt in front of Lando, who showed no signs of having heard what was just said.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he whispered as he gently placed both hands on Lando’s temples, where a soft glow began to ripple under Fernando’s palms. Seconds later, Lando slumped sideways into Oscar’s arms, out cold.

The objects floating in the room dropped all at once, clattering around them like the aftermath of a tornado.

The room fell silent.

Oscar was shaking, holding Lando tight to his chest. “He wasn’t going to do it,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “He wasn’t…”

“We know,” Seb said softly, kneeling beside them. “We know.”

Lewis stepped in without a word, his expression unreadable, and carefully lifted Lando from Oscar’s arms. The younger boy resisted at first, his arms tightening for a moment like he could protect Lando just by holding on. Lewis murmured, “I’ve got him, he’s safe Oscar,” and Oscar, though reluctant, let go.

Lando sagged boneless in Lewis’s arms, utterly unconscious. His face was pale, sweat clinging to his brow but he was breathing evenly now. The storm of his panic had passed, but the damage lingered in the brokenness of the other boys faces.

Seb fell into step beside Lewis as they exited the dormitory, with Nico right behind.

Behind them, the others stayed to speak with the remaining boys, to calm the confusion, the fear, and the growing questions no one yet had answers for.

The walk to the infirmary was quiet, save for the hurried sound of Lewis’s boots on the stone floor and the occasional flicker of magic from Nico’s fingertips, ready just in case Lando’s powers sparked unexpectedly.

When they reached the infirmary the space was a mess, bottles and equipment littered the floors, a chair was knocked over and the lights were still lightly swaying above them. Lando’s spiral really had reached most of the school.

The three shared a glance, that spoke more than words could about there shock, before carefully stepping in. Lewis headed to one of the beds while Seb picked up the chair and Nico began picking up some of his fallen equipment with a careful glance, checking each piece's condition.

Lewis laid Lando down as gently as he could, he brushed back the sweat-dampened curls from his forehead. His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary as guilt began settling in deep.

Then Lewis turned to the other two. “What the hell just happened?”

“I have no idea,” Nico said immediately, already pulling supplies from one of the unscathed cabinets to check Lando’s vitals.

Seb shook his head, arms crossed tightly across his chest. “George said he could hear him. The thoughts weren’t good.”

Lewis looked between them both. “He said what, exactly? I only heard the ending.”

Seb hesitated. “He said Lando was planning to levitate out of the window. He started wondering if he could survive if he fell. Then it spiralled, he started wondering what would happen if he didn’t. If the fall would kill him. If anyone would care.”

Lewis cursed under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “He was fine this morning in the tutorial. Quiet but nothing out of the ordinary lately. How was he in your classes?”

“Off,” Seb admitted. “Made his candle flare badly, he was distracted, didn’t say much. Told Carlos he didn’t sleep well when he asked.”

“Same in mine, pretty much,” Nico said from beside the cot, adjusting the pulse monitor. “Head down. Looked like he was taking notes, but when I was walking around checking, he flipped the page fast, like he was hiding something. He definitely wasn’t doing any of the work I assigned, I’m sure of that.”

Lewis rubbed his head in thought, “Right. I’m going to check on the other boys first. Then when he wakes up, we ask what he was up to all day, if he doesn't talk then we go through his books. He needs to know he can trust us but I won't have him hiding stuff again.”

“I’ll come with you,” Seb said, his voice low. “They’re shaken, especially George and Oscar looked like he was going to follow you all the way here.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Nico said, adjusting the blanket over Lando’s still form. “He shouldn’t be out for more than an hour. I’ll make sure he’s stable.”

Lewis turned and began walking out of the infirmary but paused by the door, glancing back at the boy curled in on himself, already so small in the white sheets. His jaw clenched.

“This shouldn’t have gotten this far.”

“And yet it keeps happening,” Seb said quietly.

Neither of them said what they were really thinking, that if George hadn’t heard him, Lando might not be here.

-x-

The room had fallen into stunned silence as Lewis swept out with Lando limp in his arms and Seb and Nico on his heels.

Oscar sat there, unmoving, staring at the empty doorway. His arms felt light now, it was strange how heavy someone could feel until they weren’t in your arms anymore.

“Okay, boys,” Jenson said gently but firmly, stepping in like he always did when no one else could move. “Let’s go back to the common room.”

Oscar didn’t respond. He just stood and walked stiffly out into the corridor, but not before glancing back over his shoulder in time to see Kimi pull the window closed with a harsh click, snapping the latch shut. Fernando stood beside him, murmuring something low and fast that Oscar couldn’t catch before Jenson laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him down the hall the cold corridors in silence.

The common room was warm with firelight, but it felt hollow now. George was already there, hunched forward on the edge of the couch, his face pale and drawn, his knee bouncing so hard it made the floor vibrate. Alex sat beside him, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades, murmuring something too soft for the others to hear.

Charles and Carlos hovered near the hearth, both looking unusually quiet, their usual edge dulled by confusion and fear. Daniel and Max stood in the corner, speaking in rushed whispers, like they were waiting for someone to come back and start demanding answers from them.

Oscar sat when Jenson nudged him toward the armchair. He didn’t lean back, didn’t relax. He just stared into the fire, hands clenched in his lap, barely aware as the teachers gathered near the edge of the room, speaking quietly.

A few long, silent minutes later, the door opened again.

Lewis and Seb returned, their faces unreadable but their eyes sweeping the room with purpose.

Lewis stepped forward. “I need to know exactly what happened,” he said, voice level but firm. “George?”

George didn’t look up at first. Alex nudged him gently.

George swallowed, his voice brittle. “I didn’t mean to hear him. I didn’t go looking for his thoughts, I swear I didn’t but it was just so loud.”

“It's okay, we believe you just go on,” Seb encouraged softly.

“I was in the common room. I’d had drills with Fernando earlier, my head was pounding, I was just trying to rest.” George shook his head, hands clenched. “Then it was like someone shouting in my ear. It was Lando, he was thinking about going out the window, about levitating down, I didn’t hear why. He was scared of falling but then he started wondering what would happen if he did fall, if it would…if it would kill him. Then he wondered if it would even matter.”

The room tensed, no one breathed even though they had already just heard it, but hearing it in the calmness when no objects were floating, it held more weight. No one knew what Lando was up to but they thought he was getting better, not worse.

“So I ran. I ran to the dorm and found him sitting there, on the ledge, like he was ready to do it. So I just I pulled him back.”

“But then you started screaming at him!” Max snapped, stepping forward suddenly, voice accusing with leftover panic. “He was already panicking and you…you were shouting at him!”

George flinched. “I…I didn’t mean to, I was just—”

“Alright,” Lewis cut in, voice calm but commanding, lifting a hand. “That’s enough.”

He looked around the room, eyes meeting each of theirs in turn.

“I know that was scary, and I know none of you should have had to witness that, but I want you to know this isn’t your fault. Any of you. Not George for hearing it. Not any of you. Okay.” He paused, then added gently, “Lando’s in a tough place right now. His powers are…more complicated than most. He’s been feeling overwhelmed, and he didn’t tell us, and that’s on us as much as it is on him. We should have seen it sooner.”

Oscar glanced down, jaw tight. He was Landos' roommate, he knew he was struggling he was just naïve in thinking that him getting tutorials was suddenly going to fix everything when it was only the other day he found him packing.

Lewis continued, not noticing Oscar's self-deprecating spiral, “We’re going to help him. I promise you, we’re doing everything we can to keep him safe and supported, but George if you ever hear something like that again, or if any of you are ever worried, come straight to us. Don’t keep it to yourselves.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” Carlos asked quietly.

“He’s going to get the help he needs,” Seb said, stepping forward now, his voice low but steady. “That’s all you need to worry about. He’s going to be alright.”

“Is he coming back to the dorm?” Charles asked.

“Not tonight,” Lewis said. “He needs to rest. Nico’s with him now.”

The boys nodded, slowly and uneasily.

Lewis softened. “Get some rest, all of you. I'll speak to you all again tomorrow.”

-x-

Lando stirred with a faint groan, a small sound that made Nico look up from where he’d been quietly writing notes at the far desk. The boy’s hands twitched first, then his breathing hitched, shallow and uneven.

“Lando?” Nico asked as he set the papers aside and moved to his bedside. “Hey, easy now, take a breath.”

Lando’s eyes fluttered open, wide and unfocused, darting from wall to ceiling to Nico’s face. “What…where?” His voice cracked, the words rushing out before he could find them. He shot upright, heart hammering.

“Easy, easy.” Nico put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay, Lando. You’re in the infirmary. Just breathe.”

It only seemed to make him more frantic. “Why am I? Why—” Then his face fell, realisation hitting all at once. “Fernando. He used his powers on me!”

Nico sighed softly. “I know.”

“You’re not allowed to!” Lando snapped, voice sharp with disbelief. “You’re not supposed to—”

“You didn’t give us much of a choice,” Nico said quietly. “It was either that or risk you hurting yourself or someone else. You were spiralling, Lando and that’s okay, it happens. We all get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“Yeah, well,” Lando bit out, pressing his palms against his eyes, “when I get overwhelmed, I’m apparently a danger.”

“You’re not a danger,” Nico said firmly.

Lando laughed, bitter and shaky. “Then what am I?”

“Special,” said another voice from the doorway.

Lando’s head snapped up. Lewis stood in the doorway with Seb just behind him, both looked exhausted with their faces drawn tight with worry.

“Special,” Lando repeated, his tone venomous. “You mean a freak.”

Lewis shook his head. “No. I mean special, Lando. Powerful. That doesn’t have to be bad.”

Lando turned his gaze away, staring at the wall with his jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Lewis sighed, stepping into the room and towards the bed. “Why did George have to pull you out of the window?”

Still Lando remained silent.

“Lando,” Lewis tried again, softer this time. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“He wasn’t meant to hear, he's not supposed to read our minds,” Lando muttered finally.

“I know,” Lewis said, glancing toward Seb. “But sometimes George can’t control it. Just like how you struggle to control your powers at times. We all do. None of us are perfect.”

“I didn’t mean to scare anyone,” Lando said quietly, voice cracking.

Seb crouched slightly beside the bed, resting his arms on his knees so he was level with him. “Were you trying to sneak out?”

Silence again.

“Where were you going to go?” Seb pressed gently. “The woods?”

Lando’s throat worked. He didn’t answer, didn’t nod but he didn’t deny it either.

Lewis exhaled. “Look, I know you’re upset. I know you still don’t believe everything I told you about those books but those are dark magic, Lando. They were written by people who destroyed everything they touched.”

“They taught me,” Lando said, looking up sharply, anger flickering through his tears. “They were the only thing that did. None of you ever—” He stopped himself, blinking fast. “Forget it.”

Lewis stepped closer. “No, go on.”

Lando just shook his head, eyes falling to his blanket. “You’ll never understand.”

Lewis’s expression softened into something tired and guilty. “Maybe not but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”

Seb stood again, crossing his arms. “He needs rest, Lewis.”

Lewis nodded, but his gaze lingered on Lando’s hunched shoulders for a long moment before he finally turned toward the door.

“Get some sleep,” Lewis said quietly. “We’ll talk again in the morning.”

The door closed behind them with a dull click, leaving Lando staring at the ceiling, his chest tight, his mind spinning with half-formed thoughts of the hut, the attic, and the symbol that haunted his dreams.

-x-

The door to the infirmary clicked shut behind Lewis and Seb. For a moment, neither spoke. The corridor outside was quiet, only the distant hum of laughter and clinking cutlery was heard between them. Lewis ran a hand through his hair, eyes closed for just a beat longer than a blink.

“I don’t know what to do with him anymore,” he admitted, voice low and tired.

Seb sighed beside him, crossing his arms. “We’re not his parents, but we’re all he’s got and he just doesn’t come to us.” He paused. “How was the tutorial with him this morning? Did he say anything else about the books? Did he show what else he can do?”

Lewis shook his head. “No he didn’t say anything, I just gave him a few of the standard library books, the same ones he used to claim he was learning from. Told him to practise the basics while I marked essays.”

Seb turned his head sharply. “That was it? You didn’t talk at all?”

“No, I figured I should start with something structured,” Lewis said defensively. “Something safe.”

Seb let out a long breath through his nose. “Lewis…he probably thinks that’s all he’s going to get from now on. Simple drills. That’s not going to appease him not when he’s had a taste of something more.”

“So what then?” Lewis snapped, not angry at Seb, but at the situation and at himself. “He just sneaks off back into the woods the minute we try to make things safer?”

Seb looked at him evenly. “You told him the story behind the symbol, right? The books and the four?”

“Yes. Every part of it,” Lewis said, voice flat. “Told him about the experiments, the deaths and the fear it left behind.”

“And how did he react?” Seb asked.

Lewis hesitated. “He didn’t…really. Not in the way I expected. He wasn’t scared. I think—” He rubbed at his temple. “I think he believes it can’t have been that bad. Not if the books helped.”

Seb’s brow furrowed. “You told him the part where the bodies were found in those woods? Where the original four vanished and came back as monsters?”

“Of course I did,” Lewis snapped, then caught himself. “What are you trying to say?”

Seb held his gaze. “I’m saying he was training out there, Lewis. He was going back. If we’re not offering him a challenge here, if we’re not giving him a safe place to explore what he’s capable of, he’s going to go looking for it.”

Lewis exhaled slowly, the weight of it pressing on his chest. “I need to get him better books.”

“Yes,” Seb said. “But more than that, you need to engage with him in those tutorials. Not just sit behind a desk while he floats pencils. That’s not going to keep him satisfied.”

“I know,” Lewis murmured. “You’re right.”

Seb softened slightly. “We’ve got to do more than supervise. We have to teach him in a way that keeps him from reaching for the edge again. He’s teetering, he has been for a while. If we don’t offer him some kind of structure he trusts, he’s going to slip.”

Lewis nodded, running a hand down his face. “Thank you, Seb. Really.”

Seb shrugged, looking away for a second before meeting his eyes again. “I’m here for a reason. He needs more than control. He needs connection and we need to communicate. All of us. No more guessing what he needs. No more assuming he’ll come to us.”

Lewis glanced back toward the infirmary. “We will do better by him.”

“It might take time,” Seb added, a grim smile tugging at his lips. “And probably a few more mistakes along the way.”

Lewis nodded. “But we’ll get it right. Eventually.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment longer, no illusions about how far they still had to go, but united in one simple truth, they weren’t giving up on him.

-x-

Morning light filtered weakly through the infirmary windows. Lando had been woken by the grey light as was currently staring at the doorway, wondering if he could sneak out when Lewis came in carrying a tray in one hand. “I brought breakfast.”

Lando didn’t answer. He was sitting upright with his knees drawn slightly to his chest, looking at Lewis suspiciously, like the food might contain sleeping pills or something.

Lewis set the tray down on the table beside him, containing porridge, toast, and tea, before he pulled up a chair. “I think we should talk.”

“I’ve done enough talking,” Lando muttered his voice was flat, edged with exhaustion.

“I know,” Lewis said evenly, folding his hands. “It’s been a long week and it’s only Thursday morning, but you are still in my care, so we will be talking.”

Lando scoffed softly. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Well,” Lewis said, settling into the chair, “I have several things to say. First, I know you’ve previously been sneaking off into the woods and I’m guessing that’s where you were going yesterday.”

Lando’s shoulders tensed but he said nothing.

“What I want to know,” Lewis continued, “is what’s so important out there.”

“Nothing,” Lando said, quiet but sharp.

“I don’t believe that,” Lewis replied simply. “You should know those woods have been searched dozens of times. Nothing’s ever been found but I have a feeling you did find something, maybe that’s where you found the books and maybe something else.”

Lando stared at the tray. “I’ve got nothing to say.”

Lewis sighed. “Then let’s make this easier. I don’t want to keep punishing you, Lando. I want us to come up with something together.”

“Like what?” Lando asked, finally glancing up.

“Tomorrow,” Lewis said, “last period tutorial. We’re going back to the old training room. You’re going to show me more of what you learned from those books and then we’re going to go through a catalogue of books together and find material that’s safe, but still challenging.”

Lando blinked at him. “I thought you wanted me to stick to the basics, not that you were watching.”

“I should have been more hands-on yesterday, I know that now,” Lewis said, leaning forward slightly. “I want you to be safe but I also want you to learn. As much as I despise those books, I’ll accept building on what they taught you, just in a more secure way.”

“You’re really not giving them back,” Lando said.

Lewis’s answer was immediate. “Never.” He paused, letting that settle. “Now. You have until the end of the day to give me a list of any supplies you’d like for tomorrow’s tutorial.”

“Why?”

“Because I meant what I said,” Lewis told him. “I want you to have the same opportunities the others do but I also need you to understand something, both of us are going to make mistakes. When we do, we don’t run from them. We learn from them.”

“I wasn’t running,” Lando said quickly.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “No? Then let’s call it ‘looking for danger.’ Those books are banned and the woods are off-limits. Am I clear?”

Lando crossed his arms. “Crystal.”

“Good,” Lewis said, standing. “Now eat breakfast and get to class.”

Lando’s head jerked up. “Class?”

“Yes,” Lewis said, fighting a smile. “You’re not hurt. You’re not ill. So yes, you have classes to attend.”

“Can’t I just have the day off? Everyone—”

“Everyone was worried,” Lewis interrupted gently. “You scared them, Lando. They need to see you’re okay. The sooner you show up, the sooner they can move on.”

Lando’s voice went small. “They’re going to judge me. All because George couldn’t—”

“No,” Lewis cut in sharply. “You don’t blame George. He couldn’t help it, and you know that. He feels terrible. Go to class. Talk to them. Be friends again.” Lewis’s expression softened. “You used to laugh all the time, Lando. I think they miss that.”

Lando frowned down at his hands, then muttered, “I’ll go. But only if—”

“We’re not negotiating,” Lewis said, though his tone had lost its edge. “You’re eating breakfast and going to class.”

“Can I at least have Saturday off?” Lando tried. “It’s been a long week after all.”

Lewis considered him for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. But I’ll make our Friday tutorial extra hard.”

“You better,” Lando said, a faint smile ghosting across his face.

Lewis smirked. “See you later. In class. Not before.”

“Yes, sir,” Lando murmured.

As Lewis left, Lando looked down at the tray again. His stomach was tight, but the tea smelled warm, with only a small knot in his stomach about what the others were about to say he took a sip.

The corridors felt louder than usual that morning as Lando stepped out of the infirmary or maybe it was just that he was painfully aware of every sound, the faint hum of magic through the old walls, the scrape of chairs being pulled across stone floors and the distant chatter spilling out of classrooms as students filed in.

He tugged at the sleeves of his jumper as he walked, Lewis had made sure he went straight from the infirmary to class, there was no lingering and nowhere to hide. The few students he passed in the hall offered awkward half-smiles or whispers behind their hands.

By the time he reached power and control lab, Fernando was setting up at the front of the room and was currently writing the definition of control on the board.

Lando slipped inside quietly, keeping his head down. Conversation stilled the moment he entered. He felt their eyes on him as he made his way over to his desk.

“Hey,” Oscar said first, voice small but sincere.

Lando gave a tight nod, but didn’t say anything back.

“Feeling better?” Charles asked Lando gently.

“Mmh,” Lando hummed in response, sliding into his chair. He busied himself will pulling out a pen and notebook that he had no intention of using but it would at least make him look like he was paying attention enough for the others not to talk to him.

Fernando watched from the corner of his eye but said nothing, choosing instead to start the lesson. “Alright, class. We’ll be continuing with showcase drills today. Remember, control doesn’t always mean stopping a power, it means understanding your own abilities and those around you as well.”

After that the air filled with the low thrum of energy as each student began their exercises. Charles and Carlos took turns flicking flames across their palms as the other attempted to put it out, George steadied his breath while Alex sat opposite him with an uneasy look on his face as George attempted the read the number of the card Alec had picked with his mind meanwhile Max teleported small objects from desk to desk as Daniel tried to guess which desk it would reappear on as Oscar kept track of each wrong or right guess.

Meanwhile Lando sat perfectly still. He didn’t float any objects, didn’t go up to any of the groups, he just sat with his eyes fixed on the grain of the desk as though the smallest motion might draw all eyes to him.

Fernando drifted past his row once, offering a quiet, “You can try when you’re ready.”

But Lando didn’t move. When the bell finally rang, the others toke the chance to catch him on the way out. Oscar slipped out the door right behind Lando.

“Hey,” Oscar said again, as he caught up to Lando. “You doing okay?”

Lando nodded once. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Oscar pressed, searching for some opening.

“Sure,” Lando muttered, keeping his gaze forward.

Max tried next. “You scared the hell out of us, you know.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time don’t sit on a fourth-floor window ledge,” Max shot back, but his tone wasn’t cruel, just scared.

Lando didn’t answer him as he pushed open the door to Nico’s greenhouse and slipped inside before anyone else could bring up the events of the previous night.

Nico looked up from a workbench when Lando entered, his expression softening just slightly.

“Welcome back,” he said simply, as though it were any other morning and he hadn’t spent the night checking his vitals every few hours for reasons Lando couldn’t even explain, as it's not like he was even hurt this time.

Lando gave a small nod and sat down, keeping his bag tucked protectively against his chair as Oscar took his seat next to him.

Nico clapped his hands. “Alright, we’re building off of yesterday's lesson and mixing a sleep tonic today, so get into pairs, please.”

Oscar glanced sideways at him. “You wanna—?”

“Yeah,” Lando said quickly, already reaching for the ingredients tray.

For the first few minutes, they worked in silence with Oscar grinding roots and Lando measuring powder with slow precision. It was almost calm but every few seconds, someone would glance over it was either George pretending to stretch, Alex pretending to adjust his burner or the sideways glances from the others as they whispered under their breaths.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered finally, eyes fixed on his cauldron.

Oscar blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m gonna drop dead or disappear.”

“I’m not,” Oscar said, too quickly.

Lando stirred the potion the mixture flashing a steady emerald. “Then tell them to stop too.”

Oscar looked around, spotting the others looking their way with various ways of discussing that were not working at all, “okay, I’ll talk to them.”

When the bell rang half an hour later, Nico called, “Good work, everyone. Bottles labelled, please.”

Lando packed up fast with his head down. He could feel Nico’s gaze follow him, but the teacher said nothing as Lando slipped out into the corridor ahead of the others.

He leaned against the wall for a second, letting out a shaky breath. The voices from the classroom muffled behind him.

The day wasn’t even half over, but already, he wanted to disappear again.

Chapter Text

The breakfast table felt quieter without Lando, despite him never really talking much lately at any meals.

Oscar stirred the last of his cereal without really eating, eyes flicking to the doors every couple of minutes. Max was nursing a cup of tea and picking at his toast. George sat stiffly with his chin in his palm, watching the hall doors. Even Charles and Carlos, usually the ones to keep conversation moving, had gone silent.

“Think he’ll come?” Daniel asked quietly, pushing his tray forward.

Oscar shrugged. “Who knows, Lewis is probably talking to him.”

“Or maybe he's tried to leave again,” Carlos offered.

“He nearly floated out a window yesterday,” Max said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they make him stay in Seb’s office again.”

The group lapsed back into silence. Each of them had a different theory on how to handle approaching Lando when he finally reappeared. George was still riddled with guilt, though he hadn’t said much since Lewis’s talk the night before. Meanwhile, Max was impatient, he didn’t like not knowing how to fix things and Oscar just wanted his best friend back.

When the bell rang, they filed out together and made their way through the hallways to Fernando’s classroom. When they entered, they found the older telepath already at the board, beginning to write the date and the lesson title.

“Morning, everyone,” he said without turning. “Take a seat.”

The class toke their usual seat with their usual chatter, although slightly quieter than they normally would.

Fernando kept writing, now moving on to writing the familiar definition of control that he wrote every time they were going to be doing practical work.

Then the door opened again causing the boys to pause their conversation as they all looked up towards the classroom door.

Lando stood in the doorway, his sleeves pulled low, his hair slightly unkempt like he hadn’t bothered to check the mirror before leaving wherever he’d spent the night.

He didn’t meet their eyes.

Lando stepped in silently and moved down the row, head low and gaze locked on the floor like the moment he looked up everything might fall apart again.

Oscar was the first to try to break the tension. “Hey.”

Lando didn’t respond. Not properly anyway. Just gave a tight nod that might have been a greeting or an apology or just a plea to leave him alone.

Charles tried too, voice softer and a little gentler. “Feeling better?”

Lando hummed under his breath and slid into his chair, pulling out a pen and notebook that everyone knew he probably wasn’t going to use but the gesture was enough to keep them from pushing.

Fernando glanced over, offering nothing more than a small nod in return and turned back to the board.

The lesson started and soon the room hummed with energy. The boys gathered into groups and began taking notes on how the others controlled their powers, meanwhile Lando didn’t move.

He sat there like a paperweight among flickers of flames and reappearing orbs, unmoving like something might snap if he so much as breathed too loudly.

Oscar kept glancing over, his fingers twitched to invite him over but he didn’t want to push.

So Lando never joined in and when the bell rang signalling the end of first period, the boys watched Lando as he slid the untouched notebook back into his bag before making his way hastily to the door.

Oscar caught up first as he slid out the door just behind him before falling into step beside him. “Hey,” he said again. “You doing okay?”

Lando didn’t look at him. “Yeah.”

Oscar frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Sure,” Lando muttered. His voice wasn’t angry, just tired. Worn down in a way that made Oscar’s stomach twist.

Max moved up on his other side. “You scared the hell out of us, you know.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Lando mumbled, almost like he was ashamed of them worrying about him.

“Yeah, well…” Max rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe next time don’t sit on a fourth-floor window ledge.” His tone wasn’t scolding, it was just scared.

Lando didn’t answer. Didn’t even flinch. He just pushed open the door to potions class and disappeared inside, the warm herbal air washing over the rest of them as they followed after a beat.

Oscar watched Lando sink into his seat in the corner and pull his bag into his chest, almost like he was using it as a shield. He didn’t look at anyone.

Oscar didn’t say anything else as he toke his seat next to him but the space between them still ached.

The boys were paired off as usual, Oscar and Lando at the far table, Alex and George one row up, Max and Daneil in the row next to them, with Carlos and Charles behind them.

But the normal chatter of a brewing lesson was gone. No one was saying anything besides the usual talk about measuring ingredients and the timings of when they needed to be added.

Instead, everyone was watching one particle table.

Oscar was trying hard not to notice the looks as he tried to remain focused on grinding a handful of dried roots into fine powder. Lando, beside him, measured out bright orange powder with slow, steady hands and the kind of careful precision that made it look like nothing was wrong as long as you didn’t look too closely.

Everyone kept glancing over in increasingly suspicious ways. George did it under the guise of stretching, a slow lean to the side that looked casual but wasn’t. Alex kept fiddling with his burner, though it had been working perfectly for the last five minutes. Charles whispered something to Max, who didn’t reply, but looked over anyway. Carlos shifted in his seat, trying to peek without peeking.

And through all of it, Lando said nothing. He kept his eyes on his potion, the liquid flashing a healthy emerald green with each slow stir.

Then without even looking up Lando said, “Stop looking at me like that.”

Oscar blinked, startled. “Like what?”

“Like I’m gonna drop dead or disappear,” Lando muttered, his voice low, barely audible over the quiet bubbling of the cauldrons.

“I’m not,” Oscar said too quickly, hands freezing from were they were still cutting leaves.

Lando stirred again, slower now. “Then tell them to stop too.”

Oscar looked up, catching three pairs of eyes darting away in rapid succession. Charles turned back to his ingredients with a cough, George bent over his ingredient list while Alex fumbled with his herb jar.

Oscar sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to them.”

After the bell rang Lando packed up quickly, he kept his head low, gathering his things with quick, sharp movements. Nico’s gaze flicked toward him, but the teacher didn’t say anything, he just watched as Lando slipped out ahead of everyone, the greenhouse door hissing shut behind him.

George found him outside leaning against the wall with his eyes shut as he breathed heavily. He didn’t hear George until the other boy stopped beside him.

Lando didn’t look at him, but George knew he knows it’s him as he let a huffed, “What.”

“How are you?” George asked quietly in a attempt to make peace.

“Fine.”

“I know you’re probably angry at me and waiting for me to apologise.” George said, folding his arms as he looked at Lando in the most sincere way he could without looking pitying.

Lando stayed silent and avoided looking over at George.

“But I’m not going to apologise for overhearing, I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t shut it out. It was loud and honestly really scary.” Lando’s jaw clenched, George continued with his voice softer now. “We all struggle, you know. I know it’s different for you. Harder in way we don’t understand but we care, Lando. All of us. Don’t ever think we don’t.”

For a second, Lando didn’t answer. His fingers fidgeted with the strap of his bag. Then he glanced sideways, the sharpness in his expression softening just a fraction. “Didn’t feel like anyone cared much before.”

George lowered his head. “Maybe we weren’t showing it right. We were trying to give you space maybe. Doesn’t mean we ever stopped caring.” George shifted his weight awkwardly, glancing toward the end of the corridor where the other boys were already drifting toward the library for break. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “Look come to break, yeah? Just…come sit with us.”

Lando didn’t respond right away, but George didn’t wait for him to. He kept talking, like if he stopped, Lando might disappear on them, again.

“No more questions about yesterday. No more window talk. I’ll make them stop I swear. Just don’t make us sit there without you again.”

Lando glanced sideways, wary. “You promise?”

George held up three fingers. “Swear on Seb’s exam season banana bread.”

That pulled the tiniest twitch at the corner of Lando’s mouth. “Fine,” Lando muttered, pushing off the wall. “But I’m not talking.”

“Deal,” George said with obvious relief, already leading the way.

They stepped out into the stuffy library together. The boys were gathered in their usual corner by the far end, Charles was tossing a peeled orange back and forth with Daniel, Max was sitting on the edge of a table and Oscar was tucked beside him with a book open on his knee.

Oscar’s head shot up when he saw them. The others looked over too, a hush falling across the group for half a second before they all hurried to look not weird about it.

Lando slid onto the end of the table, backpack still on. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Oscar passed him half a granola bar without a word. Carlos offered him a crisp, which he declined with a small shake of the head.

Then the group carried on, not as if nothing had happened, but as if they all silently agreed not to bring it up and for Lando that was enough for now.

By the time brake was over Lando’s shoulders didn’t feel quite so tightly knotted. He trailed after the others into Seb’s classroom, slipping into his usual seat and pulling out his notebook without being told.

Seb didn’t say much when he came in, just gave Lando a quiet nod that was more reassuring than a whole speech would be.

As Seb began outlining the lesson on the board, Lando let his pen scratch half-heartedly across the paper. He wasn’t paying attention to the diagram or whatever it was Seb was going on about.

He was thinking about that morning, about what Lewis had said over breakfast, the promise of another tutorial and not just the easy drills from the day before, but the possibility of something real.

Lando didn’t fully trust it yet, but maybe it would be different. Lewis did say they would learn from their mistakes.

So, without meaning to, Lando flipped to a clean page in the back of his notebook and began to scribble. Weighted objects, different-sized training rings, glass rods and any broken object.

He closed the notebook before anyone could see. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to keep it a secret, he just knew he felt pitied enough, he didn’t need everyone knowing that not even Lewis knew what to do with him.

Lando hovered awkwardly outside Lewis’s office after classes, the folded sheet of paper clutched tight in his hand. The list had been sitting in his pocket all afternoon, growing slightly creased from how often he’d touched it, reconsidered it and nearly thrown it away.

He raised a hand and knocked before he could think about walking away.

“Come in,” came Lewis’s voice, muffled but clear.

Lando pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside. Lewis was hunched over his desk once again marking a stack of essays in his usual neat, looping ways. He glanced up as Lando approached and set the pen down.

“I have the list,” Lando said quietly, unfolding the paper and placing it down on the edge of the desk. “You said to give it to you by the end of the day.”

Lewis took it without a word, eyes scanning the contents. As he read, the corner of his mouth twitched, somewhere between impressed and maybe worried. “You’ve clearly thought about this.”

“You said it should be things I can practise safely.”

“I did and I meant it.” Lewis tapped a finger against the page. “A few things I’ll need to look over but this is a good start.”

Lando just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. When Lewis said nothing more, he turned to leave. “Tomorrow,” Lewis called after him, “bring this same attitude. We’ll start properly.”

-x-

The sky had darkened by the time the boys returned from the dining hall. Most had settled in the common room, talking in quiet conversation or with open books while the fire crackled gently as it fought off the evening chill.

Lando was just about to head upstairs, having missed sleeping in his own bed the night before, when Max caught his eye across the room. One look was all it took, Lando sighed and followed Max and Daniel toward the small kitchenette.

Max shut the door behind them before both he and Daniel set their sights on Lando in a determined but not unkind way.

“You were going back to your hut, weren’t you?” Daniel asked.

Lando stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
“Yesterday,” Max said flatly. “When you were going to levitate from the window, you where going back to your hut in the woods.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t.”

“But you were going to.”

Lando didn’t say anything, he didn’t have a defence for the truth.

“If you go missing and they start looking,” Max said, voice low but firm, “I won’t hesitate to tell them where to find you.”

Lando’s eyes widened. “You said you wouldn’t—”

“Things have changed,” Max interrupted, stepping closer. “You scared us, Lando. Yesterday wasn’t just about sneaking out or keeping secrets anymore. You’ve been scaring us for weeks and this week alone, you’ve been dragged out of class on Monday by Jenson, then Lewis comes to get you on Tuesday, then on Wednesday you're sitting on a windows ledge, you can't blame us for being worried.”

Daniel nodded. “We didn’t say anything before because we thought maybe you just needed space but after yesterday, if George hadn’t heard you, you would have what fallen to your death? Ran away? And you think we wouldn’t notice?”

“It wasn’t like that, I swear. I just needed to get something–”

“I don’t care if you’ll hate me,” Max said, cutting him off again. “You’re my friend and I’ll keep you safe, even when you won’t look after yourself. So if something like that ever happens again, I will be telling them everything.”

Lando looked away, shoulders hunched, guilt crashing over him like a cold wave. “I don’t want to be like this, I don’t want to keep scaring everyone,” he muttered.

“Then let us help,” Daniel said softly. “Let them help. Lewis is trying, you know.”

“I know,” Lando whispered, voice small. “I just feel like everything’s going to fall apart.”

Max sighed and reached out and squeezed Lando's shoulder. “Then we’ll hold it together until it all feels…stable?”

Lando gave a tiny nod and a small smile.

“Good,” Max said, slinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him back toward the hallway. “Now let’s go, no more avoiding us. Oscar’s probably waiting to start that stupid revision group.”

Daniel grinned. “You know he’s made a colour-coded study schedule? He’s gone full madman.”

“Kill me now,” Lando muttered but he followed with a smile

The dorm had long since quieted. Daniel’s laughter had faded, George had finally stopped pacing. Max had thrown a pillow at Carlos and even Oscar had given up on making everyone study. One by one, the boys disappeared into their rooms as their voices softened behind closed doors.

The lamp on Oscar’s nightstand cast a muted golden glow over their room, Lando sat on his bed cross-legged, head resting against the wall with his arms loosely draped around his knees. He hadn’t spoken much since returning from the common room. Max and Daniel’s words were still sitting heavy in his chest but in a way that didn’t feel quite so crushing anymore.

Oscar was already in bed, reading some healing book with the quilt tucked around him like a cocoon. After a while, he lowered the book to his chest and looked over.

“Were you really going to jump?” he asked quietly.

Lando didn’t move for a second, shocked at the abruptness of the question, before he shook his head. “No. I was going to levitate.”

Oscar sat up a little straighter. “Have you ever levitated like that before? From that height?”

“Not exactly,” Lando admitted as he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve as he did his best to avoid Oscar’s gaze. “I did it once, from a branch in the woods, it was maybe three or four meters up. I just sort of…floated down.”

Oscar frowned. “Four meters is not four stories.”

“I know,” Lando muttered. “I know.”

A silence settled between them heavier than before, but not as tense as it had been over the previous weeks.

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” Lando said eventually, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t really plan it. I just, my thoughts were racing and I kept thinking about the books and how Lewis is watching me all the time now. It felt like I didn’t have anything left that was mine.”

Oscar nodded slowly, not interrupting.

“I was wanting something that made me feel safe, you know.”

“I do know,” Oscar said quietly. “But I also think it wasn’t really about the books.”

Lando looked over.

“I think you just wanted someone to see how much you’re struggling,” Oscar said. “Even if you didn’t want to say it out loud.”

Lando looked away again, swallowing hard.

“I didn’t want it to get bad,” he whispered. “I had it under control when I had my books, I don’t want to lose that.”

Oscar set his book aside and swung his legs off the bed, padding barefoot across the rug to Lando’s bed. He sat down beside him without asking.

“You won't lose your control,” Oscar said after a moment. “You’re not alone, everyone wants to help you.”

They sat in silence for a long time. The kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward, just full.

Eventually, Lando’s voice returned, small and hesitant. “Are you mad at me?”

Oscar blinked at him. “What? No.”

“I’ve lied to you a lot,” Lando murmured. “And I made you cover for me, even heal me. I put you in a really hard position.”

Oscar considered this, then shrugged slightly. “Yeah but I also care about you and I get why you did it.”

“I’m trying to do better,” Lando said.

“I know.”

“And Lewis he’s giving me space now. I even gave him a list of supplies.”

Oscar smiled faintly. “That’s good.”

“It might actually help.”

“Then let it.”

Another silence settled over them, then Lando nudged Oscar lightly with his shoulder. “You’re still a bit of a nerd, you know. All I've seen you do recently is read.”

Oscar snorted. “Yeah and you’re still a pain in the ass.”

“Fair.”

They smiled at each other and Lando didn’t feel quite so alone.

-x-

The hallway was empty when Lewis and Lando made their way through the lower wing of the school on Friday afternoon. The air had that sleepy, softness that came at the end of the week, when everyone’s mind was already halfway to the weekend but not theirs.

Lewis had a large wooden box tucked under one arm. The other held the door open to the old training room, its worn mats and scratched walls filled with memories. The door closed behind them with a quiet click.

Lando dropped his bag on the floor and moved to the centre of the room, stretching his hands out like he always did before training. There was tension in his shoulders but his posture had purpose.

Lewis opened the box, pulling out a stack of safe, approved materials that Lando had requested the day before.

“All from your list, start simple,” Lewis added, taking a seat off to the side with a fresh notebook in hand. “Show me what you’ve been working on.”

Lando did just that. He started with the floating orbs again, shaping them from rounded objects to metal rings before keeping them suspended in formation. Then he added movement, rotating them slowly clockwise, then counterclockwise, then faster until they were nothing but a blur. He then brought in a piece of chalk and used it to draw mid-air paths that glowed faintly as the rings passed through, leaving trails like they were captured in long exposure.

“That’s new,” Lewis murmured, mostly to himself. “You’re layering tracking with shaping. That’s…not bad.”

Lando’s mouth twitched into a flicker of a smile, though he didn’t look over. “It’s from the third book.”

Lewis’s chest tightened at the mention, he scribbled something in his notes but said nothing.

Then Lando moved to more complicated tasks. He began reassembling broken mirror shards, locking each piece mid-air and slowly rotating them back into alignment until the reflection stitched itself together. Lewis watched with equal parts awe and unease. Lando was precise and methodical but his focus was sharp enough to cut. Almost too sharp.

Then, Lando’s hand drifted toward the far edge of the box toward a thin, fragile glass rod.

Lewis barely looked up from his notes but did catch a glance as Lando looked the rod over. “Careful with that one, it’s—”, but Lando was already holding it, turning it over in his palms. His eyes had gone distant again, that same faraway focus Lewis recognised now as dangerous. “Lando?”

“I just want to try something,” Lando murmured as he began to float the rod between his hands. The rod began to hum, a faint vibration trembling through the air.

Lewis frowned, setting his notes aside. “What are you doing?”

“Something I’ve done before.” Lando’s tone was steady but his knuckles were turning white. The air around him started to shift with the faintest crackle of telekinetic energy beginning to stretch the fibres of the rod.

“Lando,” Lewis warned, stepping forward. “Stop. You’re building too much pressure—”

“I can control it—” Lando stated determinedly as he began to pull the rod apart. Lewis watched in horrified fascination as the middle of the glass seemed to melt apart, but then the just as the rod was about to separate into two, it began to vibrate more violently.

In a blinding flash and a crack that shattered the air, the rod exploded sending shards of glass flying in a glittering spray.

Lewis swore under his breath and ducked instinctively, his arm raising to shield himself. When he looked back, Lando had stumbled backwards with one hand pressed to his cheek. Blood was seeping between his fingers, where thin lines had cut across his skin from the glass.

“Bloody hell,” Lewis whispered as he moved to his side in a second, taking hold of his wrist and pulling his hand away carefully. “Let me see.”

Lando winced, eyes darting toward the shards still scattered across the floor. “It’s fine, I—”

“It’s not fine,” Lewis snapped. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ve had worse,” Lando muttered under his breath, and Lewis’s stomach twisted at the casualness of it.

“Alright, that’s enough of this. We’re going to Nico.”

“I don’t need to—” Lando began to protest, but Lewis was already steering him toward the door, his grip on his shoulders leaving no room for argument.

The door of the infirmary banged open, startling Oscar and Alex from where they were seated at the front station with stacks of textbooks open between them.

Oscar swung round in shock as he watched Lewis pull Lando through the doors of the infirmary, “Sir?” Oscar began, then froze when he saw the blood on Lando’s face.

Nico looked up from his desk, brows lifting at the dishevelled sight of the two. “You know,” he said dryly, standing and gesturing to a bed, “I think you’re the most frequent visitor I have besides my own tutees. What did you do this time?”

“Nothing,” Lando muttered, sitting down stiffly.

Lewis crossed his arms, glaring at him. “Nothing? That’s your word for blowing up glass in my training room?”

Oscar was already fetching a cloth, his face pale. “That’s…wait…this happened before,” he said suddenly, looking between them. “That’s what those marks were—”

“Last time?” Nico repeated, his tone sharpening “What do you mean last time?”

Oscar froze. “I—uh—”

Lewis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It may have slipped my mind to mention that Oscar has been healing Lando behind our backs.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, really now?” He turned toward Oscar, voice even but edged. “Go back to your work, Oscar. We’ll be talking later.”

Oscar opened his mouth, then closed it again, guilt flashing across his face. He glanced toward Lando, who mouthed a quick sorry.

Oscar gave a tight nod before turning and slipping back into his seat and turning his back on the three.

Nico turned back to Lando, arms folding. “Alright,” he said evenly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Lewis stood by the wall, silent for once, as he watched Nico clean the cuts across Lando's face with an expression mixed between curiosity and regret.

Because it wasn’t just the fact that Lando had gotten hurt. It was that he’d been practising like this for weeks and Lewis had only just realised how much danger he really had been putting himself in, all in an attempt to understand and control his ability, which the school should have been doing from the start.

Nico sighed setting down the cloth Oscar had gave him and reaching for his supplies. “Alright,” he said, his voice even but leaving no space for argument. “Sit still, and don’t flinch. This might sting.”

Lando didn’t move. His face was pale under the thin streaks of blood, but his jaw stayed set in stubborn defiance.

Nico dabbed at the shallow cuts with gentle precision, muttering under his breath about reckless teenagers and teachers with too many secrets. The antiseptic smelled sharp and medicinal, but his touch was careful with experienced. “Lift your chin,” Nico said quietly. “There. Almost done.”

When he finally pulled back, the cuts were pink but clean. Lando’s eyes were unfocused, staring somewhere at the floor.

“You’ll live,” Nico said, voice softening slightly. “You’re lucky it didn’t get your eye. You need to stop experimenting with anything sharp or at least warn someone before you do.”

Lando muttered something inaudible.

“What was that?”

“I said I wasn’t experimenting,” Lando said louder, still not meeting his gaze. “I knew what I was doing. It just…didn’t work.”

Lewis sighed quietly through his nose. Nico gave him a pointed look before patting Lando’s shoulder firmly but not unkind.

“Alright, you’re fine to go. Go get cleaned up properly and take a walk before dinner,” he said. “And try not to blow anything up between here and the dining hall.”

Lando slid off the bed, muttering something under his breath that sounded vaguely like no promises, before shuffling out of the room. Lewis followed him to the door, pausing just long enough for Nico to murmur, “We’re talking later,” before Lewis was falling the boy out.

For a moment, the infirmary was silent except for the ticking of the old clock and the faint creak of Nico’s chair as he sat down behind his desk.

Then he said, without looking up, “Oscar.”

Oscar froze in his seat where he’d been pretending to copy an explanation, “…Yeah?”

Nico gestured for him to sit. “Let's talk. Alex you can go.”

Alex moved quickly as he packed up his stuff, while shooting Oscar a wary looked, as Oscar began sweating just from thinking about the conversation that he was about to have.

“What did Lewis mean,” Nico asked, “when he said you’d been healing Lando behind our backs?”

Oscar hesitated. He so desperately wanted to lie but the look in Nico’s eyes said that would only make it worse and he would get the truth out of Lewis or Seb anyway.

So he swallowed and told the truth. “There has been a few times that Lando has come to me panicked. He said he’d fallen or cut himself by accident. He beg me not to tell anyone, aid he couldn’t risk getting in trouble again. I didn’t know anything about some books, I guessed he was practising but I just thought he was doing it to get control of his powers as no one was helping him.”

Nico’s expression didn’t change as Oscar rambled, but the muscle in his jaw ticked. “So you just went along with it,” he said evenly.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Oscar said quickly. “He was terrified, he was already bleeding when he showed up and he kept saying he could handle it, that it was fine. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Nico leaned back, folding his arms. “You wanted to protect him.”

Oscar nodded, relief flickering. “Exactly.”

“Then here’s how you actually protect him next time,” Nico said, voice sharp as a blade. “You don’t ever do it again. Not behind our backs. I don’t care how much he begs or how scared he is about getting in trouble, you come to me or to Lewis or to Seb. Immediately. Understood?”

Oscar’s stomach twisted, guilt burning in his chest. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Nico leaned forward slightly, softening only enough to make sure the message sank in. “You’re not in trouble for caring, Oscar but if you keep covering for him like that, you’re going to let him hurt himself worse and I don’t want either of you to get hurt because of a secret you think you’re protecting.”

Oscar nodded again, voice small. “I understand.”

“Good,” Nico said once more, with finality this time. “Now go on back to your dorm before dinner and if you see Lando on the way, make sure he gets back to the dorm, I'm not in the mood to go searching the woods.”

That earned a faint, nervous smile from Oscar. “Yes, sir.”

He slipped out quietly, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Nico alone in the quiet infirmary, shaking his head as he reached for his pen to write yet another incident report with Lando Norris written neatly at the top.

-x-

The fire crackled quietly in the fireplace, throwing soft light over the mismatched furniture and half-drunk mugs of tea. The staff room felt unusually still, the tension from the week hanging over everyone like a storm cloud.

Lewis sat back in the armchair closest to the fire, his eyes tired and posture a little slumped.

“So,” Seb started as he perched on the edge of the sofa across from him, one brow raised, “how was it? Did you sit and actually pay attention this time?”

Lewis didn’t even pretend to be offended. “Yes, Sebastian. I did.”

“And?” Jenson asked, from the sofa beside Seb.

Lewis ran a hand over his face. “He’s so advanced now. He can control not just multiple objects at once but he’s got them doing different things simultaneously. It’s like watching choreography. He can bind broken objects back together and even…”

Seb leaned forward. “And?”

Lewis hesitated. “And then he tried to pull apart a glass rod.” The room looked at him in shock. They knew the kid had been experimenting with stuff in those books but this was unbelievable. Lewis sighed. “He was close. You could see how focused he was. Then it shattered from the pressure, the glass shards caught him across the face.”

The group remained in stunned silence. Until Nico broke it with a sly comment, “Don’t worry, I patched him up, he's fine. And it was actually me, this time. Not my student.”

“What’s he on about?” Fernando asked at the bite in Nico’s comment.

“You didn’t tell Nico about Oscar?” Seb’s voice lifted in disbelief.

Lewis rubbed his temples. “Look, it’s been a week. Monday we found the books, then after the disaster of that day Lando was packing a bag, ready to leave so when Oscar came to tell me everything including that he’d been patching Lando up behind our backs, it just…slipped my mind.”

Kimi arched a brow. “What happened exactly?”

“It would seem that when Lando started experimenting with the books, he got hurt. He’s tried the glass rod thing once before, it cut him up then too. He panicked and went to Oscar instead of us begged him to heal it, swore him to silence,” Lewis explained.

“He was scared,” Seb said. “And then Oscar got scared for him, he didn’t know what Lando may do if he didn’t heal him, so he did.”

“I’ve had words with Oscar,” Nico added. “He knows now that no matter what Lando says or how much he begs, it doesn’t happen again.”

Jenson exhaled slowly. “God. It’s really been a week.”

“I know October is only just ending,” Nico muttered, setting down his tea, “but I can’t wait for the Christmas break.”

“You’ve got quite a few weeks to get through first,” Seb said with a wry smile.

Fernando folded his arms after he added another log to the fire, “And I don’t think the chaos is stopping anytime soon. It’s not like Lando’s going home for Christmas.”

The room once again fell into silence at the reminder of the neglect of a boy that they were struggling to overcome.

“He’s sitting out tomorrow’s drills,” Lewis said out of nowhere.

Seb frowned. “Since when?”

“Since Thursday morning,” Lewis replied. “We made a deal. He goes to classes, participates, makes up with his friends and he gets Saturday to rest. Kid’s had a month packed into five days. I think he’s earned it.”

A few murmurs sounded out but no one objected, Kimi uncorked the bottle he’d brought in, raising it slightly. “Wine?”

“Yes,” several voices chorused.

Lewis leaned forward to accept a glass, sighing. “We need to do better. All of us. He’s clever and he’s dangerous when left alone but he’s also a scared thirteen year old who thinks no one wants to help him.”

“We do want to help him,” Seb said, passing a second glass to Nico. “Know we just know that he's not the kind of kid who's going to come asking for help.”

“Next week,” Lewis said, lifting his wine slightly. “Is a new start, with hopefully no more surprises.”

“Cheers to that,” Fernando muttered.

“Cheers,” the rest echoed, clinking glasses quietly over the crackling of the fire.

-x-

The dorm room was almost silent except for the soft rhythm of Oscar’s breathing across the room. The moonlight cut through the thin curtains, stretching long pale lines across Lando’s bed. He lay flat on his back with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

He couldn’t sleep, not that it was a surprise, he hadn’t really slept properly in weeks. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind replayed everything that he messed up, from making the glass shatter to Lewis’s look of disappointment, along with Nico’s quiet sigh when he saw him to Oscar’s guilty expression as he was told off for helping him.

Lando pressed his palms against his face, dragging them down, trying to muffle his groan not wanting to wake Oscar.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?

Lewis had tried. He’d given him a chance with his own space again and the kind of supervision that was supposed to make Lando feel safe and equal to how all the others were treated and he’d blown it all because he couldn’t just be content, he just had to push things too far.

Now, all Lewis would ever let him do was levitate pencils and spin rocks. He’d thrown away his last chance at ever being seen as normal and the thought clawed at his chest.

There was no way back. Not after this.

He’d lost the books, the only thing that had made him feel like he was learning, like he was capable. He’d lost the teachers’ trust repeatedly, all of them kept looking at him like he was a ticking bomb they were trying to handle gently enough not to set off.

And Oscar…Oscar had been the one person he thought still understood him. Someone who didn’t look scared or disappointed, but after today, after getting him in trouble, he’d probably decided he wasn’t worth it anymore.

George was wrong. They’d all be better off without him.

He wasn’t what any of them expected him to be.

He wasn’t the gifted student Lewis wanted to help or the friend the others hoped would finally show up. He wasn’t anything but a mess, he was just an idiot who couldn’t get through a single week without breaking something,

He pulled the blanket over his head, pressing his face into the pillow until his lungs burned for air. He just wanted the noise to stop. For all the whispering, the pity looks and the constant eyes scrutinising his every breath to go away.

He really wished he could just disappear.