Chapter 6 - 5: Beneath the Desk
Classroom B-17 was empty after hours.
Technically, it was never full. It belonged to Class F, which meant students showed up on accident, forgot why they were there, and usually left more confused than they arrived.
Tonight, it was silent.
Except for one figure crouched under a desk in the back.
Alaric pressed his fingers against the wooden floor, eyes half-closed, mind focused outward like a spider waiting on its web.
He'd marked the lines hours ago—small cuts in the floor beneath the desk, tracing where the next ritual circle would likely form. The pattern matched the others: part of the Academy's structural grid. This room was a node waiting to wake up.
And now, it was breathing.
Not air.
Something deeper.
The wood pulsed under his fingertips. Slowly. Faintly. Like a heartbeat.
Then—movement.