Chapter 9

The walk to the cafeteria was a welcome change from the tension-filled classroom. Mark fell into step beside Ria, enjoying the easy silence that settled between them. The awkwardness had faded, replaced by a comfortable….curiosity.

The place was buzzing with the usual lunchtime chaos - students huddled in groups, the clatter of trays, the aroma of greasy food filling the air. They took a table by the window in a relatively quiet corner.

“So, what will you have?”

Her eyes flickered to his shoulder. “Why don’t I get it? You stay here and rest that shoulder.”

“It’s fine, really. I—”

“Don’t argue,” she said, a smile on her lips. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Try not to get into any more trouble while I’m gone.”

Mark chuckled leaning back, bracing his weight against the wobbly plastic chair, as Ria vanished into the throng of students clustering near the cafeteria counter. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He swiped it away, wincing as the motion pulled at the bandage on his shoulder, the lingering cold a sharp reminder that he wasn’t quite as unscathed as he’d tried to pretend.

Okay, now what? Mark had no idea. The carefully constructed arguments, the sincere apologies he’d rehearsed… they’d all vanished the moment those eyes had settled on him back in that empty classroom.

He was officially winging it, and his wings felt about as reliable as a pair of tattered, smoke-stained curtains flapping in the breeze.

Relax, Mark…just be normal. It’s a date, he thought, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Except normal was not getting supernaturally bound after the first encounter, he thought, a wave of frustration mixing with the lingering excitement that thrummed beneath his skin whenever he thought about—

No. No more of that.

The cafeteria buzzed around him—a chaotic mix of clinking trays, shouted greetings, and chairs screeching across the floor. A girl at the next table, her laptop open to some super colorful spreadsheet, kept glancing at him with a look that was equal parts flattering and nerve-wracking.

A few minutes later, Ria returned, balancing a tray laden with food - a burger, fries, a salad (which Mark suspected was more for show than anything else), and two large sodas.

“Here you go,” she said, placing the tray on the table.

“Thanks.”

The smell of it— salty, greasy, perfect— chased away the last traces of adrenaline, replaced by a more familiar kind of hunger.

He devoured half of it before he even registered that Ria was watching him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Whoa, slow down. You’ll choke.”

“Starving.” He mumbled through a mouthful of burger, realizing he hadn’t actually eaten anything since the breakfast he’d scarfed down before heading out for library.

They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds the clinking of forks and the murmur of conversation around them. He watched as Ria took a bite of her burger, letting out a satisfied hum. He couldn’t help but smile. At least someone’s enjoying this.

“So,” he began, hoping to break the ice, “are you from around here?”

“Born and raised, for the most part. What about you?”

“Well, like I said, I moved around a lot. But I was originally from Texas.”

“The land of cowboys, huh?”

“Don’t believe the hype,” he grinned. “More like the land of traffic jams and overpriced barbecue.”

“Ah, so you’re not a cowboy then?”

Mark played along with an exaggerated drawl and casual lean back in his chair. “Y’all got a problem with them cowpokes, lil’ lady?”

Ria’s laughter burst out like music, and Mark couldn’t help but join in. Damn, that’s infectious, he thought, grinning ear to ear.

“I’ll take that as a no, then?” She asked. “Did you ever ride a horse?”

“Nope, closest I got was a mechanical bull at a county fair. Ended badly.”

“I bet it did,” she chuckled. “I can just picture it.”

“Hey! I almost lasted eight seconds.”

“Almost,” she teased.

“So, Roanoke,” Mark said, changing the subject. “What’s it like growing up here?”

The conversation flowed easily from there— favorite movies, embarrassing first day college memories, their mutual disdain for organic chemistry. She was easy to talk to— funny, smart… he’d forgotten how good it felt to simply relax, to let a conversation unfold without that constant pressure of knowing. Or not knowing.

“So,” he asked,as they were finishing their fries. “what are you studying?”

“Computer graphics. Hoping to get into animation or game design.”

“That’s cool.”

Bonded or not, she is fun, he thought, his heart pounding a little faster with each shared laugh.

He pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on getting to know her. He was curious about everything - her life, her likes, what made her tick. He still had no clue about this whole ‘weird mystical connection’ thing, and as comfortable as he felt with Ria, he couldn’t quite gauge her true feelings about all that has happened between them. For now, he was content to enjoy her company.

An hour slipped by—filled with laughter, shared glances, comfortable silences—and as they walked out of the cafeteria into the warm sunshine, he found himself reluctant to let it end.

“That was… surprisingly fun.”

“Surprisingly?” Ria teased, bumping him playfully with her shoulder.

“Okay, okay, it was lot of fun,” he conceded, grinning. “You’re pretty great company.”

A silence settled between them then, comfortable this time. Easy. Until—

“Well…” She stopped at the fork in the path. “I’ve got a class in this building.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said, nodding across the quad. “Over there.”

“I had a pretty good time, Mark.” Ria admitted, the words hesitant, as if they’d taken her by surprise.

“Me too,” he replied. “Can I get your number? You know, for… future burger dates?”

Ria smiled and pulled out her phone. “Sure.”

They exchanged numbers.

“See you around, Mark,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“Definitely,” he replied as watched her vanish into the flow of students— that cascade of chestnut brown hair the last thing he saw.

He let out a long breath, feeling a sense of ease-ness settle over him. There were still so many questions left unanswered, so many hazy details surrounding the circumstances that had thrown them together. They hadn’t really talked about the bond, their future, or any of the heavy stuff that weighed on his mind.

But at the very least, he’d managed to rekindle whatever fragile buds of connection had blossomed between them. It was a start, a small step in the right direction, and for now, that was enough.

Baby steps, he mused, smiling to himself.

---

After three weeks…

Three weeks, It felt like a lifetime ago that he’d stood in that empty classroom, awkwardly asking Ria out for a burger. Now, as he sat across from Lida at their small kitchen table, he couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off his face.

She’s amazing.

They had been on several dates – movies, walks in the park, late-night study sessions that somehow always ended with lingering touches and amazing conversations. It had all happened so fast, but it felt so right.

He had been prepared for resistance, for awkwardness, for the constant fear that their connection was solely based on some supernatural connection. But Ria had surprised him. She was open, playful, and surprisingly patient with his doubts. She never pushed, never made him feel pressured. They were taking things at his pace, building a connection that felt genuine.

It’s like someone took everything I ever wanted in a girl and rolled it into one perfect package.

Focus, Mark. He shoved those thoughts aside, glancing at his aunt.

Lida never truly relaxed— not since… well, not since ever, as far as he could remember. But she had been surprisingly supportive of his relationship with Ria, her usual lectures on ‘discretion’ tempered with genuine encouragement—and for that, he was… grateful

“Lida, what do you know about… covens?”

“Covens?” She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Just curious,” he shrugged. “Ria mentioned she’s part of one, and I was just… wondering.”

“Is that so?” She took a sip of her tea, her expression thoughtful. “Did she mention the name of her coven?”

“I think she said …..” Mark searched his memory of those late-night conversations. “Crescent?”

“Crescent?” Lida’s eyes widened slightly. “They’re an old one.” She paused, a smile touching her lips. “Coven. Haven’t heard anybody say that in a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody really uses the term ‘coven’ anymore. These days, they call themselves associations. More modern, I suppose. Remember what I told you about territories?”

Mark vaguely recalled their conversations about the divisions within the supernatural world, the territories controlled by powerful groups. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Well,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “For ages, people with similar abilities - mages, shifters, witches - started forming groups. They wanted to learn from each other, to grow stronger, to protect themselves.”

“Like a club?”

“More or less,” she continued. “In the early days, those with similar affinities - pyromancers with pyromancers, oracles with oracles, and so on - began banding together into tight-knit cells. All in pursuit of greater strength, greater knowledge, and accelerating their evolution.”

“So it was like…safety in numbers?” He said. “Honing their crafts alongside others like them?”

“Precisely.” A faint, rueful smile ghosted across her lips. “They experimented, shared knowledge, developed new techniques. It was all passed down through generations, codified into rituals and traditions. Eventually, these groups became more structured, more powerful. They claimed territories, established hierarchies. That’s how the modern associations were formed.”

“And Crescent is one of these … associations?”

“Yes. They are one of the oldest coalition still in existence. Their origins date back over a millennium, to a fraternity of cryomancers who first compiled their collective knowledge and techniques for harnessing the frozen element.” She arched one eloquent eyebrow meaningfully. “They are very prestigious, not to mention powerful, association of mages - assuming they still adhere to the old tenets.”

“So they’re pretty famous?”

“You could say that,” Lida said. “They’re a large organization, with a lot of influence. Of course, with that kind of power…. comes a lot of internal maneuvering and divisions, factions vying for control. It’s never simple.”

Mark thought back to something Ria had mentioned casually during one of their dates - how one of her responsibilities was to assist the head of her coven.

“What does it mean to be the head of one of these…. associations?”

“A tremendous responsibility, Mark,” she explained. “They’re not just responsible for training of next generations. They handle internal disputes, negotiate with other associations, and maintain the secrecy of this side of world. It’s a delicate balancing act. Such an individual would wield a great deal of authority and influence over territory, resources - almost feudalistic levels of power within their sphere.”

“Sounds stressful.”

“It is,” she agreed. Then, those eyes— always watchful, now intense— fixed on him. “Why the sudden fascination with all this?”

“Just curious,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Ria mentioned she’s pretty high up in her group, and I was just… wondering.”

He hoped Lida bought his explanation. The truth was, the more he learned about Ria’s world, the more he realized how little he knew. And the more he realized how much he wanted to learn.

“What about my dad?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself. “Which association did he belong to?”

“Your father?” Lida stiffened, the muscles in her jaw tensing. “He never aligned himself with any group.”

“Why not?”

“It was…complicated.”

Mark recognized that look—the closed-off expression that meant she wasn’t going to elaborate. Pushing her would be pointless. He let the silence linger, his mind racing. He recalled Ria mentioning how important bloodlines and heritage were in the supernatural world, how people were identified and groomed from a young age.

“Lida,” he began, his voice hesitant, “can you at least tell me about my heritage?”

“Mark, we’ve been over this. You don’t need to dig into that part of your life. Your bond with Ria has already dragged you into stuff I wanted to keep you away from.”

There was no accusation in her tone, just a faint hint of remorse and something else…fear, perhaps?

“I didn’t want you to get tangled up in this world so soon,” she admitted.

“But I am now, whether we like it or not,” Mark argued, feeling his resolve harden. “After everything that’s happened with Ria, don’t you think it’s better if I know as much as possible? Instead of being kept in the dark? Look what happened with her! I had no idea about any of this, about bonded, about anything! What if I’d hurt her?”

“But you didn’t. You handled it. And you’re learning more every day. There’s no need to rush into things.”

“But don’t you see?” he insisted. “Knowing is better than being in the dark! What if there’s something about my abilities, about my heritage, that I need to know? What if it’s dangerous?”

She was silent for a long moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “I… I suppose you’re right.”

That admission alone nearly caused Mark’s heart leaped. Finally. It was a small victory. He had never been able to get a straight answer from her about his family’s past. This was a breakthrough.

“Alright,” she said, drawing herself up in her chair as if preparing for battle. “I will share what I know. But you must promise to listen with an open mind - and be careful with this information, Mark. It’s not something to be shared lightly.”

“Of course.”

Lida closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as if steeling herself. When she opened them again, she looked like she’d aged a century in just a few seconds.

“I suppose I always knew this day would come eventually,” she whispered. “Maybe I was foolish to think I could shield you from it forever.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“No, not bad….” she said quickly. “Just… complicated.”

“Why?” He asked. “What’s so complicated about my family’s lineage?”

“Nothing so simple as danger, I’m afraid.” She paused, seeming to carefully consider her phrasing. “It’s not that I’ve kept anything from you till now. It’s just… some things are better left buried.”

Silence fell. He could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the living room, the gentle rhythm a stark counterpoint to the unease thrumming beneath his skin.

“Your father…” she finally continued, voice softer than he’d ever heard. “He was… extraordinary. He never aligned himself with any association, as far as I know. Never spoke much about his family, either. But he was respected. Feared, even.”A wistful smile touched her lips, “Your affinity for lightning, Mark… it’s his gift.”

Mark thought of his father, the memories few and far between: gentle hands, soothing voice, that warm, comforting presence. He longed for more—for any glimpse into the life of the man who had brought him into this world, for a connection that had been cruelly snatched away from him way to early.

Lida’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Your mother…” she paused, her gaze distant, as if lost in a painful memory. “Your mother was… different. She possessed a rare and powerful ability. She was what is known as a Void Mage.”

“A Void… what?”

“It’s a ability unlike any other,” she explained. “It’s the antithesis of what we know, a power that draws upon the void, a realm of nothingness that exists beyond the boundaries of our world.”

“The void?”

“Think of it this way—” She continued. “Most mages channel and manipulate the world’s innate energy. Void sorcery instead consummates that power, reducing it to…nothingness. It can dispel energy fields, negate spells, even strip other magical beings of their powers.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “At its most potent, it can be incredibly destructive.”

“My mother… She could do… that?”

“Sarah was the last of her kind, as far as we know.” Sadness laced her voice. “Void sorcery… it’s frowned upon, Mark. Hated.”

" But if it’s so powerful…”

“Power… unchecked… has consequences.” Lida hesitated, her expression troubled. “The history of Void sorcery is a dark one, Mark. It began with a group of radical mages, scholars obsessed with unlocking the secrets of creation, with pushing the boundaries of magic beyond what was considered safe, ethical. They experimented on themselves, on others, on powerful artifacts. They delved into forbidden knowledge, seeking to unravel the very essence of magic, to harness its ultimate power. They experimented on countless people, leaving their test subjects permanently damaged or dead. After many failed attempts, they finally managed to reach their goal. They had created a new breed of beings - the Void mages.”

Her voice grew somber. “Their experiments were reckless, their methods cruel. They twisted and corrupted many living beings, pushing themselves to the brink of madness. They believed they could control the void, bend it to their will, but they were wrong. The void is a force of nature, an entity of pure chaos. It cannot be controlled. And those who try to wield its power… well, they often pay a terrible price.”

She took a deep breath, her gaze meeting Mark’s. “They succeeded in creating Void element, but it came at a cost. It unleashed was unpredictable, destructive. The more they used it, the more it consumed them, twisting their minds, their very essence. They became obsessed with power, with domination.”

“What happened to them?” he asked.

“It was their own actions that led to their downfall. Their power was too much for anyone to handle. It was too destructive, and their actions soon drew the ire of others. The other covens and clans at that time were horrified. They saw the Void Mages as a threat. Wars were fought, alliances broken. Countless lives were lost. In the end, the Void Mages were defeated, their knowledge destroyed, their legacy condemned.”

“So, they were eradicated?”

“Almost. A few survived, hiding their identities, their powers. You, Mark, are a direct descendant of those survivors.”

Silence settled in the kitchen, heavy with the weight of her revelations. He stared at the intricate patterns on the tablecloth, his mind reeling.

He summoned one of his blades, the familiar weapon materializing in his hand. It shimmered with a faint, bluish hue, its edges humming with power.

“So, this is…”

“Yes, Mark. That’s a part of your mother’s legacy.”

He flexed his fingers around the hilt, the weapon familiar, yet suddenly … alien. Memories flashed— countless hours spent honing his control over these blades, summoning shimmering barriers to deflect Lida’s relentless training attacks…

He had always assumed these abilities were a natural extension of his father’s lineage. But now….

She reached across the table, her hand closing over his— grounding, familiar. “This is why I was always so careful, Mark. Void magic… it’s not something you can simply… wield openly.”

The warning wasn’t a lecture this time. It was a plea. “ People… they won’t understand. Some will fear you. Some will try to… eliminate what they don’t understand. ” Her gaze held his. “And there are others… who would seek to exploit you.”

For the first time, he understood the depth of her paranoia, the constant fear that had shadowed their lives.

But understanding brought with it a new wave of questions, more anxieties than answers. He thought of his parents, of the night they were murdered, of the shadowy figures he had heard from his hiding place in the cellar.

“My parents,” he asked. “Their deaths… did it have… anything to do with… this?”

Lida’s gaze fell to her hands, her expression pained. She has been expecting this question, he realized.

“Your parents were both powerful,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “They were involved in things I never fully understood. I can’t say for sure, but…”

Mark felt a hollow ache in his chest. Even though Lida hadn’t given him a definitive answer, he knew. He didn’t need her to say it.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, Mark.” Lida’s hand squeezed his. “But I want you to know you’re not alone in this. Your parents loved you very much. And they would want you to be strong, to keep moving forward.”

“I-I know,” he whispered, his throat tight with emotion.

“And Mark, please, promise me you won’t use your blades again. This is the reason I keep repeating. Not in public. It’s too risky.”

Mark thought of his fight in the warehouse.

“I understand,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady.

Lida smiled, her eyes filled with a warmth that chased away some of the darkness that had settled in his heart. “You’re not alone in this, Mark,” she repeated, her voice filled with conviction. “We’ll figure this out together. Just like we always have.”

“I know.”

He retreated to his room, needing space to breathe, to process the revelations that felt more like a curse than a legacy. He collapsed onto his bed. Closed his eyes, but found no peace.

The memory of that night— huddled in the dark, listening to those whispered voices, sensing the power that pulsed beneath their threats… The terror. The blood. The way the silence afterward had felt like a physical thing, pressing down on him in that stifling, airless space… He’d carried it all with him.

Be strong, his father’s voice echoed in his mind. Be brave.

His parents. Their laughter echoed in his memory. Their gentle guidance, their unwavering love.

He felt lost and unsure of how to navigate this new information about his lineage and their deaths. He knew he needed to be careful, but he also didn’t want to live in fear.

His eyes fell on the framed photograph of his parents on his desk— younger, smiling. He picked it up, the glass cold against his fingertips, the weight of it heavier than all the recent revelations.

Holding it close, he felt a familiar wave of sadness. God, I miss you guys, he thought, wishing more than anything that they were still here.

He traced his finger along the edge of the frame, remembering the day the photo was taken. A picnic in the park, his mother’s flowered dress billowing in the breeze, his father’s arm draped casually around her shoulders. He’d been behind the camera, giggling as he tried to get them to pose “just right.”

His throat tightened.

How could those happy, carefree people be connected to the dark secrets he’d uncovered? It made zero sense.

All he wanted was to block it all out, to flee from the unrelenting stress. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t an option.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his nerves. He needed to toughen up, to navigate through the fear and doubt. For his parents, for himself, and for the people he cared about.

Be strong, Mark.