Try to continue resisting, retreating back into his studies in hopes that magic will eventually make sense on its own.

Elion watched Liora walk away, her kind words echoing in his ears like a melody he couldn’t quite accept. He wanted to believe her—truly, he did. But something inside him still held back. He couldn’t allow himself to be ****. Not yet.

Instead of following her advice, Elion threw himself deeper into his studies. If he couldn’t solve the emotional confusion inside him, he would try to outlearn it. Knowledge was concrete. Predictable. Magic made sense when it was in books, not when it bubbled up inside him, tied to feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He locked himself away in the library and classroom halls, isolating himself even more. Professors noted his dedication, but not his growing detachment. He spent long hours mastering complex runes, perfecting incantations, and even building resistance to spells that toyed with the emotions. He convinced himself it was discipline—but deep down, it was avoidance.

But something had shifted.

The pendant his mother gave him—he kept it with him now, but never used it again. Not since it stirred something within him that left him flushed and uneasy. He feared what might happen if he embraced it again.

At night, his dreams betrayed him. He would find himself wandering the halls of the academy in strange garb, seen by others through a lens he didn’t understand. Sometimes, in the dreams, he was accepted. Other times, he was humiliated. He woke up in a cold sweat, confused and ashamed.

And the academy didn’t make things easier.

The women around him were so sure of themselves. Confident. Powerful. Assertive. He admired that, even envied it, but never felt he could match it. He hated how they made him feel small—how sometimes, when one of them gave him a look or a teasing smile, he felt something stir inside him he couldn’t name.

One day, during an advanced lecture on magical focus tools, Professor Vaelra introduced a series of ancient relics, each designed to help mages channel specific emotional states. One pulsed faintly with energy that shimmered between calm and submission. Elion couldn’t meet her eyes as she held it up.

“This,” Vaelra said, “is a tool meant to help mages who struggle with internal resistance. It doesn’t **** change—it simply helps bring to the surface what’s already there.”

Elion’s throat tightened. He wanted to disappear into his seat.

He kept his head down the rest of the lesson. He wasn’t ready to face what she was implying—what she probably already knew.

Still, the thought lingered. Maybe… maybe it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t keep resisting.