Have a private conversation with Professor Vaelra, hoping to understand the magical focus tool without committing to anything emotional.

The lecture hall emptied slowly, students chatting animatedly as they filed out. Elion stayed behind, his gaze fixed on the relic Vaelra had demonstrated. The shimmer it gave off—subtle, pulsing—reflected something inside him. Something he didn’t want to name.

Professor Vaelra began gathering her materials, but she noticed Elion lingering near the doorway. Her sharp eyes softened slightly.

“Elion,” she said, her voice calm and curious. “Is there something you’d like to ask?”

He hesitated. Every instinct told him to leave, to stay silent and retreat into the comfort of his solitude. But something stronger—curiosity, confusion, maybe even desperation—kept him rooted to the spot.

“Yes,” he said at last, stepping forward. “That… relic you showed us. The one for emotional resistance. I just… I wanted to know more about how it works. The theory behind it, I mean.”

Vaelra gave a knowing smile but didn’t press. “Of course. Come with me.”

She led him through the winding halls to her private study. It was a circular chamber lined with shelves containing magical tools, journals, and softly glowing crystals. The air felt dense with power—not oppressive, but alive, like the room itself was waiting for something.

Vaelra retrieved the relic—an elegant, crescent-shaped piece of silver etched with runes—from a velvet case. She held it delicately, as if handling something alive.

“This is an Anchor,” she explained. “A focus tool designed to reveal—gently—what lies beneath a mage’s surface resistance. It doesn’t control the user. It listens. And if the user is willing, it reflects back truths they’re not ready to admit.”

Elion’s hands clenched at his sides. “So it… reads emotions?”

“To a degree,” she nodded. “But more importantly, it amplifies the emotions the user is denying. Not to harm—but to make the mage *aware*. Awareness, after all, is the first step toward control.”

Elion looked away. “Why would anyone *want* that?”

Vaelra regarded him with a quiet intensity. “Because denying your feelings doesn’t make them disappear, Elion. It makes them louder in the shadows. I’ve seen students burn out trying to silence something they were never meant to fight.”

He swallowed hard. The pendant in his robe pocket felt heavier than ever.

“I’m not asking you to use it,” Vaelra said gently. “But if you're trying to master your magic without understanding yourself, you’re only fighting half the battle.”

He nodded slowly, thanking her for the explanation and making his way back to his room, his thoughts louder than ever. He didn’t want to admit how her words stirred something in him—how they mirrored the very conflict he was drowning in.

Back in his room, he placed the pendant on his desk next to his spellbook. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he pulled a small piece of paper from his bag and wrote something short.

*“Could I speak with you again soon?”*

He left it outside Vaelra’s office door before retreating.