Varian slammed his book shut and leaned back with an exasperated sigh. "None of this makes sense."

Across the table, Elara lifted her head, brushing a stray braid from her face as she set her book aside. "Ancient magic was sealed away. There's no way any creature would still inherit it."

Varian rocked his chair back and forth, the floorboards creaking beneath him. "And yet, that mark—" He stood abruptly, striding to the history shelves and skimming the spines of the books. His fingers trailed over the worn leather covers, but he already knew the answer. "There's nothing. Absolutely nothing on it."

Elara sighed, returning to Unicorn History and Genealogy. Unlike Varian, she had always believed magical creatures held more mysteries than wizards ever gave them credit for. Just as she was about to turn another page, something caught her eye. Her breath hitched.

"Wait!"

She shot upright, tracing her finger over a familiar blue symbol stamped at the bottom of the page. Her chair nearly toppled over as she scrambled past it, her excitement overtaking her balance.

"Varian!"

Varian turned at the urgency in her voice—only to have a book shoved in his face. He barely managed to catch himself, scowling. "Bloody hell, Elara! What does it say?"

Elara's blue eyes gleamed with exhilaration as she read aloud. "Unicorns, along with a few other rare breeds, were the first to inherit ancient magic. It's unknown how, but over generations, the magic was woven out of their bloodlines. However, this mark—the unicorn's mark—was only ever bestowed upon creatures who demonstrated great power, control, and balance. Only they could wield ancient magic."

Varian leaned over her shoulder, his brows furrowing as she flipped through her book. He could feel the warmth of her so close, the scent of parchment and something distinctly Elara filling the space between them. He swallowed, forcing himself to focus. "That doesn't make sense, though. You—you sealed away all the ancient magic."

Elara's fingers tightened around the edges of the book, her expression shifting slightly. "We sealed away our use of it, but what if magical creatures never lost it in the same way we did? Look at this—" she pointed to a passage further down the page. "It says here that the mark wasn't just a symbol. It was activated. Creatures who bore it could channel ancient magic in ways that even wizards couldn't replicate."

Varian frowned. "What kind of magic?"

Elara scanned the text before continuing. "It varied by species. Unicorns were believed to have unmatched healing abilities—not just closing wounds, but purifying sickness, and breaking curses. Some accounts even claim they could reverse dark magic if they were strong enough."

Varian's grip on his book tightened. "That sounds like a legend. If that were true, there'd be historical records of wizards harnessing that power."

Elara shook her head. "That's just it. Wizards couldn't harness it. It says here that ancient magic within creatures was… 'incompatible' with human magic. It functioned on a different wavelength—raw, instinctive, deeply tied to nature itself. Any attempts to extract it from a creature resulted in… well…" She hesitated.

Varian arched an eyebrow. "In what?"

She turned the book toward him, pointing at a passage written in smaller, more weathered text. "Disaster."

Varian read aloud, his voice quieter now. "'Every attempt to harvest, bottle, or manipulate the unicorn's ancient magic led to violent rejection. Wizards suffered unpredictable consequences—some turned to stone, others lost their ability to perform magic entirely. Some simply… disappeared.'"

A chill ran down his spine. "So, the magic was… alive?"

Elara nodded. "Alive, and protective. It couldn't be controlled, only respected. The creatures that carried it—unicorns, phoenixes, hippogriffs—had an unshakable bond with it. They didn't use magic the way we do. It was simply part of them, woven into their very existence. But over centuries, as these creatures became fewer, the mark was seen less and less. Now, it's practically a myth."

Varian exhaled sharply. "And yet, we've seen it."

Elara met his gaze, her excitement tempered with something more serious. "Yes. Which means either history is wrong… or something has changed."

A heavy silence settled between them. Varian stared at the page, his mind racing. If a unicorn bearing this mark truly existed, it would be one of the most powerful magical creatures in the world. And if the wrong people found out…

"Elara," he said carefully, "does it say if any wizard ever earned the mark?"

She flipped a few more pages, scanning rapidly. "No… only creatures. It was something they were born with." She paused, frowning. "But there is mention of wizards forming bonds with marked creatures. There are old accounts—very old—of witches and wizards who claimed to have been 'chosen' by such creatures. But…" She sighed, shutting the book. "Nothing concrete. It's all fragmented. As if someone—"

"Didn't want the information to survive," Varian finished, his tone grim.

Elara swallowed, her hands tightening around the book. "Exactly."

She had always suspected that magic wasn't just something that could be locked away or forgotten. Some part of it lived—in creatures, in stories, in the quiet places of the world. It was something Professor Fig had believed, too.

"A good explorer doesn't always follow the map, Elara," he had once told her. "Sometimes, the real discoveries lie off the path."

The thought of him made her chest tighten, but she quickly pushed it away.

Varian studied her carefully. "Do you think there are others out there with this mark?"

Elara blinked, seeming to shake the thought away. "Maybe," she said, scanning the page again. She tapped a section near the bottom. "But it was always rare. Only about five percent of magical creatures ever had it—like being born into a royal bloodline."

Varian exhaled sharply. "Then we need to talk to Professor Howin. If anyone knows about magical symbols and which beasts still carry them, it's her."

Elara smiled, already gathering her things. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, her braids fell forward, framing her face.

Varian caught himself watching her—how her yellow vest and white shirt contrasted against her brown hair, how the excitement never fully left her expression when she talked about magical creatures. He shook his head slightly, forcing himself to pack his bag before he got caught staring.

Just as they reached the door, Varian hesitated. He glanced up at the clock and sighed. "Wait. It's eleven at night. I guess we will have to wait until tomorrow?"

Elara followed his gaze, eyes widening. "Oh my gosh. Have we been here all day?" She smirked knowingly, nudging his arm. "Didn't think you had it in you, Varian. Four and a half hours in the library? That's got to be a personal record."

Varian crossed his arms, feigning annoyance. "Yeah. And I hope you appreciate it because you will never see me in a library this long again."

But even as he said it, Varian found himself lingering a moment longer. He couldn't help but watch her, noticing how the soft fall of her braids framed her face and how the contrast of her yellow vest against her crisp white shirt made her brown hair glow in the library's dim light. Her blue eyes, alight with determination and a hint of sorrow reminded him that there was far more to her than just a bookish passion for lore.

"Elara?" Varian began, breaking the comfortable silence as he slung his bag over his shoulder. His tone was a mix of exasperation and something gentler—a grudging admiration he wasn't quite ready to name. "You believe that these marks on magical beasts mean something? That they're still inheriting ancient magic?"

Elara paused, her fingers brushing over the worn pages of her book as if drawing strength from the words. "I do," she replied, her voice soft but fervent. "Every beast, every whispered legend of old, carries a spark of something wild. Magic isn't just something we seal away in books—it lives in them, in the raw, unfiltered way they exist. Even when we try to control it, magic finds a way to endure."

Varian's jaw tightened as he paced slowly, frustration still simmering beneath his scholarly exterior. "But isn't that a bit… idealistic? We locked away one form of magic because we thought it was too dangerous to be free. Are you chasing fantasies, or is there a real truth behind these symbols?"

"It's not fantasy, Varian. Look at the beasts themselves—their power, their resilience. Their magic is different. It's untamed, unbound by our rules. I think we sealed one door, but another window might still be open."

For a long moment, Varian's eyes flicked from her determined expression to the faded blue symbol still etched in his mind from the pages they'd pored over together. "You sound a lot like Professor Fig when he spoke about the 'whisper of magic in the mundane.' I suppose some lessons never really leave you."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

At the mention, a subtle, wistful shadow crossed Elara's features—a fleeting look of sadness that spoke of memories she'd rather keep to herself. In that quiet moment, her mind drifted to Professor Fig's gentle guidance and the weight of expectations long past. Still, she did not explain, only a quiet acknowledgment in the depths of her eyes.

Varian, noticing the shift, softened his tone further. "Maybe it's time we stop relying solely on what's written and experience it for ourselves. Perhaps there's magic beyond these texts—magic in the beasts, in the stories, in the very air we breathe."

Her eyes shone even brighter as she leaned in, her passion for magical creatures unmistakable. "Imagine if we could uncover that magic firsthand," she whispered, excitement and vulnerability mingling in her voice. "We'd be living a story no scholar could ever write."

Varian smirked, shaking his head as he finally reached for the door handle. "And here I thought I was done with adventures."

Elara grinned. "Oh, Varian. You were never done with adventures."

—-

Varian shut the door to his dorm with a quiet click, exhaling as he tossed his bag onto the nearby chair. The fire in the common room had long since dimmed, leaving only the occasional flicker of torchlight against the walls. His room was quiet—too quiet after hours spent debating with Elara, her voice still ringing in his ears.

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he collapsed onto his bed. You will never see me in a library this long again. He smirked to himself. He'd meant it when he said it, but now… now he wasn't so sure.

His gaze drifted to the notebook resting on his desk, still open to the hurried sketches and scribbled notes from their research. Without thinking, he reached over, his fingers tracing the rough outline of the unicorn's mark.

Do you believe that these marks on magical beasts mean something?

Elara's voice was still so clear in his head. The way her blue eyes had shone with certainty, the way she had spoken as if magic itself was something alive, something that refused to be contained.

Varian exhaled sharply and pushed the notebook aside. It was ridiculous. He wasn't the type to get swept up in grand ideas or wide-eyed beliefs about lost magic. But Elara—she made it sound possible.

You sound a lot like Professor Fig…

His fingers curled into a fist. He hadn't meant to bring up Fig, not like that, not when the wound was still raw for her. But the way her expression had faltered, the sadness that flickered across her face—it had unsettled him.

Varian stared up at the ceiling. He had never been good at comforting people, but for some reason, he had wanted to in that moment.

Maybe it's time we stop relying solely on what's written and experience it for ourselves.

He scoffed under his breath. What are you getting yourself into, Varian?

With a tired sigh, he shut his notebook and rolled onto his side, the distant hoot of an owl breaking the silence. He told himself he wouldn't think about it anymore—that he'd deal with it all tomorrow.

But the last thing on his mind before sleep claimed him was not the mark, not the mystery.

It was Elara.