CHAPTER 32
"Of course not. But it's still there, isn't it? That power inside you—trying to behave, trying to fit in with humans who don't even deserve to look at you."
He paused, turning to face him directly.
"Let me show you something better. Let's play with magic tonight, Sihyun. No rules. No holding back."
The wind stirred around them, faint traces of crimson and violet light starting to curl from Vanyul's fingers like smoke.
"Let's remind the forest who we are."
Behind him, Aren and Lira watched silently, the air charged with anticipation.
Sihyun hesitated—tempted, curious, but wary.
"You're not scared, are you?"
Vanyul smirked.
"You used to love it when we played."
The ground beneath them shimmered faintly as magic pulsed through the soil.
Sihyun's fingers twitched, and a familiar thrill stirred in his chest—something wild, something dangerous.
"Alright,"
he said, lips curling into a challenge.
"Let's play."
The trees around them trembled as the ground pulsed with growing energy. Sihyun stepped back, his eyes gleaming red as he let his magic swirl to life. The wind responded instantly—twisting leaves into a whirlwind, scattering light through the shadows.
Vanyul's smirk deepened.
"There you are."
Without warning, he shot a line of dark flame toward Sihyun, curling like a serpent. Sihyun raised a hand, summoning a golden barrier in the shape of a shield. The flame crashed into it, cracking the air like thunder.
Aren and Lira stood well back, watching with fascination.
Sihyun pushed forward, vines laced with gold sprouting from the earth, aiming for Vanyul's ankles. But Vanyul spun away, flicking his wrist—red chains burst from his palm, aiming to wrap around Sihyun's arms.
Sihyun barely dodged, laughing as he slid across the ground, barefoot, wild.
"You're not holding back now,"
Vanyul said, his tone more playful than threatening.
"Feels good, doesn't it?"
Sihyun launched himself into the air with a blast of wind, golden sparks trailing behind him. As he landed, a ripple of power surged out—cracking stones and bending trees.
Vanyul's eyes glowed, lips parted in something between admiration and hunger.
"You're magnificent like this…"
They clashed again—flames against wind, light against shadow. For every step Vanyul took forward, Sihyun matched him, deflecting, twisting the land, casting illusions of fireflies and lightning that danced around them in a dazzling display.
Eventually, they both stood across from each other, breathing hard, the clearing glowing with traces of gold and crimson.
"You still remember how to dance with magic,"
Vanyul said softly, his voice low.
"Just like old times."
Sihyun didn't answer right away—but his expression was unreadable. Something had awakened in him, something dangerous and beautiful.
The air settled after their spar, the final sparks of magic flickering out like embers. Sihyun, chest rising and falling with excitement, had a bright glow in his eyes. He hadn't felt this alive in a long time.
But then—Vanyul tilted his head, mischief curling at the edge of his lips.
"Can you do… this?"
Before Sihyun could ask what he meant, Vanyul vanished. The red-eyed sorcerer blinked, looking around quickly—
Then—
Tap.
Sihyun flinched slightly, spinning around to find Vanyul standing right behind him, hand still raised from the playful gesture. No flash, no surge of magic. Just—sudden presence.
Sihyun's jaw dropped.
"How did you do that?!"
he asked, stepping closer.
"That was amazing—teach me!"
Vanyul smiled, brushing invisible dust off his robes like it was nothing.
"You're still too young,"
he said smoothly.
"You've only awakened eighteen tattoo marks, haven't you?"
Sihyun's lips parted, surprised he knew.
"Yeah… so?"
"When you awaken your nineteenth,"
Vanyul whispered, stepping close again, his voice soft like a secret,
"I'll show you how to walk through the world like a ghost."
The offer hung in the air like forbidden fruit.
Sihyun swallowed, his hand instinctively brushing over the faint glow of one of the marks on his collarbone.
"Then I'll get it soon,"
he said, almost to himself.
Vanyul chuckled darkly.
"I'm counting on it."
They sat in silence on a moss-covered fallen log, the forest unusually still. Crickets chirped in the distance while a faint fog hugged the ground. Vanyul's two shapeshifter allies stood nearby, vigilant, but far enough to give them space.
Sihyun gazed up at the night sky, the cool breeze brushing past his hair. He hadn't said much since the sparring ended. He could still feel the lingering sensation of Vanyul's magic in the air—wild, untamed, tempting.
Without warning, Vanyul scooted closer, the edges of his robe brushing Sihyun's.
"It's quiet,"
he murmured, almost like a sigh.
"I miss when it used to be the three of us. You, me… and that overprotective brother of yours."
Sihyun didn't respond. He kept his eyes forward, trying not to read into the sudden shift in Vanyul's tone.
Then—light weight settled on his shoulder.
Vanyul had rested his head there, eyes closed like a child craving comfort.
"I waited for you,"
he whispered, his voice muffled against Sihyun.
Sihyun's shoulders tensed, unsure of how to react.
"Vanyul…"
A breathless chuckle escaped the older sorcerer, and he shifted slightly—his lips brushing against the side of Sihyun's neck. Once. Then again. And again.
Sihyun froze.
His breath caught in his throat, hand twitching slightly on his lap. A mix of guilt, confusion, and longing whirled in his chest. His body wanted to lean into the warmth. His heart—it was a battlefield.
"I-I shouldn't…"
he mumbled, barely audible.
Vanyul only hummed in response, his fingers now loosely holding onto Sihyun's wrist.
"But you want to… don't you?"
His voice was gentle, almost teasing, but the sadness underneath it couldn't be masked.
Sihyun clenched his jaw, eyes burning with unspoken thoughts. He didn't pull away—but he didn't lean in either. He stayed right there, caught between the ghost of a past he couldn't remember and the future he was terrified to feel.
The silence wrapped around them like a spell, fragile and dense. Sihyun stayed still, heart pounding against his ribs. Vanyul's head rested against his shoulder, lips no longer brushing his skin, but the warmth lingered—taunting him.