The green alchemical light flared brightly in the dim room.
Under Julian's palm, the jagged, bleeding flesh on Kamari's chest began to knit together. New skin formed over the exposed bone. The scabs dried and flaked away, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin.
Julian felt his magical reserves drain rapidly. A wave of dizziness hit him. His knees felt weak, and his face grew paler than the boy sitting on the bed.
He pulled his hand back. The healing was done.
Julian released Kamari's wrist. He looked down at his own hand. The glass had cut deep into his palm. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor.
Kamari stared at Julian's bleeding hand, then looked down at his own perfectly healed chest. His jaw ticked rapidly. His golden eyes were a storm of confusion and suppressed rage.
"Why?" Kamari's voice was raw, like he had swallowed sand. "Why heal me? Why drink the poison? What sick, twisted plan are you building up to?"
The questions fired out of him like bullets.
Julian knew this was the moment. He couldn't act like a saint. Kamari would never buy it. He had to give the boy a mystery to solve.
Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He wrapped it tightly around his bleeding hand, wincing slightly.
He turned his back on Kamari and walked to the large window. He looked out at the dark academy grounds. He let his shoulders slump just a fraction, projecting a heavy, exhausted burden.
"Do you think I enjoyed breaking you?" Julian asked softly. He let a bitter laugh escape his lips.
Kamari stiffened on the bed. The words struck a nerve.
Julian turned his head slightly, looking at Kamari over his shoulder. The firelight cast half his face in deep shadow.
"You have no idea what you carry inside you, Kamari," Julian said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Some power cannot be awakened unless it is forged in hell. And someone... had to be the monster to push you into the fire."
He didn't give Kamari a chance to respond.
"Rest. I will explain everything tomorrow."
Julian walked out of the suite, closing the door firmly behind him.
He walked into his own bedroom next door. The second the latch clicked, Julian collapsed against the wood. He slid down to the floor, burying his face in his hands.
"Holy shit," Julian muttered, his heart racing. "Give me an Oscar."
He pushed himself up and walked over to his heavy oak desk. He scanned the cluttered surface, his eyes finally landing on a dust-covered crystal ball sitting near a stack of old grimoires. He remembered the lore from his own writing-it was a high-tier surveillance tool tied to the academy's wards. Hesitantly, he reached out. He placed his trembling hand on the smooth surface of the crystal ball, pushing a small, uncertain sliver of his magic into the glass. The artifact flickered in response to his foreign touch, then stabilized and glowed softly, projecting a magical feed of the room next door.
Julian watched the projection.
Kamari wasn't destroying the room. He wasn't trying to break the windows.
He was sitting completely still on the edge of the bed. He looked at his healed hands. Then he looked at the bloodstained glass shard resting on the sheets.
Kamari's brow furrowed deeply. His lips moved silently, repeating Julian's words.
For the first time since Julian had woken up in this world, the pure, unadulterated hatred in Kamari's eyes cracked. It was replaced by a deep, agonizing doubt.
Julian clenched his uninjured fist. The bait was taken.
