Chapter Twelve – The Familiar Pull

Malick’s POV

Malick was losing his damn mind. There was no other explanation.

One second he was walking into Binding Creatures & Spirit Familiars like a normal student, and the next—

She walked in.

Sierra Vale.

Still wearing his shirt under her uniform blazer. Still glowing like starfire and sin wrapped in silk. His brain short-circuited so hard he nearly walked into the doorframe.

She didn’t look at him. Not directly. She never did anymore. But her presence tugged at him like a hook sunk under his ribs. He could feel her in the room before his eyes found her. Every flick of her braid, every subtle shift of her weight on the bench—it burned under his skin.

Malick dropped into his seat, fists clenched under the table, jaw set, pretending to pay attention as Professor Thorne began the lecture.

But he wasn’t listening.

His mind was still back in that damned hallway.

Back to the soft weight of her pressing against his chest. The way her breath had hitched when their limbs tangled. The flush on her cheeks when his face had landed too close to places it shouldn’t have. He’d almost kissed her. Saints help him, he wanted to.

Focus.

He tried. Gods, he tried. But every time his gaze found her, he unraveled. Slouched a little in her seat, nibbling her lip when she thought no one noticed, one hand stroking the faint shimmer of her shadow—he noticed everything.

And then there was the shirt.

His shirt.

Peeking out from under her blazer like some secret claim neither of them had acknowledged. Too big. Too intimate. His mind betrayed him instantly.

Red again? Black lace? Nothing at all?

He pressed his tongue to his teeth, grounding himself, but the thought looped back until he could see his hands sliding beneath the fabric, tracing the dip of her spine—

Fuck.

His knee bounced under the desk. He forced himself still, forcing himself to breathe. To not imagine hauling her onto his lap in front of the entire class—

“Malick.”

The sharp voice of Professor Thorne pulled him back.

“Would you care to share with the class what elemental traits make a familiar incompatible with shadowbinding?”

All eyes turned to him.

“…Uh.” His voice cracked. “…If they’re infused with celestial light or any kind of angelic resonance, they’ll… short out the bind and explode.”

Silence stretched. Then Thorne nodded. “Correct. Though perhaps next time you could deliver your answer with less… panic.”

A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Malick sank lower, ears hot, jaw grinding. But across the room—

Sierra.

Not laughing. Lips twitching as if resisting a smile. Her shadow curled toward mine. Just slightly. Just enough.

Like it wanted to touch me.

Like she did, too.

The sound of blood roared in his ears. A smirk tugged free before he could stop it. If he was spiraling, maybe she was the reason he wanted to drown in it.

Sierra’s POV

Familiars.

The rite every student secretly lived for.

Not for Sierra. She hated it.

The classroom buzzed with energy as students summoned their bonds. Fire cats, wind serpents, moon deer. The Crows—the trio of Elara, Gloria, and Patricia—had theirs already. Elara’s crow perched on her shoulder, cruel and glossy-eyed. Gloria’s flicked its wings, stirring air around her like magic itself obeyed her. Patricia’s smaller, sleek shadow crouched low, dangerous and sharp.

And Sierra?

She had nothing.

By choice.

“You sure you don’t want to try again this year, Miss Vale?” Professor Thorne asked, scanning her empty shoulder.

Sierra forced a smile. “I’m not ready.”

I’m too ready. Too dangerous.

Then she felt it.

A tug at the pit of her stomach. Low, impossible, magnetic. She glanced up—and Malick’s eyes found hers. Not mocking, not amused, but sharp and intent.

And heat roared through her. Warmth spread down her neck, to her chest, curling like liquid fire. Her stomach did flips. Her hands itched to curl into fists at her desk to hide the tremor in her fingers. Her heart thundered like a drum, and her cheeks burned.

He didn’t look away. He couldn’t. And she couldn’t either.

For a single heartbeat, the entire room disappeared. She could feel his pulse through the air, his shadow brushing against hers like silk sliding over skin. Hot. Electric. Unforgiving. And when she blinked, forcing her gaze down, her lips parted as though she wanted to speak—and nothing came.

And then the pull eased. But her cheeks stayed aflame. Her pulse still screamed in her ears.

The rest of class blurred by. Students’ familiars sprang to life, reflections of their inner magic. Sierra stood apart. Silent. Unseen.

Until the bell rang.

She was nearly out the door when—

“Miss Vale. Stay behind.”

Her body froze. Professor Thorne’s voice was calm but unyielding.

“I’d like you to try the summoning again,” he said. “Privately.”

“I told you, I—”

“You’ve been suppressing something. I felt it,” he interrupted, voice low. “I don’t want to force you. But I know there’s more to you. And your familiar… it might be the only one who understands you.”

Her chest tightened. Fear? No. Something deeper stirred—the magic she had kept buried for so long.

The room emptied. Doors locked. Shadows pooled like water around her.

“Fine,” she said, stepping forward. “But I want no witnesses.”

The summoning glyph beneath her feet pulsed, ready to draw out her essence. She closed her eyes, letting go—just slightly.

The magic hit the room like a storm breaking through skin. Air shifted. Lights flickered. The circle flared black and violet, twisting, alive.

From the darkness, a whisper rose:

Nex umbraa, kai vel’thra… ix shael. Kai’thai kharuun… kai’thra kai’thai.

From shadow, I awaken… I am hers. I am warrior… I am and I become.

Then it appeared.

Not a simple crow, but something older, warped. Its wings were tattered starlight. Its eyes burned like molten amethyst.

It landed on her shoulder. Claiming her. Marking her.

And then it spoke—not aloud, but in her mind:

“You kept me caged too long, little queen.”

Sierra choked on breath. Her knees nearly gave. Her familiar nuzzled her cheek gently. Dark. Beautiful. Loyal.

Professor Thorne stepped forward cautiously. “…That’s not a standard elemental familiar.”

“No,” Sierra said, voice sharp. “It’s mine.”

He blinked, then nodded slowly. “I won’t say anything.”

She didn’t ask him to. But the way her familiar watched him—head cocked like a predator sizing prey—made them both aware of the silence. Wise. Necessary.

And even through the summoning, she could feel it—the pull from Malick. The thread that tied them together, invisible but undeniable. Hot, intoxicating, and dangerous. And she had no intention of letting go.