Luckborn

He knew that face. He was certain. But the identity of the person it belonged to eluded him. Try as he might, he could not make the connection. This wasn't like the face of some random person he'd seen a few times wandering around campus or that was in one of his classes, though. This was a person he knew. But something was wrong with his brain. It felt more like trying to grab onto a canal eel. The slimy things slipped out of your hand as soon as you laid a finger on them.

Otter walked across the darkened campus in a daze, his thoughts too tangled in frustration.

This wasn't right. It wasn't normal.

He rubbed his temple, trying to force his brain to cooperate. But the more he reached for the memory, the farther away it became and the details blurred like ink smeared across a page. It was as if something was actively stopping him from remembering.

Otter slowed his pace. This wasn't normal. This must be magic.

Some kind of spell was interfering with his memory.

He raced back to his room and flipped his journal open to the next blank page. He scribbled furiously, noting everything that had happened. He knew next to nothing about how magic worked, especially a spell that could affect one's memory. He was terrified that by tomorrow, he wouldn't remember anything about the encounter. So he wrote down every detail he could recall. The crunch of gravel underfoot, the time of evening, the chill wind, the muted sound, the heaviness of the air, the flickering lantern, the shaft of light. He wrote down how he felt. The certainty that he should know who he saw. His suspicions about being targeted by some spell.

When he finished, he placed the journal back in his desk drawer and flopped onto his bed. There was nothing more he could do tonight. He was exhausted. He needed to sleep.

That night, his dreams were restless.

Faceless people surrounded him. Their bodies shifted and swayed, but their features were nothing but blurred smudges, shifting too fast for him to focus. He tried to speak, but no sound came. He reached out, but every time his fingers brushed against them, they dissolved like mist.

The only thing that remained was a pair of eyes.

Watching.

A whisper curled through the dream, low and unintelligible.

Otter gasped awake, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Moonlight streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the room. His sheets were damp with sweat, his breath coming in uneven gulps.

He lay there, too tired to get up, but too tired to fall back asleep. When morning finally came, he wasted no time.

As soon as he finished dressing, he went looking for Milo.

He found him in the mess hall, hunched over a bowl of porridge, his nose buried in a book.

Otter slid into the seat across from him. "Milo, what do you know about mind magic?"

Milo blinked, spoon halfway to his mouth. "Good morning to you, too."

"This is important."

Milo frowned but set his spoon down. He pushed his glasses up his nose and regarded Otter carefully. "Why are you asking?"

Otter hesitated. He wasn't sure how much he should say, or if he even could properly explain what had happened last night. But Milo was the smartest person he knew when it came to magic, and if anyone could help him understand, it was him.

"I think someone tampered with my memory," Otter admitted.

That got Milo's full attention. He straightened in his chair, closing his book. "That's… a very serious claim."

"I know." Otter ran a hand through his hair. "But listen. Last night, I saw someone. I know I recognized them, but I couldn't place them. The more I tried to remember, the harder it got. It wasn't normal forgetting—it felt wrong, like something was actively blocking me from recalling their identity."

Milo's expression darkened. "That does sound like mind magic."

"So, what do you know about it?"

Milo exhaled, leaning forward slightly. "First of all, it's high-level magic. We're talking tenth-level Spell Lords and above. It's also incredibly rare. Because it's illegal. Mind-affecting spells, especially those that alter or erase memories, are strictly forbidden."

Otter's stomach twisted.

"So you're saying no one at the Academy should be able to do this?"

Milo hesitated. "…That's the thing. No one should be able to. But if someone is?" He let the unspoken words hang in the air.

Otter knew one thing for sure. If someone at the Academy could orchestrate a Kaosborn attack during the simulation and get away with it, they'd have no problem using forbidden mind magic on a peon like him. "This is bad," he muttered.

Milo nodded grimly. "Yeah. Really bad."

Otter didn't even have to think about what to do next.

"I'm reporting this to Blackwood."

Milo let out a slow breath, nodding. "That's probably for the best. If anyone will take this seriously, it's him."

Otter shoved back his chair and stood. "Thanks, Milo."

Milo gave him a concerned look. "Be careful, Otter."

Otter nodded once, grabbed a piece of toast, and all but ran out of the mess hall.

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His next stop was the Library. He had a shift this morning, but felt like reporting last night's incident to Silas was more important. He wasn't about to incur Archivist Dane's wrath, however, and wanted to clear it with her first.

He arrived before she did, and was forced to wait until she came to unlock the back door.

"You're here early," she said, peering down her nose at him.

"Yes, ma'am. Something's come up. I need to speak with Overseer Blackwood as soon as possible. I just… didn't want you to think I was skipping out on my shift."

"I see." She unlocked the door and pushed it open. "I can tell by your voice this is of some urgency."

"Yes, ma'am. Very much so."

"Very well. Come inside. Let's see if we can't expedite your meeting request."

Otter blinked at her. "You can do that?"

She laughed. It was an odd sound. Sharp and abrupt, not unlike the startled yelp of a turkey hen. Short-lived, indignant, and vaguely offended that it had even happened at all.

Otter stared at her, unsure of what he just heard. The look on his face must have shown his confusion because when she saw it she started laughing again. But this time, it was full of amusement.

When she finally got herself under control, she wiped a tear from her eye and said, "Oh Mr. Bennett, I'm far more than a stodgy old archivist. Don't act so surprised. Now hurry along. You're letting all the warm air out."

Stunned, Otter followed her inside. She led him to a hallway he'd never seen before and into a small office cluttered with books and stacks of paper towering over and around a tiny pale desk. Somehow, she wove her way through without knocking anything over.

She rummaged through a drawer and withdrew a small rectangular prism of some crystalline material. She pressed her thumb to it. A moment later, a voice spoke, seemingly coming from the crystal.

"Dane. It's a bit early. To what do I owe the annoyance?" It sounded a bit tinny, but Otter clearly recognized Silas's voice.

"I have one of your charges here who says he needs to speak with you. Urgently. I'd rather not have him spend his entire shift waiting in the Hall of Assignments. He's one of my best workers."

Otter perked up at the compliment.

Blackwood sighed. "Very well. Put him on."

Dane handed the crystal to Otter, who took it with wide eyes. He knew the Academy used magical communication devices. There were whisper stones, of course, and the books and ledgers that replicated written entries, but this was something different. It hummed faintly in his palm, the edges cool to the touch.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, Overseer Blackwood? It's Otter."

"Yes, Bennett. What is this about?" Blackwood's voice, though slightly distorted, still carried its usual no-nonsense tone.

Otter hesitated, glancing at Dane. She had turned to a stack of papers after handing the device to Otter and was quietly rifling through them. He wasn't sure how much he should say in front of her.

Blackwood must have sensed his reluctance. "Whatever you need to tell me, you can say in front of Archivist Dane," he said. "She is a trusted member of the Academy and one of the most reliable people I know."

Otter swallowed, then exhaled slowly. "Alright," he said. "I think someone used mind magic on me last night."

Dane's hands stilled. Slowly, she set down the papers and folded her arms, her sharp eyes pinning Otter in place.

"Mind magic," she repeated, her voice unreadable.

Otter nodded, then recounted the events of the previous night.

A heavy silence filled the office when he finished.

Blackwood finally spoke, his voice low. "Stay where you are. I'm coming to you."

The crystal dimmed.

Otter handed it back to Dane, who accepted it without a word. But instead of returning to her papers, she stared at him, her sharp gaze assessing.

"You should have led with that," she said.

Otter blinked. "Uh. What?"

Dane stood abruptly, moving with purpose as she strode to a nearby shelf and pulled down a thick volume bound in worn black leather. "Mind magic," she said, flipping through the pages with practiced ease, "is not just taboo—it's dangerous. And rare."

Otter frowned. "Milo said the same thing."

Dane huffed. "Your friend is correct. Even among the most powerful mages, few have the aptitude for mental manipulation." She stopped on a page, scanning it with a narrowed gaze. "And fewer still have the skill to erase recognition like you're describing."

Otter swallowed. "So…what does that mean?"

Dane snapped the book shut. "It means you've been tampered with, boy."

A cold chill crept down Otter's spine.

Dane's gaze flickered toward the door. "And if someone at this Academy has that kind of power… Blackwood's not going to like this one bit."

Otter had never seen anyone move through the Library so quickly. The Overseer swept into the small office, his coat billowing behind him, his dark eyes sharp with purpose.

Dane, for all her usual severity, simply stepped aside, giving him space. "Took you long enough," she muttered.

Blackwood ignored her, his gaze landing on Otter. "Sit," he commanded.

Otter obeyed immediately, lowering himself into the chair by the desk.

Blackwood placed a hand on Otter's shoulder, fingers light but firm. "I need you to hold still," he said.

Otter swallowed and nodded.

Blackwood closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration. A faint warmth spread through Otter's skin where Blackwood touched him. The sensation traveled up his neck and behind his eyes, making his vision blur slightly.

It didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable. Otter clenched his jaw and forced himself not to move.

Minutes passed in silence.

Then, Blackwood exhaled sharply and stepped back, rubbing his temple as if he had a headache.

Otter blinked away the lingering fuzziness. "Well?"

Blackwood's expression darkened. "You were definitely the subject of a spell."

Dane scoffed. "Obviously, but what kind of spell?"

Blackwood crossed his arms. "Obfuscation."

Otter frowned. "What's that?"

"While technically a form of mind magic, it doesn't erase or alter memories," Blackwood clarified. " Instead, it prevents connections from being made. Imagine your brain is a library. A patron brings in a painting and wants to know who it's of. A scribe or other assistant then looks through a collection of similar paintings until they find a match, which is clearly labeled and returns to the patron with that information."

"So the scribe is the connection. Without them, the patron will never find out who's in the painting. Even though the information may be in the library."

Silas smiled. "Precisely."

Otter's fingers curled into his tunic. "So… I do know who they were?"

Blackwood nodded. "Yes. But the magic is preventing your mind from making the connection. It's like trying to recall a word that's on the tip of your tongue but never quite reaches the surface."

"Can you undo it?"

Blackwood's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "I'm not a mind mage."

Otter sat back in his chair, frustration bubbling in his chest. "So what now?"

Blackwood's eyes narrowed. "It may fade with time, especially if it wasn't cast directly on you. Triggers—seeing certain objects, hearing certain words—might break through it."

Otter frowned. "So I just… wait?"

"For now."

That wasn't exactly reassuring.

Blackwood met his gaze. "Listen to me, Bennett. You are in no danger of losing other memories. Whoever did this wasn't trying to harm you—only to prevent you from recognizing them."

Otter let out a slow breath. That, at least, was something.

"But," Blackwood continued, "if you ever encounter this individual again—do not engage."

Otter stiffened. "But what if—"

"No." Blackwood's tone left no room for argument. "You will not try to figure out who they are. You will not follow them. You will not investigate. You will report it immediately to one of the guards or to me directly."

Otter clenched his jaw but nodded.

Dane, standing with arms crossed, finally spoke. "If someone is using this kind of magic on students, they are likely connected to the other problems. Someone needs to figure out who."

Blackwood sighed. "You think I don't know that?" He turned back to Otter. "I will be looking into this. As will the rest of the Overseers. But you are to stay out of it."

Otter didn't like that. At all. But he also wasn't stupid enough to argue.

"…Understood," he muttered.

Blackwood studied him for a moment longer, as if making sure the message had sunk in. Then he straightened, his expression unreadable once more. "Good."

He turned toward Dane. "If he experiences any further anomalies, I want to know immediately."

Dane snorted. "I'll send you a singing telegram."

Blackwood rolled his eyes, then fixed Otter with one last stern look. "Stay out of trouble, Bennett."

And with that, he left.

Dane sighed and rubbed her temples. "Well, that was fun. Now get out of my office, boy. You're going to be late for your shift."