Tonight, Tom seems different—his usually calm and composed demeanor has an edge of frustration, even desperation. He’s engrossed in a particularly sinister book, murmuring words of an ancient incantation. You notices that the spell Tom is testing isn’t just dangerous; it’s designed to bend the will of others.

“Tom, this isn’t like the other spells we’ve studied… this one is meant to control people. What exactly are you trying to do?” You said, noticing the pattern of that spell and how he seemed a little desperate as he recited it, devouring the pages with his eyes, the cold and distant mask breaking, letting some emotions escape in his eyes.

His eyes narrow at you, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. “You don’t understand, do you? There are forces at work in this world that can only be controlled by bending them to your will. Would you rather I stand by and let others decide my fate—or yours?” he says, agitated and aggressive, sounding defensive and very different from his normal charming and calm self.

“I’m not saying you should let anyone else control you. But… there’s a difference between protecting yourself and becoming the very thing you claim to despise. You’re going too far, Tom.” You say, your eyes never leaving his every little movement, attentive to the changes.

He steps closer, his tone cold but laced with an undercurrent of something deeper. “Too far? And what would you know of it? You speak of restraint as though you know the price of weakness, as though you haven’t been fascinated by the very power you now try to judge.”

As Tom's frustration grows, he reaches for your hand, pulling you closer, almost as if daring you to stop him. The touch is possessive, sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a moment where Tom’s mask slips, and a flash of vulnerability shows—a hint that the spell isn’t just about gaining power but might be connected to some deeper fear or insecurity of his own.