It was late, in the chamber beneath the lake. The walls were covered in runes, and the water above you shifted like a liquid mirror. Tom was teaching you a forbidden incantation — one not meant to be spoken aloud. But when you stepped too close, the words dissolved on your tongue. He raised a hand to correct your stance… and didn’t pull it away. His breath grazed your neck, just a heartbeat before he whispered, —“Silence.”

The spell ignited: a heavy, absolute stillness. No sound of the water, no trace of your breathing, not even the faint rustle of his robes as he moved. Everything stopped. His eyes found yours — dark, fathomless. In that forced stillness, every motion carried weight: the slight tilt of his head, the barely-there brush of his fingers against your wrist, the restrained pulse caught in your throat.