Page 22 of Thane's Demon
I stared at the page, pen poised above the lines, but every time I attempted to write, my hand slowed, then stopped. As if my mind was no longer cooperating with the routine I had followed since arriving at Fudan University. I could hear the distant hum of students shifting in their seats, the scrape of chairs against the tiled floor, the faint tapping of keyboards, yet none of it anchored me.
The feeling was back.
That warm, unmistakable presence, brushing up against the edges of my thoughts like a hand hovering just over my skin. Never touching but close enough that I could sense it in the same way someone senses a storm coming long before it appears. It did not frighten me, not in the way it should have. If anything, itdrew my attention deeper, pulling my focus away from the front of the room and toward the quiet space beyond the doorway. As if someone stood there, watching through the small window in the door, hidden behind the slant of the sunlight.
Twice, I thought I saw something.
A flicker of movement.
A shifting of shadow against the polished floor.
But when I looked up fully, the doorway remained empty, the hallway still, the light unmoving except for the occasional shimmer of students passing by. I told myself to breathe, to focus, to stop imagining things. But the prickling sensation at the back of my neck remained.
By the time the lecture ended, my nerves were stretched to their breaking point. I gathered my books slowly, delaying the moment I had to walk through the door in case I needed to compose myself first. I stepped into the hallway, feigning calm, and attempting to let my heartbeat settle. But instead, it continued to flutter against my ribs like a bird trapped beneath its own feathers.
I turned the corner toward the courtyard, and that was when the sensation hit me with full force, a heat that washed over my skin like a warm current, stealing my breath without ever burning.
When I reached the courtyard, the world seemed almost too normal. Students sat on benches eating lunch, chatting in multiple languages, laughing with their friends, and flipping through textbooks. All of it perfectly ordinary, perfectly safe, perfectly easy to believe. And yet the moment I stepped into that space, the warmth behind me increased like a furnace, smoothing over my skin like invisible fingertips, making me turn my head even before I consciously registered doing it.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing again!
I tried to shrug it off, putting it down as something I wanted, as I walked toward the low brick wall that overlooked the small fountain. I sat down with my sandwich and my notebook in hand. For a few minutes, the soft rush of water from the fountain calmed me. The sunshine warmed my shoulders, and the breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. I almost convinced myself the sensation was in my imagination.
Almost.
Then Luca appeared beside me, wearing that easy smile he always carried, the kind that made it impossible not to smile back even when your heart felt heavy. He had that boyish handsomeness that never tried too hard. Tousled brown hair that always looked like he’d run a hand through it on his way in, and warm brown eyes that crinkled whenever he laughed. He also had a relaxed posture that made him seem effortlessly comfortable in any room. There was something endearing about the way he leaned lightly against the wall, one of his backpack straps slipping off his shoulder, as if gravity itself was a suggestion rarely obeyed.
“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head just slightly, studying me with a softness that came naturally to him. “You were spaced out all through class.”
I forced a small laugh, brushing a stray curl behind my ear.
“Just tired, I guess.”
“Well, if you ever need a fun reason to be tired, I can help by taking you out and showing you the city at night.”
I laughed again, softer this time, grateful for his attempt to lift my mood. But the moment my laughter drifted across the courtyard, our surroundings changed. The sunlight dimmed slightly, not from clouds but from something else, something atmospheric that felt otherworldly. A sudden heaviness wrapped around me, not cold like fear, but dense, thick, a presence sopalpable that my body reacted before my mind could understand it.
My smile faded as my chest tightened with a peculiar mixture of anticipation and anxiety. I looked to the left, toward the path leading back to the academic buildings, and for a brief second, I felt certain I saw a figure standing beneath the shade of the tall trees. One tall and unmoving, watching us with a stillness too deliberate to be accidental.
I blinked and…The figure was gone.
But the weight of his gaze remained, settling across my skin like a second shadow. Luca said something else, but the words didn’t register. My attention had shifted entirely toward the silent pull in the air, the invisible thread tugging gently at my awareness.
“I should head to my next class,” I murmured, cutting Luca off with an apologetic smile. “I don’t want to be late.”
He nodded, though he looked slightly confused, and I slipped away before he could ask anything else. The moment I stepped onto the footpath, the campus noise faded behind me, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of traffic.
The warmth followed.
I walked slowly at first, listening to the rhythm of my footsteps, feeling the uneven beat of my heart syncing with the whispering breeze that curled around me. The footpath curved gently ahead, a quiet corridor between tall trees. My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as every instinct in my body rose like a warning I didn’t know how to interpret.
Someone was near.
Not close enough to touch.
Not close enough to see. But close enough that the edge of my thoughts trembled as though brushed by unseen fingers.
