Chapter 12 Among the rafters

  Monday morning started off slowly, but Wendel moved through it with a sense of calmness he had been missing before his weekend home.

  His first class of the day was Advanced botany, it focused on potion crafting, and it wasn’t just the standard healing potions used by beginners, this class was all about the intricate, delicate construction of Hyper Potions. The classroom smelled of earth and dried herbs, and chalk scribbled down diagrams of berries, compounds, and extraction methods on the front board.

  Professor Yarrow gestured to the diagram of a hyper potion, the components of Sitrus berry compounds blending with synthetic stabilizers derived from a root-based distillate. “Now, the core reaction here is triggered by…”

  Wendel raised his hand.

  “Yes, Wendel?”

  “If the Sitrus compound is that sensitive to heat, wouldn’t using a flame-based reduction risk degrading its healing properties? Couldn’t we cold-steep the berries for longer and preserve more of the nutrients that way?”

  The professor blinked, clearly impressed. “You could, though it would require far more time and a very precise pH balance to avoid fermentation.”

  Wendel scribbled it all down, gears turning in his head. Increasingly, he was learning not just how to memorize, but how to question.

  That afternoon, the familiar scent of old parchment met him at the library steps. The place had become like a second home, and he drifted toward the desk out of habit.

  “Wendel,” the librarian called gently.

  He turned, raising a brow.

  She held out a slim, green-bound book. “This was left for you. Suggested by the Headmaster, actually.”

  There was a note folded and tucked inside the front cover. Wendel opened it and recognized the clean, assertive handwriting immediately.

  Wendel —

  Have Gretchen begin studying this. I believe it will suit your battle style.

  — Jorgen.

  The book was titled Combat Withdrawal and Redirect Techniques: Mastering the U-turn.

  Wendel’s lips twitched upward as he flipped through the first few pages. Diagrams of quick momentum shifts and aerial escapes filled the paper, paired with annotations on rhythm, instinct, and precision.

  He closed the book, tapping the cover once.

  The afternoon sun slanted through the tall, arched windows of the library, casting long amber streaks across the study tables. Wendel sat reading about U-Turn in front of him, he was half reading and half scribbling notes in a journal.

  Footsteps padded softly across the floor, and he glanced up just in time to see Annabelle sliding into the seat beside him.

  “Hey,” she said quietly, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear.

  Wendel smiled. “Hey. No Hank today?”

  Annabelle smirked, setting her bag down. “Well… he doesn’t exactly fit in the library so well anymore.”

  Wendel blinked. “Wait…” His eyes widened. “You used it?!”

  She gave a small nod.

  His whole face lit up. “I can’t believe it! I mean—I can, but—wow! I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “You will,” she said, leaning forward on her elbows. “He’s still Hank. There is just a whole lot more of him now.”

  “I bet. He must be huge.”

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  “He didn’t fit through our front door.”

  Wendel laughed under his breath. “I’m surprised the dorms haven’t set fire yet.”

  “They almost did,” she said casually. “I had to give him a long lecture about not wagging his tail near anything flammable.”

  The two of them dissolved into quiet laughter, drawing a sharp glance from a nearby librarian. They both straightened and dropped their voices, still smiling.

  “I’m really happy for you, Annabelle,” Wendel said sincerely after a beat. “He’s your partner… and I know how much this meant.”

  She looked at him, the weight of the moment soft in her gaze. “Yeah, thanks again.” she said.

  Annabelle’s smile lingered as she rose from the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Sure thing” Wendel said.

  She left, the faint click of the library doors echoing in her wake. The quiet soon returned, that hushed, old stillness that seemed to breathe between the bookshelves. Wendel gathered his notes, tucking Jorgen’s book under his arm, stifled a yawn, and stood to leave.

  High above, nestled between the rafters, something watched, it was soft, pink, and completely unseen. Mew drifted there, his tail curling in idle motion as he had watched Wendel pass the same shelf he’d ignored for a week straight. The old volume sat crooked, untouched for years, completely forgotten.

  He’s never going to find it at this rate…oops. Mew thought as his tail brushed the spine of a book, knocking it loose.

  The book slipped free, tumbling end over end until it landed on the floor near Wendel with a loud thud.

  Wendel jumped. “Woah! What the...?” glancing down at the book then scanning the area.

  No one was around.

  Wendel crouched and picked it up. Its cover was dark leather, cracked, stamped with faint gold letters in a script that looked…wrong. The shapes twisted and bent, each resembling one of the mythical Unown Pokémon, their forms spelling out the title: Core Resonance.

  He brushed a thumb across it, his brow furrowing. “This shouldn’t be out here,” he muttered. “This script’s ancient. Shouldn’t this be in the restricted section?”

  He squinted, pausing to let his eyes adjust. Reading the Unown script was never smooth.

  He began to read, sounding out the Unown letters under his breath.

  “From the Core doth all power spring. Seek thou resonance not to command thy might, but to make thy being as one with it.”

  The phrasing was archaic. The script carried the cadence of something sacred, written in a time when humans and Pokémon had not yet learned to name the boundary between mind and matter.

  Wendel frowned. “Core Resonance...?” He glanced toward the desk, toward the librarian’s empty chair. “I’ll just bring it up front and—”

  He paused, eyes catching on another line.

  When the Core truly aligns, body and spirit respond in kind. The limits of the flesh and bone fade away.

  He stood there for a long moment, reading in silence.

  Wendel gathered up his things and headed to the front desk. “Pardon me, Mrs. Faelan”

  From behind a stack of books “One moment dear.”

  Wendel glanced down at the book in his hands below hidden by the tall counter in front of him. His fingers tightened around the cracked leather cover, something about it felt exotic.

  Footsteps approached.

  “Well, Wendel, what can I do for you” Mrs. Faelan asked as she readjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

  Wendel looked back up and smiled. “Oh, nothing I just wanted to let you know I was heading out for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She smiled back at him. “Sure, thing dear. Have a good night.”

  He tucked the book under his arm and walked out, the dim light catching on the strange Unown lettering as he passed through the doors.

  From above, Mew hovered a moment longer, eyes glinting with mischievous satisfaction, before slipping back into the dark between the shelves.

  ***

  Wendel and Cecilia sat cross-legged on the ground just as the sun had started to rise, their knees were almost touching. Their eyes were closed, and their breathing was slow and even.

  A soft hum of psychic presence surrounded Cecilia, while Wendel felt the faint pulse of his own awareness echo against it, drawing themselves into a state like meditation.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then Wendel felt it, a whisper of Cecilia’s thoughts, a gentle echo of her senses brushing against his. He held it, careful not to push too hard, letting the connection grow naturally. Cecilia’s mind shifted in response, a faint rhythm syncing with his own.

  Minutes passed in silence. Small images and sensations began to slip across the link: the brush of wind against Wendel’s cheek, the faint scent of earth and frost, the tingle of psychic energy rolling across Cecilia’s fingers.

  Time seemed to slow. A subtle rhythm formed: their heartbeats, breaths, and faint psychic whispers syncing together.

  Seven seconds later…small pebbles and dirt rained down on them both breaking the Mindmeld link.

  They jerked apart instinctively, eyes snapping open. Dirt covered Wendel’s lap, a tiny stick was lodged in the folds of Cecilia’s hair.

  Wendel’s head snapped to the right as a scowl formed across his face. “I thought I told you two not to bother us.”

  Gretchen and Rhys stopped sparring. Rhys’s ears fell flat against his head.

  “Sorry master, we both got a little too into training this morning.” Gretchen answered.

  Wendel let out a sigh and reached forward and pulled a small stick out of Cecilia’s hair.

  “It’s alright, classes start soon. Let’s head back and get cleaned up.”

  As Cecilia started to stand, dirt fell off her dress. The look on her face said it all as Wendel took a step back.

  With a wave of her arm a psychic shockwave swept across the field.

  Sticks, dust and stones flew towards Rhys and Gretchen covering them both completely.

  Cecilia’s eyes glinted and a broad smile crept across her face.

  “Now we’re even”

  Wendel’s laughter filled the empty training field.

  “All right let’s go before this gets out of hand.”