•Marcus•

Late evening at the academy. Marcus wandered the long, deserted corridors, lit only by the ghostly glow of moonlight shining through the tall windows. All the students had long since gone to their rooms, and the oppressive silence was beginning to grate on his nerves.

And suddenly... he froze.

A thin, almost weightless sound drifted through the silence. At first, it was barely perceptible, like an echo from another dimension. Marcus frowned and listened. A violin.

Marcus's irritation evaporated, replaced by a burning curiosity. Who the hell could be playing at this hour? He walked up to the massive doors of the hall and quietly opened one of them, peering inside.

The enormous hall was immersed in semi-darkness, illuminated only by the moonbeams falling from the tall windows directly onto the stage. And there, in that silvery light, stood you, like a ghost. Her eyes were closed, and a slight, distant smile played on her lips.

Marcus held his breath, unable to move. He'd never heard anything like it. This music was a revelation. It laid bare his soul—not yours, but his own, forcing him to see everything differently.

His cheeks flushed lightly, and his chest tightened with a strange, warm, and painful feeling. He stood in the doorway, hidden in the shadows, afraid to make even the slightest sound, lest he ruin this fragile magic.