Magic : Unbroken

Leon now stood in front of the mirror, dressed in the crisp academy uniform for the very first time.

The white fabric shimmered faintly in the morning light, embroidered with deep red accents that traced along the collar and sleeves like flowing energy.

The golden crest of the academy rested proudly over his chest, gleaming like a promise.

He adjusted the fit slightly, brushing invisible creases from the jacket. "Not bad," he muttered, tilting his head as he gave himself a once-over.

The uniform suited him more than he expected. The contrast between the red and white brought out the sharpness in his features, and for a fleeting second, he almost looked… noble. Like he belonged.

Leaning in closer, he began fixing his black hair, trying to tame a few stubborn strands that curled above his forehead. That's when he noticed it.

His hands froze mid-motion.

Something was different.

He leaned even closer to the mirror, squinting.

His eyes—normally a deep, earthy brown—were shifting. The color was fading. No, transforming.

Before his eyes, the brown hue dissolved into an unfamiliar glow, like ink seeping into water.

A soft amethyst purple began to bloom in its place, swirling from the center outward until both irises glowed faintly with a hue that did not belong to him.

Leon blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The color remained.

"What the—?" he breathed.

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, even splashed a bit of water from the nearby washbasin and blinked rapidly, hoping it was just a trick of the light or a leftover dream.

But when he looked again—his reflection stared back, still with those unmistakable purple eyes.

Panic surged in his chest.

"What's happening?" he whispered, touching his face and gently tapping below his eye, as if that might trigger something.

No pain. No warmth. No magical flash.

Just… the same mirror. The same face.

But with completely different eyes.

His breathing quickened slightly, and he gripped the edge of the washstand to steady himself.

"This isn't normal… right?"

His mind raced with possibilities—Was this a side effect of the Awakening? A delayed reaction? Had something gone wrong?

Or was it something entirely different?

Leon took a step back from the mirror, breathing heavily. His eyes—once a calm brown—were now glowing purple.

He blinked quickly, hoping it was just his imagination. But even after rubbing his eyes and blinking again, the color didn't change.

His legs felt weak.

He turned to the side and grabbed the edge of a nearby table for support, his fingers gripping it tightly. His heart was still racing.

What's happening to me…?

As he tried to calm down, his eyes drifted to the table.

There were two pens sitting there. One had a shiny silver body and looked fancy. The other was a darker pen made of smooth wood.

Both were simple, normal things—but suddenly, Leon felt something pulling his attention toward them.

Without thinking, he kept staring.

Then, something strange happened.

A faint golden light appeared around the pens. They began to shake slightly, as if something was calling to them.

Leon didn't move. He could feel something deep in his eyes—like a warm current—flowing out.

The golden glow became brighter. Tiny glowing particles rose from the pens, floating and spinning in the air like dust in sunlight. Slowly, the two pens moved closer and closer to each other.

Leon could only watch.

The golden dust wrapped around both objects, and the pens began to merge.

The silver and wood blended together, twisting and shaping into something new. It was like they were melting into one another, turning into a single item.

A few seconds later, the light faded.

One pen was left on the table.

It looked different now—like a mix of the two. It had a silver body, but with wooden designs carved into it, and a thin red line curling around it like a ribbon.

It was simple, but elegant. And definitely not something he had owned before.

Leon's mouth was slightly open in shock. "Was that… me? Did I do that?"

He reached for the pen but paused when a wave of tiredness hit him. His arms felt heavier.

His legs weak. And a dull pressure started building behind his eyes, like a small headache.

He leaned forward, breathing slower.

His body… felt drained.

Leon turned back to the mirror, now worried again. Were his eyes still purple?

But when he looked, they had returned to normal.

Just his usual brown eyes stared back at him.

He let out a shaky breath, part of him relieved, part still confused.

He looked back at the strange pen on the table.

Leon picked up the pen, the one that had formed from two different ones. It felt a little warm, as if it still carried the traces of what just happened.

He turned it around in his fingers, examining every little detail. The color was different from either of the original pens—now a mix of both.

The design was a bit unusual too, like it wasn't made by a company but created by something… or someone.

"Yeah… this definitely wasn't here before," he muttered, eyes still fixed on it.

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding the pen in his hand.

His heart was beating calmly now, unlike earlier. The panic had faded. Instead, a strange peace settled over him.

His eyes… they weren't normal.

They glowed, changed color, and fused two objects into one.

He didn't fully understand how or why, but there was no more doubt.

"This is my power," he whispered to himself.

But even as the truth sank in, so did the tiredness. His body felt heavier now, his arms a little weak, and his eyes were starting to ache again.

It was like something had been drained from inside him.

"…Guess this takes a toll," he sighed.

He leaned back and let his body fall onto the bed.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, thoughts kept circling in his mind. About the fusion, about his eyes, about the academy.

What if someone finds out?

Should he tell anyone?

Can he control it?

Is this magic? Or something else?

But the questions slowly faded as his eyelids grew heavier.

"…I'll think about it later," he mumbled, already halfway asleep.

And before he could even finish that thought, sleep took over.

The room was quiet, the pen still resting in his hand.