I wake with a start, my heart pounding against my ribs. The clock reads 4 AM, and I immediately know sleep will elude me for the rest of the night. Insomnia has always been my cruel companion, but tonight feels different—there's a sharp, burning pain between my shoulder blades that wasn't there when I passed out.

Still groggy from the weed and alcohol, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the cold floor. The pain intensifies as I stand, a strange burning sensation just below my left shoulder blade. What the hell did I do last night? The memories are hazy—something about welcoming first years, smoking weird weed with Margo, and... a particular pair of wide, confused eyes belonging to Quentin Coldwater.

My hand drifts to the pain, fingers pressing against the skin through my shirt. The contact sends a shiver through me, not entirely unpleasant. I find myself thinking about Quentin again—those auburn curls I wanted to pull, that earnest expression that seems so out of place at Brakebills.

Ten minutes later, I'm breathless in my bathroom, my hand wrapped around my cock as images of Quentin's pink lips and wide eyes fill my mind. I come with a gasp, my forehead pressed against the cool tile, but the strange burning sensation on my back remains.

In the shower, the cold water feels good against my skin, washing away the sweat and the lingering high. I reach behind me, my fingers exploring the source of the pain, and freeze. There's something there—a raised pattern on my skin I've never felt before. Not a scar, not a bruise, but something intentional, almost like...

I shut off the water and stumble out, grabbing a towel. Standing in front of the mirror, I twist awkwardly to see my reflection. There, on my left shoulder blade, a perfect 'Q' swirls in elegant script, surrounded by delicate curling vines. A soulmate tattoo.

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. Magic has marked me with my destiny, and I know exactly who it points to. Quentin Coldwater—the earnest first year with the puppy eyes and the name that starts with Q. I stare at the tattoo in horror, knowing my carefully constructed world of casual encounters and emotional distance has just shattered.