I wanted to try to save Halven as soon as possible, but I was soon to learn that we weren’t prepared, at least not according to Isa and Veyn. Instead we found ourselves back in the Council Chambers just days later. For training.

The Council Chambers took on a new kind of heat during training. Not from the fire in the hearths or the torches burning in sconces, but from the presence of so many of us, every day, pushing our limits, testing the strength of our magic against something ancient and unseen.

Several days after our first meeting in these chambers, Professor Veyn had recovered enough to announce we’d be learning about his special Binding spell, practicing for several weeks first before attempting to save Halven. Apparently we needed the fundamentals of this Binding, anchoring our magic to nature, which didn’t make much sense to me. All of our magic came from nature—the natural elements.

Veyn ran the daily sessions like he was building a new world out of theory and pressure. He stood in front of us each evening, after all of our normal classes were done, chalk and charcoal smudged along his sleeves, a different map or diagram always half-formed behind him on a black piece of slate. The rest of us sat in the rising benches, fidgeting or scowling depending on how late it was.

He explained the core of Binding to nature in a way that almost made sense. You couldn’t just force your element into something. You had to listen to it, ask it, coax it. Nature responded to invitation, not command. But it worked better if one had a partner or others of a separate elemental magic.

Then with shared intent, the magic could bind better to nature.

Neir was also there. He spoke little, but when he did, it landed like stone in a still pool. Sometimes I caught him watching Rielle while she helped Veyn demonstrate a Binding pattern across the map etched onto the black slate. And sometimes, when he thought no one noticed, he looked tired in a way that magic couldn’t fix.

I stayed back the first two days, absorbing. Fire didn’t bind easily to many other elements. Now knowing what I did about my father God, I wonder if the other elements didn’t play nice because of Ignis’s history with his brothers and sisters, especially with the Sun God and Water Goddess, and those who sided against him after he destroyed Sygilla.

I said as much to Professor Veyn after five days of training when I made less progress than everyone else.

The professor responded with a slight smile. “Fire takes on the qualities of its master. Like Ignis, fire consumes, transforms, and rages. But under the right conditions, it could also sustain.”

He folded his arms, almost like he didn’t especially enjoy speaking ill of any of the gods. “Start by finding where fire lives in nature without destroying it.”

I tried coaxing my flame toward an old pile of iron scraps from a collapsed brazier. It flickered, touched it, and hissed out. Nothing else. I could melt all the metal, but I knew that wasn’t Binding either.

But then, I found something better.

There was a cracked line in the stone floor where moss had grown in from beneath the building. I fed my flame into that crack and felt it take. Just a flicker at first. Then Shara joined me, her copper aura joining mine.

“We need shared intent. Let’s light the moss with your flame but keep it from burning it.”

I nodded.

After that, we whispered our shared intent, and I let Shara guide me.

I nearly whooped for joy when the moss didn’t burn. It shimmered. Glowed. Held the heat in the green veins of its creeping reach. It was like my flame had found a way to live in the quiet part of the earth, not in dominance, but in balance.

I hadn’t even realized how wide I was grinning until Elio clapped loudly behind me.

Then Aster neared to glance at my work. And just like that, everything in me twisted.

She didn’t even look at me. Just drew the water from the air, from the veins of a vine curling near the back wall and wrapped it in motion so elegant it made the others fall silent. Her magic didn’t push or pull. It asked. And the world answered.

The confidence I’d felt just moments before turned brittle.

Veyn praised her. Briefly. She nodded, gave nothing away, and returned to the edge of the chamber without a glance in my direction.

I could still feel the heat alive in the moss, but now it felt like it didn’t belong to me.

The rest of the days passed in blur. More sessions. More practice. More watching Aster be the version of perfect that I didn’t know how to reach.

When Veyn called an end to the training session on Nonis 9th, he reminded us that tomorrow was Deveil’s Night, and we wouldn’t have any training. We were all expected in the ceremonial field to begin the Mourning of the Mists at twilight. “We walk through the mists, so the wraiths pass us by on Deveil’s Night as we begin the Descent of the Veil.”

Deveil, short for the Descent of the Veil. It was my favorite holiday because it reminded me that fire could grieve without losing its shape as told in the story, “The Descent of Brihiva and Acratius.” The lovers were both born of Ignis, doomed from the start, and still, they chose love over wrath. They made something lasting in a world that wanted to tear them apart.

I didn’t know if Aster and I could ever be that. We weren’t gods. We weren’t even whole most days. But the part of me that stayed lit even when she froze me out still wanted to try.

The night before the ritual walk, I couldn’t sleep.

I lay awake, thinking about the fire that clung to moss. About the way Aster moved like water had always known her. About Halven, frozen in magic and myth.

And about the spirits said to whisper through the mists on the night when the veil grew thin enough to break.

When twilight fell on Deveil’s Night, we gathered in silence at the edge of the ceremonial field. The sky wore its bruises in pale lavender and burnt orange. The mists had already begun to rise. Thick, enchanted, rolling in from the old stones that marked the border of the field, curling along the ground like the wraiths themselves.

Everyone wore dark cloaks and light feet, veils drawn over our faces in translucent gray, as was tradition. The air was damp. Somewhere behind us, a lone flute played a mournful tune. It was said that Brihiva and Acratius’s son, Ashar was the most accomplished flute player, who could move any audience to tears or laughter.

It was for Ashar that Brihiva first, then Acratius, descended into the eight hells to save their slain son, the God of Battle. However, not all of them could leave the hells. Acratius had to stay behind while his wife and son returned to the living, but on that day every year, the veil thinned between the living and the dead. The Descent of the Veil.

The night before the holiday, we celebrated with the Mourning of the Mists. On Deveil’s Night, we found ourselves with all our classmates and the faculty. We walked barefoot, as instructed, over the cold grass toward the ceremonial tree. Its bark was slick with moisture, and its branches reached like arms across the thinning veil. Supposedly, if we prayed hard enough, we could hear and see the spirits. We might even get to see our lost loved ones.

I walked alone. I didn’t look for Aster. I didn’t expect her to look for me.

But in the fog, every sound softened. Every shape blurred. I thought I caught a glimpse of her form across the field, water-laced magic barely contained in the air around her, but I didn’t follow. I stayed with the stillness.

And in that stillness, I thought of Acratius.

He was the god no one believed in. The weak one. The forgotten one. And still, he went into the depths of the eight hells for the ones he loved, to recover his wife and slain son. Not because he was chosen. But because he chose.

I wanted to be that kind of fire.

I wanted to be more than the kind of fire that burned bright when it was noticed or flared when things were easy. But also the kind that stayed warm in the cold. The kind that returned, even when the path was dark.

I knelt near the tree as the mists moved around my knees and fingers. And I made a promise, not to the gods, not to the veil, but to myself.

I would chase her until she said she didn’t need me.

I closed my eyes and let the mist pass over me. And in that moment, I swear I felt a hand on my shoulder. A warm hand, nearly inconsequential.

Maybe it was nothing.

Or maybe Acratius was listening, and he was rooting for me.

I’d hoped we could rescue Halven right away. But Isa and Professor Veyn made it clear we weren’t ready. After several days of silence following the revelation about Halven, Professor Veyn returned, declaring that we would be training for a few weeks before venturing into The Seal. So we would return to the Council Chambers, not to deliberate, but to train.

The Council Chambers had never felt more alive. There was a different energy in the air this time, thick with magic and effort. Not just from the fires in the sconces, but from all of us, side by side, learning to stretch our powers further than we had before. It pulsed with purpose, with movement, with magic learning to reach outside of itself.

We needed to understand Binding. Everything Rielle and I had learned about Binding our magic to nature and more. When Veyn spoke of Binding magic—magic tied not just to the elements, but to the life of the world itself—I felt something stir. It wasn’t just about strength. It was about connection. To the ground beneath our feet, to each other, and to whatever waited for us beyond those walls.

What Rielle and I had spent the last couple of months learning now had to be taught to the rest of us in a few weeks.

Every evening, we gathered. The benches filled slowly at first, the air always thick with fatigue after our regular classes. But once Veyn started pacing in front of the ancient stone map with his chalk-streaked sleeves and ink-covered fingers, we listened. The diagrams behind him on a black piece of slate were half-legible, but I understood them. I helped him draw them.

He explained the core tenet over and over. Binding magic was not a simple spell. Nature did not obey. It listened and responded, but only to harmony. Binding, true binding, came from shared intent. One element supporting another.

Sometimes he let me help demonstrate. Not because I asked. Because I was already doing it. I moved from student to student, correcting their stances, helping them phrase their intent more clearly. Showing them where their magic fought instead of flowed.

I did not look at Veyn, but I felt his eyes on me constantly. In the quiet moments. In the loud ones. When he called for volunteers and when he said nothing at all.

He had tried to speak with me more than once. Tried to catch me on the way in or the way out. I slipped past him every time.

Teaching steadied me. But when it was my turn to learn, to receive, to let someone else guide me, I faltered. Even when Neir or Rielle stood beside me with patient instruction, part of me resisted.

I hated that I still wanted his voice to be the one giving the praise, guiding me next to him as part of his life, not some compartmentalized part that couldn’t cross over into his secrets. The part that got to share in every single thing that helped to shape the man I loved.

But he wouldn’t let me in.

Instead, I poured my magic into the vibrant, growing life around me.

On the fourth day, I began practicing growing roots through the floor itself, coaxing tendrils from tiny moss clumps where the stone cracked near the wall. It felt good to grow slowly and steadily, without flourish. To wrap strength around silence and call it peace.

“You quiet the land, Docilis Shara,” Veyn said from behind me one day.

His voice was low, almost reverent. It vibrated through me and goosebumps rose on my arms. I wanted to feel his voice speaking against my skin in my most secret places.

But I did not turn to him. I did not thank him. I just nodded and moved on to help Ardorion.

He had been struggling. Trying to force fire into dead metal. But his flame kept flickering out, and I could feel the frustration simmering beneath his skin.

“It just doesn’t work,” Ardorion said, voice tight. “Maybe fire doesn’t bind well with other elements because of where it comes from. Because of Ignis. The Fire God didn’t exactly get along with the others, considering his history. Maybe the other elements hold a grudge.”

He looked away, like he regretted saying it aloud. Probably remembering how Ignis had destroyed Sygilla.

Professor Veyn didn’t scoff. He tilted his head and considered it. “Fire takes on the qualities of its master. Like Ignis, fire consumes, transforms, and rages. But under the right conditions, it could also sustain.”

He folded his arms, and I knew he didn’t like speaking against any of the gods, his reverence for them a thing I didn’t quite understand. “Start by finding where fire lives in nature without destroying it.”

It was the perfect answer.

I joined Ardorion by a crack in the floor where the moss grew thickest. He looked at me warily, like he did not want help, but I smiled anyway. “We need shared intent. Let’s light the moss with your flame but keep it from burning it.”

He nodded, and we whispered our intent together. When the moss shimmered green and gold without turning to ash, the joy on his face lit brighter than any flame.

That was what Binding with nature looked like.

But I saw what came after too. When Aster stepped forward and called water from the air with barely a whisper, and the whole chamber seemed to hold its breath, I watched Ardorion fold inward again.

I said nothing. But I stood beside him a little longer than necessary.

The days blurred after that. More sessions. More mistakes. More flashes of beauty when the elements finally listened.

On the evening of Nonis 9th, Veyn dismissed us early.

“We will not train tomorrow,” he said. “Deveil’s Night is not a time for training. You are expected in the ceremonial field by twilight for the Mourning of the Mists. We walk through the mists so the wraiths pass us by on Deveil’s Night as we begin the Descent of the Veil.”

My breath caught at the mention of it.

Deveil’s Night was not just tradition. It was remembrance. It was the one night I let myself hope I might see my grandmother’s face in the mist.

And the thought of walking that path while knowing Veyn might do the same made something unsteady beat beneath my ribs.

Deveil, the shortened form of the Descent of the Veil. I never used to think much of it when I was younger. The stories always felt like they belonged to someone else’s pain. But as I grew older, it began to settle in me differently.

We all knew the tale. How the Goddess of Conflict, Brihiva, descended into the eight hells for her slain son, how her husband, Acratius, God of Warfare Strategy, followed without question, how love and grief reshaped the gods themselves. Acratius had to stay behind while his wife and son returned to the living, but on that day every year, the veil thinned between the living and the dead. The story was called “The Descent of Brihiva and Acratius,” and it was meant to remind us that even gods could mourn. That sometimes, the only thing more powerful than destruction was remembrance.

I never cared about the myth. But I cared about what it allowed.

Because on Deveil’s Night, they said the veil thinned. That spirits could find their way through the mist. And that if you listened hard enough, if you stilled everything else inside you, you might hear their voices again.

Every year, I hoped to see his face, hear his voice.

My grandfather had Withered only a few years ago. One day, his laugh still filled the kitchen. The next, he was silent, bark spreading up his arms like ivy, his magic dimming with every breath. It was not death. It was a return. That was what we were taught. The Wood Fae did not die. They Withered. They became one with the roots of the trees that had housed their lives, their homes, their stories. My grandfather’s essence had returned to our family’s tree in the Spring Quadrant, and sometimes I pressed my hand to the bark, thinking I could still feel him with me.

But on Deveil’s Night, I always wondered if I might glimpse him again. Even just for a second.

That night, I dressed slowly. The ceremonial veil draped over my face, translucent and pale, and I walked barefoot across the wet stone of the Academy steps. The ceremonial field lay in shadow, bathed only in torchlight and mist that curled low like breath on glass. The others were already gathering. Cloaks whispered and feet padded lightly over the earth.

A soft flute played somewhere in the darkness. Brihiva and Acratius’s son, Ashar, was said to have played it too, when the world still remembered the gods as more than myth, as more than just stories.

I stepped into the grass. Cold dew kissed my skin. The mist curled higher around my ankles. We walked in silence toward the ceremonial tree, where its branches stretched long above us like arms welcoming us along with the wraiths that crossed the veil this night.

I did not walk beside anyone.

I kept my gaze low, my heart quieter still. If there was ever a time to reach across the veil, it was now. And I did not want to miss him if he came.

When I neared the tree, I knelt. I let the mist soak into the hem of my robe and tried to empty every thought that wasn’t her. I breathed out the ache in my chest from my ancestor’s absence. From Veyn’s presence still lingering inside me like roots that had never stopped growing.

I just wanted my grandfather to fill my heart, to guide me where others failed.

I closed my eyes and whispered his name.

And in the hush that followed, the breeze moved differently. The mist curled tighter around my shoulders. And for a moment, I swore I heard the creak of bark that once held a laugh.

I pressed my hand to the grass. Not asking for more. Just thanking him for that.

That was all I needed.

It soothed the ache in my soul. It gave me strength to help save my friend, even if my heart continued breaking.

I thought we’d head straight into battle. That we’d tear down whatever was holding Halven with the force we’d found in each other. But Isa and Veyn had other plans. They pulled us back into the Council Chambers—of all places—for training, after they took a few days to recuperate.

I didn’t like waiting, but if it meant getting Halven back, I’d learn whatever it took.

But I hated being in the Council Chambers.

Not because they were cold or austere or dripping with the weight of every law that had ever caged a fae. I hated them because he was there. Orivian. Sitting too near, breathing the same air like nothing had changed.

After the announcement that we’d be training for a few weeks, I told myself I wouldn’t go. I didn’t need Veyn’s lessons. I didn’t need diagrams or scrolls or maps drawn in chalk and charcoal. I could teach myself. I always had.

But I went anyway.

Because Halven was still frozen, and if learning to bind magic to nature was what it would take to get him back, then I would become a master of it before the rest of them learned how to hold a proper conduit.

I showed up late each night. I took my seat in the upper benches and made no effort to hide my disinterest in whatever Veyn was preaching at the front of the room. But I listened. And then, when we broke into practice, I worked alone.

The room, once cold and echoing with politics, took on a new pulse. It was alive now. Every hour we pushed harder, magic surging and colliding, not against each other, but something older, heavier, that pressed in at the edges.

It wasn’t just training. Veyn, still weak from what happened, told us we’d need to learn Binding magic, something elemental and deep-rooted. Not just casting, but anchoring. I had to figure out how that worked for my magic.

Metal was precise. Demanding. It did not suffer hesitation. So I forged my own rhythms. No shared intent. No partnered element to dilute what I already knew I could do.

The first few days, I worked in silence. I bent slivers of ore into strands and tried to anchor them to stone with nothing but breath and focus. It didn’t hold. Not for long. But I kept at it.

When Isa arrived on the third day of training, she didn’t even glance at me until the session was halfway through. Then, without preamble, she said, “Garnexis. Pair with Elio.”

I turned to protest, but her expression made it clear the conversation was over.

Elio raised a brow at me. “Lucky me.”

I rolled my eyes and stalked over to where he stood, earthy magic already humming under his fingertips.

To my surprise, he didn’t try to lead. He asked what I wanted to try, and then actually listened. We agreed to anchor a length of iron wire to a broken stone column near the rear wall using a pulse of my Metal and a ripple of his Earth. We set our intent aloud, and for once, I didn’t rush through it.

When it worked, I felt it settle deep in my chest. Not just success. Harmony.

I gave him a smile before I realized I had. And of course, he didn’t miss it.

“Careful,” he murmured. “That almost looked genuine.”

I snorted. “Try not to get used to it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement.

Orivian. Of course. He just couldn’t let me go.

He was working with Lo near the far wall, and just as I looked over, he lost his focus. A silvery tendril of binding snapped with a sharp flicker and vanished into smoke. He didn’t look at me. But he did scowl—at Elio.

My stomach turned, but I shoved the reaction down where I kept all the things I didn’t want to feel.

We kept working, Elio and I, and soon our synchrony sharpened. Isa circled once, observing, and said, “You two share clear intent. An excellent pairing.”

It was not praise, at least I didn’t take it that way. But it was acknowledgment. And I would take it.

By the fifth day, I tried something new. I let go of the rigid structures I’d clung to and began syncing my breath with the metal’s shape.

My magic pulsed from the center of my chest in time with each inhale. I watched a thin arc of copper curl into the air like it knew what I needed. When I shaped it into a tiny bird and it hovered for half a second, responding not to command but to emotion, I almost didn’t breathe.

It worked.

I had found my rhythm.

And I didn’t need anyone to help me get there.

A short while later, a voice from behind the stone map caught my attention.

“It just doesn’t work,” Ardorion said, his tone edged with frustration. “Maybe fire doesn’t bind well with other elements because of where it comes from. Because of Ignis. The Fire God didn’t exactly get along with the others, considering his history. Maybe the other elements hold a grudge.”

I paused, just for a breath. It was rare to hear Ardorion admit doubt. Even rarer to hear him invoke the old gods as anything other than metaphor. Perhaps he was recalling how Ignis had destroyed and devasted Sygilla.

Veyn did not correct him. He simply said, “Fire takes on the qualities of its master. Like Ignis, fire consumes, transforms, and rages. But under the right conditions, it could also sustain.”

He folded his arms across his chest, voice softening just enough to reveal reverence. “Start by finding where fire lives in nature without destroying it.”

On the evening of Nonis 9th, Veyn called an early end to training.

“We will not train tomorrow,” he said. “Deveil’s Night is not a time for training. You are expected in the ceremonial field by twilight for the Mourning of the Mists. We walk through the mists so the wraiths pass us by on Deveil’s Night as we begin the Descent of the Veil.”

I gathered my things slowly, the echo of his words staying with me longer than they should have.

Deveil, the shortened form of The Descent of the Veil. I walked the mists for the first time last year, and I certainly didn’t see anyone who had crossed the veil of death already. It was all a jest, a merry tale to keep the dead alive somehow.

No one important to me had died anyway, so who would I expect to see or hear. It was just a waste of time. Time that we could spend training. Time to prepare to save Halven.

But I didn’t have a choice.

All Docilis had to attend the Mourning of the Mists, the ritual on Deveil’s Night, before the Descent of the Veil on the next day. Supposedly, this was when the veil thinned between the living and the dead. Something to do with two minor Fire Gods, Brihiva and Acratius, who had a son slain in battle.

A remembrance of lovers who dared to defy death. “The Descent of Brihiva and Acratius”—that was the story’s name. I read it once in the library. A tale of grief and resolve. Of two gods of war who tore through the veil to descend into the eight hells to rescue their son, Ashar, the God of Battle. However, Acratius had to stay behind while his wife and son returned to the living. A soul for a soul.

On the same day every year, the veil descended between the living and the dead.

I liked the story, even if I didn’t care for the ritual. The idea that someone could be forged by loss and still choose love. That held more truth than half the teachings at this academy.

Let the others pray to see spirits in the mist. I would take the story over the superstition.

When twilight fell on Deveil’s Night, I joined the others at the edge of the ceremonial field, cloaked in gray and irritation. The air was wet. The mists had already begun to swell over the grass like breath from the belly of the mountain, curling thick and low, just as the myths said they would.

We stood in silence, faces veiled in pale silk, feet bare against the chill. A single flute carried a low tune somewhere beyond the stones, its melody haunting in a way that made some students bow their heads.

I did not.

The song was Ashar’s. It was said Ashar was the most accomplished flute player, who could move any audience to tears or laughter.

We moved forward in a line, one by one, across the slick grass and toward the ceremonial tree. Its bark looked darker than usual, water pooling in the hollows like old tears. Branches curled upward and out, stretching like skeletal arms trying to reach something they had long since lost.

I didn’t expect anything when I stepped into the mist. No vision. No revelation. Certainly no visitation.

Still, I kept my breath even. I walked like the rest of them, as if this mattered. As if it might matter.

Around me, I caught glimpses of others faltering in their steps, awe lighting their features beneath their veils. Some reached forward into the fog, hands trembling. Others closed their eyes like they could see someone I could not.

I kept walking.

One girl whispered something I could not hear. A boy let out a soft sob. None of it touched me. I had no dead waiting to speak with me. No voices from the other side. No long-lost parent or sibling to find in the shadows. No one I ever cared about had died, because that encompassed only one person. My mother.

Maybe the mists knew I didn’t believe in them. Maybe they passed me by on purpose.

I reached the base of the tree and knelt, not in reverence but out of respect for tradition. The wood beneath my fingers felt cold, rough. Real.

I stared at the mist and whispered nothing.

Because nothing was what I felt.

Still, I stayed a moment longer than I needed to. Just long enough to feel the smallest flickering hum of my fated bond beneath my skin. Orivian was close, but I didn’t want to see him.

As the flute played on and the mist curled tighter, I stood, pulled my cloak close, and walked back through the field.

I didn’t need this celebration.

I didn’t need anyone at all.

I had hoped we would act swiftly to free Halven. Instead, Isa and Professor Veyn insisted we return to the Council Chambers to train, citing our unpreparedness. But only after they had a few days to recover from their own magic use.

The chambers, once silent and cold, transformed during those days. The firelight mingled with the strain of our efforts, magic humming in the air as we learned to confront something none of us fully understood. It felt too full. It pressed in from every direction, crowded out the softer parts of myself that I was trying to hold together.

Veyn taught us Binding. Everything Shara and I had learned about Binding our magic to nature and more. While we both had the basics, everyone else was learning the spell for the first time.

Veyn spoke of it as a practice of anchoring our magic into nature itself. Not through force, but with shared intent. One element weaving with another. Nature responding not to power, but to harmony. A curious idea, considering all magic is born of the natural world. Still, I listened. I practiced. If this spell was the key to Halven’s salvation, I would master it.

Since we passed our midterms and new the theory and practice of Binding magic to nature, Shara and I often found ourselves teaching alongside Veyn. We could give a different perspective since we’d just learned the spell.

Every time I stood in front of that etched map on the floor, every time I demonstrated a Binding sequence, I felt like I was baring a part of myself that still didn’t quite believe it belonged.

Yet it helped. Teaching made the learning feel real.

Neir was also there. Always there. He didn’t sit. He leaned in the shadows, sometimes watching the others, but mostly… me. I could feel it even when I wasn’t looking.

Sometimes he offered insight in his careful way. But mostly he stood near when I taught, when I moved from student to student trying to show them what I had come to understand.

He never interrupted. Never directed. But I felt him the same way I felt the pull of the moon. Being near him did something strange to my magic, though. It steadied, like he was the fulcrum of my quiet. But it also quaked, like my body remembered his betrayal more vividly than my mind allowed.

Then I tried to shut Neir out of my mind and remember that all of this was for Halven.

I partnered with several students. Aster and I drew water up into the veins of a young tree. Lo and I balanced a sharp-edged rock on the lip of stone seat. I answered questions with as much certainty as I could fake.

And Neir watched, moving when I moved. His presence was like a second heartbeat in the room. I could feel it whether I looked at him or not. But I never gave him my attention or spoke to him, even if that felt like cutting off a piece of myself.

On the fifth night, I paused mid-demonstration when Ardorion spoke loudly from the far side of the chamber.

“It just doesn’t work,” he said. “Maybe fire doesn’t bind well with other elements because of where it comes from. Because of Ignis. The Fire God didn’t exactly get along with the others, considering his history. Maybe the other elements hold a grudge.”

I looked over, not because of what he said, but because he said it out loud. Ardorion didn’t usually admit struggle. And rarely in the language of the gods. But I think I understood his frustration, especially since we learned how badly Ignis had destroyed Sygilla, a beloved being to many.

Veyn didn’t flinch listening to Ardorion. He just nodded.

“Fire takes on the qualities of its master,” he said. “Like Ignis, fire consumes, transforms, and rages. But under the right conditions, it could also sustain.”

Then softer, folding his arms, “Start by finding where fire lives in nature without destroying it.”

Ardorion shifted then, his shoulders a little lower. Shara stepped toward him soon after, her voice gentle as she offered to help.

It was always that way with us. Each of us slowly opening, piece by piece. Binding not just our magic, but the broken parts of ourselves.

“We will not train tomorrow,” Veyn said on the ninth of Nonis, barely a week into our training. “Deveil’s Night is not a time for training. You are expected in the ceremonial field by twilight for the Mourning of the Mists. We walk through the mists so the wraiths pass us by on Deveil’s Night as we begin the Descent of the Veil.”

Deveil, the shortened form of the Descent of the Veil.

The words hushed the beating of my heart.

For the Moon Fae, Deveil’s Night was sacred. We did not just honor our dead. We kept their stories all year. But this one night we could see their faces and hear their voices again.

We spoke of them. We remembered them with reverence because so few of us remained. Every loss carved something deeper into our lineage. Every name passed down was a promise that the veil could reconnect us to our heritage before no one remembered it anymore.

I hoped the world would never forget us, even if we did disappear one day.

The next evening, the sky wore mourning.

Twilight draped itself in shades of slate and soft plum as we gathered in silence at the edge of the ceremonial field. Everyone wore the traditional gray veils, sheer enough to see the mist through, but opaque enough to shield us from anything that might look back.

Bare feet brushed cold grass. The air hung heavy with moisture, the scent of damp stone and ash clinging to our cloaks. Somewhere, a flute began to play. Slow. Melancholy. As if echoing a memory only half-remembered.

But it was remembered. A song Ashar, the God of Battle, had played. He was the catalyst for this celebration. His story, the love his parents had for him, created the day where the veil between the living and the dead thinned enough to allow passage.

I didn’t stand with the others on the ceremonial field. I waited until most had already entered the field, then stepped forward alone.

The mists were already rising, curling across the earth like a second skin. They moved strangely, never quite in step with the wind, and shimmered faintly under the light of the first stars.

We were told that on this night, the minor Fire God lovers, Brihiva and Acratius separated after descending into the eight hells, one remaining behind to take the place of their slain son, while the other crossed the veil with Ashar. A soul for a soul.

The story was passed down like scripture, wrapped in fire and sorrow. “The Descent of Brihiva and Acratius.” It was more than myth to the Moon Fae. It was permission to remember. To believe the past could still reach for us.

And tonight, I wanted to be reached.

As I walked deeper into the mist, the chill found my bones. The wind quieted. The world narrowed.

And then, through the thick veil of silver and silence, I saw them.

Figures emerged. Faint. Flickering. Moon Fae, like me. One brushed a hand along my shoulder and smiled. Another cupped their palms in prayer and whispered my name.

I knew none of them. But they knew me.

They celebrated me.

My chest ached.

They remembered, too. Even if our history faded, slipping through the cracks of time, the dead always remembered.

I closed my eyes, let the mist pass over my face, and whispered the names of those I did know. The few I had lost in my short life. When I opened my eyes again, the figures were gone. But the warmth remained.

Not around me. Within me.

I pressed a hand to my chest and took one more step forward into the mists, into the memory, into the promise that we would not been forgotten.

And I promised, quietly, that I would not forget them either.

Deveil’s Night came and went, followed by the strange calm of the Descent of the Veil. And then, just like that, it was back to training. Another week and a half of pushing magic harder than it wanted to go. But tonight, we learned that in four days, we would be going to The Seal to use our new Binding spells to save Halven. Nonis 27th.

Aster and I had barely spoken to each other, although I never let her forget about me. I ensured I was always visible and near her. It was also my way of letting her know that my thoughts were of her.

After tonight’s news, I felt the urgency to make things right, so when training finished, I chased after Aster. I meant to heal this broken thing between us.

The others had filed out of the Council Chambers, looking as tired as I felt. Voices echoed, boots scraped against stone, and magic lingered in the air like steam that refused to clear.

Aster walked away too fast, braid swinging like a warning, and I didn’t call her name. Just followed. Quietly. Not like a shadow. More like something patient. Something burning low until the moment called for heat.

She turned the corner toward the western corridor, the one that led to our Goldspire tower. I knew she wouldn’t stop if I called. So I didn’t.

I just stepped into the hallway before she reached the arched doorway to her quad when she saw me and stopped.

“Really?” she asked, arms crossed. “Are you stalking me now?”

“Didn’t think I had to. We both live here.” I indicated the arched doorway into my quad just across the hall while putting myself between her and her quad door.

She rolled her eyes, started to move past me, and I let her.

For a breath.

Then I said, “Aster.”

She stilled, back straight as a blade.

“I’m not here to apologize again,” I said. “I’ve said everything I needed to. And maybe none of it mattered. But I didn’t want to leave it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like silence meant we stopped trying.”

She turned to face me, slow and sharp.

“Is this your idea of balance?” she said. “Shadowing me until I forget I hate you?”

I smiled before I could help it. It was that same part of me that always knew her better than logic said I should. I took a step toward her, and her eyes widened before she stumbled back against the wall, her mouth parting with a sharp breath.

I didn’t touch her, but I closed the distance between our bodies enough that I felt her cold brushing against my heated skin.

I dropped my head near hers, breathing her in. Gods, I missed her. Every part of me ached to touch her, to feel her lips beneath mine.

I settled for rejoicing in the way her heartbeat fluttered in the vein on the side of her neck. She still wanted me, even if she was fighting it. Maybe even needed me like her vision self had said in the Docilis Vault.

“You don’t hate me.” I said it with the kind of certainty that came from somewhere below the ribs. From the place where fire settled before it rose.

Her jaw tensed. But she didn’t argue.

I stepped aside, giving her a path forward if she wanted it. No more blocks. No more tests. It was her move.

But she didn’t move.

The air between us shifted.

Then, softer this time, I added, “I know what I said. Back then. When you wanted to confront Isa. When you asked me to stand with you, and I didn’t.”

She didn’t speak.

“I was wrong. I should have supported you,” I said. “Maybe we would already have saved Halven by now.”

Still nothing. But her breathing changed.

I met her eyes. And asked the only thing that mattered now.

“If I followed you again tomorrow…, would you still try to forget me?”

Her violet eyes shifted with obvious turbulence. Her teeth worried her bottom lip. That was all I needed. I didn’t want to push her too hard, too soon, so I didn’t wait for an answer. I don’t think she was capable of answering. I had thrown her natural balance and grace off.

I stepped past her, slow, like retreat wasn’t failure. Like balance could mean leaving the moment behind before it broke.

She didn’t stop me.

But she didn’t walk away either.

And that, for now, was enough to keep the fire lit.

We honored Deveil’s Night, then welcomed the Descent of the Veil with warmth and quiet reflection. Afterward, we returned to the Council Chambers, where training resumed, stretching on through another week and a half of focused effort.

After training, I usually left first, quiet, quick, unnoticed, or as unnoticed as I could be. For the first week, Veyn still tried to talk to me, but when I told him I needed time, he stopped. Since that day my heart has ached worse than ever, and I wondered if someone could die of a broken heart.

Then tonight we learned that in four days, we would be going to The Seal to save Halven. Nonis 27th. I didn’t want to wait any longer, so after our training, I lingered. The Council Chambers emptied slowly, some of my friends sending curious looks my way, but soon it was just Veyn and myself.

Veyn stood near the dais, gathering the last of his papers, fingertips stained faintly with chalk. He hadn’t noticed me yet, or if he had, he pretended not to. Perhaps trying too hard to honor my wishes.

My pulse flickered at my wrist like a warning. I didn’t know what I meant to say. I only knew I couldn’t keep walking away.

So I crossed the chamber.

“You always stay after,” I said. I had watched him leave the Council Chambers later and later every day. “You spend hours here after we leave.”

Would he infer that I had been watching him?

He didn’t look up. Didn’t give any indication of his thoughts. “I didn’t realize you still cared to notice.”

“Don’t”

His head bowed and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and spoke without opening his eyes. “I meant that you’re always one of the first to leave, so quick to get out the door, that I thought you no longer cared I was here.”

My voice was barely above a whisper when I said, “I care. Too much. I always leave quickly to avoid those feelings, though, because it hurts to care this much.”

He opened his eyes, but his focus went back to gathering his papers, ignoring my confession.

I didn’t know whether to allow myself to feel hurt by this or be angry at his nonchalance. I tried to keep either emotion out of my voice when I asked, “Why do you stay?”

“I stay because I already lost any care.”

No! That alarmed me more than I let show although my throat tightened with tears.

I spoke softly, like treading through marshes where predators could easily attack after being startled. “That can’t be true.”

Veyn’s eyes met mine. Brown, shadowed, tired. But still warm.

He couldn’t lie to me. I know he still cared. He just didn’t want to.

I stood straighter. “I don’t want to fight anymore. Not about why you left. Not about the things you won’t tell me.”

His jaw flexed.

I licked my lips, allowing a fraction of unease through. “I miss us, Veyn. I’ll take whatever version of you your willing to offer”

He said nothing.

My fingers trembled. “Do you see a future between us? Can things that have been ripped apart still bind again?”

The silence stretched.

Then Veyn exhaled his gaze never leaving mine. “Some things don’t bind again once they’ve been damaged too much, no matter the price paid.”

My breath caught. He wasn’t talking about magic, like I hadn’t been. This was about us.

I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.”

He stepped closer. Not enough to close the distance, but a dark green vine slithered out from his sleeve and wrapped around my wrist as if to bind us physically together.

He didn’t notice. Or if he did, he said nothing.

I didn’t remove it. Perhaps there was hope still.

“Tell me you’ll trust me again,” he said.

“What?”

“I left you for two years. And when I returned, I didn’t seek you out. Instead, I imprisoned one of our friends. Can you honestly tell me that you trust me?”

I swallowed hard. “I know your heart, Veyn. I know you left to protect me. I know that everything you do is with the goodness of your soul. A soul I’ll never stop loving.”

His expression shattered. He looked down.

“I’ve wronged you, Shara. And I can’t fix that. Please leave.”

That struck deeper than anything else he could have said. My heart fell in my chest, falling into a void of nothingness.

“You don’t mean that.”

He looked at me. And I saw all of it. The love. The ache. The refusal.

“I do.”

I backed up a step. The green vine yanked me toward him, but I resisted. His lips remained pursed with resoluteness.

I turned, because if I didn’t, I would stay and beg. And I would never beg.

With the first hard step away from him, the vine released me.

I just kept walking, letting it fall loose behind me.

But I felt it. The echo of something that once bound us still reaching for what we used to be.

Deveil’s Night was over, and the Descent of the Veil brought its usual haunting beauty. But there wasn’t much time to dwell. A day later, we were back at it, training nonstop for the next week and a half. No one complained. We all knew why we were there.

Every night, we returned to the Council Chambers. Elio and I worked like a machine, steady input, refined output. Each binding cleaner than the last. The Stone Dragon and I worked well together, and the closer we worked, the more Orivian scowled. Elio just laughed. He understood enough to know Orivian was jealous, but that I could care less about it.

Instead, what mattered was reaching the pinnacle of our magic so we could rescue Halven. And with each attempt closer to the balance Isa and Veyn demanded, the closer we were to helping our friend.

And apparently, all of efforts had been enough.

Tonight, Isa stood on the dais and told us we had four days left for training.

Nonis 27.

That was when we would enter The Seal and try to get Halven back.

Four days, and I would be gone. I had already decided. I was not staying for the end of term. I didn’t care about final evaluations or term papers or some self-congratulatory closing ritual. Once Halven was safe, I would pack what little I owned and leave Nythral behind.

I wasn’t even sure if I’d go back to gather my mother. After all, I was now an adult, able to take care of myself. There was no need for her to keep running when she’d made friends here.

I was the reason she could never have roots, and now, I didn’t need to be that reason any longer. She could be happy here.

Besides, I had no idea where I would go. I just knew it had to be somewhere else. Somewhere that didn’t burn with reminders I didn’t want. Somewhere I could breathe without feeling like I was being watched.

I hadn’t seen Orivian since training ended tonight. Not really. He sat two rows behind me, sometimes near Lo, sometimes not. But I still felt him. The same way I always did. The bond tugged at the edges of my attention, and I shoved it back every time.

I told myself it was nothing. Just leftover magic. A mark that had nearly vanished. A mistake that had imprinted itself on the underside of my wrist and had been slowly fading since that night at the lake.

I hadn’t thought about the Emberglyph in weeks.

But that night, something changed.

I was alone in my room. My roommates had gone off in search of something fried and sweet from the kitchens. I stayed behind. I had work to finish, notes to finalize. It was quiet. No voices in the Common Room. But something made me look up.

Three slow knocks echoed through the quad’s main door.

I waited a breath, then another. No sound followed. I crossed the room and opened the door, expecting to find one of my quadmates doubled over in laughter for trying to spook me.

But the corridor was empty.

No one in either direction. Just the air.

And at my feet, a single object.

I bent and picked it up. Thin. Metallic. Cool to the touch. A slip of etched steel shaped like the same impossible scrap I had once stolen from Orivian’s coat. The same scrap that had burned its twin into both of our skin.

Except this one was safe. It wouldn’t burn another sigil into my wrist.

Folded around it was a note.

I unfolded it carefully, already knowing who this was from.

This isn’t about fate. It never was.

You said I’m not choosing you, but I have, every day. Even when I don’t know how.

I would still choose you, even if you never came back to me.

Not because I’m bound to you.

And I don’t want you bound to me because you are forced to be.

I never wanted you caged.

The last line was scrawled faster than the rest. A little sharper. As if his hand had trembled.

I held the paper. The token. The words.

Such pretty words.

I did not smile.

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the shard of steel, resting it against my palm.

Then I turned my wrist over, almost without thinking.

The faint outline of the Emberglyph was still there. Gemina Flamma. Twin flames.

I hadn’t looked at it in weeks.

But tonight, the moment I touched the token, the mark pulsed. Soft and warm.

Just once.

Then faded again.

Such strange magic.

I swallowed hard and closed my hand around the token.

For the first time in weeks, the bond quieted. It startled me. Fated bonds didn’t go away, but maybe Orivian was finally giving me what I wanted, my freedom from him. Perhaps his resignation dulled the connection—that together, neither of us choosing the other helped to make life easier to exist without the constant pull.

And I wasn’t sure if that made me happy.

Or miserable.

The air near Wintermere was colder than usual. The chill slid through my sleeves, sharp and silver, like the lake had drawn in the breath of the world and held it there, waiting.

After Deveil’s Night and the solemn celebration of the Descent of the Veil, we resumed our training. The days that followed—nearly two weeks—were disciplined and steady, our efforts sharpened by all that remained unfinished.

The days had blurred into a steady rhythm of training. Every evening, we returned to the Council Chambers. Every evening, I stood at the etched map and tried to guide others in Binding magic, even when my own felt like a thin thread that could unravel if I tugged too hard.

Lady Isa had watched us closely the last few nights. And tonight, she announced it.

Nonis 27. Four more days.

That would be the day we entered The Seal.

Four days to pretend I could steady myself. Four days before I stood in a chamber beside the boy I had once loved and the man I could no longer name.

Neir had not left me alone once since Deveil’s Night. He had abided by my request to stay out of my dreams, though I blushed every time I remembered how each one used to end. Even in sleep, he was presence and heat and a memory I could not quite shake.

But in the waking world, he watched. He kept to his human form most days, though I saw the strain on his features more and more. When his hands began to tremble, he would leave our training early, and the wolf would be waiting for me just beyond the Council Chambers doors. When I rose each morning, he was already curled near the hearth in the common room outside my door. His large head rising to look at me.

And I had not sleepwalked once since.

Tonight, after Isa’s announcement during our training, I had slipped out alone, needing the quiet of the lake to settle the fragments inside me. I had not expected to stay long. I had not expected company. But I should have, knowing Neir never left me alone, except in my dreams.

And I knew his padded footsteps now.

I didn’t turn.

I just whispered, “You followed me.”

Behind me, a different sound, soft and deliberate. Not footsteps. A shift, from his wolf form. Which meant he naked, standing behind me.

“Of course,” I said. “You always do.”

He did not approach. Not yet. But I could feel him, close enough to reach me if I asked. Every part of me yearned to feel his arms around me. Never in my life would I have thought the smell of the sun would be so calming.

I kept my gaze on the lake instead.

“Are you really here for her?” My voice did not rise. I did not need it to. “You came to Nythral for Isa?”

A breath, then the voice I remembered. “I came at her request.”

I turned my head just slightly. “You always come when she beckons?”

Immediate heat scorched my cheeks thinking about the double entendre in my question. It’s not how I meant it, but I couldn’t help the direction of my thoughts, knowing a gorgeous, naked man, stood behind me, and knowing the power of that body over mine.

“There’s more than what you know.”

I waited. “More between the two of you?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then finally, “There’s nothing between us anymore.”

Why did that hurt?

I had no right to Neir, and he’d been alive many thousands of years longer than me. Of course he would have had lovers.

“But she still calls,” I said. “And you still go. I thought maybe you chose me. That maybe all of this meant something.”

“It does.”

I looked back over the lake so he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. I congratulated myself when my voice came out steady. “But she has the power to call you away from me?”

Silence.

I nodded to myself. “I guess that’s the answer I needed.”

I turned away from him to leave.

“Rielle.” Neir laid a soft hand on my shoulder.

I bowed my head, my hair curtaining anything I could see of him. “I know you said to wait for you, but why do I feel like I never mattered?”

After that I pulled away to head back into the Academy. I had taken only a few steps when I heard it. His voice, not loud, but pulled from somewhere deep.

“You matter to me.”

I stopped. The words hung in the cold. They sounded tortured, almost echoing. Then I heard the first crack of his bones shifting.

“You’ve mattered to me since the moment I met you, when you called out to me in your dreams,” he said, and the sound splintered like ice under strain.

I turned, just as his form fully shifted. Muscles contorted. Bones trembled. And in a blink, the man vanished.

The wolf stood in his place, silver and blue shadow, chest rising too fast. He lowered to his haunches, not looking up. Just breathing, and staying.

I stared at the spot where he had stood. At the place where the words still echoed.

Then I turned again.

I didn’t say anything.

But behind me, I heard him rise.

One step. No more.

And he sat again.

Waiting for me, I guessed with surprise.

For weeks he hadn’t left me, but now he was giving me a choice. A singular decision that would tell him if we had any chance of surviving this.

I stopped, no anger in my heart. Pain, for sure. I ached for him, for his soul to become one with mine. I really didn’t know if we had a chance to survive this, but if I turned him away right now, that would be the end of it.

So, I nodded. Barely.

And behind me, the sound of paws on frost told me he followed.

This time, not because he assumed he could.

But because I said he could.

The Seal didn’t look any different from the last time I was here. Still cold. Still choked in mist. Still frozen in a silence that felt too heavy to breathe through. But this time, it wasn’t just me and a few others creeping in to find out the truth. This time, we were all here. Every one of us who had fought to get to this moment. The ones who’d trained, who’d questioned, who’d followed the clues of a friend we refused to lose.

Our boots scraped over stone as we filed into the chamber. The air didn’t just bite. It clung, thick and sticky, threaded with so much magic that it made my teeth buzz. I couldn’t read most of it, only the Fire magic, but from Shara, Aster, and Rielle, we knew there was Water, Wood, and Moon magic. I’m willing to bet there was Air magic as well, considering Isa froze Halven. As an Ice Dragon, she controlled Water and Air.

Halven stood just as we left him. Frozen. One hand against the ice wall like my buddy had reached out to warn us before he disappeared. The ice held him upright, unnaturally still, like it had frozen his very breath.

Only now there were others in the room with him.

As I looked around at all of us, the students and Lady Isa, Veyn, and Neir, all of the elemental magic of our world stood there. Garnexis and Orivian with their Metal and Elio with his Sun and Earth as a Stone Dragon completed the final three.

If we couldn’t save him, what would?

Isa and Veyn stood near the desk, close to the center, heads bowed together in discussion. Neir lingered on the far side of the chamber. Barefoot, shirtless, his golden skin paler in the cold but his expression unchanged. Watching everything. Watching us.

Aster stood beside me as we stepped to our spot along the curve of the ice wall—even though she wasn’t paired with me.

We’d all been paired off, each of us having a place and purpose. Isa had explained that Binding was easiest when cast in pairs, especially for magic users without deep training. The focus was simpler that way, the flow more manageable. Any more than two, and the chances of splintered intent or mismatched rhythms became too high.

We’d been briefed. We knew the theory of Binding magic to nature and had been practicing. But learning new spells that our ancestors didn’t know was a monumental task, and now it was time to see if we could actually pull it off.

I didn’t look at anyone else. Just kept my eyes on Halven, on the hand that reached out for something we still didn’t understand. After the last time I stood here, I swore I’d save him.

Now I didn’t know if that was even possible. But we were here. Together. And if this was the day we failed, it wouldn’t be because I held anything back.

Isa’s voice broke the silence, soft at first, but it carried across the stone chamber, threading through the mist and tension like silk through frost.

“You already know your parts. You’ve practiced the theory. You’ve honed the spells. This is not new ground. But what lies ahead is harder than anything we’ve done before, not because you are unprepared, but because what we are attempting is not a simple a spell.”

She paused, letting that sink in, her eyes sweeping over each of us. I nodded.

“You will feel the strain,” she continued. “You will doubt yourselves. And when the Binding begins to resist you, you may even think you’re failing. But you are not. The entities will push back. But together we are stronger than them.”

“Yes!” I said.

No one else said anything, shuffling their feet at my outburst but I could only sheepishly smile. We were powerful, and no one else could tell us otherwise.

Isa’s voice dropped into something more personal. “This isn’t about perfection. It is about intent. Shared, steady, and real. Hold to it. Breathe into it. Let it anchor you. Let each other anchor you. Once you’ve achieved a true Binding with each other, then the designated stronger magic user will guide your Binding to me so that I can use it to bind the entities to the ice once more. Then Neir will be able to put them to sleep again.”

Her gaze moved to each of us, all the students, softening slightly as she added, “You are all here because of Halven. An extraordinary young man, who has extraordinary friends. Hold on to that. Trust each other. And most of all, trust yourselves. You are not alone in this.”

She nodded once.

“Get into place.”

We broke into our assigned pairs. Rielle stepped beside me, quiet but steady. Her Moon magic flickered softly under her skin as a silver glow. She gave me a brief glance. I nodded back.

The others took their positions. Aster was already facing the ice, her hand lifted but not yet touching. Garnexis stood beside her, muttering something with a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I watched Aster for a moment longer than I should have. Once this was over, once Halven was free, I could stop dividing my focus. I could finally let myself want something with everything in my heart. Want her.

Rielle shifted, drawing my attention. Right. Time to begin.

I placed my hand flat on the ice wall. Gods, I hate the cold. But as the stronger magic user, I would ground our bound magic to nature, then guide the Binding to Isa.

I gritted my teeth over the irony that my heart belonged to a beautiful but icy fae.

Rielle’s hand settled over mine, and I shivered. No warmth in her skin, either.

Then we both took a deep breath just as Isa said, “Begin.”

With our exhalation, we murmured the words together, just loud enough to echo between us. To join the soft echoes of the others around us: “We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.”

Magic stirred beneath my skin. I closed my eyes, delving into my center of magic. My ancestors responded with questions. Always with questions lately because they didn’t understand this spell. Hells, I barely understood it, but I drew Fire from my center and tapped into fire around the room, the two flickering torches, the candles, and from the fissure in the lakebed.

I pulled it all together with a shared intention to join with Rielle, and I hoped it would be enough.

Magic surged in the room.

I opened my eyes as Fire leapt through my veins, rising fast. My skin shimmered with light as vein-like cracks rippled outward, glowing ember red across my arms. Heat rolled off me, my hair flaring higher, casting flickers of light across the ice wall.

I turned to Rielle.

Her eyes had gone pale, soft with mist, then bloomed into something far stranger. Ethereal. Opal hues shimmered in her irises, shifting with every flicker of energy. Her magic coiled around her fingers in silver-blue ripples, graceful and calm, but brimming with power. The way it moved across her hands reminded me of moonlight on still water.

Together, our energy funneled into the ice. My fire curved into her glow, forming threads of red and silver that slipped into the lake like woven light.

I kept my eyes on her.

Our voices came low and even, in practiced unison.

We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.

Isa was there, her power humming around us even if I couldn’t read it. I recognized Veyn’s aural magic combined with hers, and realized they were performing their own Binding spell, with Isa grounding it in the lake.

Within the ice, we handed over our bound magic so the Grand Magister could bind all the elements together.

When the spell moved outward, toward the largest source of power in the lake, quiet anticipation filled us.

The ice allowed our magic to slip through and start binding to it, using it as the overall anchor.

Every brush of magic against mine, every organic touch from the lake, sent chills through me. I’d never been around such a large congregation of magic before.

I wondered if this is how it felt for Chaos when they first created their children, the eight gods. So much magic, so much power.

We were powerful. The spell was going to save Halven, and for one breathless moment, I knew this to be the truth.

A small crack split the ice beneath my palm. At first it hissed, soft, like a groan. I did not stop. I focused, drawing on fire, building on the rhythm Rielle and I had practiced. Her magic met mine, fluid and steady, a silver-blue thread twisting with my red one. Our shared intent was holding.

Then Halven’s body began to glow, just under the surface. Pale at first. Then stronger. Magic stirred around him.

Then the shadows moved.

Deep inside the frozen wall, something writhed. And then fire. Not mine. Not anything I had summoned. A searing spiral lit up from within the lake itself, lancing toward our thread like a spear of molten lightning.

I tried to hold it back, to redirect it, to shape the flame into submission. It ignored me completely and burned through my magic like my fire was nothing more than a single line in a spider web.

The Binding ignited and hissed, then exploded into a hundred shards of light.

Rielle screamed.

The fire slammed into her chest and flung her backward. I lost her hand. She crumpled to the stone, smoke curling from her robes, her body twitching from the surge.

“Rielle!” I leapt toward her, flame gathering in my palms, not for offense, but to shield her.

A rush of heat pressed against my skin, not from within me but from the wall. Water hissed and steamed, dripping in heavy trails, vapor bursting from every crack. The air became too thick, choking with heat and steam.

A second rupture cracked through the wall. Water exploded outward, steam blasting against my face. Aster cried out behind me. Garnexis’s also yelled.

“Drop the spell!” Veyn’s voice snapped through the chaos.

Isa’s hands lifted, her magic slicing through the magic pouring out of the ice wall. A veil of mist doused the fire and pushed the water back.

All the magical threads collapsed. The chamber dimmed. But the fury behind the ice still thrashed, a pulsing thing of magic, red, silver, blue, and even black.

For a moment, no one moved. The chamber felt hollow, like something sacred had cracked and fallen through the floor. The mist thickened across the stone. Rielle’s scream still echoed in my ears.

I moved first, dropping beside Rielle where she sat, propped against the back rocky wall, breath shallow. She guarded her left arm where fire had eaten through her robes and her dress, burning the flesh beneath. Purplish angry skin with black singed edges and the congealing of blue blood contrasted to paleness of the rest of her. Tears slipped from tightly closed eyes, pain twisting her delicate features.

I barely had a chance to catalogue her injuries before Neir knelt on her other side, a look of fear flushing his face.

He cleared his emotions after swallowing hard, one hand raised toward Rielle, but not touching her. “Little Moon, look at me.”

Surprise made my chest warm. For all of his history with Isa, it was obvious Neir cared for Rielle. And from the utterance of his first syllable, Rielle’s head had already tilted toward the werewolf. She cared for him as well, looked for him in time of need.

Rielle opened her eyes, their blue depths clouded with wetness and pain. “Neir, it hurts.”

“I know, Little Moon.”

Then Aster was there, scooting me aside to wedge herself closer to Rielle. She hovered a hand over the burn. Water magic glowed beneath her palm, spreading out from her body to Rielle’s. Steam rose from the wound, and Rielle’s body arched. But it lasted only a moment, before she fell back against the cave wall with a sigh. Her face relaxed.

Aster drew her hands away, her magical glow fading. The wound had closed, the skin sealed as if it had never been broken. Only the smear of blue blood left any evidence Rielle had ever been hurt.

A lump stuck in my throat.

For once, I was without words.

Rielle, my partner, had been hurt because I couldn’t protect from the Fire in the ice. It took Aster, my heart, to save her.

How could my heart survive knowing I wasn’t good enough?

I backed away even though I wanted to ask Rielle how she felt. But she didn’t need that question from me.

She tested her arm with an incredulous look, and finding it whole, threw herself into Neir’s arms. The werewolf held her, whispering something to her, and they looked like they belonged together.

Not like me and Aster.

Aster.

A woman like no other I had ever known. Someone bold and confident. One who never made mistakes like I did.

How could I make her mine when I could fail her as I just failed Rielle?

But the doubts and questions didn’t stop my gaze from rising to meet Aster’s. A thin line of blue blood streaked her cheek, just under the eye. A small scratch.

I closed the space between us and wiped the blood from her face with my thumb. “You all right?”

Her violet eyes remained calm. “It’s nothing.”

In the next breath, she healed the cut. Always calm, steady, unshaken.

Around us, the others shifted around the chamber in a haze of leftover mist. Lo held onto Elio’s arm, holding him back while my buddy looking both defeated and angry. What was happening with him?

Then I realized Elio was looking past Lo to Garnexis, laid out on the ground, unconscious, both Orivian and Isa on either side of her.

Now I remembered Garnexis yelling, too, but I hadn’t seen what happened.

“You can’t do anything for her, dragon,” Orivian said, anger sharp in his tone.

Elio literally growled at the Metal Fae. “And you think she wants to see your face after what you said to her?”

“Elio.” Lo’s voice was soft, but there was so much unsaid in his name, like the fact that fate hadn’t chosen his name to be Garnexis’s mate.

Did the dragon have a thing for Garnexis?

I hadn’t noticed and now that made me feel like a bad friend.

I prayed Isa could heal Garnexis as her Water magic sunk into Garnexis’s body.

“He’s still trapped.” Shara’s declaration took my attention away from them.

Shara had her arms around her own waist, quiet, staring at Halven, who remained frozen, still locked in the ice. All the magical threads were gone and only hairline fractures spidering through the frozen wall remained.

Elio growled low in his throat. The sound sent a ripple through the quiet and I wondered if he meant to pick a fight with Orivian until he spoke. “Why did fire come from the lake? They attacked with both Fire and Water.”

They.

I looked at Isa, who stood, wiping her hands on her dress. Would she deny the attacks came from the entities?

To forestall any lies she might feel the need to say, I added my own thoughts. “I felt their Fire magic. Before. When we first came here.”

Shara’s arms crossed. “What kind of magic do these entities even have?”

Isa looked toward the fractured ice, appearing tired than I noticed before. Her voice was low. “We failed. That’s all you need to know.”

So, no lies, just avoidance.

I wasn’t willing to accept any of it. “Why not tell us the truth?”

Isa crossed the space to the ice wall, trailing fingers across it. She sighed, quite audibly before turning back to us. “There are truths that are not my own to tell. I have no right to interfere in edicts of the gods.”

The gods???

I couldn’t help but to stare at the ice wall again. Did Wintermere trap gods in the depths of its waters?

How did one contain gods?

For some reason, that reminded me of the Firebird. He was a god, contained in the abandoned conservatory. What had he said?

Take them. You need to keep them sleeping.

But that was what we were trying to do. What else could it mean.

I shook my head, unable to digest that information. Then another thought came to mind.

We hadn’t failed. Not yet.

“What if Binding isn’t enough?” I said aloud, voice carrying. “What if we try Fusion too? To trap the entities’ magic before it can react? We create a containment with Fusion to control their magic, then try the Binding spell.”

Heads turned toward me. Aster’s hand brushed mine. Her eyes held a glimmer of emotion. Pride?

I hope so.

Veyn and Isa shared a look.

Veyn’s brow furrowed, his voice low and sharp when he spoke. “Isa, this is too dangerous. We nearly lost two of them already.”

Isa’s jaw tensed, but her tone stayed level. “Fusion may offer the stabilization we lacked. We will control it.”

“Control?” Neir stepped forward now, his voice colder than the mist rising at our feet. “You speak of control, but one student was nearly burned alive and the other crushed. This spell should not involve them at all. They should never have been here.”

Isa turned to him fully. “They are my students, Neir. And I will not deny them this. Not when they came to save the one we failed to protect.”

“You’re risking them.”

“They know the risk,” Isa said, her voice gaining strength. “And if they choose to go on, I will allow it.”

Neir’s gaze flicked to Rielle, then darkened. His silence said more than any words.

Veyn blew out a breath, rubbing his forehead, then finally looked at me. “You believe this will work?”

I nodded once.

He sighed. “Fine. We try again. Three pairs for the Binding Spell. As before, Isa and I will add our magic to anchor the Binding on the entities. While Ardorion and...”

“Aster,” Ardorion said. “We’ve practiced Fusion already, and the entities used both Water and Fire magic to attack us. Aster and I are perfect for combatting the attack with a containment made of our Fusion.”

Veyn nodded again while looking me, a twinkle in his eye that told me he saw me in a new light, one that surprised him. “Then we proceed. Ardorion and Aster will contain the entities’ magic through Fusion. But if the entities break through again, we drop the spell immediately. No hesitation.”

Isa turned slightly, addressing all of us now with a lift of her chin. “Choose the partner whose magic aligns best with yours. Trust is essential. Find the pair you can hold your intent with.”

Before anyone else could speak, Garnexis raised a hand and cut the air with it. “I claim Elio.”

Her voice echoed with finality. Not a request. A declaration.

Across the room, Orivian jolted. His mouth curled into something sharp, and with a sudden snap, he slammed his hand against the desk. Loose pages scattered like leaves in a storm. Then he turned, not waiting for a reaction, and stalked across the room, his shoulders rigid as steel.

I blinked. So did half the others.

Garnexis only tilted her head. “Really? Throwing tantrums now? Someone get the baby a blanket.”

Elio tried not to smile. He failed.

Isa said nothing, only turned to the rest of us as if nothing had happened. Her silence said it all. We had minutes, not moments. Choose, act, move forward.

For myself, I knew Aster was mine.

My partner for this, and maybe for all time.

Feeling more confident, I stepped back up to the ice wall, this time with Aster at my side. The air between us sparked with heat and cold, the residual clash of what we carried inside. Her eyes met mine once, and that was enough. No shared intent this time, no ritual phrase to recite. This was about balance. Fire and Water, opposites meant to cancel or consume, somehow learning to hold.

“Are you ready to try this again?” What I was really asking was if she was ready to try us again.

She smiled. One of those rare genuine smiles, and that was all I needed. I lifted my hands. She mirrored me. We linked our fingers together.

The fire in me surged like a second heartbeat, pulsing just beneath my skin. My hair flared higher, flames licking at the edges of my vision. Across from me, Aster’s magic poured from her fingertips in soft blue streams, fluid and precise. Water curled through the air, cooling the heat I emitted but never extinguishing it.

“Let’s use our magic to alternatively heat and cool the lakebed, creating blocks whenever they lash out.”

Great, now I was saying they.

Aster nodded, pleased. “I like defense better than offense.”

I shrugged with a grin, remembering the one time we tried this I had us create a weapon to strike with. Then both of our smiles slipped away as the others, now paired off, chanted their intentions. Magical auras filled the chamber.

Then Aster and my magic joined the power in the chamber. Fire danced around the edges of her water. Steam hissed in quiet bursts. Then it settled. A spiral. A rhythm. Not domination. Not submission. Just movement. Just balance.

Together, we directed the fusion spell toward the fractures in the ice, aiming for the lakebed. My flames traced the fissures with precision, warming the outer lines. Aster followed behind with cool pressure, sealing the gaps my fire had opened.

Inside the lake, light shifted. The deeper layers of ice took on a glow, threads of Fire and Water curling into the cracks, forcing them to still as we raised the bottom of lake in small sections. The lines no longer spread. Instead, they held.

Out of the corner of my eye, Neir placed a hand on the icy wall. His Moon magic moved in concentric rings, like ripples through the light of a dream. Pale silver folding outward from his hands.

We were holding the line. For now.

Magic gathered like breath.

With the Fusion spell in place, the entities’ presence recoiled, stunned by the containment. The pressure in the lake shifted. I felt it like a heartbeat, slowing for the first time since we’d entered the Seal. All of us—Aster and I, the three Binding pairs, Isa, Veyn, even Neir—were pulling toward the same focus. The magic stopped spiraling wild. It held.

For now.

Threads of light stretched outward, collecting across the ice wall. They bent toward Halven’s block, flowing like veins to a single point. The Binding spell bloomed fully for the first time, radiant and orderly.

Veyn raised his hands, guiding the threads this time as both he and Isa breathed more freely. He took the Binding spells and pushed into the frozen lake, toward the source of all the power we felt, the entities. A greenish gold aura pulsed around his body in time with the Binding.

At the same time, Isa stepped back from the outer edge and moved to Halven. She placed both palms against the icy wall just outside his icy prison. Water and Air shimmered in a spiral around her wrists. Her magic twisted inward, gently unraveling the older spell that had sealed Halven to the lake. Frost cracked softly beneath her fingers.

Then Neir moved.

He joined her, silent and deliberate, placing both hands on the ice. Moonlight flared across his arms as a blast of silvery-white magic as a second spell began to form. A spell no one here would be able to read except Rielle, but we knew he was supposed to put the entities to sleep. Lulling them back into their slumber like some predator taming its prey.

The light across the chamber dimmed slightly as Halven’s ice dulled. The magic hadn’t weakened, though. It was working.

I could feel it.

We were winning.

Then, beneath the layered light and magic, a crack deepened.

It was soft at first. Barely audible.

But I saw it.

A single fissure spidered across the bottom left corner of the ice wall. Then another. Water trickled from the lowest seam like a tear.

My stomach dropped.

“No,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

The ice cracked again.

This time louder.

And from within the lake, the screams began.

Howls emerged from the cracks. An eerie sound that made the hair raise on my arms.

More white-hot fractures spread across the wall of ice like a spiderweb catching flame, each line flaring wider, deeper. Steam hissed through the hairline gaps, curling around my ankles. More wails releasing. The lake behind the wall was no longer still. It pulsed with pressure, shadows and light coiling beneath its surface like something ancient had woken up angry.

A drop of water struck my arm. Then another. Cold, but not gentle.

Aster’s voice rose beside me. “Steady. Match me.”

I grit my teeth, adjusted my stance, and raised my arms from where they’d fallen. My fire magic spun tighter, trying to braid itself around hers, the searing threads lashing through the cold in curling ribbons. Fire and water, always fighting. Always needing to agree not to destroy each other. My skin stung with the heat of my own spell, but I held it. We had to keep the containment steady.

We had to protect everyone from the entities’ magical backlashes.

Then a single scream that burst above all the rest. A sound so sharp and raw it carved into my spine. It echoed like a thousand dying gods, and the air cracked open with a surge of power. I felt it before I saw it—waves of elemental backlash that punched outward from the ice. Fire. Water. Moon. All of it out of sync. All of it bursting like it wanted to rip us apart.

My magic buckled.

Aster’s did too.

Our fusion wavered. Aster cried out, and I reached for her, instinct overriding thought. Her hand brushed mine for a heartbeat before she stumbled back, eyes wide with horror as the ice wall exploded in a lattice of new cracks.

“Break the spell! Break it now!” Isa’s voice, sharp and terrified, rang out.

But we were too late.

The ice convulsed. A rush of raw force hurtled toward us.

Then Neir moved.

He stepped forward like a storm given legs. With both hands raised, his eyes went silver-white, and a dome of pressure shimmered into existence. His Moon magic swept wide and deep, casting a translucent barrier over the entire ice wall. The backlash hit it like a battering ram. The dome flared, groaned, and nearly split. Neir dropped to one knee, his whole body shaking.

I wanted to help. I did. But I was out of breath, magic drained. My fire guttered at my fingertips like a dying match.

Then I saw her.

Rielle. Unsteady, still raw from the first attempt. She dropped to her knees beside Neir and placed her hand against his back.

She whispered something I couldn’t hear.

Her magic pulsed as a silver aura around her, her eyes like opal galaxies. Her magical glow passed from her into him, soft but steady. My eyes widened. Transference. This was one of the first spells we learned, to give up our magic to someone else’s control. It was essential for some of the higher-level spells we would learn, a way for faculty to protect us should something go wrong.

Enhanced by Rielle’s magic, Neir’s dome flared brighter. It held.

Behind them, Isa faltered. Her face was pale, hair clinging to her damp brow as she tried to stabilize the lake. Her hands moved, but slower now, shaking with exhaustion.

Aster turned without hesitation. She moved to Isa’s side and pressed her palm to the older woman’s shoulder. She surrendered her Water magic, and the minute Isa gained control, the force of their magics blasted frost up from the base of the wall.

The cracks hissed, blue light filling their edges, freezing solid once more.

Then came Lo, offering her Air magic to Isa.

Then Shara, who surrendered her magic to Veyn.

The rest of us could only watch, unable to help with anything but prayer. We pray for our elders to last long enough to save us, all of us at the Academy, from the entities trying to break free.

Even if we couldn’t save Halven.

One by one, the support casters continued the surrender of their magic. Until the lake was completely refrozen, everything behind the wall grew still. Neir released his combined magics and Rielle fainted after being released. He caught her to him, then backed away as Isa and Veyn turned their attention to Halven.

The light had dimmed within his ice block, the overall shape having changed as it melted. Pain etched across his face.

Lo gasped, her magic flaring for a moment. “Their killing him, trying to strip him of his magic.”

“Not for long.” Isa’s voice was strained, beyond tired, but with both Lo and Aster touching her and offering their magic, the Grand Magister began a new Binding spell. With a hand linked with Shara and her magic, Veyn joined the Binding spell and they muttered their intent, focusing on the spell structure.

It was like weaving a tapestry out of exhaustion and will.

The threads shimmered. The icy prison reformed. Halven’s obvious agony eased.

And finally... everything stopped.

The ice wall no longer glowed with fractures, only a soft, constant light like moon on untouched snow. The last of the light from the Binding spell dissolved, bathing the room in only the cool hues from the lake and the warmth of torchlight.

Silence dropped into the room like a snowfall.

Mist curled low over the stone. The air remained frigid.

It was as if we had done nothing.

Because we hadn’t done anything that made a difference.

I took a step back and nearly tripped. My hands trembled with cold. Across the chamber, Elio wrapped his cloak around his shoulders, and Garnexis pulled her arms tight over her chest. Even Lo looked like the chill had gotten into her bones. Rielle, now awake, sheltered in Neir’s arms. And Veyn held Shara’s hand.

The cold was too much now. Not just from the ice. From what it cost us.

Someone whispered something. I couldn’t tell what. Maybe asking what to do now. Maybe asking if Halven would be okay. Another voice followed. “Should we find more magic users?” Then, quieter, “Can we even save him?”

Shara left Veyn and paced toward Halven, then away. Redness flushed her skin. “We accomplished nothing!”

We didn’t answer.

We just looked at the ice prison. At the boy sealed inside.

Our friend.

Isa straightened, though she still looked exhausted. “We’ve done what we could—”

“What did we do exactly?” Lo asked. Tears wet her cheeks.

Isa shook her head. “Some things are just more powerful than what we have the ability to control. This is one of those things.”

“I can’t accept that.” Rielle’s soft statement echoed in the chamber.

“You don’t have to.”

The one who spoke those words was not anyone we knew in the room. We all turned toward the door.

The mist parted.

And a shadow stepped forward.

Bare feet. Skin like ice touched by starlight. Nearly transparent. She was a blue wraith, a ghost that both moved the mist and allowed the mist to move through her.

And a breath of cold preceded her, something more chilling than anything found among the living.

A woman. The Kōri-onna.

She stepped forward, and every hair on my body stood on end.

Her voice came as the mist curled around her ankles. “I can help you, but someone will die.”

The Seal had not changed.

Even with all of us filing in this time, more than twice the number who had stood in this place before, the chamber felt just as silent, just as still. Just as cold. I stepped inside and the mist curled at my feet, soft but sticky, like the lake itself was breathing beneath the stone.

The others were quiet as they entered behind me. Not even Ardorion had anything to say. That told me more than words ever could.

Torchlight flickered low on the walls, just enough to catch the shape of the desk on one side of the chamber. Candles wavered and loose papers still crowded the surface of the desk. Lady Isa’s desk. We all knew it. That much had not changed either.

The back wall still shimmered with frost. A smooth curtain of ice, thick with magic. Halven still reached for the ice wall, a hand against it, inside his own block of ice.

The magic in the room pressed deeper now. Last time it had made me stumble. This time I was ready for it. Layers of it wound together around the chamber, a thrum of old spells and hidden signatures. I could only read Veyn’s Wood magic, of course. But from the others, I knew there was also Fire, Water, and Moon magic.

Likely Air magic existed as well because Isa’s Water magic had been identified, and as an Ice Dragon, she had both Water and Air magic.

But now we had the chance for all eight elements to work together. With Garnexis and Orivian’s Metal magic and Elio with his Sun and Earth as a Stone Dragon, that completed the full spectrum of elemental magic.

Would it be enough?

I gauged the room, wondering what the others felt about our chances.

Neir stood across the chamber, bare-footed, bare-chested, his eyes steady. He was not hiding. But he did not move closer. His presence reminded me of a held breath. Controlled, but not calm.

Professor Veyn waited near the desk, quiet and unreadable, his head bowed as he listened to whatever Lady Isa said to him. The Grand Magister herself, standing close to Veyn, kept her expression closed but alert. She had always carried herself with authority, but now there was something else in her stance. Tension, maybe. Or anticipation.

Lo stood tall at Orivian’s side, hands already loose and ready. Aster and Garnexis moved together toward their places along the ice wall without hesitation, stopping next to Ardorion. Rielle passed near me, and I caught the way her eyes flicked toward Halven, just for a second, before she looked away, biting her lower lip. She joined Ardorion.

I worried for her. She was already doubting her abilities, but I knew what she was capable of. I just wished she believed in herself more.

With a sigh, I walked to my place beside Rielle, where the wall curved toward the far end of the chamber. Elio joined me there as my partner. Our layered hands would touch the ice soon. Our magic would thread into it. That thought sat heavy in my chest.

Isa had told us pairing made the spell easier to manage, especially for those of us without experience. Two minds were simpler to sync than three or four, and sharing the strain across a pair meant the spell was less likely to splinter. I had no argument with that logic. We might be powerful, but we were still students, still learning. And this spell was more demanding than anything we had attempted before.

We had trained. We had studied. But this felt different.

This was the moment we stopped preparing and started trying. Halven was not an idea. He was not a name or a mystery or a rumor. He was a person I had studied beside, laughed with, shared meals with. He was a person I loved. Not like I loved Veyn. But deeply. Truly.

This was no longer about theories.

It was about getting him back.

But none of us knew if we could.

We were standing at the edge of something our ancestors had never touched. This wasn’t a spell they knew. The theory was sound, but now it was time to prove the execution could hold.

Isa’s voice broke the silence, soft at first, but clear enough to reach all corners of the chamber. It wove through the mist like a spell of its own, easing through the tension without unraveling it.

“You already know your parts. You’ve practiced the theory. You’ve honed the spells. This is not new ground. But what lies ahead is harder than anything we’ve done before, not because you are unprepared, but because what we are attempting is not a simple a spell.”

The words settle into a place inside me where they lay cool and even. They were true. Every one of them. But knowing theory did not always translate to execution. I glanced at the others again, taking quiet stock of our readiness, of the subtle signs of nerves hidden behind bravado or silence.

Isa paused, letting her words breathe in the stillness. Her eyes moved across our line, searching and finding something within us to continue.

“You will feel the strain,” she said. “You will doubt yourselves. And when the Binding begins to resist you, you may even think you’re failing. But you are not. The entities will push back. But together we are stronger than them.”

“Yes!” Ardorion said.

The sound jolted through the quiet. No one echoed him. A few students shifted uncomfortably, but he only gave a sheepish smile like he meant it. Maybe he did. Maybe he was right to feel such optimism. I wished I could feel that as easily, too.

Isa’s voice softened again. “This isn’t about perfection. It is about intent. Shared, steady, and real. Hold to it. Breathe into it. Let it anchor you. Let each other anchor you. Once you’ve achieved a true Binding with each other, then the designated stronger magic user will guide your Binding to me so that I can use it to bind the entities to the ice once more. Then Neir will be able to put them to sleep again.”

Her gaze moved across the room again, this time slower, softer.

“You are all here because of Halven,” she said. “An extraordinary young man, who has extraordinary friends. Hold on to that. Trust each other. And most of all, trust yourselves. You are not alone in this.”

She gave a final nod.

“Get into place.”

I inhaled slowly. The spell could work. It had to. But even as I moved to my place, my mind ticked through every way it might go wrong. Still, I held the one truth Isa had given us tighter than the rest.

We were not alone.

Elio blinked at me, his usual calm resting just beneath the surface. Of all of Halven’s quadmates, Elio was the one I didn’t know as well, but there was something grounding about him, like he had learned to be solid for other people. I was grateful for it.

Still, my eyes drifted to Veyn. He stood near Isa, hands at his sides, face unreadable. He didn’t look at me. He hadn’t looked at me for more than a passing moment in days. That hurt more than I wanted to admit. Whatever had grown between us, it was now locked behind walls I could not reach.

As the stronger magic user, Elio placed his hand directly on the ice. Once our magic bound together, he would anchor it to nature before passing the Binding to Isa. I lifted my hand and set it over his, our magic already stirring beneath our skin.

Then we both took a deep breath just as Isa said, “Begin.”

Rielle looked up to me expectantly, and after I gave her a short nod, we began, our words echoing from all the other pairs linked at the ice wall.

“We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.”

The words left my mouth with practiced rhythm.

I kept my gaze steady, but part of me still lingered on Veyn.

Perhaps I could only save Halven today, but I hoped to save us, the future I could have with Veyn.

Magic poured through me like sap rising in spring, warm and grounding. My aura flared to life, copper threads shimmering along my arms, spiraling outward in slow curls. It hummed beneath my palm.

Elio remained solid and calm. His eyes shifted first, glowing amber-white from deep within, like a pair of suns behind thick glass. Light spilled from his skin, a golden veil rippling around his hands, so warm it reminded me of sunlight breaking through tree branches. Even the air near him felt different, softer, lighter.

We looked at each other, and I held his gaze. Not a word passed between us, but I felt his intent meet mine.

Our voices continued to blend in quiet unison.

We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.

Amber light from him and copper from me wove into the earth beneath the ice. Our spell steadily took hold. The lakebed welcomed us, grounding our magic in something ancient and steady.

Lines of power bloomed all throughout the chamber, curling through mist and into the frozen wall. Everyone concentrated, driven by their love and friendship for Halven. Binding threads hummed around us, a harmony of color and rhythm. My magic flowed easily through the connection with Elio, his golden warmth grounding mine.

Isa stood near the center, her presence rippling with power I could not fully parse. The air around her felt charged, but indistinct, like the hum of a thought you could almost grasp. But I could read Veyn’s magic intertwined with hers, the pulse of it a homecoming I had missed.

Together, Isa and Veyn had created their own Binding spell, with Isa grounding it in the lake.

Within the ice, Elio released our part of the binding, letting our magic pass into her hands so she could bind it all together. The convergence began at the center, then radiated outward, seeking the largest concentration of stored energy within the lake.

As the spell extended toward that core, a hush settled over us. A feeling somewhere between fear and certainty. Waiting to see if the structure would hold.

The ice accepted us, threading our magic into its depths. The lake itself became our anchor. Each brush of that larger presence against my magic sent tremors through my senses. Such immensity. The difference between channeling a stream and feeling the current of an ocean.

For a moment, I found myself wondering if this was what it had felt like for Chaos, shaping the gods from raw force. Incomprehensibly vast power.

We were inside it now. Woven to it. And for that one suspended breath, I believed we could do it. That it would be enough to bring Halven back to us.

The ice wall groaned. A long, hairline crack shimmered across its surface, spreading outward from where Halven’s hand touched the frozen wall. Pale light pulsed from his body, not strong, but steady. My breath caught.

Even with the cracks, it was working.

Copper and amber lights rippled along the surface beneath our hands, joining the delicate web threading toward the center.

I glanced up. Our shared intent was holding.

Then a flame erupted from deep within the lake. It spiraled fast, burning red and gold, streaking straight for Ardorion and Rielle’s thread. I barely had time to recognize it was not Ardorion’s.

The fire slammed into their connection.

The thread ignited. It cracked like lightning, hissed, then shattered.

Rielle’s scream tore through the chamber as the magical backlash threw her back. She hit the ground hard, rolling. My heart seized as Ardorion yelled for her.

I could not even call her name. My throat clenched shut.

My instincts screamed to go to her, but Elio’s steady presence beside me held me in place. His golden veil shimmered beside my copper glow, our magic still tethered to the lakebed. My hand trembled, but I stayed firm. We could still save Halven.

The ice convulsed again. On the other side of me, water snapped free and surged forward, a thread lashing out, fast as a whip. Aster gasped, her hands jerking as she fought to restrain it. But it slipped past her defenses and struck Garnexis across the chest.

Garnexis yelled as her body slammed into the far wall.

My mouth opened, but no sound came.

The entire chamber pulsed. Light flared from the lake. Magic recoiled. Every thread surged outward, wild and chaotic.

The glow from our connection trembled. I wanted to stay. I wanted to keep going.

Then Veyn’s voice cracked across the chamber. “Drop the spell.”

Isa moved in a blur, mist curling from her fingers. Fire hissed out. The whip of water dissolved.

The lines of light faded, all threads gone. The binding was broken.

But the fury thrashed behind the ice wall, a pulsing thing of magic, red, silver, blue, and even black.

Everything went utterly still in the room. Not silent, not really. The air still buzzed from the spell’s collapse, threads of magic retreating like wounded things, but no one moved. My heart pounded in my ears. I took a step toward Rielle.

Before I could reach her, Veyn was in front of me. His arms closed around me so fast I barely understood what was happening. His voice was low against my ear. “She’s all right. Aster will heal her. You are safe. Thank the gods.”

I froze in his embrace. Then I let my eyes close for just a second, maybe longer. His scent curled around me, evergreen and warm soil, like the garden alcove near the greenhouse. Safe. I let my forehead rest against his shoulder. I wish I could stay there.

“Don’t let me go,” I whispered.

He leaned back, cupped my cheek, and nodded. “I don’t want to.”

His hand lingered a moment longer before he stepped away.

He crossed to Isa’s side, the set of his shoulders full of worry. Then I turned back to the others. Rielle sat up now. Her left arm hang bare, the skin unbroken but the burned edges of her robes and dress at the top of her shoulder indicated she’d been hurt.

Aster stood, and Ardorion went to her, but my attention was stolen by Orivian’s sharp words.

“You can’t do anything for her, dragon.”

Orivian kneeled over an unconscious Garnexis, Isa on the other side, using her healing Water magic.

“And you think she wants to see your face after what you said to her?” Elio said, a true growl in his throat.

“Elio.” Lo’s soft voice seemed to be saying so much more than his name.

Did Elio fancy Garnexis? I wouldn’t have seen that with everything that has been happening but now I couldn’t unsee it.

Either way, I hoped Isa could help Garnexis. I worried she was unconscious. How badly had she been hurt?

My gaze drifted to Halven.

How many more of us would be hurt for this secret?

And how could we possibly save Halven, or anyone, if we didn’t even know what we were dealing with.

My arms wrapped around my waist. I felt so powerless and Halven needed me. “He’s still trapped.”

No one said anything, then Elio growled again, making me wonder if he planned to shift into his dragon form any minute now.

He clenched his fists. “Why did fire come from the lake? They attacked with both Fire and Water.”

Most of us looked to Isa for the answer.

Then Ardorion said, “I felt their Fire magic. Before. When we first came here.”

Would Isa deny it? Her lips parted, but no answer came. I wasn’t sure we could trust her yet.

I crossed my arms. “What kind of magic do these entities even have?”

Isa looked so tired as she glanced at the fractured ice. So much older in that moment. “We failed. That’s all you need to know.”

Ardorion’s haired flared. “Why not tell us the truth?”

Isa crossed the space to the ice wall, trailing fingers across it. She sighed, quite audibly before turning back to us. “There are truths that are not my own to tell. I have no right to interfere in edicts of the gods.”

The gods?

In a way, that made sense. Somehow these entities were connected to the Firebird, whether he was their caretaker or friend or maybe even an enemy. But Isa’s answer only created more questions. Who or what else would have that kind of relationship with the Firebird? More gods? Or something more powerful?

The Firebird had said we needed to keep them sleeping. A message for us, which meant we could do this. I didn’t want to give up yet.

Ardorion must have felt the same way. “What if Binding isn’t enough? What if we try Fusion too? To trap the entities’ magic before it can react? We create a containment with Fusion to control their magic, then try the Binding spell.”

Aster looked at Ardorion, like the rest of us, but it was the first time I caught a glimmer of her feelings for Ardorion. She was hard to read, always locking away her emotions behind an icy exterior. I had hoped my friend wouldn’t be hurt by her in the end, but now, I wasn’t so sure she would hurt him.

Veyn and Isa shared a look.

Veyn saw something in Isa’s face that made his brow furrowed, and his voice low and sharp when he spoke. “Isa, this is too dangerous. We nearly lost two of them already.”

Isa’s jaw tensed, but her tone stayed level. “Fusion may offer the stabilization we lacked. We will control it.”

“Control?” Neir stepped forward now, his voice hard like stone. “You speak of control, but one student was nearly burned alive and the other crushed. This spell should not involve them at all. They should never have been here.”

Isa turned to him fully. “They are my students, Neir. And I will not deny them this. Not when they came to save the one we failed to protect.”

“You’re risking them.”

“They know the risk,” Isa said, her voice gaining strength. “And if they choose to go on, I will allow it.”

Neir’s gaze flicked to Rielle, then darkened. His silence said more than any words.

Veyn blew out a breath, rubbing his forehead, then looked at Ardorion. “You believe this will work?”

Ardorion nodded once.

Veyn sighed, resigned. “Fine. We try again. Three pairs for the Binding Spell. As before, Isa and I will add our magic to anchor the Binding on the entities. While Ardorion and...”

“Aster,” Ardorion said. “We’ve practiced Fusion already, and the entities used both Water and Fire magic to attack us. Aster and I are perfect for combatting the attack with a containment made of our Fusion.”

Veyn nodded again, slower this time, but I knew that look in his eye. He was seeing Ardorion in a new light. I felt proud of my friend in that moment. Not many took Ardorion seriously because of his nonchalance and ability to find trouble anywhere. But he genuinely cared, about people, about life, and about his studies, which made him strive for excellence, even if it didn’t look like it.

Veyn continued his instructions. “Ardorion and Aster will contain the entities’ magic through Fusion. We need to be careful. We cannot afford another collapse, for anyone to get hurt again. If the entities begin to fight back and make it through the Fusion containment, we drop the spell immediately.”

Isa’s voice remained steady as she gave the next instruction. “Choose the partner whose magic aligns best with yours. Trust is essential. Find the pair you can hold your intent with.”

Before I even turned, I already knew who I was going to choose.

Rielle.

My gaze found her across the chamber just as hers landed on mine. She grinned, small but sure. I felt the tension ease in my chest. Of course she had the same thought I did. We had practiced together enough to know our rhythm could hold. Even through the pain, even after what she’d just endured, she was still with me.

I gave her a nod and she started toward me.

But then Garnexis’s voice cut across the room like a drawn blade. “I claim Elio.”

Several heads turned. I didn’t need to look to know who was fuming already.

Sure enough, Orivian reacted with all the grace of a metal storm. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he slammed his fist onto the desk with a loud crack and sent papers flying. The slap of his boots echoed as he stalked away from all of us, tension rippling off him in waves.

Garnexis didn’t even flinch. “Really? Throwing tantrums now? Someone get the baby a blanket.”

Elio tried not to smile. He failed.

Isa didn’t acknowledge the outburst at all. She simply waited, letting the silence settle while the rest of us quietly moved to claim our positions.

Rielle was already at my side by the time I stepped up to the ice wall. Her movements were slower now, more careful. The ghost of pain still lingered in her eyes, even as she nodded to me and placed her hand over mine.

My palm touched the frozen wall. Cold rushed into my skin, but I held steady. My magic stirred beneath the surface, pulling from the roots of the ancient tree in the ground. Copper shimmer coiled at my fingertips.

Rielle’s aura brushed mine, soft and cool. Silvery blue waves rippled out from her hand like starlight across still water. Her touch was light, but the power behind it pulsed strong and deep. She was steady, despite what she had just endured. I admired her for that.

We took a breath together, and then spoke the shared intent in unison. “We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.”

Our magic answered.

Wood and Moon fused where our auras met. My copper glow stretched forward, threads curling like roots through the air. Rielle’s magic joined it, trailing behind in silver-blue ribbons. The threads wove into the ice, finding the cracks and sliding deep inside. Our bond formed a lattice, a quiet harmony of contrast and purpose.

Behind us, the air shimmered with heat and mist, fire and water dancing in controlled tension. Ahead, our Binding held.

At first, it worked.

Rielle’s magic moved with mine, steady and clean, silver-blue light flowing between the threads of my copper glow like moonlight between branches. Together, our binding held. Held the way it had during training, only stronger now. Sharper. The urgency tethered us tighter than any lesson ever could.

Further down the curve of the chamber, Ardorion and Aster moved in tandem, fire and water spiraling in careful circles. Their Fusion curled toward the base of the wall, rising and falling like a wave timed to breath.

Threads of light unfurled across the ice wall, converging like veins drawn toward a single point. They curved inward, deliberate and controlled, all of them aiming for Halven’s block of ice. For the first time, the Binding spell formed completely, precise and radiant, its structure holding with clarity.

Veyn raise his hands, his movements sure. This time, he guided the threads himself, and beside him, Isa exhaled in visible relief. The strain in their posture eased. Veyn’s aura, green edged in gold, pulsed in rhythm with the spell as he thickening our lattice until it no longer just held the ice. He redirected the magic, not toward Halven, but deeper. Into the lake. Toward the entities where all the ambient power originated. He was going to bind them.

Isa moved then. She stepped away from the edge where she had anchored herself and approached Halven’s ice prison. With both palms placed flat against the wall, she began her own work. Air and Water shimmered around her arms in measured spirals as she summoned the spell to unbind him. Her magic coiled inward, delicate but unrelenting, gently peeling apart the older layers of the spell that tied Halven to the lake. Frost gave a soft, brittle crack beneath her fingers.

Then Neir stepped forward to join Isa.

He moved with intent, quiet and precise, and placed both hands on the ice. Moonlight surged across his arms, flaring in a blast of silvery-white magic. A second spell began to take shape, different from anything the rest of us could recognize. Only Rielle would be able to understand the structure of it, but we all knew its purpose. Neir was casting the spell that would put the entities back to sleep, coaxing them into slumber like a predator lulling dangerous prey.

Around us, the light shifted. The glow surrounding Halven’s ice dulled, the sharp brilliance fading to something softer. But the magic had not faded. It had simply changed. We were getting closer. It was working.

I stared, awe tightening the back of my throat. No part of this had been part of the original plan. Not the dual casting. Not the way Fusion and Binding had finally balanced each other. And yet here it was. All of it. Working.

I dared to believe it might hold.

The Binding around Halven flickered gently as the old magic receded from his containment. The color around him dulled from sharp blue to a softer frost. His hand, the one against the ice, shifted slightly, as though he were coming back.

My pulse stuttered. I could barely feel my hands.

Then it started.

First, a single crack deepened near the bottom of the wall. The sound was quiet, like a frozen breath shattering.

The line crawled sideways.

Then another. Higher this time. Water bled from it in a slow, steady trail.

We weren’t freezing the lake anymore.

We were thawing it.

The moment the fractures in the ice deepened, I felt the shift in my bones.

What had started as hairline cracks now spread in spiderwebs of gleaming threat. Veins of weakness pulsed across the wall like something alive. I barely breathed. Then came the sound I feared most—water leaking.

It started slow. A thin, deliberate trickle. Then more. Steady, seeping.

The ice cracked again.

This time louder.

And from within the lake, the screams began.

Inhuman. Echoing. Layered. A chorus of fury and pain. My hands trembled against the ice. I looked toward Rielle, our thread still holding, just barely. But the pressure behind it began to distort, pulse outward like an eruption waiting to happen.

Fire tore through the cracks, jagged lines of heat that made the water boil. Moonlight shimmered through the ice in slivers, luminous and hungry. Water magic flooded with it, all of it colliding in chaos. Ardorion and Aster’s Fusion magic buckled under the strain. They trembled. Their balance failing.

Then came one scream, louder than all the others. It cut through the air like a blade, so raw it twisted something deep in my soul. The sound echoed, layered and discordant, like the last breath of too many gods at once. A moment later, the air split. I felt it before I saw it—waves of magic surging out from the ice in every direction. Fire. Water. Moon. Unbalanced. Uncontrolled. Crashing into each other with violent force, like the elements themselves had turned against us.

My thread faltered. My magic buckled.

One by one, the Binding threads flickered and the ice wall exploded in a lattice of new cracks.

A voice shattered through the rising noise. “Break the spell! Break it now!” Isa. Her tone cracked with fear.

I moved to release but everything erupted at once. Energy from the lake surged toward us, and I flinched, expecting to be struck. But Neir rose up next to us, hands lifted, a storm of magic swirling around him. His eyes turned silver-white, and a dome of pressure shimmered into existence.

His Moon magic exploded outward in a dome, a gleaming silver membrane stretching across the entire ice wall. The backlash slammed into it with a howl. The dome flared, groaned, and nearly split. The sound reverberated through the stone and through my chest. Neir dropped to one knee, his hands shaking.

He was not going to last.

Then Rielle dropped her hand from mine to fall to her knees next to him, her braid whipping around her from the force of his magic. She pressed her hands to his back as she leaned in and whispered something I couldn’t hear.

Her magic pulsed in a soft silver aura, a gentle hum that shimmered across her skin. Her eyes had shifted again, those familiar opal hues glowing with a kind of quiet certainty. The glow of her power spilled from her into Neir, not forcefully, but steady and sure. I recognized the technique immediately. Transference. One of the first spells we ever learned at the Academy. A safeguard. A way to surrender our magic to someone stronger in case of something should go wrong while learning a new spell.

Neir’s barrier responded instantly. It flared brighter, the dome stabilizing with her power behind it. It held.

But not everyone was holding.

Just beyond them, Isa staggered. Her face had gone pale, lips tight, hair clinging to her cheeks. Her hands kept moving, but they were slower now, tremoring with every motion as she tried to keep the frozen lake from melting.

Aster turned toward her without a word. I saw the moment she made the choice. She crossed to Isa’s side and pressed a palm to her shoulder. Her Water magic surged outward and surrendered. Isa took control of it seamlessly. Bolstered, Isa’s magic burst forward, stronger, colder. Frost raced from the base of the wall like a spell catching fire in reverse.

The cracks stopped spreading.

Blue light flared and froze the fractures in place.

Then Lo stepped in to offer her Air magic.

And then I moved. There was no hesitation left in me. I stepped forward and found Veyn’s side.

He didn’t look at me, but he didn’t need to. I knew what to do. I touched his arm and offered my magic, opening myself for him to take over, letting my Wood magic unfurl and wind around his like vine around tree bark. There was no ceremony in it. Just quiet focus. Trust. I felt him take it, and the spell tightened.

I could feel it happening around us. Everyone helping. Everyone giving whatever they had left to those who could still shape the outcome.

Even if we couldn’t save Halven, we could still fight for the rest of us. For the Academy. For everything waiting just beyond that wall of ice.

Finally, the ice wall stabilized.

The cracks stopped growing. Then slowly, impossibly, began to mend. The surface thickened once more into solid ice.

Neir released his combined magics and Rielle fainted after being released. He caught her to him, then backed away as Isa and Veyn turned their attention to Halven.

The light inside Halven’s ice block had faded, and the shape itself was no longer the same. The edges had warped slightly from melting, the structure less stable than it had been. His face twisted, pain evident, etched in the small lines around his eyes and mouth.

Lo gasped. Her magic sparked around her like a reflex. “They’re killing him. Trying to strip him of his magic.”

Isa didn’t flinch. “Not for long.”

Her voice was hoarse, dry with fatigue. But even through it, I recognized the grit. The determination. She wasn’t giving up.

Aster was already beside her, one hand braced against Isa’s arm, her Water magic flowing steady. Lo followed a heartbeat later. Isa’s posture straightened slightly, magic stabilizing with the added support. And then—

Veyn reached for me.

I didn’t hesitate. My hand found his, and the moment our auras touched, he pulled from my Wood magic without pause. He moved with Isa, both of them muttering the Binding spell under their breath, focusing entirely on the threads, the design, the structure of the cast.

It was like weaving a net made of exhaustion. Threading strands of will into something tight enough to hold what still wanted to unravel. I watched closely, studied every line of magic they used. At least what I could read in Veyn’s spell. Isa’s control was precise, but the strain showed in the lines of her face, even with Aster and Lo’s help. Veyn’s Wood magic curled in rooted tendrils, weaving through the block of ice like vines seeking soil.

The Binding threads shimmered. Ice reformed.

And Halven’s face, at last, began to relax.

The web of light around Halven stabilized and softened. The chamber dimmed. Only a faint glow lingered around the edges of the ice and from the two torches.

The lake quieted.

Magic faded. Threads vanished. The cold returned.

Mist curled around our ankles. The silence that followed was not peaceful. It was numbing. Veyn tightened his grip on my hand even though he didn’t look at me, his focus on the frozen lake.

The others looked at Halven, at the ice wall, at each other, stunned. The cold seemed deeper. Elio wrapped his cloak around his shoulders, and Garnexis pulled her arms tight over her chest. Even Lo looked like the chill had gotten into her bones. Rielle, now awake, sheltered in Neir’s arms.

The room was too quiet. The only sound was the drip of water falling from the ceiling to stone. Then someone murmured, “What do we do now?” Another voice followed. “Should we find more magic users?” Then, quieter, “Can we even save him?”

Heat filled me, my heart beating faster. The ache of defeat throbbed behind my ribs. I pulled away from Veyn and marched toward Halven. Tell me what to do to save him, Sylva!

But I knew my goddess was asleep as she had been for many millennia.

The anger heating my blood was for my helplessness. I hated it.

“We accomplished nothing!” I said.

Isa’s voice broke the silence following my declaration. “We’ve done what we could—”

“What did we do exactly?” Lo asked. Her voice cracked mid-sentence. Her face was wet, though it was hard to tell whether from tears or condensation.

Isa didn’t answer right away. “Some things are just more powerful than what we have the ability to control. This is one of those things.”

The logic of that made sense. But I hated it anyway.

“I can’t accept that,” Rielle said, barely above a whisper.

Isa didn’t respond this time. Someone else did.

“You don’t have to.”

The voice was unfamiliar.

Everyone turned. Even Isa.

The mist near the entrance shifted in unnatural patterns. Not dispersing. Just... making room.

And a shadow stepped forward.

Bare feet. Skin like ice, or maybe mist held together in the shape of a woman. Both visible and not, translucence and starlight woven through form. She was a blue wraith, a ghost that both moved the mist and allowed the mist to move through her.

And the air that came with her did not belong to this plane of existence. A chill threaded with pressure.

She was a specter, but not one bound to life, but to death. The Kōri-onna.

Every hair on my body stood on end.

Her calm voice came as mist curled around her ankles. “I can help you, but someone will die.”

The cold found me first, and I welcomed it. It smelled like home.

It slipped beneath my robes before I had fully crossed the threshold, curling around my ankles, sliding up the back of my neck, threading through my chest like a memory I cherished. But this wasn’t surface frost. This was something deeper. Something older. It breathed through the chamber like it belonged here.

We all stepped into The Seal in silence. Ardorion ahead with Lo and Elio. Shara beside me. Garnexis and Aster drifting together toward the ice wall. Neir was already present. Of course he was. And of course he’d be shirtless.

I kept my eyes low as we moved across the stone floor. Thick, sticky mist pooled around our feet. The torches had already been lit. I didn’t see who had done it. The light flickered across the walls, casting long shadows that danced across ancient rock and the frozen surface that made up the far wall.

The ice had not changed.

Halven was still trapped within a block of ice, hand pressed to the frozen lake. I had not forgotten the image, but seeing him again, knowing this time was real and not just another dream, knocked the breath from my lungs.

I stopped just short of him.

Not close enough to touch. I could not do that again. Not yet.

The chamber was too full now.

Magic had already bulged in the space, threading through the mist. It pressed deep within me, especially the Moon magic. I recognized Neir’s signature now. But what I doubted before, no longer lingered in my mind’s hall of uncertainty.

The entities had Moon magic, too.

Of course there was more than Moon magic in the chamber and within the lake, even if I couldn’t interpret the power. And soon, all elements would converge here. Ardorion with his Fire, Garnexis and Orivian with their Metal, Elio with his Sun and Earth as a Stone Dragon, Aster with her Water, Lo with her Air, and Shara shared Wood with Veyn.

That left Lady Isa. As an Ice Dragon, she had both Water and Air, elements she shared with Aster and Lo.

A low hum of voices also filled the chamber, along with other sounds. Robes rustling, boots shifting against stone. Everyone took their place, pairing off in a pattern that had already been decided. I knew mine, but I did not move toward Ardorion yet.

Instead, I watched Neir.

He stood near the frozen wall, bare feet steady on the floor as though the cold meant nothing to him. His eyes did not meet mine. I tried not to let that mean anything.

I drew in a slow breath.

The others were already preparing. Veyn and Isa stood near the desk. Their expressions were unreadable as they bowed their head together in a soft conversation. Elio and Shara moved toward the center arc of the wall. Aster stood with Garnexis. Lo had been paired with Orivian.

I took my place beside Ardorion, his presence warm and familiar, like the edges of a fire that never scorched. He offered me a small nod, and I returned it. We had never needed many words to understand each other.

He deserved happiness. He always had. Once Halven was free, maybe he would finally let himself chase it.

But my gaze drifted once more to Neir. I cursed myself for allowing myself to be manipulated by this thing between us, but I saw no way of stopping it.

This time his eyes were on me, unrelenting, full of something I could not name without feeling it echo inside my chest. The hunger there was not of body, but of something deeper. Like he had been starving and I was the only thing that could fill the hollow.

My knees nearly buckled.

Quickly, I looked away.

Instead I concentrated on the power brimming in the room. We hadn’t even started the spell yet, but the potential of it, the shared intent we’d say aloud... It was like the moment before a ruthless storm.

We had practiced over and over again. Broken into pairs so we had two casters, two different elements, one natural anchor, and a singular purpose.

Isa had explained that pairing made the spell easier to manage. Two casters focusing together was the most stable configuration, especially for a spell none of us had grown up knowing. It allowed the magic to move without chaos, without breakage. Even with all our training, none of us were experts. Not yet.

Still, I couldn’t shake the worry that I would be the one to falter. Even the right structure could not fix what I lacked.

My heart beat once, hard.

We were going to try it. For real this time.

We were going to try to save Halven.

But it would not be easy. This spell wasn’t something passed down. It was new, fragile, and uncertain, just like me. Our ancestors didn’t know this spell and so we had to learn ourselves, not an easy feat for any magic user. I just hoped our courage and fortitude would be enough.

Isa’s voice rose gently through the silence, soft but certain, and it wrapped around the cold like a thread of light trying to hold everything together. It felt like she was speaking from far away. Like I was hearing her through the water again, muffled and slow.

“You already know your parts. You’ve practiced the theory. You’ve honed the spells. This is not new ground. But what lies ahead is harder than anything we’ve done before, not because you are unprepared, but because what we are attempting is not a simple a spell.”

I swallowed hard. She said we were prepared. I knew that was meant to help. But what if it wasn’t true for all of us? I had practiced. I had tried. But my magic had always been quiet. Unruly. Half-missing when I needed it most. What if I ruined this? What if I was the one who broke everything?

Isa paused, her eyes sweeping across us. I looked down when her gaze passed over me, not wanting to see her confidence. I didn’t deserve it.

“You will feel the strain,” she said. “You will doubt yourselves. And when the Binding begins to resist you, you may even think you’re failing. But you are not. The entities will push back. But together we are stronger than them.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Together. That was the only way this could work. And I would try. I had to. Even if I failed, I would at least fail trying.

“Yes!” Ardorion said.

His voice broke the quiet, sudden and bold. It made a few others shift in place, a ripple of surprise. He always believed in us. I wished I could believe in myself that way.

Isa’s voice lowered. Softer now. Steadier. “This isn’t about perfection. It is about intent. Shared, steady, and real. Hold to it. Breathe into it. Let it anchor you. Let each other anchor you. Once you’ve achieved a true Binding with each other, then the designated stronger magic user will guide your Binding to me so that I can use it to bind the entities to the ice once more. Then Neir will be able to put them to sleep again.”

That made something catch in my throat. I didn’t want to weigh anyone down. Especially not my partner, Ardorion. With his confidence, he would be so steady, so grounded. And I... I barely knew how to trust my magic, let alone let it anchor someone else. That was why he would be the one to create the anchor even though I’d practice the Binding spell longer than him. He was also magically stronger than me.

Isa looked at each of us. Her expression gentled.

“You are all here because of Halven,” she said. “An extraordinary young man, who has extraordinary friends. Hold on to that. Trust each other. And most of all, trust yourselves. You are not alone in this.”

I closed my eyes for just a second. If Halven were here, he would not hesitate. He would tell me I was more than enough. That I could do this. That I always had it in me.

Maybe I just needed to believe it. Even if only for him.

Isa gave a single nod. “Get into place.”

I turned to the wall of ice. My hand shook just slightly as I reached out, placing my it gently over Ardorion’s. He would not falter. I just hoped I wouldn’t either.

“Begin,” Isa said.

Together, we all reached for our magic and chanted: “We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.”

The words barely reached my lips before slipping into the shared rhythm.

If this worked, we would save Halven.

Magic surged beneath Ardorion’s skin, Fire flaring, veins of flame cracking across his arms like molten glass. His golden eyes brightened, too bright, shifting into something more primal, amber liquefied by power. His fiery hair whipped around his face, a crown of flame rising wild and bright.

The heat rolled across my skin.

My own magic responded, drawn toward his as if we were opposing stars caught in orbit. Silver-blue ripples shimmered outward from my fingertips, delicate at first, like moonlight on still water. But then the ripples deepened, spreading in rings over the ice as our energies met.

I looked up into his eyes, found the focus there. Not just raw magic. Loyalty. Determination.

We spoke the words together, not as a whisper, not as a shout, but something anchored and real.

We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.

My voice did not shake. Not this time.

The magic between us pulsed strong, our intent holding, a perfect thread of Fire and Moon weaving into the frozen wall. His magic lit the space around us in searing red while mine shimmered in silvery waves.

Ardorion threaded our magic into the anchor, a fissure in the lakebed, solidifying our spell.

Isa stood close, composed as always. Her power moved around us like a second atmosphere. I could not track it or name it, but it was there, pressing softly against my skin, reminding me who she was and what she carried.

I recognized Veyn’s aural magic twining with hers, and realized they casted their own Binding spell, with Isa grounding it in the lake.

Within the ice, Ardorion shifted our bound threads of magic from us to Isa. We gave them up, trusting her to pull it all together. Her casting stretched outward like a tide, seeking the largest reservoir of power buried in the lake.

The moment the spell touched it, I felt the shield of resistance. My magic brushed against it like a whisper in a storm, and I shivered. The scale of it made my own casting feel fragile. Small. And yet... it worked. It was working.

Isa used the Binding spell to anchor our magic to the ice. Our magic threaded deeper into the lake, binding something vast and older than I could comprehend.

We were doing it. Holding the Binding. Halven would be free. And for one impossible moment, I let myself believe I could be part of something greater. I belonged here.

Then something shifted.

Fire raced along the threads of my bound magic, but it wasn’t Ardorion’s. And this was angry Fire, roaring toward me. A streak of orange-gold burst from the ice, spiraling outward from the lake. It roared with a fury that didn’t belong. The heat engulfed me, only giving me just enough time to turn my body half away.

The Binding snapped.

A hiss of light exploded, and fire licked around my left side, like a living thing. Pain ripped through my consciousness, so that it was all I knew. Barely registering the slide of my body across the stone, blistering heat replacing any thoughts.

I screamed.

Ardorion yelled my name, I think, but the smell of charred flesh overwhelmed any of my five senses.

Cool tears escaped my closed eyes, the only thing I could do besides groan, curled against the stone floor where agony became my friend. The pain was sharp, a deep, stinging burn across my shoulder and arm.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out again. The moment the spell broke, the agony settled like frostbite beneath my skin, clinging and pulsing with every breath. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to rise from the ground. But I couldn’t. I stayed curled where I had landed, jaw clenched, breath shallow.

“Little Moon, look at me.”

Neir’s voice came from far away but I followed the echo of his syllables to claw out of the darkness of my suffering and open my eyes.

He was so beautiful, his face clouded with worry.

“Neir, it hurts.”

“I know, Little Moon.”

My eyes fell closed again, with the sounds of shuffling near my head. Then I was lost in the haze of pain again. This is all I knew until the pain dramatically lessened.

Cold magic washed over me. Aster.

With the gradual reduction in pain, I opened blurry eyes again.

Aster’s hands hovered just inches above my burned side—the whole arm and shoulder had been singed, exposing muscle and tendons beneath blackened skin, blue blood congealing in the center.

While Aster healed me, her expression set with quiet focus. My body arched with her rush of cold magic, and steam rose into the air. I gasped as the pain ebbed. Her Water magic flooded through me like a balm, chasing out the fire, soothing every broken nerve.

When she finished, Neir helped me sit up, one hand steadying my back, the other guiding my fingers into his. I let him hold me, only for a moment. The strength of him, the solid presence, was everything I needed. But I still could not look at him.

Neir’s free hand brushed gently against my hair, his eyes wide with a panic he tried to hide. “You should not be here.”

I wanted that to be enough. That voice, that worry. I wanted it to pull me from the ache. But it didn’t. The skin of my arm and shoulder remained unblemished. Only the missing sleeves of my robe and dress testified that I had been burned. But my skin still screamed, my nerves blistered, remembering the pain of having been burned. No amount of tenderness could fix it.

“Why is that, Neir?” I finally looked at him. “Because I’m a hybrid and not strong enough?”

His hand slid from my hair to cup my jaw and force me to look at him, his panic turned into anger. “You are strong, strong enough for this, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a student. You and all of your friends. None of you should be here.”

I tried to push away from him, tired. He was a wall of muscle that didn’t budge. The bare skin of his chest seemed to heat beneath my palms, and I blushed.

I had to put space between us, so I shook my head as I stood, ignoring his help. “Good thing it is not your choice.”

In the next moment, his arms wrapped around me. I gave in, then, sinking into the warmth. I wanted to forget the truth just for a second. I wanted to believe we were safe, that we could save Halven.

That I hadn’t almost died.

But we weren’t safe. Neir had every right to worry.

That didn’t change the fact that Halven was still in the ice.

Voices began to rise around us. I pulled away from Neir. His hands slipped from me slowly, but he didn’t stop me. My legs trembled, but I would not sit again. Not while Halven was still trapped. Not while Isa looked like she was giving up.

Then I noticed Garnexis sitting against the wall as well. Blue blood matted her red hair.

Who else had been hurt? Looking at my friends, everyone else seemed whole and unharmed.

Shara’s low voice cut through the din. “He’s still trapped.”

She stood near Halven, her gaze on our friend, the reason we were here.

Elio clenched his fists. “Why did fire come from the lake? They attacked with both Fire and Water.”

Most of us looked to Isa for the answer.

Then Ardorion said, “I felt their Fire magic. Before. When we first came here.”

This was a chance for Lady Isa to finally be entirely truthful with us, but even though she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

Shara crossed my arms. “What kind of magic do these entities even have?”

Isa looked so tired as she glanced at the fractured ice. So much older in that moment. “We failed. That’s all you need to know.”

Ardorion’s haired flared. “Why not tell us the truth?”

Isa moved to the wall of ice and let her fingers trail along it, slow and careful. I watched her chest rise with a deep breath before she turned back toward us. Her voice was calm, but something behind it trembled. “There are truths that are not my own to tell. I have no right to interfere in edicts of the gods.”

The gods?

The words hit me like cold water. I looked at Halven, still frozen, still reaching. Had we been standing inches away from something divine this whole time?

Something stirred in me, low and unsettled. The Firebird was a god. He had spoken to us with sorrow in his voice. He had said we had to keep them sleeping. But what did that mean? How were we to do that? And were these... entities... ever meant to wake?

The thought pressed against my ribs, aching. Magic like this wasn’t just old. It was sacred. Or dangerous. Or both.

I didn’t know if we were strong enough. I didn’t know if I was strong enough.

Then Ardorion stepped forward, his voice sure. “What if Binding isn’t enough? What if we try Fusion too? To trap the entities’ magic before it can react? We create a containment with Fusion to control their magic, then try the Binding spell.”

I held my breath. Maybe that could work. Maybe... we still had a chance.

Veyn and Isa shared a look. Isa’s weariness was still there, but something steadier replaced it.

Veyn’s brow furrowed, his voice low and sharp when he spoke. “Isa, this is too dangerous. We nearly lost two of them already.”

Isa’s jaw tensed, but her tone stayed level. “Fusion may offer the stabilization we lacked. We will control it.”

“Control?” Neir stepped forward now, his voice colder than the mist rising at our feet. “You speak of control, but one student was nearly burned alive and the other crushed. This spell should not involve them at all. They should never have been here.”

Isa turned to him fully. “They are my students, Neir. And I will not deny them this. Not when they came to save the one we failed to protect.”

“You’re risking them.”

“They know the risk,” Isa said, her voice gaining strength. “And if they choose to go on, I will allow it.”

Neir’s gaze flicked to me, then darkened. His silence said more than any words.

Veyn blew out a breath, rubbing his forehead, then looked at Ardorion. “You believe this will work?”

Ardorion nodded.

Veyn sighed. “Fine. We try again. Three pairs for the Binding Spell. As before, Isa and I will add our magic to anchor the Binding on the entities. While Ardorion and...”

“Aster,” Ardorion said. “We’ve practiced Fusion already, and the entities used both Water and Fire magic to attack us. Aster and I are perfect for combatting the attack with a containment made of our Fusion.”

Veyn nodded again, slower this time. “Ardorion and Aster will contain the entities’ magic through Fusion. We need to be careful. We cannot afford another collapse, for anyone to get hurt again. If the entities begin to fight back and make it through the Fusion containment, we drop the spell immediately.”

Isa stepped forward, her voice rising with fresh resolve. “Choose the partner whose magic aligns best with yours. Trust is essential. Find the pair you can hold your intent with.”

Before the words had even fully landed, I knew.

Shara was already turning toward me.

Our eyes met, and her look said everything. I gave a small smile, not just from relief but because we both knew this had been the answer from the beginning. She was the one I trusted, the one who always knew how to steady me when my thoughts spiraled too far. We did not need to speak. We just moved toward one another.

Others weren’t so quiet.

“I claim Elio,” Garnexis said flatly, without hesitation, a hand cutting through the air.

A sharp crack broke through the quiet as Orivian slammed his hand against the desk, scattering a few pages that fluttered to the ground. He didn’t look at any of us. He just turned and walked away, shoulders tight, jaw locked, fury in every step.

“Really? Throwing tantrums now? Someone get the baby a blanket,” Garnexis muttered with a roll of her eyes.

Shara’s mouth twitched like she might have been fighting a smirk. I glanced down, not wanting to laugh, not with the tension still thick around us. But I felt steadier than I had a moment ago.

But Shara was my partner. I would not face this alone.

My hand trembled just slightly as I lay it over Shara’s on the ice. Her calm flowed through her eyes, quieting the remnants of fear inside me. There was no doubt in hers, only focus and the strength she always carried even when she faltered. I tried to match it.

“We bind this power to nature, our anchor,” we said together. “Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.”

The words slid through the chamber like a chord struck true.

Wood and Moon collided in front of us, curling through one another like ivy and mist. Shara’s aura bloomed in copper and green, rich and full like leaves at high summer. Mine shimmered pale silver-blue, like moonlight drifting across a midnight pond. Where they met, the colors pulsed into the ice in delicate threads that wound into the root veins deep beneath the stone.

The connection vibrated, slow and steady. I felt it settle in my bones. Moon and Wood were not natural allies nor enemies, but Shara made it work either way. She always did.

The moment the Binding threads began to shimmer, I knew we were close. Our spell had taken. Magic was humming through my hands, laced into Shara’s steady grip, our auras curling around each other in soft waves of copper and moonlight. The threads ran clean, tight, no tremor of doubt between us.

Shara then anchored our individual spell to whatever natural elemental she’d found of her own. There were no plants in the chamber, so I was sure what she was using, but I felt the moment our Binding solidified.

Then somewhere deeper in the ice, the Fusion spell built its rhythm. Fire and Water danced in delicate balance. Just beyond them, Neir stood like a sentinel carved of stillness, his Moon magic spreading in pale ripples that pushed into the icy wall. Every breath I took carried that cold inside.

For a breathless moment, it all held.

Shara’s magic stayed steady beneath my hand, her focus a firm line of purpose I could lean into. Our threads shimmered in harmony, sinking deeper into the frozen wall, into the roots of the lakebed where the Binding needed to take hold.

Further down the curve of the chamber, Ardorion and Aster moved in tandem, fire and water spiraling in careful circles. Their Fusion curled toward the base of the wall, rising and falling like a wave timed to breath.

Threads of light spread across the ice wall, drifting outward until they curved toward Halven. Each one pulled gently to him, like veins converging on a single heartbeat. The Binding spell held. For the first time, it wasn’t flickering or fractured. It was whole. Beautiful. Steady.

Veyn lifted his hands and guided the threads, his movements smooth and certain. His shoulders eased, just slightly, as the tension bled from him. His magic gathered the Binding and directed it toward the lake’s center, where the pressure had always felt deepest. Where the entities waited. Gold-green light pulsed around him, growing stronger with every breath.

Then Isa moved closer to Halven. She laid her hands on the ice just outside the block that held him. Magic curled around her wrists, soft spirals of Air and Water that shimmered in the mist. Her focus didn’t waver. She worked carefully, gently drawing apart the old spell that kept Halven sealed in place. I heard it, a delicate cracking sound as frost gave way beneath her fingers.

Neir stepped forward.

My breath caught.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t hesitate. He just placed both hands on the ice beside Isa. I knew the way his magic felt before it even flared. Moonlight poured across his arms in a rush of silvery-white, not wild but intentional, like a river flowing exactly where it meant to. Another spell took shape beneath his palms, delicate, quiet, layered in ways I could just barely follow.

It was a lullaby. One meant to slip into the cracks of the entities’ magic and coax them back into sleep.

The light around the chamber shifted, softened. The glow surrounding Halven’s ice dimmed, its sharp edges softening into something gentler. But the magic was still there, alive and pulsing. It felt closer. Like we were finally reaching him.

I couldn’t speak. A tightness formed at the back of my throat, part awe, part disbelief. None of this had been part of what we prepared for. Not the double layering of spells. Not the way Fusion and Binding had somehow found their rhythm. And yet… it was holding. Somehow, it was working.

Magic hummed through my hands, laced into Shara’s steady grip, our auras curling around each other in soft waves of copper and moonlight. All the threads ran clean, tight, no tremor of doubt between us.

The chamber had never felt so full. Magic surged around us, layered and alive. Fire. Water. Wood. Moon. Earth. Air. Metal. All of it. All of us. The spell wasn’t fragile anymore. It pulsed like a living thing.

Somewhere deeper in the ice, the Fusion spell built its rhythm. Fire and Water danced in delicate balance, Aster and Ardorion turning their palms in perfect opposition. Just beyond them, Neir knelt like a sentinel carved of stillness, his Moon magic spreading in pale ripples that brushed the mist along the chamber floor. Every breath I took carried that cold inside.

And then—

A flicker.

It started low in the wall, deep where Neir’s spell flowed.

A shift.

A tension in the ice that was not part of the spell.

A heartbeat.

Something pushed back. Not against one of us. Against all of us.

My fingers twitched against Shara’s. I glanced at her. Her brow was furrowed, her magic still steady, but her body had gone rigid.

Then it started.

A single hairline crack spread beneath the threads we’d just woven.

My heart clenched.

The lake was no longer still. It was thawing.

Then the cracks deepened.

A sound, almost too soft to hear, spidered through the ice, a sharp hairline split. I didn’t turn. I didn’t blink. I focused on the rhythm of our shared intent. But then water ran down the wall like veins bursting open, slipping across the fissures with a quiet urgency.

Screams echoed. Not from us.

From within the ice.

The sound came from the frozen lake itself, too many voices rising together, furious and ancient. Magic howled in response. My spine went rigid as power surged, raw and uncontrolled.

Fire surged through the cracks, streaking across the ice like veins of lightning, warping the frost into steam. Slivers of Moonlight followed, too bright, too sharp, turning everything luminous and wild. Water magic surged after it, rushing in like a tide that couldn’t be stopped. I felt the moment it all collided, too much, too fast. The magic turned chaotic.

Across the chamber, Ardorion and Aster faltered. Their Fusion trembled under the pressure. Something about it had tangled. Their rhythm gone. Their spell breaking.

Then a scream rose above all the others. One I hadn’t heard before. Too sharp, too full of pain. It cut through everything, slicing down my spine like a blade made of sorrow. The echo didn’t stop. It rang out again and again, like voices being torn from the world. Like gods unraveling.

The air split open around us. I felt the pressure before I saw the magic. Fire. Water. Moon. All of it colliding, none of it finding harmony. The spellwork shattered. Power lashed out, wild and furious.

I couldn’t hold my magic steady. It faltered. The thread between Shara and me detonated with a soundless shatter of light. I turned my head toward the ice. The cracks spread faster now. Water bled freely down the wall. Another scream peeled from the depths. My skin went cold.

Isa’s voice shattered through the rising noise. “Break the spell! Break it now!”

She had never sounded so afraid.

I staggered upright. Shara’s aura flared wild, disconnected. Elio looked stunned. Lo’s hair whipped in a sudden wind not her own. The Fusion threads cracked like glass. Energy from the lake surged toward us, and I flinched, preparing to be burned again.

Then Neir lifted his hands, not speaking, and a shiver ran through the air, like the moment before a storm breaks. I recognized his spell to manipulate Gravity. His magic erupted across the chamber, flaring in a great dome that shimmered over the entire ice wall. It met the rising chaos from the entities with a deep, echoing sound, a dull roar like thunder beneath the lake. Neir dropped to one knee, breath hitched, barely holding himself up.

The shield shimmered around him like silver glass, but it flickered at the edges. His body trembled from the strain. His breath came uneven.

I didn’t hesitate.

My legs moved before my mind caught up, carrying me across the frozen chamber. I dropped beside him, placing my hands gently against his back. His muscles were coiled tight. His magic pulsed like a second heartbeat.

He didn’t look at me. He didn’t need to.

I leaned forward, close to his ear. “I trust you.”

He looked at me just long enough for me to see the agony in his eyes. And then he nodded.

I let go.

The spell was old, but we had all learned it. Transference. A way to offer your magic to another. We were taught it so that we could give control to our professors while trying dangerous spells. I had never imagined using it like this. Not with him.

But I didn’t stop.

My power moved from me into him, Moon magic transferring from my palm into his spine, lacing through his veins, boosting him. The Transference was soft at first, like fog curling across frost. Then deeper, heavier, until my body slumped from the weight of it, but I kept a physical connection with Neir to ensure my magic stayed open to him.

His magic caught mine, wrapped around it, pulled it into the shape he needed. The dome of Gravity shimmered stronger. My silver glow thinned as his spell flared brighter. I didn’t know if it would be enough. I couldn’t see the dome anymore. Only light behind my eyes and the echo of his magic laced through mine.

Everything outside of that began to blur.

Somewhere beyond us, I heard Isa falter. I think Aster reached her. There was a crack of frost, a rush of air, someone calling out. But I couldn’t lift my head.

Lo moved. Then Shara.

I knew, somehow, they were helping too. The others followed my lead to offer their magic to bolster the elder magic users. But my strength was already spilling from me, thread by thread, into Neir’s hands.

That was all I had left to give.

At some point, Isa must have finished refreezing the lake, sealing the entities back in, because Neir released my magic. With the release, everything fell dark for the second time this night.

When I woke, it was in a haze.

Everything was muffled. Like I was underwater again.

My body refused to move at first, but I recognized the arms holding me. My chest ached. Neir. He cradled me to his chest.

I flexed my hands. My fingertips tingled like someone had siphoned the magic straight out of my veins.

Voices rose and fell around me, distorted, far away.

“They’re killing him…”

That voice. Lo?

“Not for long.”

Isa.

Magic rippled in the air nearby, pulling at me like it wanted something more. More words. I couldn’t make them out, just the hum of intent. A binding rhythm.

My lashes fluttered. I saw nothing but light behind my eyes, threads moving like starlight caught in mist.

Then something steadied. Pressure released.

I didn’t know what had changed, only that the air no longer screamed. The magic no longer clawed.

And somewhere beyond the haze, I exhaled.

Figures formed in the mist of the chamber. Neir noticing my stirring, carefully released my legs, my body sliding down his while he still held me close with one arm.

He kissed my forehead. “Thank you, Little Moon.”

My heart warmed. I wanted it to be full, and it would have been if not for Halven. With a sigh, I squinted to make out that Halven was still in his icy prison, safe from the entities, but lost to us.

The other students around the chamber huddled together. Elio leaned into Lo. Ardorion rubbed his arms, trying to stay warm. Veyn held Shara’s hand. Garnexis pulled her arms tight over her chest, ignoring Orivian, who looked like a lost puppy.

Someone whispered nearby. Their voice was muffled, distant. Maybe asking what we were supposed to do now. Maybe asking if Halven could still be saved. Another voice followed, low and uncertain. “Should we find more magic users?” Then, softer still, “Can we even save him?”

The silence grew heavy, the cold even more so. But this cold felt different now. It wasn’t just the frost in the air or the ice beneath us. It was in my chest. In my thoughts. It came from everything we had given and everything we couldn’t fix.

Shara moved away from Veyn, pacing toward Halven, then turning away just as quickly. Her face flushed. “We accomplished nothing!”

The words hurt.

No one spoke. No one denied it.

We just stared at the ice.

At Halven.

Still sealed inside. Still waiting.

Isa straightened looking as exhausted as I felt. “We’ve done what we could—”

“What did we do exactly?” Lo asked. Her voice cracked. Her cheeks were wet.

Isa’s voice was gentler than I expected. “Some things are just more powerful than what we have the ability to control. This is one of those things.”

I didn’t mean to speak. The words just came. “I can’t accept that.”

For a breath, no one replied. Then a voice, soft but firm, answered me.

“You don’t have to.”

It wasn’t anyone in the room we knew.

I turned—everyone did—and watched as the mist near the chamber entrance parted on its own. Not blown or pushed. Like it knew to step aside.

And out of it came something... someone.

She had the shape of a woman, but there was nothing human about her. Her skin was almost translucent, blue-white like frost catching moonlight. Bare feet touched the stone as if gravity had no say in it. She was a wraith, a ghost that both moved the mist and allowed the mist to move through her.

She was breathtaking. Terrifying. Beautiful in a way that didn’t feel safe.

The Kōri-onna.

A presence not made for the living. A chill wrapped around my ribs, breath stalling in my chest.

Her voice flowed with the mist at her feet. “I can help you. But someone will die.”

The Seal did not want us there. That was my first thought when the cold slammed into my bones the moment we stepped inside. The chamber hadn’t changed since the last time I came in, but everything felt different.

There were more of us this time. More magic. More risk.

Thick mist slithered along the stone floor as I crossed the threshold. It curled around my boots and licked up my legs like it meant to pull me down. I shivered. The cold didn’t usually bother me, but this mist was sticky, too, clogged with the taste of power. The kind that settled in your lungs and made you feel like you were breathing through cotton. My fingers twitched.

Ardorion moved toward the frozen wall without hesitation. Elio was already heading toward the far side of the chamber. The others followed their assigned positions like they had all rehearsed this in their heads a hundred times.

The wall of ice waited for us. It glowed faintly in the low light, pulsing with the same tangled web of magic that had haunted my dreams since the last time. Halven hadn’t changed, still trapped in a block of ice, one hand on the frozen lake.

I had known he was alive for over a month, but it didn’t stop the hollow sting in my chest when I saw him like this again. It never would.

The rest of the chamber remained just as cluttered. The desk still sat off to the side, covered in scattered papers and books. Someone had lit the candles again. Two torches flickered in the wall brackets. The light barely reached the corners of the room.

My gaze wanted to track Orivian’s movements, the urge coming from deep within my soul... a soul that was no longer free to love, trapped in this awful fated bond.

I resisted the urge, instead glancing at Neir, standing across from us, shirtless, barefoot, unmoving. Like he had been carved from the same stone that made up the chamber walls. He didn’t acknowledge anyone, not even Rielle, who I knew could feel his presence the same way I could feel the absence of Metal magic in the room.

Again, nothing. So much power radiated in the room, but not a drop of it Metal. Not even a trace of my element, not in the wall, not in the chamber. I tried not to let that sting. But today Metal magic would linger in the residual power. Part of that would be Orivian’s, but I rolled my eyes at that thought.

All eight elements would linger after we saved Halven.

Ardorion his Fire. Rielle and Neir with Moon. Elio with both Sun and Earth magic as a Stone Dragon. Isa as an Ice Dragon had both Water and Air, sharing both elements with Aster and Lo. That left Shara and Veyn with Wood magic.

Thinking of Veyn... He stood near the desk, his head bowed to Isa while she spoke too softly for me to hear. She was all sharp lines and tension. I didn’t trust her, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that we needed her.

I took my place beside Aster at the ice wall, our assigned position already marked in my mind. I knew what I was supposed to do. We had practiced this. Over and over. And I still wasn’t sure I could pull it off.

Isa had said the spell was easier in pairs, that it gave those of us still learning a better chance at holding the Binding steady. I hated that it made sense. Two minds meant a tighter focus, fewer variables, less chance of the spell unraveling in our hands. It was not about trust. It was about control. And control, I understood.

Except I didn’t know Aster as well as Elio, and I’d only practiced with him.

The moment Aster glanced at me, her gaze holding me accountable, the instinct returned. That old, sharp urge in my spine. The one that screamed at me to get out before everything went wrong. It had always been my survival instinct. But Halven was here. Trapped. And I would not leave him behind.

Not this time.

The ice wall gleamed like it knew what we were about to try. Cold breathed over my skin, sharper than before. None of the Docilis spoke. Perhaps all of us were trapped in our minds by our unease and doubts.

Then Isa’s voice broke the silence, threading across the space like a blade through mist. It caught on the edges of my nerves, slicing clean through the hum of dread beneath my skin.

“You already know your parts. You’ve practiced the theory. You’ve honed the spells. This is not new ground. But what lies ahead is harder than anything we’ve done before, not because you are unprepared, but because what we are attempting is not a simple a spell.”

No one needed to tell me how difficult this would be. One mistake and we lose Halven. One misstep and we lose our chance to be free of all this. I clenched my jaw and kept still.

Isa’s gaze swept across the room, landing on each of us. I stared back. Let her see it. Let her see I wasn’t afraid. Just ready.

“You will feel the strain,” she said. “You will doubt yourselves. And when the Binding begins to resist you, you may even think you’re failing. But you are not. The entities will push back. But together we are stronger than them.”

“Yes!” Ardorion said.

Of course he would be the one to finally say something. Always the loud one. I rolled my eyes slightly but didn’t bother to smirk. I didn’t have the energy to fake anything right now. I just needed to make it through this spell so I could walk away and never look back. I could leave him behind.

Orivian. The pressure. The pull. All of it.

Isa’s voice dipped lower, threading between us. “This isn’t about perfection. It is about intent. Shared, steady, and real. Hold to it. Breathe into it. Let it anchor you. Let each other anchor you. Once you’ve achieved a true Binding with each other, then the designated stronger magic user will guide your Binding to me so that I can use it to bind the entities to the ice once more. Then Neir will be able to put them to sleep again.”

I almost laughed. Anchor myself to someone else? The last thing I needed was more weight. But if that was what it took to finish this, then fine. I’d fake it. I’d hold the line. Just long enough to get out.

Her eyes moved over us again. When they landed on me, I refused to flinch.

“You are all here because of Halven,” she said. “An extraordinary young man, who has extraordinary friends. Hold on to that. Trust each other. And most of all, trust yourselves. You are not alone in this.”

That was the only part that made me pause. Halven. Maybe I didn’t trust myself. Or anyone else. But I trusted him. And he deserved better than being a body in ice.

Isa gave her final nod.

“Get into place.”

I turned to Aster. Her expression was calm, unreadable, but not unkind. She had always struck me as capable, strong enough to deal with Ardorion’s chaos and still stay balanced. I respected that.

But I hadn’t worked with her before. Not like this. Not with something that needed me to open up, to trust. I shifted my stance. Doubt fluttered in my chest.

This had to work. It wasn’t just about Halven. It was about surviving this, succeeding, and walking out of here with a future. One that didn’t involve anyone choosing for me ever again.

I needed to get away from him.

Away from his stare which made the place between my shoulder blades itch.

I looked across the line of students at the wall.

Orivian.

His gaze locked on mine, steady. Too steady. I turned away before I could start thinking about what he saw or didn’t. He didn’t matter. Not anymore. Once Halven was safe, I would be gone. That was the plan.

We just had to pull off this spell.

I almost snorted. Not even our ancestors had pulled this off, which meant it was up to us to have learned this new spell, and that wasn’t easy. No pressure. Learning a new spell was like learning to fly without wings. No structure to actually get you off the ground—you have to invent that first.

Aster placed her palm against the ice as the stronger magic user in our pairing. I laid my hand gently over hers and nodded to signal my readiness.

Isa’s voice ringed out over us. “Begin.”

Together, we chanted the words: “We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.”

The words tasted strange coming out of me. I wasn’t used to saying anything that included someone else. But the magic heard us.

Now it was time to see if it would listen.

Aster’s magic bloomed. Her eyes shifted like I remembered, no longer violet, but deep blue streaked with gold. Whirlpool eyes. Dangerous if I stared too long. Light shimmered across her arms in soft lavender, and her hair clung wetly to her shoulders, like the moisture in the air bowed to her presence.

The threads of her magic were elegant, like silk dancing on a current. She always made it look effortless. I doubted it was.

My silver aura sparked at my fingertips, thin lines running down my skin like veins forged in light. It shimmered over the surface of the ice, drawn to the calm strength of her Water magic. My breath caught as our energies twisted into each other, a silver and lavender ribbon threading into the lake.

We spoke the words together, quiet and steady.

We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.

Aster held my gaze as our magic began to pulse with shared intent. Her expression was now tight, focused. I hoped mine did not give away the knot of uncertainty forming in my gut.

I was trying. Harder than I ever had, pushing myself to find that thread of harmony.

My palm pressed flat against Aster’s. Her magic was graceful, flowing like silk through mine, but I struggled to match her rhythm. Aster’s aura shimmered lavender, elegant and steady. Mine pulsed silver and crackling. Our intent was aligned in words, but I could feel the mismatch. It was like trying to tune two instruments in a storm.

Still, the spell flared to life with Aster grounding our bound magics into the ice. For a moment I thought it would hold. We were close.

Isa stood nearby, a quiet storm cloaked in control. I could not read her power, but it pulsed within the ice. Veyn’s aural magic combined with hers. The two of them wielded their own Binding spell, with Isa grounding it in the lake.

Once Aster anchored our Binding, she let go of our casting, handing it over to Isa, who folded our magic into hers. With precision, the Grand Magister bound every elemental thread, from all of us, into one structure, a single Binding spell bound. When the spell pushed outward, reaching toward the strongest pocket of power within the lake, a quiet expectancy settled over the chamber.

It worked. At first. The lake did not reject us.

Our energy began to work over it, using the mass of the lake as the stabilizing anchor. The currents there were strong, vast, ancient. Not chaotic, but unmapped. And every time they touched my magic, I felt it like a vibration along metal. Unfamiliar, resonant, slightly hostile.

It was the largest concentration of raw power I had ever touched. More than anything we had worked with in our practicals, more than any alloy or spellbound circuit I had ever shaped.

Such power could make one heady with the rush. Did Chaos feel this way when they created the gods?

And I could not help but wonder what it would be like to shape this. To bind it, use it, wield it.

We were doing it. For one brief moment, it felt possible. Not because I believed in hope, but because this spell had to work. It was my only way out.

Then the air shifted.

A low rumble vibrated through the floor, and I blinked too late to register what was happening. The ice convulsed and it brightened with an intense rush of magic.

Rielle screamed, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the magic. Aster struggled to fight the surge of water slamming against the ice. Cracks spider-webbed across the surface.

A high snap rang out. Water exploded from the wall, a whip of liquid force tearing loose. Aster gasped. Her hand ripped away.

The water lashed out at me.

It hit with the power of a stone battering ram, steeling the breath from my yell. It battered against my chest like a hundred fists hitting all at once. The force threw me back. My spine cracked against the chamber wall. My head struck next.

Pain bloomed white. Sound rushed out of the world.

Somewhere far away, I heard Veyn shout to drop the spell. Mist cooled the edges of the chamber as I slid down the rock. Everything spun. Everything tilted. My fingers twitched, trying to hold onto my magic.

Then everything darkened.

Ringing.

That was the first thing. A shrill, endless hum scraping the inside of my skull. My eyes barely opened. Everything spun. I had no idea where I was. The chamber? The Seal. The spell.

I blinked again.

A shadow leaned over me, and I swore I heard Orivian’s voice. Muffled. A distant murmur through water and stone.

Then a cool rush spread across the back of my head and along my spine. The pain dulled, then dissolved completely. My eyesight cleared enough to recognize Isa. Her fingers hovered just above me, a trace of water trailing from her palm. She didn’t meet my eyes. Just finished the healing and stood.

I sat back against the wall, slow and unsteady. The chill of the stone seeped through my robes.

Then Orivian crouched beside me again. “Garnexis, how do you feel?”

I stared at him. “Piss off.”

His mouth opened, and a wounded expression crossed his face. An interesting look for his usual noble air. “I just... Even if you don’t want me, I’ll always care about you.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.” My voice was low, even. I didn’t have the energy to yell. But I meant it.

He lingered, like he might say more, but I turned away and pushed myself upright. My legs trembled but held. I was not going to lie on the floor while the rest of them stood and talked like any of this was normal.

Then I remembered Rielle’s scream and looked her.

Neir held her, but one sleeve of her robes and dress beneath was burned away.

I exhaled my relief to find her well.

The wall of ice still stood, riddled now with cracks. Halven was still in there. Still trapped. Still waiting.

Shara hovered near him, arms wrapped around her body. “He’s still trapped.”

Someone growled. Elio. “Why did fire come from the lake? They attacked with both Fire and Water.”

I looked to Isa for the answer. She didn’t open her mouth.

Ardorion looked up, his hands still faintly smoking. “I felt their Fire magic. Before. When we first came here.”

Would Isa finally tell us everything or would she continue with this evasiveness?

Now her lips parted but closed again.

Silence it would be.

Then Shara said, “What kind of magic do these entities even have?”

Isa sighed, quiet and full of frustration. “We failed. That’s all you need to know.”

Ardorion’s haired flared. “Why not tell us the truth?”

Isa crossed the space to the ice wall, trailing fingers across it. She sighed, quite audibly before turning back to us. “There are truths that are not my own to tell. I have no right to interfere in edicts of the gods.”

The gods?

I stared at the ice wall like it might blink back. Was that what we were dealing with? Gods? Or something close enough to make no difference?

I thought of the Firebird, trapped in a ruined building, burning with grief. He was a god. And he had warned us.

Take them. You need to keep them sleeping.

It hadn’t made sense before. Now it barely did. But maybe that was the point. We weren’t meant to understand, just act. Gods did not explain themselves to mortals. They expected obedience. And we had nothing left except to keep trying.

I didn’t like the idea of being anyone’s tool, especially not for gods. But I liked losing even less.

Ardorion spoke before I could. “What if Binding isn’t enough? What if we try Fusion too? To trap the entities’ magic before it can react? We create a containment with Fusion to control their magic, then try the Binding spell.”

Veyn and Isa shared a look. Isa straightened, some of her weariness replaced with resolve.

Veyn’s brow furrowed, his voice low and sharp when he spoke. “Isa, this is too dangerous. We nearly lost two of them already.”

Isa’s jaw tensed, but her tone stayed level. “Fusion may offer the stabilization we lacked. We will control it.”

“Control?” Neir stepped forward now, his voice sharper than steel. “You speak of control, but one student was nearly burned alive and the other crushed. This spell should not involve them at all. They should never have been here.”

I rubbed my chest at the memory of the water slapping me against the wall.

Isa turned to him fully. “They are my students, Neir. And I will not deny them this. Not when they came to save the one we failed to protect.”

“You’re risking them.”

“They know the risk,” Isa said, her voice gaining strength. “And if they choose to go on, I will allow it.”

Neir’s gaze flicked to Rielle, then darkened. His silence said more than any words.

Veyn blew out a breath, rubbing his forehead, then looked at Ardorion. “You believe this will work?”

Ardorion nodded.

Veyn sighed. “Fine. We try again. Three pairs for the Binding Spell. As before, Isa and I will add our magic to anchor the Binding on the entities. While Ardorion and...”

Aster,” Ardorion said. “We’ve practiced Fusion already, and the entities used both Water and Fire magic to attack us. Aster and I are perfect for combatting the attack with a containment made of our Fusion.”

Veyn nodded again, slower this time. “Ardorion and Aster will contain the entities’ magic through Fusion. We need to be careful. We cannot afford another collapse, for anyone to get hurt again. If the entities begin to fight back and make it through the Fusion containment, we drop the spell immediately.”

Isa lifted her voice above the soft murmurs that had started up again. “Choose the partner whose magic aligns best with yours. Trust is essential. Find the pair you can hold your intent with.”

I didn’t hesitate, cutting my hand through the air toward the Stone Dragon.

“I claim Elio,” I said, loud enough that it cut across whatever lingering thoughts anyone else had.

There was no reason to explain it, but my mind filled in the logic anyway. We had worked together before. Our Binding thread had held. The one I had with Aster collapsed. I wasn’t going to risk my life on uncertainty this time. Elio made sense. That was it.

I didn’t even think about Orivian.

He moved before I could brace for it, slamming his fist against the desk so hard it scattered papers to the floor. Then he turned on his heel and walked away from our incredulous looks, boots hitting stone like hammer falls.

The flare of heat in my chest was immediate.

He didn’t get to be angry. Not anymore. Who I chose to partner with was none of his business. That ended the moment I told him I was done.

I crossed my arms and called after him, voice dry as steel. “Really? Throwing tantrums now? Someone get the baby a blanket.”

A few of the others looked our way, but no one said anything. Not even Isa or Veyn. Elio, though. He tried not to smile, but he failed. Then he just waited for me to move beside him.

Which I did.

He leaned toward me, a little too close. “Why did you choose me, Garnexis?”

With two fingers, I pushed him back. “Yeah, not for that, so get rid of any romantic notions. You’re the only pairing that made sense to me because we worked well together before.”

Thoughtful, he slid back a step. “Let me know if your mind changes.”

My brow furrowed. He was serious. Objectively, he was a nice-looking man, but not my type.

Thinking of my type led to my gaze wandering, until I found Orivian.

He was back among us, Lo with him as his partner.

Good for them.

I swallowed any hint of jealousy.

Orivian was more than nice looking. I always thought he was too pretty to be a man, but it worked for him.

Realizing the direction of my thoughts, especially when Orivian caught me looking at him, I scowled and turned away.

Elio looked at me and gave a small nod, then angled his golden gaze forward, ready. As the stronger magic user, he placed his hand on the ice. I placed my hand over his, our fingers not interlaced but close enough to feel the strength behind his stillness. He did not flinch or make any untoward remark.

He never did, and I’d rather keep it that way. I liked his steady presence.

A flare of tension came from Elio’s other side. Orivian slapped his hand hit the ice with a loud snap, louder than necessary, his gaze on my hand over Elio’s.

I ignored him.

I did not need to waste any more time on him.

“Ready,” Elio asked.

I nodded.

Shared intent formed on our lips: “We bind this power to nature, our anchor. Let it hold what cannot be held. Let it steady what would shatter. Together.”

Magic moved instantly.

Silver light shimmered from my skin, arching toward the earth-brown glow radiating from Elio’s hand. Together, they coiled into the fractured ice, sliding along the cracks like molten metal poured into veins of stone. The thread pulsed with a warm green hue where Metal met Earth, rooting itself into the lakebed beneath the surface.

Elio’s aura was golden, glowing soft as sun-warmed rock. My silver glinted brighter in its reflection. On the other side of Elio, I felt Orivian’s fury like a second heat, but I focused forward. I was exactly where I belonged.

And at first, it felt like it might actually work.

The magic between Elio and me wasn’t just compatible. It was complementary. His Earth magic dug deep, steady and unmoving, while mine threaded through it like liquid steel, flexible but sharp, anchoring without resistance. Together, we carved through the ice, not with force, but with intent. The cracks softened beneath our spell, the glow of our thread pulsing in clean, even rhythm.

Further down the curve of the chamber, Ardorion and Aster moved in tandem, fire and water spiraling in careful circles. Their Fusion curled toward the base of the wall, rising and falling like a wave timed to breath.

Light flared and spread, magic weaving across the ice wall like veins under skin. Every strand arched toward Halven’s block, drawing into a single point like the entire spell had found its purpose. For the first time, the Binding held more solid than ever, glowing, clean.

Veyn lifted his hands, and I caught the shift in him immediately. Less tension. More control. The threads obeyed him, pulsing as they twisted toward the lake’s center. He didn’t flinch as he directed them deeper, right into the cold place where the power coiled thickest. The entities. A green-gold shimmer pulsed around him, steady, syncing with the magic as he pressed forward.

Isa moved at the same time. She stepped in closer to Halven, planting both hands on the ice just beside him. Her magic, both Air and Water, tight and cold, spiraled around her wrists. I couldn’t read her spell, but it looked like she was taking something apart. Peeling away the old spell that had kept Halven frozen in place. The ice shifted beneath her palms. A thin crack split the frost like brittle glass.

Behind them, Neir joined the wall.

He crossed the space without a word, steady and focused, and pressed both hands flat against the ice. Moonlight pulsed across his skin, flaring in a sharp blast of silvery-white light. Another spell took shape, subtle but powerful. None of us could read it, not really. Only Rielle might have been able to understand what it was. But we knew what it was meant to do. Neir was putting the entities back to sleep, coaxing them into silence like a predator pressing a knife to the throat of something wild.

I had seen powerful casters before. Veyn. Isa. Even Orivian when he was not too busy being insufferable. But Neir’s casting was something else entirely. Like the lake answered to him.

The chamber dimmed slightly. The glow around Halven’s ice faded from bright to muted. Not gone. Just shifting. The ice didn’t fully release him, not yet, but the aura that had imprisoned him dulled to a soft sheen. His fingers twitched.

Altogether, our magic was holding this time. It was working.

For a moment, I thought maybe this time we would win.

And then...

The ice shifted.

Not from magic.

From pressure.

I felt it through Elio’s hand, the tension rising like a breath held too long. The fissures along the wall stopped sealing. Then they pulsed. Once. Then again.

Deep tremors in the wall of ice beneath my palm, felt before we saw them. The glowing threads we had worked so hard to form erratically shivering, bending unnaturally.

Then the screaming started.

It wasn’t human.

The sounds rose from deep inside the lake, threading through the cracks like smoke. High and discordant. It filled the chamber, scraping over my bones like iron dragged across stone. My breath caught. The magic in the room surged.

Fractures multiplied. First hairline. Then wider, filled with jagged lines of fire, boiling the lake. Water welled in tiny streams, crawling out from the deepest parts of the wall and sliding down in slow, wet trails. I tightened my hand on Elio’s, grounding myself. But even his calm, sun-drenched energy could not steady the storm boiling in the lake.

The Fusion magic Ardorion and Aster had built cracked under the pressure, a delicate weave bending at too many points. They trembled. Their balance failing.

Then one scream tore through the others. Higher. Harsher. Like someone had ripped the sky open. The sound hit my spine like a blade, echoing off the walls with the weight of gods dying all at once. I flinched as the air split open, a pressure surge punching out from the ice. Fire. Water. Moon. Tangled and violent. None of it balanced.

I braced, but it didn’t matter. My magic cracked under the force.

Aster cried out.

The Binding threads flickered. Then the ice wall exploded in a lattice of new cracks.

Isa’s urgent voice broke through the chaos. “Break the spell! Break it now!”

Elio pulled his hand from the ice instantly. I tried to pull mine from his, but the magic clung to my skin. The anchor resisted. I gasped, finally managing to sever my line.

Then Neir stepped forward, hands raised.

A dome of Gravity magic erupted outward, shimmering over the ice wall like a second skin. The backlash surge from the lake slammed into it. The sound was deafening. The shield buckled and Neir dropped to one knee, shaking with the strain. He grimaced, and I knew he was holding the entities’ attack and the entire lake back on his own.

Rielle shifted between us. Still visibly shaken from the pain of the first attempt. And yet she moved anyway. Quietly, she dropped to her knees beside Neir and placed her hands on his back as she leaned into him.

I couldn’t hear what she said. Maybe no one could.

Her magic shimmered around her in that soft, silvery way it always did. Moonlight made flesh. Her eyes caught the glow, turning opal and strange, like they belonged to something far older. That magic flowed from her into him, smooth and controlled. No hesitation.

I recognized the spell immediately. Transference. One of the first things we were taught at the Academy. A way to hand over your magic to the more experienced faculty as a means of control. Like when a spell demanded more than you had and you needed protection.

Rielle gave up her magic, giving Neir control.

I could never do that. No one would ever control me or my magic.

But Neir’s barrier flared brighter with Rielle’s power. It held.

But behind them, Isa stumbled.

She didn’t fall, but she might have. Her skin had gone pale, her hair sticking to her forward. Her hands were still casting, but her movements had slowed, her arms trembling. She was trying to seal the lake while Neir held it back.

Aster didn’t wait. She crossed the chamber and placed her palm on Isa’s shoulder. The moment her Water magic slipped into Isa’s control, the room responded. Frost exploded up from the base of the wall. Not delicate, but brutal and effective.

The cracks stopped growing.

Blue light filled every edge and froze them in place.

Lo moved next, stepping forward and offering her Air magic to Isa without a word.

Then Shara. She went straight to Veyn. No ceremony, just a hand to his arm and a subtle shift in the air. Her Wood magic, so different from mine, curved toward his aura and disappeared into it.

One after another, my classmates gave everything they had left.

I stood still.

Metal had no match in the elders. Orivian could do nothing, and neither could I. Not with that kind of spellwork. We weren’t needed, not for this part.

So I just stood there and watched them all carry the final weight of the spell.

If it worked, we would survive. The entire Academy would survive.

Even if we lost Halven.

The light inside Halven’s ice block had gone dull. The shape had warped too, melted unevenly from all the pressure. His face was contorted in pain, sharp enough that I had to look away for a beat.

Then Lo gasped, her magic sparking like a struck nerve. “They’re killing him. Trying to strip him of his magic.”

Isa didn’t snap at her. Didn’t even hesitate. Her voice came rough, worn thin by everything we had already been through. “Not for long.”

With both of Aster and Lo’s continued support, their magic flowing into Isa, the Grand Magister straightened. She closed her eyes and started a new Binding spell.

Veyn was already in motion too, stepping forward to take Shara’s hand. Their magic met in a sudden pulse, Wood threading straight into the woven layers Isa was building to support the Binding magic. They murmured their intent in low voices, quiet but deliberate.

The Binding spell took shape again, threads glimmering faintly as they rebuilt the ice. The cracks sealed. Halven’s body eased back into stillness. The tension in his face softened just enough to make my lungs loosen.

Barely.

Light twisted back into the shell encasing Halven, slow but steady.

Then most of it faded, leaving a soft light emanating from Wintermere and the flickering torches.

Only the low hum of residual magic remained in the air, like embers after a fire. The cold returned, sharper than before. Mist pooled at the edges of the chamber.

I took a breath and finally leaned back.

My skin buzzed. My arms ached. I looked over at Elio, who gave me the smallest nod. His forehead gleamed with sweat. Even he looked drained. Rielle roused from a faint after Neir had released her magic, but Neir held on to her. Ardorion stood beside Aster, his fire completely gone, replaced by a stunned stillness. And Veyn held Shara’s hand.

The wall was intact again. Halven was still trapped. But nothing had changed.

A silence stretched through the space.

The cold had sunk in deep. Not just the chill from the ice, but the kind that came from losing too much, too fast. From paying for something you didn’t even get.

Someone whispered near the wall. I didn’t catch it all. Just pieces. Questions. Uncertainty. One voice asked if Halven would be okay. Another wondered if we should find more magic users. Then softer still—“Can we even save him?”

I didn’t have the answer. None of us did.

Shara pulled away from Veyn and paced toward Halven, sharp and restless, the color high in her cheeks. “We accomplished nothing!”

No one argued. Because she was right.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t move.

We just looked at the boy trapped in the ice.

Halven. Our friend. The one we were supposed to save.

Isa turned toward us, her face pale, her eyes heavy. “We’ve done what we could—”

“What did we do exactly?” Lo asked, voice tight and shaking. Her hands balled at her sides. Tears streak her cheeks.

Isa looked at her but didn’t flinch. “Some things are just more powerful than what we have the ability to control. This is one of those things.”

Her words slammed into my chest.

That answer didn’t sit right with any of us.

“I can’t accept that,” Rielle whispered. Her voice trembled but the words didn’t.

“You don’t have to,” someone said.

But it wasn’t Isa. Or Veyn. Or any of us.

The mist near the door shifted, curling inward like it had been summoned. It moved differently, like it wasn’t just making space but yielding.

A figure stepped through it.

A woman. If you could call her that.

She wasn’t solid. Not fully. She had form, yes, but it was like looking at a reflection in ice during a blizzard. Bare feet. Skin like ice touched by starlight. Nearly transparent. She was a blue wraith, a ghost that both moved the mist and allowed the mist to move through her.

And the cold that came with her wasn’t natural. It made my teeth ache. Made the air press against my lungs like a stone wall.

The Kōri-onna.

Every instinct in me lit up at once. Danger. Death magic.

Her voice slid into the room like a blade sheathed in silk. “I can help you. But someone will die.”