Professor Veyn’s voice carried through the room, smooth and composed as ever. Even though I tried to focus on his instructions, I felt the familiar prickle run down my arms. His presence did that sometimes. Not because of who he was to me—he wasn’t anything to me—but because of what he meant to Shara. I could feel her tense beside me, even before I turned to her.

Professor Veyn read the midterm practical instructions, mentioning we needed to pair up.

I looked at Shara. We didn’t need to say it. Of course we’d partner. She was my oak tree when I’d broken up with Halven.

“Together?” she said softly.

I gave a nod and slid my stool a little closer.

“Let’s start with a young plant and see what we can do.” She eyed a baby flower sitting on the windowsill.

My gaze drifted to the clay pot. Its petals hadn’t opened yet, the closed bloom still curled up against the light. It would do.

Shara stood and fetched it without a word. She set it down between us, her fingers brushing a leaf with practiced ease.

“So,” I asked, “what’s the plan?”

“I’ll coax the flower to grow. Simple growth spell,” she said, her eyes still on the plant. “You’ll bend the sunlight around it. Wrap it in light. We focus on the same outcome. To make it grow faster”

My mouth twitched with a small smile. “Same intent. Coordinated steps.”

She nodded. “Right, just like Veyn said. Choreography.”

The simplicity of it made me nervous. Not because the spell itself was difficult—I’d bent light before—but because it required us to be completely in sync. Not just in timing but in purpose. I wasn’t sure I was very good at that.

We sat in silence for a breath before closing our eyes.

I took a steadying inhale and pulled my awareness inward, into the space where my ancestors’ knowledge stirred like fog at the edges of thought. The light of my magic shimmered deep within my soul. The thrum of whispers and power pulsed, but sometime the beat was too faint to catch, too dim for me to draw on my magic or to draw on very much of it, too soft for me to hear the spells from my ancestors.

I was told it was because I was a hybrid, only half a Moon Fae. My human half suppressed my magic in many ways.

But this time it responded. It was gentle and cold like the winter sun. My people had always used light and shadows as both shield and weapon. But never quite like this.

When I opened my eyes, a copper glow shimmered over Shara. It wove around her fingers like vines, steady and warm. My own magic pooled in a soft silver mist, curling over my palms and drifting like low clouds. Light gathered behind me, carrying the pulse of my magic, and sunlight bent toward my fingertips.

Shara looked at me. We nodded once, together.

She began her spell first, whispering in that low, focused voice that never shook. The flower responded immediately, its stem stretching upward, the petals beginning to shift.

I eased the light forward. It touched the bloom delicately, then began to wrap around it in slow circles. The moment it fully enclosed the flower, something changed. The petals sprang open with a quiet rush. The whole bloom glowed faintly, the silver of my magic reflecting in its center.

We both leaned forward, breath held. My excitement spiked through the air, adding to the pulse of my magi, and with it, the flower began to glow. Silver, bright, brilliant. For a heartbeat, it looked like something enchanted.

But I didn’t mean to get so excited.

I wanted to see what more we could do. What else might happen if we let it keep going. That intention slipped into my magic like a spark into dry grass.

And the binding broke.

The silver light dimmed. The flower stopped glowing, the silver light fading. We both let go, pulling back instinctively. But the bloom remained open, larger than it had been, its color more vibrant than before.

“You succeeded,” came Veyn’s voice, startling me. I hadn’t realized how close he was.

He stepped beside us, his attention shifting between the flower and our hands. “You bound your magic. Two distinct elements. Shared intent. And the moment that intent shifted—” he looked at me “—the spell collapsed.”

My cheeks burned. “I wanted to see what else it could do. I didn’t mean to shift the focus.”

He nodded. “But you did. And the outcome changed. That is the nature of a binding. Intent is everything.”

I stared at the flower, surprised it hadn’t reverted to its earlier state. It was still fully grown, still blooming. The change was real. Lasting.

“So the magic leaves its mark,” Shara said quietly.

Veyn looked at Shara, heat in his gaze. “Yes.”

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. She wasn’t looking at the flower. She was looking at him. Her expression was unreadable, too many things wrapped beneath the surface. But I knew that look. I’d seen it too many times. I knew what he meant to her.

And I knew how much it must have hurt to feel his magic in that ice.

My thoughts drifted to Neir, but I pushed them away.

Shara’s voice stayed soft, and I felt the weight behind it. She was always so composed, but right now, her quiet hurt was louder than any of us.

Whatever this binding was, it wasn’t just about magic.

It was about trust.

And that, more than anything, was what we were all starting to lose.

I just prayed that Neir was not involved with Halven’s imprisonment, even if I felt his magic in Wintermere.

With midterms nearly done, it was time I found Neir and talked to him face to face, and not in my dreams where words always fell away and our lips met for more kisses than questions.