We must find Halven.

Or the very least, find out what happened to him.

No one is talking about his disappearance, but something is not right.

I arrived to the Academy of Harmony & Magic in Nivara Hall the day before classes started.

I had barely unpacked my satchel when Ardorion tossed his cloak onto his bed like it owed him money and said, “We should check on Aster. Maybe her face will finally crack if we ask the right question.”

I gave him a look, but I could not deny the idea made sense. I could tell he felt the same about finding Halven. We all had our own relationship with the Air Fae.

Halven had been my best friend. There was something tempered in him. He'd been born during the Galestone Wars, shaped by that chaos, even if he rarely spoke of it. There was steel in him, peaceful, but never passive. He’d survived things others didn’t, and not just because of talent. There was heart in him, and grit.

Halven vanishing without a word was not right. His entire quad seemed too quiet, and now that we were all back at Goldspire, it felt wrong not to follow up. I glanced toward Rielle, who was smoothing the corner of her blanket with fingers far too calm. That alone told me how shaken she really was.

“Maybe we should go,” I said, soft but certain. “Rielle, would you want to? I mean, you and Halven were close once.”

More than close. Rielle and Halven had often hidden beneath her blankets amid giggles and sighs. I could only imagine the kisses they shared. I haven’t kissed anyone since... Not since Veyn left me, and everyone in Nythral, two years ago.

Rielle’s smile was polite but didn’t reach her eyes. She had broken up with Halven sometime over the summer break. “I’m not sure.”

Still, she came with us—myself, Ardorion, and Garnexis.

Goldspire Tower held all the second-years, and Halven’s quad was just across the hall from ours. Familiar stone, same high arched doorways, but stepping into their space felt colder somehow. Aster was the only one there, arms folded, eyes like polished frost. She didn’t stop us from entering, but she didn’t invite us in either.

Ardorion crossed the threshold and leaned dramatically against the doorframe, like he owned the place, arms folded and voice full of heat.

“Well, look who decided to keep the icicle throne warm while the rest of us were actually worried,” he said, eyes locking onto Aster.

Aster stood near the window in the main room, half in shadow, half washed in cold morning light. She didn’t move. She didn’t even blink.

And she was beautiful. Not in the loud, obvious way Ardorion liked to pretend he hated, but in the kind of way that made you go silent before you realized why. Her skin shimmered like wet stone, textured in a way that looked sculpted, not born. Like other full fae, her hair moved. Long pale blue strands clung to her shoulders like snowmelt clinging to a cliff face.

Her eyes were the most startling part. Deep violet and glowing faintly, like moonlight seen through ice. You could drown in eyes like that. Maybe Ardorion already had.

She gave him a flat look. “And look who decided to speak without thinking. Again.”

Ardorion gave her a grin that was more fire than smile. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be calm and collected, you’re awfully quick with the frostbite.”

She rolled her eyes. “Forgive me if I’m not impressed by theatrics in leather and flame.”

“Oh, come on,” Ardorion said, stepping inside now when Rielle pushed him forward. “Just admit you missed me.”

“I missed the silence more.”

“Forgive me if I thought maybe you’d stopped pretending you didn’t care.”

“I care,” she said evenly. “I just don’t shout about it like a Summer Fae with something to prove.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. It was always like this with the two of them. Sarcasm as second language, veiled insults as affection. Part of me wondered if they even realized how tangled their words had become.

While they traded heat and ice, I walked into Halven’s room and let my eyes wander around. It was too neat. Too preserved. Halven’s bed was still made, his writing desk was stacked with books arranged by subject. A woven bracelet sat folded on a corner shelf, untouched. The air felt suspended, like the space hadn’t exhaled since he left.

Then I saw it, something barely visible, half-tucked beneath the bed. A flash of pale paper, warped and curling at the edge.

I stepped forward, crouching slowly so I didn’t startle anyone.

“Guys,” I said, holding it up, “I found something.”

Everyone gathered around, and I read the smeared ink aloud. The words were panicked, fragmented. Something about an Emberglyph. Something about voices. And then the line that stopped my breath: “Do not trust—” followed by a wash of water damage.

My fingers trembled.

“We should copy this,” Garnexis said. “Create one for all of us.”

Before I could answer, someone new entered the quad and with a booming voice, yelled, “Ardorion!”

Elio. A Stone Dragon. He was one of Halven and Aster’s quadmates. We all turned to him. He gave us a wide smile. “Hey, strangers.”

Elio was sunlight in motion. Ardorion lit up immediately, matching his intensity. They slapped shoulders like long-lost brothers. It was ridiculous.

They bantered for a while, catching up, while Elio mentioned that Lo, their last quadmate, had gone back to the Spring Quadrant to speak with Halven’s adoptive parents.

Aster stayed near the window. She finally spoke again, voice quiet but edged. “I’ve brought this to Lady Isa. Told her it’s not natural, this disappearance. She brushed me off.”

Her eyes met mine for the briefest second. There was a tremble there. Not weakness, just something unraveling.

I pressed the journal page closer to my chest.

When we left, the others split off. I went back to my room in our quad, but could not sleep. No matter how much I prayed to my goddess for a full night’s sleep before the first day of classes, before facing Veyn again, who had returned as a full professor without a single word to me, I lay awake until dawn.