The golden light of morning streams through the arched windows of the dorm’s room, scattering across the worn stone floor in patches of warmth. Sleep evaded me last night, slipping through my fingers like water. Restless thoughts of Alira and the fractured memories of her laughter with our mother gnawed at me in the still darkness. Waking each day knowing she was not here made me feel helpless, no word of her made me scared with thoughts. Then there was the lake, that can lead me to one step closer. The place Sylvie spoke of. A thread of hope—fragile, but enough to cling to.

  Lucas is still sprawled in his bed, one arm hanging over the edge as faint snores rise from his throat. He came back late last night, muttering about some escapade. I didn’t care to ask. Across the room, Valen sits near the window, the morning light catching the ember-red strands of his hair as he reads. His expression is as composed as ever, the faint movements of his lips the only sign he’s alive. He doesn’t speak as I pass, and I don’t disturb him with his book.

  The common room is bustling, but quietly so. A cluster of students gathers around the large oak table at the center, sorting through a pile of letters that sits like a small hill of parchment. The rustle of paper, the occasional whisper of excitement or disappointment—it fills the space in a way that feels oddly distant. This is the last day before the semester begins. For most, it’s a day of relief and final preparation. For me, it feels like a deadline.

  I spot Rowan and Alina at the far side of the table, their heads bent as they sift through the pile. Rowan’s messy brown hair is even more chaotic than usual, but his sharp eyes light up as he plucks two sealed letters from the stack. Straightening, he catches sight of me and breaks into a grin.

  “Einar!” he calls, his voice cutting through the murmurs. He waves one of the letters in his hand. “Look what we’ve got—one’s for you! Father must’ve sent something.” His tone carries a cheer I can’t match.

  He strides over, holding out the envelope. The wax seal catches my eye immediately: the sigil of a wolf howling at the moon. House Thorvald. Rowan’s family. A small flicker of hope stirs in my chest, though I keep my expression neutral. Lord Thorvald promised to help me find Alira, to rally what little support he could from the council. Perhaps this letter holds something—anything—that can lead me closer to her.

  I take the envelope from Rowan with a faint nod of thanks. My fingers slide under the seal, breaking it cleanly. The parchment inside is thick, and the ink is bold, written with a practiced hand. Rowan, naturally nosy, peers over my shoulder. I let him. It doesn’t matter who reads this—what matters is what it says.

  * * *

  Einar,

  I’ve received word from the school confirming your and Rowan’s acceptance. I’ve taken care of all the formalities and tuition for your first year, as promised. But you’re both men now, and you’ll need to find a way to support yourselves beyond this. Use your time wisely.

  Now to the matter you care about most: your sister. I regret to inform you that the council meeting where I’d hoped to raise concerns about the rouge sorcerers in my territory has been postponed.

  I’ve written to neighboring lords near the border towns, sharing her description and warning of dark forces activity. Most replies were unhelpful, but one caught my attention. Lord Brenn of Atherstone mentioned seeing suspicious figures in his town: Five individuals, including a girl matching Alira’s appearance. They were accompanied by two shadow guards bearing the sigil of House Valar.

  The group was last seen leaving Atherstone on the 28th of the Second Moon, just before you left for Thresha. I fear Valars may be involved, but this complicates matters. If they are involved, I fear there is little anyone can do. Their power is unmatched in the south, and no house will risk opposing them for one little girl.

  Stay strong, Einar. For now, I can do no more.

  Eldric Thorvald

  Lord of Duskmoore Haven

  * * *

  The letter hangs heavy in my hands. The words blur as I reread them, the weight of each syllable pressing against my chest like a stone. House Valar. The name is poison. It carries power, cruelty, and the stench of blood. My mind fills with the memory of my mother, her defiant stance, the fire in her eyes as she faced the attackers that day. The ones who took Alira.

  The common room fades around me as I move to the sofa by the fireplace. I lower myself into the worn cushions, my hands trembling as I hold the letter over the flames. The edges curl and blacken, the words consumed by fire. The sigil of House Thorvald melts into nothing, its faint impression fading into ash.

  “Stay strong vixen…” My voice is low, barely audible over the crackling flames.

  Rowan, who’s been hovering behind me, steps closer. “What did it say?” he asks, his usual cheer replaced by quiet concern.

  I glance at him, the words tasting bitter as I say them aloud. “She’s alive. But she’s with House Valar.”

  Rowan flinches, his face paling. He doesn’t need me to explain. Everyone knows what House Valar is capable of.

  “That’s... not good,” he says finally, his voice hesitant. “Einar, if the Valars have her—”

  “They killed my mother, Rowan.” My voice sharpens, my crimson eyes locking onto his. “I know better what they could do with her.”

  He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, uncertainty written across his face. He shifts uncomfortably, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “You can’t just... charge into this. You’ll get yourself killed.”

  “Maybe.” I stand abruptly, brushing past him. The air in the common room feels suffocating, the walls pressing in on me. “But I can’t do nothing.”

  Alina’s voice cuts through the tension, soft but steady. “Einar.” She steps closer, her hazel eyes searching my face. “What’s going on?”

  I don’t answer immediately. My gaze flickers to the letter still in her hand. “What about you? What did your letter say?”

  She hesitates, clearly torn, but finally says, “It’s from my mother. She’s... proud of me, I suppose. Happy I got into Zenith.” Her tone is light, but there’s an undertone of something heavier. Then she lifts the second letter in her hand. “But this one’s for you. No seal, no name of sender. Just your name on it.”

  My brow furrows as I take the letter. The paper feels rough, and the handwriting inside is hurried, and uneven. The words make my stomach twist.

  * * *

  Dear brother,

  I don’t know if you’ll ever receive this, but I have to try. I’m alive. For now atleast. I’m being held at Devil’s Gate, in the Kaals. The one who took me is Islar Valar, Head of House Valar. He claims it’s for some grand cause, but I don’t trust his words or his actions.

  Ma fought for me that day. She was magnificent, brother. I didn’t know her beautiful magic could be so terrifying. She protected me until the end. I wish I could say I had the chance to mourn her, but they gave me no peace. They beat me whenever I cried or asked for food. I thought about giving up so many times. But the thought of you kept me alive.

  There’s someone else here. A woman. She’s not with the Valars from the time we have spent together. She’s something else entirely, more powerful than anyone we have seen or read. She saved me, but she’s... different. She awakens something inside me with one drop of her blood, she calls it: the Flame Essence. She’s teaching me old magic. Yes, you read correctly. Old magic, just like what you have. You have thunder, while I have flames.

  I’ll survive, brother. I promise. And when we meet again, I’ll be stronger. You should too, don’t want to kick your ass very easily.

  Your little vixen

  * * *

  My hands tremble as I finish the letter. Each word is a punch to the gut, raw and heavy, but there’s relief buried in the chaos. Tears blur my vision, hot streaks that fall silently down my face. For the first time in days, I feel something other than despair—a faint flicker of hope. She’s alive. Alira is alive. And she’s fighting. And if she’s still fighting, then so will I.

  “Einar...” Rowan’s voice is quieter than usual, breaking through the suffocating weight of the moment. I hadn’t noticed him move closer, but now his hand rests on my shoulder, steadying me in a way he doesn’t even realize. “What did she say?”

  I fold the letter carefully, as if it’s made of glass, slipping it into the inner pocket of my coat. “My sister,” I say, my voice low but firmer this time. “She’s alive.” The words hang in the air, carrying the faintest tremor of strength.

  “And safe,” I add, glancing at Rowan. “At least, from what she claims.”

  Alina, who’s been quietly watching, leans forward now, her hazel eyes sharp and resolute. “Your sister?” she asks, her voice carefully measured. “The one who was... taken?”

  Rowan doesn’t let the silence linger. His brow furrows as he crosses his arms. “What if it’s a trap?” he asks cautiously, his voice dropping. “To make you believe she’s safe? To throw you off?”

  “It’s her handwriting,” I answer firmly, my gaze locked on Rowan. “She used to write in a hurry, always rushing. Mother used to scold her for it. And...” My voice softens, the faintest flicker of a bittersweet smile brushing my lips. “Vixen. She called herself a vixen in the letter. That’s what I used to call her—a fox. It’s her, Rowan. I know it.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Alina tilts her head, her auburn hair catching the sunlight spilling through the windows. “Then it’s true,” she says, her voice soft but resolute. “She’s safe.”

  I nod, the weight of it all settling deep in my chest. But safety is a fragile thing, and Alira’s words won’t mean anything until I see her with my own eyes. Until I can pull her out of whatever hell she’s in.

  I nodded, standing abruptly. “I need some air.”

  Rowan starts to protest, but Alina touches his arm, stopping him. They watch me as I push open the door and step into the dim corridors.

  The cool morning breeze hit me as I stepped outside in the backyard, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. I looked toward the distant forest, the thought of the lake burning in my mind. Control. Strength. Those are what I need if I’m ever going to face House Valar. If I’m ever going to save her.

  She may say she’s safe, but words on paper aren’t enough to calm me. Not until I see her with my own eyes. Not until I can hear her voice again, unbroken and real.

  The backyard is quiet, cloaked in the stillness that only early mornings seem to hold. A faint breeze whispers through the statues lining the edges, their weathered faces cast in shadow beneath the arched bridge leading toward the forest. Dew clings to the wooden planks, making them slick underfoot as I cross. Ahead, three paths branch outward like veins on a leaf.

  The left path cuts toward the plains, where wild grasses sway in the breeze—a place where students often test their spells in open air. The right veers toward the distant town across the sea, its rooftops barely visible in the morning haze. But it’s the center path I take, the one plunging into the forest’s dense, brooding embrace.

  The trees rise like sentinels, their trunks thick and gnarled, crowned with a canopy so dense that only fractured slivers of sunlight pierce through. The forest seems to breathe, each step muffled by the thick layer of damp moss and fallen leaves carpeting the ground. The scent of wet earth mingles with something sharper—herbs, perhaps, or wildflowers hidden among the underbrush.

  The air grows colder as I push deeper. The forest holds a quiet, ominous weight that presses against my senses. It’s not just silence. It’s a void, as if the woods themselves are holding their breath.

  I tread carefully, my boots crunching softly against gravel and roots. Sylvie said the lake lies on the forest's edge, far from its heart, but the path isn’t well-marked. It winds and twists like a snake, weaving between towering oaks and shrubs that claw at my legs. A faint mist curls along the forest floor, swirling around my ankles as I walk.

  Ahead, the trail forks abruptly, one path curving to the left. I hesitate, my hand instinctively brushing against the wand at my belt. The left path feels... right. A faint pull tugs at me, urging me forward.

  Then, a sound.

  It’s subtle at first—a rustle of leaves, too deliberate to be the wind. I stop, scanning the shadows. My breath fogs faintly in the air as I listen. Another rustle. This time, it’s followed by hushed voices.

  “Alina,” I call, my voice low but cutting through the stillness. “What are you doing here?”

  The bushes to my right shudder before Alina emerges, dragging Rowan behind her by his sleeve. Her auburn hair glows faintly in the fractured sunlight, a contrast to Rowan’s disheveled mess of brown.

  “Told you to be quiet,” she hisses at him, though her lips twitch with the hint of a smile.

  Rowan stumbles forward, brushing dirt off his coat. “Why do we have to creep around like this?” he mutters, his tone more annoyed than apologetic.

  I fold my arms and arch an eyebrow. “That’s what I’d like to know. Why are you both here?”

  Rowan points at Alina. “Don’t look at me. She dragged me along.”

  Alina elbows him sharply in the ribs, earning a wince. “He’s your friend,” she snaps, though her tone softens slightly. “You saw the look on his face after that letter. You think it’s fine to just let him go off alone?”

  Rowan rubs his side, grumbling, “You’re just curious about what he’s up to.”

  “Maybe I am,” she retorts, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Then, turning to me, she softens. “But I’m right, aren’t I? You weren’t exactly heading out for a stroll, were you?”

  I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m going to the lake,” I admit. “Asked Sylvie about it yesterday, but I’ve been walking in circles trying to find the damn thing.”

  Alina’s face lights up with a sudden smile, her earlier annoyance melting away. “Oh, I know where it is! Sera showed it to me last week. It’s not far.”

  Rowan raises an eyebrow. “Where is she, anyway? Haven’t seen her—or Lyssa—all morning.”

  Alina shrugs as she begins walking down the left path. “Probably off exploring. You know how they are. They like their space.”

  I hesitate for a moment before following her lead, Rowan trailing behind with an exaggerated sigh.

  The lake wasn’t deep within the forest, as I’d expected. It sat at its very edge, where the trees began to thin, giving way to open skies. If I’d taken a different path or walked along the forest’s border, I might have found it on my own. The terrain sloped gently downward, the grass growing longer and wilder as we approached.

  The lake itself was small but pristine, its waters so clear they reflected the pale blue of the sky like polished glass. The air was colder here, biting against my skin. I could feel it—not just the chill, but the energy. It thrummed faintly in the air, brushing against my senses like an unseen hand. This place was alive in a way the rest of the forest wasn’t.

  Rowan and Alina stayed back as I approached the shore, their voices fading into the background. I knelt by the water, the cold seeping through my trousers as I crossed my legs and sat. Closing my eyes, I reached inward, seeking the tangled storm of energy that pulsed within me.

  At first, it was calm. The chaos that usually clawed at the edges of my mind was still, as if the lake’s presence alone was enough to soothe it. I exhaled slowly, letting the outside world fade. My essence responded, coiling and uncoiling like a serpent. This was the first time it hadn’t fought me immediately, and I allowed myself a moment of relief.

  But then, something shifted.

  The energy around me seeped in, drawn to my essence like a moth to a flame. At first, it was subtle—just a faint pressure, like the weight of a hand on my shoulder. But it grew quickly, the foreign energy wrapping around my own, feeding it. My heart raced as I felt the balance slip.

  The first flicker came from my hands—a faint spark of red lightning, barely visible. Then another, stronger this time, accompanied by a low crackle. The air around me grew heavy, the cold biting deeper.

  “Einar?” Rowan’s voice broke through the haze, hesitant.

  I clenched my teeth, trying to hold it back, but the energy swelled. My essence devoured it greedily, like a beast starving for too long. The sparks turned to arcs, jumping between my fingers with a sound like snapping twigs.

  The first pulse hit the ground, leaving a charred patch of blackened grass. The second sent a ripple through the air, making the long grass around me shudder. The smell of ozone thickened, sharp and electric, mingling with the faint scent of burning flesh. My flesh.

  Pain seared through my arms as the lightning coursed wildly, tearing through my control. My uniform began to smolder, the edges curling and blackening as the red arcs danced across the fabric. I gasped, the air burning in my throat, and doubled over.

  “Einar!” Rowan shouted, closer now.

  “Stay back!” I managed through gritted teeth, my voice strained. But he didn’t listen.

  The lightning lashed out as he reached me, a wild arc catching him in the chest and throwing him backward. He hit the ground with a thud, groaning as Alina ran to his side.

  She hesitated, her fear written plainly on her face as her wide hazel eyes darted between me and Rowan. “Einar, stop!” she cried, her voice trembling.

  “I can’t!!” The words tore out of me, raw and pained.

  The ground beneath me was scorched black, the grass reduced to brittle ash. Pulses of red lightning lashed out from my body in erratic arcs, snapping against the surrounding trees and leaving charred marks in their wake. My arms burned, the skin raw and cracked as tendrils of crimson thunder coiled around them, refusing to dissipate. The smell of burning flesh hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sharp, metallic tang of ozone. I clenched my jaw, trying to muffle the scream building in my throat, but the pain was relentless, searing into my very bones.

  Every muscle in my body strained, locked in an endless battle against the storm raging within me. My knees dug into the dirt as I curled forward, clutching at the earth beneath me like it could somehow anchor me, somehow stop the chaos tearing me apart. Each pulse sent a fresh wave of agony through my chest, and every exhale was a ragged, shallow gasp. The world around me blurred, the edges of my vision fading into a dark haze, but I could still hear them.

  “Einar!” Rowan’s voice, panicked and raw, cut through the crackling thunder. His footsteps thudded against the ground as he took another step closer.

  “Rowan, stop!” Alina’s voice followed, sharp and trembling with fear. “You can’t go near him. He’d kill you.”

  “What are you saying? He needs help!” Rowan barked back, his voice filled with desperation. I could hear his resolve, his sheer stubbornness, even through the static that filled my ears.

  The lightning lashed out again, striking the ground just inches from him. He stumbled back, shielding his face with his arms as the blast kicked up dirt and embers.

  “Rowan!” Alina screamed, grabbing his arm. “Don’t you see? It’s not just his magic—it’s him! He’s losing control. You’ll only make it worse!”

  I wanted to shout at them, to tell them both to run, to get as far away from me as they could, but the words wouldn’t come. My throat was too tight, my chest too heavy. Another pulse of energy ripped through me, and this time I couldn’t hold back the scream. It tore from my lips, raw and guttural, echoing through the trees.

  Rowan hesitated. For the first time, I heard fear in his voice as he spoke. “Alina, we can’t just stand here! He’s—”

  A sudden voice, calm but commanding, cut through the chaos. “Stay back. Both of you.”

  It wasn’t Rowan or Alina. It was someone else.

  I barely registered the sound of footsteps, light and quick, approaching from behind me. Through the haze of pain and static, I felt a warm presence that cut through the cold, a light that pushed back against the suffocating darkness swirling around me.

  The woman knelt beside me, unflinching as the arcs of red lightning snapped at her. They danced across her silver hair, catching briefly before fading harmlessly, as if her very presence nullified them. Her hands, gentle but firm, cradled my head, lifting it from the scorched ground and resting it in her lap.

  Her touch was cool, soothing against the searing heat of my skin. I forced my eyes open, the effort monumental, and through the blur of tears and pain, I saw her face.

  She was… crying? Her crystal-blue eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared down at me with an expression that was equal parts anguish and relief. Her silver hair framed her face like a halo, strands of it glowing faintly in the dim light of the forest.

  I didn’t know her. And yet... I did.

  “You…” I whispered, the words slipping from my lips unbidden. My voice was a rasp, barely audible over the crackling energy that still surged around us.

  Her tears spilled over, tracing silent paths down her cheeks as she cupped my face in her hands. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice breaking.

  Her words were a balm, soothing the storm within me. For a moment, the pain lessened, the chaos quieted. The world faded into a soft haze, her presence the only thing anchoring me. I raised a trembling hand, my fingers brushing against her cheek. Her skin was soft, warm, and real.

  “Is it... really you?” I managed, my voice faltering.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned closer, her forehead resting gently against mine. Her lips moved, forming words I couldn’t hear, but the sound of those words calmed me.

  The storm inside me began to subside. The arcs of red lightning flickered and faded, retreating like a tide. The pain dulled, though it didn’t disappear entirely. My vision blurred further, darkness creeping in at the edges.

  The last thing I saw before everything went black was her face, her lips moving as she said something.