Sparks fly at my right, and I twist out of the way as two magickal swords clash, the sound reverberating through my head. A male professor I’ve seen around the library parries with an enemy soldier—a mage dressed in golden armor, his weapons emanating the glow of magick, his eyes as fierce as his blade.
I dart through the melee, narrowly avoiding the jabs of blades, ducking beneath the searing heat of fire spells.
I wish I had a weapon. Something. Anything to help me through this chaos.
As soon as the thought forms, a magick sword appears in my hands, instantly adjusting to a comfortable size and weight. It glows brightly, and I know immediately it’s the weapon the Princess of Swords gifted me during our first meeting.
Finally.
Movement at my left, and I spin around fast and jab, catching an enemy soldier in the gut. He clutches the wound as blood pours out from between his fingers, and I yank out my blade and push him away, desperate to reach the students before the chariot. She’s closing in fast, red dust billowing out in her wake, the horses’ hooves like great drumbeats upon the earth.
The students stare with open mouths, paralyzed by shock and fear.
“Move!” I shout in their direction, but it’s no use.
Saving my voice, I force all my energy into my limbs and run, charging toward them with a speed I didn’t know I possessed. Fires burn all around me, the air black with smoke, my lungs burning, but I can’t stop.
Again, my bedroom flickers into view—safe, familiar, serene—but no. I’m not there. I’m here. I’m… campus. There’s a battle and I have to fight. I can’t let her hurt them. I can’t let this happen…
Panting hard, I finally reach the group and whirl on my heel in front of them as if my body can stop the inevitable impact. I hold my ground though, and quickly find myself staring down the largest, most terrifying war horses I’ve ever seen. Mouths froth as they chomp at their bits, their coats and hooves dripping with blood.
The woman driving them is relentless.
I raise my sword high and call upon some nameless magick, feeling it course into my blade and down into my limbs, but it’s no use. The chariot barrels into me, an explosion of white light and golden wheels and the feral scream of the horses…
And then all falls silent. The students are gone. The horses and charioteer are nowhere to be seen.
I’m unhurt, still standing and gripping my sword, but I’m no longer in front of the dorms. Now, I’m behind the buildings, safe from the battles raging on the other side.
It’s calm here. Peaceful.
Something shimmers in the air, and the four Princesses appear before me—my magickal affinities. Cups, in her red dress and wine-dark cloak. Wands, dressed in orange and green, her dress trimmed in Celtic knotwork designs. Swords, her tattered blue cape and dress fluttering in the breeze, a raven perched on her shoulder. And the youngest, Pentacles, wearing her checkerboard gown and velvet cape.
I glance down at my own clothing. Somehow I’ve lost my hoodie, and now I’m wearing some sort of white gown or robe. On closer inspection, I realize it’s a wedding dress—bits of satin hastily pinned together, sequins scattered here, lace and ribbons there, buttons running down one sleeve but not the other. Still in progress, I guess. My hair is woven into a complicated set of braids dotted with white tea roses and sprays of pale blue forget-me-nots, and in my hands, my sword turns into a bouquet of black dahlias.
Immediately, my heart throbs with the bitter ache of betrayal, though I can’t explain what’s causing it.
Is it a warning? A memory? A vision?
Am I dreaming?
I was in my room, and then somehow on campus… There was a battle, and… But I thought… I can’t…
Where the hell am I?
“Hello?” I call out. My voice echoes back, hollow and terrifying.
The Princesses, ever silent, turn their backs on me and begin walking down a clear path into the yawning landscape behind the Breath and Blade dorms. Tossing the flowers to the ground, I dart after them, winding my way through the towering rock spires. Mist creeps across the ground, clinging to my ankles, slowly climbing its way up until I can’t see more than a few feet in front of my own face.
“Kirin?” I call out, rubbing the sudden chill from my arms. Again, the haunting echo calls back.
Kirin… Kirin… irin… rin…
“Ani? Baz?” I try again. “Doctor Devane?”
Vane… vane… vane…
Wearing nothing but this strange, half-made dress, I force my bloodied feet to continue onward, slipping deeper into the mists behind the silent Princesses. Something calls us forward, some force, and so I march, hoping against the odds to find my friends.
