I’m cut off as Amelia and Ian burst through the curtain, arms full of books.
“Look what I found!” Ian grins, holding up a fire magick text. “It mentions my family. My mum’s going to love it.”
We step out into the crisp air of the main street, bags full of new purchases and sweet treats from the local candy store. The others talk and laugh, but I can’t shake the feeling Madame Romari’s words left behind.
When my squadmates invite me to join them for drinks at the pub, I decline, citing tiredness. Amelia’s green eyes scan myface, missing nothing. “You’re sure?” she asks quietly. I nod, forcing a small smile.
As I head back to my room at the inn alone, the book clutched tightly against my chest, the words echo like a whisper I can’t unhear.
He will find his way back to you.
I wish I could believe her. But the thing about hope is—it hurts just as much as heartbreak when you’ve been holding it too long.
* * *
The inn’sroom is tiny but comfortable. Worn plaid comforters in shades of maroon and tan are tucked neatly over two queen beds with dark wood frames, their headboards carved with old-fashioned scrollwork. A small window seat is nestled beneath a paned window, the seat cushions faded to a soft yellow. It overlooks the town square and fountain, where strings of lantern lights sway gently in the evening breeze and the sound of chatter from my classmates at the nearby pub drifts up through the glass. I can hear Rozsen’s teasing voice and Elliot’s answering laughter.
I curl into the window seat, tucking my legs beneath me, and pull the book from my bag. My fingers brush across its worn leather cover, tracing the etched emblem of a diamond within two opposing triangles, creating an eight-pointed star, before I crack it open.
The first recordedcase of elemental fusion dates back to 1590, in Trier, Germany. The mage was an unnamed earth-wielder, a woman later accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake during the infamous Trier witch trials. Her grimoire, discovered years later in thewalls of a monastery, detailed the successful convergence of earth and air magick—its pages ripped, but intact.
I swallowhard and turn the page, heart beating faster.
In 1715,a water Magick named Evric Thalrien reportedly merged water and fire. The resulting surge destroyed Ormacleit Castle in the Western Isles of Scotland. No one survived the blast save for Thalrien himself, though he vanished from history not long after. The castle ruins still stand, blackened stones untouched by moss or time.
The air feels colder allof a sudden, as if the words themselves are drawing energy from the room. I tug the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and keep reading.
Auren Emberlain,a fire-wielder, recorded successful fusion of fire and air in 1893. Her methods remain the cornerstone of what little is known about elemental fusion today, though her notes suggest the process is inherently volatile.
During the first rebellion, in the infamous Battle of Redmere, Serena Thalrien—water Magick, rebel supporter—merged water with an unidentified essence. Witnesses claim she wiped out over 1,400 soldiers in a single strike, sparing only the rebels she swore to protect. She was captured, tried, sentenced… and then vanished after a mysterious break in the prison walls. Her fusion remains one of the most destructive ever recorded.
Much of what we know of elemental fusion is limited, the greatest known text being from Auren Emberlain herself, describing convergence. Many have tried and failed to recreate the process.
I close the book slowly,my fingers trembling. So much power. So much destruction. And so little understanding. A part of me is thrilled at the possibility… but another part is absolutely terrified. If what Gavrail and I did as children was reallyfusion—then I’ve already crossed a line I can’t uncross.
CHAPTER 21
To command power is not enough. One must know when to unleash it and when to hold it in reserve. When the strike comes, it must be final.
—Vikhrostrum Akademiya Doctrine of Elemental Combat
December arrives, bringing most of the fourth-years back to campus. Everyone except Noa and Finn.
“Special assignment,” Ryan mutters one morning behind me, equal parts envy and awe curling through his voice.
Illogical bitterness fills me for a moment, because of course the Service would want to keep Noa and Finn close—to show them exactly what they can expect come graduation. Whittaker’s top two students already being recruited, no doubt.
December also brings something else—news that the prestigious European school of magick, Vikhrostrum Akademiya, is sending a delegation of its elite students to spend the semester at Whittaker. But more thrilling than their arrival is the announcement that a series of elemental duels will take placebetween their finest and ours throughout the term. Headmaster Thorne calls it “an effort to improve foreign relations”—but to the students, it sounds like a challenge.
The first real snow comes the week the delegation is due—light at first, a powdering over roofs and bare branches, then thicker, settling like icing into old grooves in the stone walkways.
I tell myself I don’t care.
I tell myself that none of this has anything to do with me.
And that is almost believable—until the faculty unveils a ranking board in the center of the quad, names and numbers flickering constantly as it updates in real time.
And the entire campus starts to hum.
