Beside it is a crescent shape above a spiral of concentric waves, like a moon standing guard over the ocean.
The third is softer: a circular bloom of petals over ripples of lines, as though a water lily steadfastly tied to a lake floor has been impressed into the rock and forever frozen there.
I lean closer, fingertips tracing the shapes carved into the stone. What stories lie hidden here? What history was made only to later be forgotten?
Then I spot it.
A fourth symbol. Half submerged in the water. Almost invisible beneath the thin dusting of snow piled against the edge.
I lean forward, heart quickening, and reach out. My skin brushes the wet stone—just barely—and my fingertip slips into the surface of the pool.
The reaction is instant.
The water jerks back, like a creature startled. Waves ripple out from where I touched it, sharp and concentric, smacking against the carved rocks like a warning.
A jolt shoots up my arm. Cold fire surges through me, sharp enough to steal my breath. I yank my hand back, stumbling slightly. Images fog at the edges of my vision, too fast and fleeting to hold on to: a tall hooded figure. A child. A night sky.
For a second, I swear I see something shimmer beneath the surface—a faint outline, a glimmering symbol just out of reach. Light flaring out to multiple points, like a star…
I clutch my fingers to my chest, heart pounding.
What the fuck was that?
Was it trying to speak to me?
Or did it just push me away?
The pool’s surface stills, calm again, as if nothing happened.
Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe I wasn’t supposed to touch it.
A place of ancient magick buried deep. I can still feel it, sleeping… perhaps waiting for the right time, or the rightperson.
A soft cough echoes from the chamber behind me. Noa’s here.
My gaze lingers on the carving of the mermaid one last time—her tail curling like a question.
I grab my glove from the stone floor and rise, turning toward him. The water is calm now, but the ripple still echoes beneath my skin.
I follow Noa back to where the curling steam beckons—but part of me continues to listen, in case the water has more it wants to say.
CHAPTER 29
Elemental lines, once merged, do not fade. They always recognize each other, awakening when the other draws near.
—Traces in the Tide: Water in Elemental Practice
January comes, and with it, a few new classes are added to the first-year load—Defensive Warding and Shielding, along with Arcanarchaeology. I also signed up for the Botany elective held in the Garden Grove, Amelia having sparked my curiosity about various plants and their uses in potion-making.
Winter is now in full command, blanketing the ground in snow and ice. The cold bites so deep that stepping outside steals the feeling from your face entirely—like the world itself has turned to glass and silence.
With the start of the school session comes the announcement of the third elemental duel. This one takes place in the Grotto in honor of the two challengers, both water Magicks.
The Grotto is a wide cavern filled with shifting pools,glowing from beneath with bioluminescent light. Voices are swallowed by the immense space, and bridges of slick stone and floating platforms form unstable pathways between the pools. The sound of dripping echoes endlessly, a constant reminder of movement. Everything flows—nothing remains the same.
All the bridges converge onto a single large platform at the center of the cave, its surface paved with white river stones, arranged like a constellation beneath the feet of those who stand there. The water training and dueling grounds whisper of change—fluid, persistent, and endlessly deep. It feels as though the cave sees everything and remembers it all.
Professor Darwyn Ashar stands just off to the side of the platform, cloaked in his usual stillness. His black hair is slicked back with precision, not a strand out of place, and his eyes—an unsettling shade of onyx—scan the crowd with a quiet, shrewd intensity. There is something calculating in his gaze, as though he is always three steps ahead, always measuring. A still surface concealing dangerous currents beneath.
