Professor Vao descended the central staircase of the lecture hall like a blade unsheathing. Each step landed with intention. A hush swept the room as every gaze followed him.
“Miss Cheryn,” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber, “please speak louder and elaborate.”
Soehl cleared her throat, fingertips brushing the base of her neck. “There are creatures like dragons that are not merely alive, they are magic. wildweavers discovered a way to bind their souls to them. As we use the island to channel our magic, they use their dragons.”
Her tone dropped lower.
“They found a new order of magic, one where magic could be taken freely, where creatures were tools, not life.”
Soehl’s eyes flickered to mine.
“After the first attacks on the island, Velvet Solenhart suspected those with magical traces that could command animals and hunted them three hundred years ago. But that is just a theory. Many historians think the wildweavers were and are just local inhabitants of the Wastelands.”
A chill crawled through me. Even though it was just a theory, it justified why the crown killed Lorik’s sister. A little girl, caught between ancient power and even older fear. She hadn’t chosen her gift, but the island had chosen her fate. Too much had been at stake; too many risks crowded every choice.
Too much fear.
And fear, in the Solenhart line, had always demanded sacrifice.
“Expand on that theory, please,” Vao asked, lifting his chin full of curiosity. “There is no magic in the Wastelands. Perhaps the locals found a way to bind themselves to dragons to feed power through them.”
“That is an excellent summary of our history,” Professor Vao said as he reached the stone circle at the center of the room. “But that is what happened. What I asked you was: Why are you fighting dragons and The wildweavers?”
That landed harder. Even Shakari’s eyes flickered toward him, her defiance momentarily paused
“We need to kill those parasites. We have no choice." Shakari didn’t glance up, her words landing hard and unadorned, her tone hard-edged and flat.
Professor Vao tilted his head, unimpressed. “Typical Dragontail answer. Strength without hesitation. Fear without reflection.”
She wasn’t wrong. But she wasn’t complete right either.
I blurted, unable to contain it: "Because Rionis’ heart must be protected." The words sounded bolder, almost desperate, as if some old worry leaked through.
Silence fell, heavy and sudden.
Then Vao turned fully toward me, his gaze sharp. Not unkind, but assessing, as if weighing the truth in every syllable I’d spoken.
“Very well said.” His voice was low and unreadable. “Let’s get deeper into that topic. What is the heart of Rionis, and why is it so important to us?”
Professor Vao’s stare pinned me in place, leaving me no choice but to go on.
“The God of the Sun, Solvir, and the Goddess of the Moon, Lunareth, created three islands in the heart of the Atlantic Ocean, Rionis, Osiris, and Polaris,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Each island was given a heart, a stone buried at its center that sustains all magic. Solvir shaped the Sunhearts in his image, gifting them golden eyes and power drawn from sunlight. Lunareth shaped the Moonveils in hers, silver-eyed and charged by moonlight.”
I swallowed, knowing every student was listening now, and continued.
“It doesn’t matter which faction we’re from or what magic trace your blood carries. Without the heartstone, none of us has magic. Without it… the island dies. And it is right to suspect that those parasites want the core of our island to deplete its magic and use it for themselves.”
“Precisely! I can see the Emberkeep in you. I am glad we will be seeing you in Emberkeep going forward.” Professor Vao responded, practically vibrating with excitement. Word traveled fast. Within just a few hours, everyone already knew I was assigned to attend all Emberkeep coursework. Rowan noticed me sitting uncomfortably beside him and broke the silence, cutting through the stares with a question:
“What happened to the other islands?”
Professor Vao looked at Rowan with sadness in his eyes. “After we cast the Auroric Veil around our island three hundred years ago, contact with them has been rare. We once traded freely with Osiris and Polaris, but after the first dragon attacks everything changed. Our neighbors raised veils, too. Since then, any contact has been limited and strictly confidential.”
A breath moved through the room. The kind that only came after truth was spoken.
“Now, a question for the Dragontail legion students: How do you plan to kill dragons and the wildweavers?” Professor Vao asked with intrigue.
“We pierce magic through their heart.” I heard a response from the back row.
