“She had mental immunity,” I whispered. “And you think I have this?”
“I don’t think,” Soehl said. “I know. There’s almost no record of mental immunity; we cannot begin to comprehend what the immunity could encompass. But this proves someone in your line had it. This proves why no one could reach your mind. Professor Chen couldn’t get into your mind. Thalen couldn’t either. But they should have.”
The table fell silent.
Then Tran, seriously for once, leaned forward.
“In all seriousness, this time… wasn’t King Velvet the one who imposed the rule that only Emberkeep could rule? Isn’t that strange?” He pointed at the ledger. “When his own sister, who should’ve ruled, had this mysterious magic and was wiped from history?”
He wasn’t wrong. Beneath all his teasing, this wasn’t a joke. It was a very good question. “Emberkeep has always ruled,” Rowan added. “King Velvet just made it official.”
They kept debating politics, arguing about royal succession, theorizing, spiraling but their voices blurred into nothing. I didn’t care. I was standing at the edge of a truth buried for centuries, a truth about my family… and about me. And suddenly, all the scattered pieces fell into place.
I’d thought it strange that Thalen couldn’t force the truth out of me, but even that felt almost irrelevant now, because the idea of a magical trace like this was unheard of.
Impossible.
I stepped back, dizzy. Shakari noticed immediately. “Where are you going?”
“I need to prove Soehl’s theory.” I reached forward and hugged Soehl tight. “Thank you. I owe you one.”
I took my family heirloom off my wrist, placed it in my pocket, and, without giving any of them time to stop me, I ran.
Chapter 26: Forbidden
As a child, I was expected to glimpse visions and flashes of the future during moments of rest. That was how the Sight awakened.
For me, that never happened. Not once. “Mother was convinced I had them; I just hadn’t recognized them.”
But deep down, I always knew I would never be a Seer.
And maybe now... I finally understood why. I had always been strong-walled, unreadable, untouchable. The heirloom I wore every day must have muted the trace even more, leaving me isolated with my doubts.
But if Soehl was right, I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t a late bloomer. I was immune to mental magic.
I quickened my pace across the academy grounds. The sky darkened, deep blues melting into night.
I sprinted up the final staircase toward the sky terrace. It was almost nightfall, and I knew he would be there.
Lorik Draventh would be training on a Saturday on the Sky Terrace. I’d seen his power in motion; I’d felt it. He was one of the strongest Moonveil I’d ever witnessed, and he wielded mental magic with a precision that would shake the Solenhart court.
I pushed open the terrace doors, breath still uneven from sprinting across the academy, a light sheen of sweat cooling at my temples. The night had settled over Elarion, but the terrace was still warm, heat radiating from the tiles, from the bodies moving across them.
And there he was. Shirtless. Again.
Sparring with Ugo, the two of them moving in perfect, brutal rhythm.
As I entered, both turned. Lorik’s silver eyes swept over me, sharp and assessing.
"Sorry to interrupt," I managed, forcing my eyes to meet his instead of drifting to the sweat- dark traces of his core. "I need to speak with you. Alone."
I glanced at Ugo, a silent apology, a plea. He caught it instantly.
“We were finishing anyway,” Ugo said, already reaching for his things. “I’ll leave you two.” He grabbed his shirt and water bottle, nodded, and slipped past me through the doors.
I stepped forward as Lorik slipped from the Auroric suppression veil, entering my space— confident, unruffled, perfectly composed.
“If I didn’t know better,” he added, his voice low. “I’d think you have a thing for me.”
