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“I mean,” she explains, “we knew him before he was the Solarball Captain.”

“And Prince of the Forest Tribe.”

“That too.”

I harrumph.

Ramona casts a ball of sunfyre. Its warmth hovers above us as we walk to the lower fields. Battlefield has easily become my least favorite class.

But alas, the heroes from my favorite Tellings rarely won battles from their bed.

Ramona and I sigh at the same time.

Our boots crunch along the snow-packed earth. The castle grounds sprawl along the edge of a mountain, some paths already well worn into the surrounding woods where cadets sneak off in the night, cut to Olwythion, or enjoy some walking trails. My heart skips a beat. There. At the edge of the massive spruces, I swear I saw movement. Something large and tall and humanoid shaped with fur on their shoulders. “Did you see that?”

“What?” Ramona follows my eyes to the tree line.

I lower my voice. “Someone is in the woods.”

“It’s probably just a bear.”

A stone drops to the bottom of my stomach, weighing it down with an intuitive knowledge I’ve come to trust. That was no bear. It was somewhat brown with fur. Large and broad with the slight glint of something reflecting in the sun. An axe.

A circular stone chamber. Wooden table. Metal cuffs. The scraping of an axe being sharpened, a firelit dining room cloying with the stench of blood and abject hate.

My knees buckle, and the ground tips up to meet me.

Ramona catches the back of my cloak. “By the stars, Kem! Are you alright?”

The snow bites into my palms, and I ground myself to that pain. I tip my head up, looking through the pieces of my hair to the trees.

Nothing.

Ramona helps me up and brushes off the snow from my cloak.

“Thanks. I thought I saw…” I look one last time to the space between the trees. I shake my head. “You’re right. It was probably a bear.”

We cross the rest of the way in a type of supportive silence only two best friends can achieve. The freezing air burns my throat as I tug at the latch that leads to the below-ground training facility where Commander Hogsmith likes to torture us. “It’s frozen shut!” I huff each word between pulls.

Ramona sits into one hip.

“What? You think you could do better?”

“Sometimes I wonder about you,” Ramona says before shoving me aside and casting her sunfyre ball toward the latch. Her foot taps the most curious triplets, but I digress.

“Oh,” I chuckle lowly. “The Source… right.”

Ramona rolls her eyes at me and plops down the hatch.

“I would have thought of that eventually,” I grumble and climb down after her.

Gryphon is sitting crossed legged on the floor of the dark, speckled floor, arms resting on the tops of his knees.

“What are you doing over there, big guy?” Ramona nudges my elbow.

Gryphon’s massive form folded like that is almost comical, and yet, he looks at peace.

I walk toward my old teammate in the Summit and kick him in the side. “Gryph!”