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Ivercrest had already descended into a frenzy. The director stomped around, barking instructions. Students ran down hallways.

She spotted Oliver in the hallway. “How is Ella?” she asked.

“Fully healed. She’s helping at the infirmary with base potions just in case. She also wants to kill Rakkley personally for interrupting her party.”

Mira smirked. That sounded like Ella.

“I have to go,” he said. “I’m helping Highmage Tinley with shield spells around the building.”

“Yes, go. I’ll see you later.”

She went to her room and prepared a potion kit. During the war, these had been her go-tos. Blood replenishing potion. Anti-poison potion. Instant cut-healing potion. Explosive acid potion. She put them into a small kit that she placed on her belt.

For a moment, she stood still. Life had turned bad again, and all the voices in her head were shouting: We told you so.

Yet she was no longer the same Mira she’d been when Synth had killed her parents and poisoned her. The anger in her burned hotter than her fear. Rakkley had haunted her for too long.

But there was nothing she could do about it tonight. She didn’t even know where Rakkley was or how to kill him. Nor was she an experienced Wielder like Aidric. But she was determined to find a way.

Death is what it would take. Rakkley’s or hers.

36

Rakkley had disappeared, and half of the magic sphere was searching for him. In the meantime, Mira focused her efforts on separating Synth from her magic and freeing Aidric from his enthrallment.

After hours spent in the library at Ivercrest, she was now at the Dawson estate, surrounded by books, scrolls, and her notebook.

Aidric had insisted via scroll that she stay the night. She had protested, but according to him, he was already compromising because if he had his way, he’d lock her in the mansion 24/7 under all the shields he could conjure.

The estate had everything Mira needed: a fully stocked lab and a massive library filled with books about Dark Magic. Truly, it made little sense for her to protest against staying, so she’d begrudgingly agreed. She had found the guest bedroom set up for her.

Armed with Highmage Eriksson’s research and her extracted base magic, she brewed her latest attempt at the potion. If it worked, she would be able to split Synth from her magic. She wouldn’t be free of it, but at least it would no longer be intertwined with her own power. With measured breaths, Mira lowered a few drops of the base magic into her latest potion. The liquid hissed and smoked. Obryn had said that even if it was successful, and she could divide Synth from her magic, they didn’t know how or if they could remove it. But if she was able to at least sever the two, she might not die if Rakkley ever tried to extract Synth. Plus, it gave her something to do besides sit around in the empty estate.

She waited for the liquid to stop smoking before she swallowed it. The potion felt cold on her tongue and warm in her throat. It was entirely tasteless. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. Seconds ticked by, and the warmth spread through her body. It was too warm, until everything suddenly turned ice cold. With chattering teeth, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her magic, but all she felt was darkness. An empty darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. In all her research, she’d never come across anything like this. In her mind, she wandered the cold, dark emptiness. Feeling for her magic, begging for it, she could finally make out the two strands of her White and Dark Magic.

And then she saw it. Next to them was a third strand of the blackest black she had ever seen. It became one with the darkness around her.

Mira grabbed the strand of her Dark Magic in her mind with one hand and tried to get hold of Synth with the other. But each time her fingers tried to wrap around it, the strand turned to liquid, leaking back into her Dark Magic.

Perhaps her magic could help reject his? She called upon her two signifiers, asking them for strength. To her surprise, they answered. A wave of power rushed through her, chasing out the cold. The Dark Magic strand in her mind was now firm and strong. When she pulled on the strand of Synth this time, her magic rejected the liquid.

With all the strength she had, she pulled the two strands apart. When it was done, her Dark Magic strand of black shimmered with specks of different colors.

Synth was a puddle before her and then it moved, disappearing into the shadows of her mind. But it was still there. An echo in the dark.

When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she should feel relief that she had finally separated Synth from her powers. She felt none. Not while she still had the last dose of the world’s most powerful weapon in her system.

She walked up the stairs and sat by the fire in the living room to warm herself. Seconds later, Aidric materialized, stumbling before he caught himself on the wall. He straightened, his face strained. She recognized the signs of his pain, even if he tried to hide them.

When she walked closer, touching his coat, she could feel the coldness of Dark Magic around him like a cloud. Her fingers stung from it.

“You’re using too much Dark Magic.”

He said nothing, and his eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

“You know it’s too much, Aidric.”

Her pleading eyes found only his cold stare. “I know what I’m doing.” He removed her hands from his coat and walked to his potion cabinet, pulling out direweed potion and downing the green contents of the vial in one quick gulp.