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Right when the clock above the lectern clicked noon, Highmage Obryn moved from his position.

“This is Introduction to Demonology,” Obryn announced. “For the majority of the semester I won’t be teaching you.”

Music to her ears.

Obryn walked over to a large map of all the spheres printed on the wall. Different-colored markers indicated recent demon attacks. Osterbury, the sphere where Ivercrest was located, had just suffered an invasion on its border by Dagmeneth demons. The war between Wielders and Casters was over, but the attacks from various demons hadn’t stopped.

On their own, demons couldn’t easily cross from the dark dimensions into the human realm, but over the years Mercer had called upon many, weakening the threshold between the two dimensions.

“The skills you learn in combat are for one purpose and one alone: to defend the spheres from demons,” Obryn continued.

He then gave detailed updates about each sphere. As always, demon attacks were more prolific in the higher spheres. The more magic that was used, the more demons were attracted to it. But those spheres were also able to afford the best demon slayers, which meant the public never had to worry. It was different for the less-affluent spheres.

That was what the societal contract between Wielders and Casters was supposed to be. Wielders defended the spheres from demons, and Casters healed them. But the war had broken that trust, and Mira wondered if the skills the next generation of Wielders learned in combat would one day be used against Casters again.

It still frightened her how easy it had been for Mercer to turn so many Wielders against Casters. His message was simple: Wielders were the ones fighting demons, the ones dying. They should be the ones making the decisions.

“Our blood keeps Casters safe,” Mercer had said in one of his speeches, advocating for a Wielder monarchy. “The formation of the council never should have happened. Casters don’t get to sit in their ivory towers and send our sons and daughters to kill for them while they lecture us about morality.”

But it wasn’t Mercer Obryn spoke about now. Nor Rakkley or the countless Wielders who had killed Casters. Instead, the Highmage focused his lecture on the brave Wielders who defied orders and fought on the side of Casters.

“They wielded Dark Magic for good,” Obryn thundered. “They died, protecting the harmony between White and Dark Magic because we need both, ladies and gentlemen. One cannot exist without the other.”

Mira desperately tried to keep her face neutral, to not make her disdain so obvious, as the Highmage waxed poetic about the bravery of Wielders.

The moment Obryn dismissed the class, she shot from her seat and raced back to her room. She closed the door and locked it, as if that would keep out magic. But her time avoiding magic altogether was over. Whatever her strange assignment with Dawson might entail, she was quite certain she would have to be able to coin travel. He would insist upon it if only to have her use magic.

She fished the wooden box out of the bottom of her rucksack and paused. Not since moving to Yharvan had she looked at her travel coin. Part of her wondered if she should get a new one made from Ivercrest. One that didn’t hold any memories. She removed the box’s lid and stared at the coin that had taken her everywhere. Until the copper on one side wore thin.

It wasn’t a family heirloom. Simply store-bought. When she turned thirteen, her parents had allowed her to coin travel by herself. She was so excited when they walked into the supply store that smelled of lavender, stacked with everything a Caster could want. All of her friends had been given coins for their birthdays, and finally it was Mira’s turn. She picked a coin with the Healing Hand on the front and a willow tree on the back.

“A great choice,” the shopkeeper had said with a smile.

Coin travel used to be as normal as breathing for her. You just thought of your desired destination, as long as you knew the address or had been there before, and flipped the coin.

Now, Mira stared at this relic from another time and didn’t dare touch it. She could picture Dawson laughing at her. Pathetic, he would say, you can’t even coin travel.

All it required was a spark of her magic. Bound to her, the coin would do the rest. It would be simple. Beginner’s magic. And yet, it seemed insurmountable.

Get over yourself, Mira commanded herself, and stuffed the coin in her coat pocket.

—

A few minutes to ten, she walked to her meeting spot with Dawson. Once she cut through the forest outside Ivercrest, she saw the gates to the old cemetery. Thick fir trees filtered the moonlight and made the fog seem more intense.

As she approached, the metal gate creaked open as if by an invisible hand. No sign of Dawson yet. Gravestones in different sizes and shapes stuck out of the ground like weeds. Many were made out of metal with silver and gold embellishments. But their luster had long faded, and so had some of the names.

Lights in little lanterns hung by each grave to help guide the dead.

She wrapped her coat tighter around herself, cursing Dawson for making her walk across the entire cemetery. On purpose, she was certain. When she rounded a corner, a row of crypts greeted her. Mira rushed by the archways, trying not to get a glimpse, but failing. Each crypt was more ornate than the next. Entire generations of families laid to rest surrounded by paintings, statues of different spirits, and skulls made of stone. A way to ward against bone-eating demons.

Where was Dawson? Was this all a joke? But then she saw him. Leaning against a large tree, dressed all in black. He would have blended in with the darkness surrounding him were it not for his hair, which appeared white in the moonlight.

“A bit morbid for a meeting spot, don’t you think?” she asked.

She didn’t know what Dawson was capable of nor what he had done during the war. But as she walked closer to him—this stark figure in the moonlight—she was certain she had made a grave error entering a bargain with him. She never should have agreed to this. But there was no turning back now.

He pushed himself off the tree and took a step toward her. “Don’t tell me you scare easily.”