The mist clings to the forest ground like a stubborn veil, curling around the twisted roots of towering oaks and concealing the scattered wildflowers that peek through the damp earth. The air is cool and carries a faint scent of moss and salt from the nearby sea. Each step Sera takes stirs the stillness, her boots sinking slightly into the soft ground. She moves lightly, almost cheerfully, her silver-white hair catching the dim light that filters through the dense canopy above.

  Behind her, Lyssa walks with deliberate caution, her amethyst eyes darting warily to the shifting shadows between the trees. Her fingers hover near the pale wand tucked into her belt, her every step careful. The tension radiates from her as she speaks, her voice a harsh whisper.

  “Sera,” she says, glancing over her shoulder, “we shouldn’t be here.”

  Sera glances back with a smile that’s far too carefree for the situation. “Don’t worry. No one will know.”

  Lyssa frowns, her hand tightening instinctively around her wand. “And if they do? We’ll be punished. The forest is off-limits for a reason.”

  “We’ve come too far to turn back now.” Sera steps over a cluster of roots and pauses to take in the eerie stillness around her. “If she’s anywhere, it’s here. This is the most isolated part of the forest.”

  “It’s been eight years,” Lyssa counters, lowering her voice as her gaze sweeps across the misty expanse. “Do you really think she’d still remember us? Or even be here?”

  Sera turns to face her cousin, her light blue eyes softening. “We won’t know unless we try,” she says quietly, the faintest trace of uncertainty slipping into her voice.

  Lyssa exhales sharply and shakes her head. “Your optimism is going to get us killed.”

  Still, she follows Sera deeper into the woods.

  The air changes as they walk. The cool dampness of the forest shifts subtly, a faint heat creeping in like the first touch of summer. The mist thins, retreating into the shadows of the trees, and the scent of the sea grows stronger. There’s a stillness here, an absence of life that wasn’t present before. The birdsong has vanished, and even the small rustlings of unseen creatures in the underbrush have gone silent.

  Lyssa stops abruptly, her expression tightening. “Do you feel that?”

  Sera nods, her cheerful demeanor dimming. The air hums faintly, charged with an unseen tension that sets her skin crawling. They round a corner, stepping into a clearing where the ground beneath their feet is no longer soft and damp but scorched black and cracked like the surface of a dying ember. Smoke rises faintly from the ground, curling around a massive form lying at the center of the clearing.

  Sera’s breath catches in her throat.

  The creature is massive even in its coiled state, its body a patchwork of rough, yellow-scaled stone that glimmers faintly in the dim light. Its wings, tucked tightly against its body, bear the faint sheen of molten gold veins running through the leathery membrane. Smoke curls lazily from its nostrils with every slow, rumbling exhale. Its claws, half the length of Sera herself, rest against the scorched earth like dormant weapons. It was the dragon, a creature that are nothing but a myth from children stories.

  Lyssa gasps, taking a quick step back, but Sera throws a hand over her cousin’s mouth, silencing her. The sound draws no immediate reaction from the creature, whose enormous eyes remain closed. But the sheer weight of its presence sends a cold sweat trickling down Sera’s back.

  Her heart hammers in her chest as she lowers her hand and whispers, “Verrah.”

  Lyssa stares at her, wide-eyed. “Sera,” she hisses, her voice trembling, “stop. Look at her. She’s not the baby from all those years ago. She’ll burn us alive without a second thought.”

  “She remembers us,” Sera whispers back, though the words sound more like a hope than a certainty.

  “You can’t know that!” Lyssa’s hand grips Sera’s arm tightly. “She’s a dragon, Sera. She’s a predator, through and through. Don’t be foolish.”

  Sera shakes her head and steps forward, her movements slow and deliberate. The heat grows more intense with every step, the air thickening with the dragon’s heavy breaths.

  “Verrah,” Sera says softly, her voice trembling as much as her hands. “It’s me. Seraphine. You’ve grown so much, girl. I was there the first time you breathed fire, remember?”

  The dragon’s eyes snap open.

  They are massive, molten gold pools that gleam with an intelligence far beyond any ordinary beast. The predator’s gaze locks onto Sera, freezing her in place. She forces herself to hold the creature’s stare, even as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her.

  Lyssa tugs at her arm, whispering fiercely, “Sera, stop. She’s going to kill us!”

  But Sera doesn’t move. She raises her hand slowly, palm outstretched, her voice soft and steady. “It’s me, Verrah. You know me.”

  The dragon shifts. Its massive body unfurls, revealing its full, terrifying size. Its wings spread slightly, casting long shadows over the clearing, and it lowers its head, its sharp teeth glinting as its mouth opens just enough to reveal a faint glow of fire building in the back of its throat.

  Sera freezes, the blood draining from her face as the reality of her situation sets in.

  “Run!” Lyssa screams.

  The dragon’s growl reverberates through the clearing, a deep rumble that seems to shake the ground beneath their feet. Lyssa stumbles back, her amethyst eyes wide with fear as her trembling hand clutches her wand. The heat radiating from the dragon is suffocating, and every instinct in her body screams at her to run.

  Sera stands frozen, her hand half-raised toward the beast. Her silver hair glints faintly in the glow of the dragon’s molten gaze, her expression caught between courage and foolish defiance.

  “Serenai! Verrah. Velorae!”

  The voice slices through the tension like a blade. It’s commanding and sharp, yet strangely soft, carrying an unmistakable authority that commands attention. The dragon freezes mid-motion, its mouth still slightly ajar, the glow of building fire flickering and then dimming. Slowly, it closes its jaws and steps back, its massive body coiling in on itself as though chastised.

  Sera and Lyssa turn sharply, the relief on their faces quickly replaced with shock as they see the figure approaching.

  The black horse is the first thing they notice, its sleek frame moving with eerie silence across the charred earth. The rider is cloaked, her hood obscuring her face, but as she nears, she pulls it back, revealing a cascade of silver-white hair streaked with strands of gold. Her crystal-blue eyes are piercing, filled with an intensity that seems to strip away any pretense.

  She dismounts in one fluid motion, her every movement deliberate and graceful. Her presence fills the clearing, a quiet storm of authority and unyielding calm.

  Her gaze locks onto Sera first, and her expression hardens. “Why are you both here?” she demands, her voice low but seething with anger. “Do you have any idea how close you came to dying?”

  Lyssa, still trembling, stammers, “We... we just wanted to see her.”

  The woman turns her sharp gaze to Lyssa, narrowing her eyes. “It must have been her idea,” she says, her tone carrying both accusation and disappointment.

  Sera swallows hard, lowering her head under the woman’s scrutiny. “Yes,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was me. I shouldn’t have come. My ignorance nearly cost us our lives.” She hesitates before adding, “I’m sorry... Aunt Eris.”

  The anger in Eris’s eyes softens, though her stern demeanor remains. She lets out a sigh, stepping closer to Sera. “Come here,” she says, opening her arms.

  Sera hesitates for a moment before stepping into the embrace, her trembling frame relaxing slightly as Eris wraps her arms around her. There is warmth in the gesture, a quiet reassurance that cuts through the lingering fear.

  Eris pulls back and nods toward Lyssa, who is standing a few steps away, still visibly shaken. “Come here, Lyssa,” she says gently.

  Lyssa hesitates before stepping forward, and Eris pulls her into a brief hug as well. “You’ve both grown into beautiful young ladies,” she says softly, her voice tinged with a hint of pride.

  Lyssa gives a small, bittersweet smile. “I’ve missed this,” she admits quietly.

  Eris releases her and turns toward the dragon, who has been watching the exchange silently. Its massive frame looms over them, but there is no hostility in its gaze now—only a wary curiosity.

  Sera watches as Eris approaches the beast, her movements unhurried and confident. She places a hand on the dragon’s scaled neck, and the creature lets out a low, rumbling sound, closing its eyes under her touch. The sight is almost surreal—the sheer power of the dragon contrasted with the gentleness of Eris’s hand.

  “She’s magnificent,” Sera breathes, her awe plain on her face.

  “And dangerous,” Eris replies without turning. Her voice is calm, but there is an edge to it. “She doesn’t remember you. Dragons don’t hold on to memories the way we do. To her, you’re strangers in her territory.”

  Sera steps closer cautiously, her light blue eyes flicking between Eris and the dragon. “But she used to know us,” she says quietly. “When she was smaller...”

  Eris nods. “That was a long time ago. Dragons grow, and with that growth comes change. Verrah is still young, but she’s not the same creature you once knew.”

  She gestures for Sera to come closer. When Sera hesitates, Eris gives her a small, encouraging nod.

  “Come,” Eris says softly. “Let her see you through me.”

  Sera swallows her fear and steps closer until she’s standing beside her aunt. Eris takes her hand and guides it to the dragon’s neck, just below her own. The scales are warm—almost uncomfortably so—and rough beneath Sera’s trembling fingers.

  The dragon opens one massive eye, its molten gold gaze locking onto Sera. For a moment, Sera feels as though the creature is peering into her very soul, weighing and measuring her.

  “She’s... amazing,” Sera whispers, her voice barely audible.

  Eris smiles faintly, though her expression remains serious. “And temperamental,” she warns. “Be careful next time. Verrah is a creature of instinct, not reason. She doesn’t understand human tongues or intentions. If you come here again without me, you may not survive.”

  Sera nods quickly, her earlier defiance completely gone. “Yes, Aunt Eris.”

  Eris pulls her hand away and steps back, her gaze shifting toward the distant horizon. There’s a weight to her movements now, a heaviness that wasn’t there moments ago.

  “Where were you before?” Sera asks suddenly. “We didn’t see you at the entrance.”

  Eris’s expression grows guarded. “I just returned from Lorien,” she says carefully. “I needed help with wandcrafter to craft a wand. A special one.”

  She reaches into her cloak and pulls out a slim wand made of dark wood, its surface etched with intricate patterns of red and blue that seem to shimmer faintly in the light.

  “It’s beautiful,” Sera says, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “Who’s it for?”

  Eris doesn’t answer and just smiles faintly before tucking it back into her cloak.

  Her gaze shifts to Lyssa, and her smile fades. “I heard about your mother and brother,” she says softly. “They haven’t been found yet, have they?”

  Lyssa shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been five years since they disappeared. Grandfather has searched everywhere, but... no clues.”

  Eris places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t lose hope,” she says. “Sometimes, the answers we seek come when we least expect them. Have you both met him yet?”

  Sera said, “Didn’t get the chance. He was busy with covering for you.”

  Before Eris can respond, the dragon stiffens suddenly, its massive head snapping toward the west. It lets out a low growl, the sound vibrating through the air.

  Lyssa flinches, her hand instinctively flying to her chest. “What… what is she doing?” she whispers, her voice shaky.

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  Sera stiffens, her light blue eyes darting toward the dragon, who seems frozen, her scaled body taut like a bowstring. The dragon’s tail flicks, cutting through the air as it lets out another growl—louder this time, more urgent. The sharp shift in the dragon’s demeanor is palpable, an invisible tension seeping into the clearing like smoke.

  Eris’s expression changes instantly. The warmth and familiarity she showed just moments ago vanish, replaced by a cold, calculating seriousness. Her crystal-blue eyes narrow as she follows the dragon’s line of sight, scanning the shadowed western horizon of the forest.

  The dragon grumbles again, smoke curling from its nostrils as it lowers its massive body closer to the ground, its wings twitching with agitation.

  “What’s wrong?” Sera asks cautiously, her voice trembling as she takes a hesitant step back.

  Eris doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she whistles sharply, a piercing sound that cuts through the heavy air like a blade. Moments later, her black steed thunders into the clearing, its hooves kicking up ash and loose dirt as it gallops toward her.

  Eris moves with purpose, her cloak sweeping behind her as she strides toward the horse. In one fluid motion, she mounts, her silver-white hair streaming behind her like a banner of light. Her face is set, her lips pressed into a firm line as her gaze hardens with resolve.

  “Verrah! Thalorin!” she commands, her voice ringing clear and firm.

  The dragon’s growling ceases instantly, and it shifts its massive head toward her, its golden eyes watching intently. At her words, it lowers its body, curling protectively near the two girls. A final rumble escapes its throat, softer this time, almost like an assurance.

  “She told her to stay,” Lyssa murmurs, her voice barely audible as she watches the dragon settle, its immense wings folding against its sides.

  Eris pulls the reins of her horse, turning it toward the west. The urgency in her movements is unmistakable now. Her steed paws the ground anxiously, as if it, too, senses the unease in the air.

  Sera steps forward, her voice breaking through the tension. “Where are you going?”

  Eris glances back, her crystal-blue eyes meeting Sera’s. For a brief moment, there’s something unspoken in her gaze—something protective, something burdened.

  “Stay here,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Verrah will guard you. Don’t follow me.”

  With that, she snaps the reins, and the horse rears before bolting forward, its powerful strides carrying her swiftly toward the west. The last glimpse of Eris is her silver hair catching the sunlight as she vanishes into the shadowed depths of the forest, her figure swallowed by the thick canopy above.

  The clearing falls silent, save for the faint rustle of leaves and the distant thud of retreating hooves.

  Lyssa finally exhales, her hand still clutching her chest. “Where is she going?”

  Sera doesn’t answer immediately. Her light blue eyes remain fixed on the direction Eris disappeared, her expression distant and uneasy. There’s a faint tremor in her hands, but she quickly hides it by clasping them together.

  “I don’t know,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “But something happened. I… I felt it.”

  Lyssa turns to her, frowning. “Felt what?”

  Sera’s gaze darkens, her silver hair catching faint traces of sunlight as she tilts her head toward the west. Her voice is quiet but firm, the words heavy with certainty.

  “Malice,” she says. “Just for a moment. It was like… like the forest itself shuddered. Something dark is out there.”

  The dragon lets out a low, guttural sound, shifting its massive body slightly as it curls closer to them. Its golden eyes gleam faintly in the dim light, watching them with a predatory intensity that is both reassuring and unsettling.

  Neither girl moves. The weight of Sera’s words hangs over them, heavy and oppressive, as they stand in the shadow of the great beast.

  In the distance, faintly carried on the wind, is the sound of Eris’s horse galloping deeper into the forest. And with it comes a foreboding stillness, as if the woods are holding their breath.

  Eris’s horse thunders through the forest, its hooves striking the ground in a steady, urgent rhythm. The dense canopy above flickers with patches of sunlight, but she pays no attention to the beauty of the woods. Her focus is locked ahead, her silver hair streaming behind her like a streak of moonlight. The air is tense, vibrating with a distant hum—a hum she recognizes all too well. It’s not natural. It’s magic. Violent and unrestrained.

  Her grip on the reins tightens. The closer she gets to the edge of the forest, the louder the sound becomes—a crackling roar, like a storm tearing itself apart. She whispers under her breath, her voice barely audible over the rushing wind, “Please… please… wait.”

  The trees thin, giving way to open skies as she bursts out of the forest. The scene before her is chaos.

  The lake, once pristine and serene, is now a battlefield. Bolts of crimson lightning explode from the figure lying near the shore, scorching the earth around him. The once-vibrant grass is charred black, the ground cracked and steaming. The air smells of ozone and burnt flesh, thick and oppressive, making it hard to breathe.

  In the distance, two figures are huddled together. Rowan clutches his chest, his tunic scorched where one of the lightning bolts had struck him. Alina props him up, her face pale and strained, her hazel eyes wide with a mix of fear and helplessness.

  But it’s the figure on the ground that draws Eris’s attention. Einar. He’s writhing, his hands clawing at the scorched earth beneath him as if trying to anchor himself. His body convulses with every surge of energy, the red lightning bursting from his hands and chest like wild, living veins of destruction. His screams cut through the air, raw and agonized, echoing off the trees like a wounded animal’s cry.

  Rowan struggles to stand, determination flickering through the pain on his face. He tries to move toward Einar, despite the clear danger. Alina grabs his arm, her voice desperate. “Rowan, don’t! You’ll get yourself killed!”

  But Rowan shakes her off, his steps faltering but resolute. “He’s my friend! I can’t just—”

  “Stay back!” Eris’s voice cuts through the chaos like a blade, sharp and commanding. “Both of you.”

  Rowan freezes, his eyes snapping toward her as she dismounts her horse in one fluid motion. Her presence is magnetic, her silver-white hair gleaming in the sunlight as her crystal-blue eyes lock onto Einar. There’s a weight to her gaze, a mixture of fear and determination that she hides well behind her calm exterior.

  Alina, still holding Rowan, shouts, “Don’t go near him! He’s—”

  Eris ignores her, moving swiftly toward the struggling figure. The lightning bolts arc wildly around Einar, striking indiscriminately, but as they come near her, they fizzle out. Her left hand, adorned with the silver ring, glows faintly with a golden hue, each bolt dissipating before it can touch her.

  She drops to her knees beside him, her cloak pooling around her in the scorched dirt. Up close, the sight is worse. His hands are burned, the skin cracked and bleeding where the lightning has erupted. His face is pale, his crimson eyes half-lidded and unfocused. The veins along his arms glow faintly with a red hue, pulsating like a second heartbeat.

  Her hands tremble as she reaches out, gently lifting his head and resting it on her lap. Tears brim in her eyes, threatening to spill as she takes in his state. “Einar…” she whispers, her voice breaking.

  He blinks up at her, his crimson eyes struggling to focus. The lightning around him begins to wane, the wild arcs slowing as if her presence alone is enough to calm the storm. His voice is a rasp, barely audible. “You…”

  Eris’s breath catches in her throat. She cups his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek as a single tear escapes, falling onto his scorched skin. She forces a smile through the pain in her chest. “Hey,” she whispers, her voice soft and trembling.

  His lips part, his voice cracking as he tries to speak. “Is it… really you?”

  His body gives out before she can answer, his eyes fluttering shut as unconsciousness takes him. The storm dies with him, the last flickers of crimson lightning fading into nothing. The world falls silent, save for the distant rustle of leaves and the shallow breaths coming from Einar.

  Eris leans down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The moment her lips touch his skin, a faint glow spreads from the point of contact—three thin lines of golden light tracing across his forehead like ancient markings. His body shudders briefly, even in unconsciousness, as the glow fades. She whispers against his skin, her voice heavy with emotion. “I’ll fix everything, my love.”

  Behind her, Rowan and Alina watch in stunned silence. Neither speaks, the weight of what they’ve just witnessed rendering them mute. Rowan’s face is a mix of confusion and worry, while Alina’s hazel eyes flicker between Eris and Einar, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle before her.

  Eris lifts her head, her expression hardening as she turns to them. “You,” she says, her voice sharp as she addresses Alina. “Get back to the front yard. Find Professor Greenshade and tell her to come here immediately. Say it’s urgent. Tell her ‘Eris needs her.’ She’ll understand.”

  Alina hesitates, glancing at Rowan, but Eris’s commanding tone leaves no room for argument. She nods quickly, helping Rowan steady himself before taking off toward the school, her boots crunching against the scorched earth as she runs.

  Eris turns her attention to Rowan, who remains rooted in place, his gaze fixed on Einar. “Who are you to him?” she asks, her tone softer but still firm.

  Rowan looks up, startled by the question. “I—uh—I’m his friend. I think. He doesn’t say it outright, but… I call him my best friend.” He swallows hard, glancing at Einar’s unconscious form. “My name’s Rowan.”

  Eris studies him for a moment, her crystal-blue eyes piercing. “Whatever you’ve seen here,” she says, her voice low and serious, “keep it to yourself. Let him believe this was a loss of control. Nothing more.”

  Rowan hesitates, his brow furrowing. “It didn’t feel like a loss of control,” he mutters, almost to himself. “It felt alive. His magic… it wasn’t just wild. It was hungry. Like it wanted to devour him.”

  Eris’s gaze darkens, but she says nothing. Instead, she brushes a strand of silver hair from her face and looks back down at Einar. Her hand lingers on his cheek, her thumb tracing small circles against his burned skin.

  Then she exhales slowly. “Step back,” she says, her voice quieter now but no less commanding.

  Rowan hesitates, but something in her tone leaves no room for argument. He rises to his feet and moves a few steps away, though his eyes remain glued to Einar’s still form.

  Eris closes her eyes, her hands steadying as she hovers them just above Einar’s chest. Her breath slows, growing deep and deliberate. With a soft exhale, her hair begins to shift. The silver strands brighten, glowing with a golden radiance as if lit from within. Her right hand trembles faintly, the ring on her finger beginning to shine with a golden hue. The light spreads outward, bathing her hands in a soft, divine glow.

  The amulet around Einar’s neck, hidden beneath his scorched shirt, reacts to her power. It begins to glow faintly, rising slightly as if drawn to her energy. The two lights—hers and the amulet’s—pulse in unison, their rhythms steady and calming.

  Eris’s breathing becomes heavier, more labored. Sweat beads along her temple, and her lips tighten as she concentrates. The burns on Einar’s hands slowly fade, the blackened veins beneath his skin retreating inch by inch. His chest rises and falls more evenly now, but the effort is clearly taking its toll on her. A faint line of blood trickles from the corner of her mouth, and her teeth grit in pain.

  Then, as she presses her trembling hand against his chest, a pulse of energy ripples outward. The air around them thickens, growing heavy and oppressive. Eris freezes, her golden eyes snapping open. The moment they do, the world around her changes.

  She is no longer in the forest.

  The ground beneath her is slick with blood, the metallic scent overwhelming. Darkness stretches endlessly in every direction, broken only by the faint glow of her golden hair. And there, standing amidst the carnage, is a man.

  He looks like Einar but older. His face is harder, darker, etched with scars. His hands are stained with blood, his armor dented and splattered with gore. His crimson gaze burns with a cold, predatory intensity, and his smile is sharp, cruel.

  He laughs softly at first, the sound low and hollow, before it grows louder, darker. “You are my worst nightmare, Valeria,” he says, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

  Eris, Valeria stares at him, her golden eyes filled with both sorrow and resolve. “I have only loved him,” she says quietly, her voice trembling. “Even his true nature. Even you.”

  The man’s laughter stops abruptly. His expression hardens, his crimson eyes narrowing. “Love?” he repeats, the word dripping with disdain. “For how long will you keep him like this? He will turn to me someday. He will embrace what he truly is.”

  Valeria steps closer, her movements deliberate. “I will not let that happen this time,” she says firmly. “For us.”

  The man tilts his head, his smile returning, crueler than before. “Us?” he sneers. “We never loved you. You know that. We only wanted to use you. Until...” He trails off, his smile faltering for just a moment.

  “Until you realize our origin,” Valeria finishes for him, her voice softer now. “You may not admit it, but you can’t run from the truth. He needs you now more than ever. Help him. Don’t destroy him.”

  The man’s gaze darkens, his voice low and venomous. “Why would I help him? He has his Karissa. He doesn’t need his cursed half.”

  Valeria steps closer still, her hand outstretched as if to reach him. “You are one,” she says gently. “I am your Karissa, too. He needs to adapt to his human half. His cursed essence will destroy him before he has the chance to adapt.”

  He flinches, the malice in his eyes dimming for a moment. “You will purify him each time,” he growls, his tone filled with anger and despair. “Again and again and again, until you strip him of what he is.”

  Valeria smiles faintly, though it’s tinged with sadness. “I am dying,” she says softly. “I won’t be here much longer. This is the last time I will use my divine essence. The rest will be up to you. Do it for our bond. It may be cursed but our love was true.”

  The man stiffens, his crimson eyes flickering with something unspoken. “He’s just a mortal, weak in every sense,” he mutters. “This vessel cannot hold the curse. It’s not gone through rituals and practices from birth to fully able to hold any curse, his corrupted essence. It will break him.”

  “Then help him control,” Valeria pleads. “The world may never need that kind of magic again, give him only what his body can hold. But I will guide him to properly wield magic. And I will guide you.”

  The man is silent for a long moment. Finally, he asks, his voice cautious, “What of... her? She took half the curse upon herself…”

  Valeria hesitates, her expression clouded. “She is alive. I am still searching for her. But... whatever she has become was caused by the curse, it is not what she was. I don’t believe in mortal history. They write something entirely different from the truth.”

  “What of the Dark One? Bragor Raven. That bastard played us like children, he hasn’t even spared his daughter. The real source of the curse.”

  “He… probably died. Demons would never have broken the sacred pact with mortals in his presence. He may hate Drekons, but his ideologies do not go to some invasion or ruling over mortals.”

  The man’s gaze hardens again, but there is no malice in his tone as he says, “You really think he will be safe after knowing the truth? Or, mortals of him? He’s just a human, not a Nephilim.”

  Valeria nods, her golden glow beginning to dim. “But he is a Drekon,” she says simply. “We can just hope… the curse has weakened after whatever she did.”

  The vision shatters, the blood and darkness fading away.

  Back at the lake, Eris gasps as her eyes snap open. Her golden hair fades back to silver, her trembling hands losing their glow. Blood drips from her mouth, and her body slumps forward, unconscious, onto Einar’s chest. Her hand remains clutched tightly to him, even in her unconscious state.

  Rowan rushes to her side, shaking her gently. “Professor Eris? Can you hear me? Professor?”

  Before he can get an answer, the sound of hurried footsteps announces the arrival of Professor Greenshade and Alina. Greenshade’s sharp green eyes take in the scene, her mouth pressing into a thin line.

  “What happened here?” Greenshade demands, kneeling beside Eris and Einar. “Who is this boy?”

  Rowan hesitates, his voice cracking. “Einar Emberheart. My friend. He… lost control.”

  Greenshade’s eyes narrow. She looks to Alina, then back to Rowan. “Speak of this to no one,” she orders. “Not to the professors, not to the students. She is your house head. Do you understand?”

  Rowan nods slowly, his gaze flicking to Einar. “Yes, Professor.”

  And with that, silence falls once more.