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Kieran materializes from shadows that shouldn’t exist in moonlight. His ice-blue eyes catalog every detail—my disheveled state, the way I’m standing apart from Orion, the defensive set of my shoulders.

“Troublesome thing.” His voice carries aristocratic precision wrapped in winter wind. “You appear to have survived what most would consider insurmountable circumstances.”

“Magical forest full of nightmare creatures.” I shrug. “But I handled it.”

His mouth curves in something that isn’t quite a smile, cold and sharp as winter starlight. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

Golden light blazes across the courtyard as Finnian approaches, but he’s walking, not running. Professional distance maintained despite the worry clear in his amber eyes.

“The Academy administration noted your absence from evening protocols,” he says, voice carrying that careful academic precision that masks deeper concern. “There has been considerable... discussion regarding your whereabouts and wellbeing.”

“I’m sure there has.” I look between the three of them—Orion radiating guilty heat, Kieran watching me with predatory assessment, Finnian maintaining composure. “Let me guess. Search parties? Faculty meetings? Discussions about the problematic human who wandered off Academy grounds?”

“Something precisely along those lines,” Finnian admits, adjusting his collar in that nervous gesture I’m beginning to recognize.

“Well, you can call off the search. I’m fine.” I gesture to myself, aware of how unconvincing that likely sounds given my appearance. “And I know what I am now.”

The words hang in the air between us like a challenge.

“Do you indeed?” Kieran’s voice drops to silk over steel.

“Wild Court royalty. Last heir of the Moonshadow bloodline. Born from earth and ancient magic when my parents’ blood fed the soil.” I meet each of their gazes in turn. “Sound about right?”

A translucent boy materializes beside my shoulder—Whispen in his teenage form, blue-tinged skin and pointed ears sharp enough to cut glass. His needle-sharp teeth flash in an approving grin.

“VERY good, root-born!” He chirps, floating in excited circles. “Excellent information sharing without catastrophicoversharing! Though technically, the awakening is only partial?—”

All three men freeze, staring at Whispen with expressions ranging from shock to awe.

“Is that—” Finnian breathes.

“A Will-o’-wisp.” Kieran’s voice carries reverence I’ve never heard from him before.

“The last one.” Orion’s amber eyes are wide. “Thought your kind was gone.”

“Of COURSE I’m real!” Whispen preens under their attention. “And not just any Will-o’-wisp, I’ll have you know. I am THE Will-o’-wisp. Soul-keeper to the Moonshadow bloodline, guardian of ancient wisdom, keeper of?—”

“We believed your species had been rendered extinct during the court purges,” Finnian interrupts.

“Nearly!” Whispen beams. “But not quite! I’ve been bound to the Moonshadow line for centuries, waiting for this little root-born to finally accept what she is.”

“There is considerably more you should understand,” Finnian speaks carefully, though his gaze keeps flicking to Whispen with hunger. “Royal bloodlines manifest specific capabilities, particular magical signatures?—”

“Oh yes!” Whispen bobs enthusiastically. “So much more! The awakening is only the beginning—recognition, acceptance, power manifestation, court integration, consort bonding?—”

“Whispen,” I warn.

“—territorial claiming, magical mastery, and eventual transcendence to full royal authority! It’s quite the process, really. Could take months. Maybe years, depending on external stressors and?—”

“What precisely do you mean by ‘only partial’?” Kieran interrupts, ice-blue eyes sharp with something that might be concern.

“Oh, well observed!” Whispen claps his translucent hands together. “Yes, she’s acknowledged her nature and claimed territory, but the real power manifestation requires specific catalysts. Emotional resonance, magical amplification, consort bonding?—”

“WHISPEN.”

“What? They inquired!” He grins at me with all those sharp teeth. “These pretty boys should comprehend what they’re potentially dealing with. Royal awakenings prove dangerous if handled improperly.”

“Dangerous how?” Orion demands, protective heat flaring from his skin like a bonfire.