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But it wasn’t just stone—I could feel the history in its walls; centuries of deaths large and small, each one calling out to be remembered. Students who’d died in magical accidents, teachers who’d spent their last breaths in classroom corridors, even the workers who’d fallen during construction—all of them reached out to me with eager whispers.

The iron gates swung open silently as we approached. Their intricate metal work depicted scenes of magic I was only beginning to understand—witches commanding elements, raising the dead, opening doorways between worlds. As we passed through them, the whispers of the dead grew stronger, more insistent. They knew what I was—knew what I could do. The very stones of the building seemed to recognize me, centuries of accumulated death magic reaching out in welcome.

And for the first time in my life, I knew too. I wasn’t just Marigold Brook, the cleaning lady’s daughter anymore. I was something else—something that made even the mountains remember their dead.

I just wasn’t sure if that was a gift or a curse.

3

Cyrus

After meeting Marigold,we’d taken a portal back to campus. Father never wasted time in a car when he could make use of the family portal master.

Now, he stood at my dorm room window, staring out at the Rocky Mountains.

I dropped into a red velvet armchair. At twenty, I no longer bothered to stand at attention like a school boy—even if he still made me feel like one.

“You understand what needs to be done.” He didn’t look at me. Instead, he tapped his fingers on the windowsill in that restless rhythm they’d developed after Mother’s murder—a tell I’d learned was a warning sign for incoming criticism. “The Council can’t deny her entry, but we don’t have to make it easy.”

I exhaled. “I know.” Bywe, I knew he meant me. She was my problem.

The temperature in the room rose with my agitation. Ember shifted on his perch, my phoenix familiar’s feathers flickering between amber and crimson. The girl’s image burned in my mind—her defiance at the airport, the raw power that had stirred at her presence.

His gaze turned on me, flames in the depths of his eyes. “Control yourself.”

I clenched my fists, forcing my magic back into its cage. Fire licked at my fingertips before vanishing into my palms.

“I don’t need complications,” he said, turning back to the view, “not with vampire attacks burning through the north.”

Anywhere witches didn’t have easy access to a wellspring, they were vulnerable, and the vampire clans took full advantage. And it was Father’s job as head of the Council and general of the Shroud Guard to stop them no matter what it took.

“She’s nothing.” The words came out hot, desperate to convince us both. “Some untrained nobody. Wickem’s power will burn her out in a week.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” he said, his fingers returning to tapping the stone, “The wellspring found her and called her to Wickem. That alone makes her dangerous.”

“How did it do that?” I asked. “How did the wellspring…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Father finally turned, his eyes hard as stone. “Just remember that your mother died investigating what James Grimley was doing with those bloodsuckers, and his daughter is likely more of the same. A traitor’s child and a human-witch half-breed.” He bit out the last words venomously, before sighing, rubbing his face. “There’s no telling what trouble she’ll cause.”

I nodded mechanically, the lesson beaten into me over the last fifteen years. Vampires were the enemy. They’d murdered my mother, and the half-breed’s father had helped them.

“The fourth seat’s been cold for twenty years,” he continued, voice frosting over. “We’ve forged something better from that void. Now his daughter appears…”

“We’ll take care of her,” I said.

His approval barely sparked. “Good. The Council meeting awaits. The vampire situation…”

He turned away, battle plans already consuming his attention. Our family portal master waited just outside my door to whisk my father back to his office. Of course he hadn’t really come to visit me—just to evaluate the surprise new heir and to ensure I understood my role in maintaining order.

My fire flared again, now that he was gone. All of this fuss over a half-breed? Sure, she had power, I’d felt it at the airport, but no control. And power needs to be controlled or it was useless—Father had taught me that.

After he left, I burst into the royal dorm’s common room, my earlier control already fraying. Ember materialized in a burst of flame, the phoenix’s feathers shifting between amber and crimson. The familiar space should have been soothing with its dark wood panels and leather-bound books, generations of power soaked into every surface. Instead, it felt like a fortress under siege.

“Damn half-breed,” I muttered, flinging a fireball without thinking. It nearly hit an antique mirror—only to transform into a butterfly midair.

“Temper, temper.” Elio didn’t even look up from where he lounged on the velvet chaise, surrounded by his usual admirers. His perfect casualness, that practiced grace that came so easily to him, made my teeth grind. “What did the little cleaning witch do to ruffle your feathers so thoroughly?”

The massive fireplace roared to life, reflecting my rage. “A traitor’s daughter doesn’t belong in our school.”