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“You too, honey,” I tell her, grinning as I point to the crest etched high on the pillar’s surface. Hers. The crown of the whole cursed thing, and she doesn’t even realize it. “That mark right there? That’s all you. The top of the totem pole. The boss-level glyph.”
She hesitates, which is rare for her these days, and it’s kind of hot, honestly. That moment where she doubts herself before she levels the world anyway. But then, like she always does , Luna steps forward. Silent. Sure. Her fingers brush the stone, and oh, fuck me sideways.
The world doesn’t just ripple. It rips.
It’s not dramatic at first, no roaring wind, no searing light. Just a hum, deep and low, like the earth’s throat clearing. Then the pillar flares, and the magic hits us like a freight train. My mouth drops open on a half-baked joke that never makes it out, because the ground tilts, reality snaps sideways.
We’re ripped from the world.
I barely get a “SHIIIII, ” out before my voice is swallowed whole by the spiral of air and color and weightlessness. I reach for Elias on instinct, because I know he’s probably flailing like a drunk cat somewhere nearby, and also because I love him, though I’ll deny it under oath.
It’s not falling. It’s not flying. It’s like being unraveled and stitched together at once, every piece of me suspended in some shimmering current of magic that defies gravity and logic and every law of physics I never bothered to learn. My hand is still pressed to the pillar, or maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m holding on to something else entirely, something that pulses with Luna’s magic and our bonds and the tangled threads between us all.
I hear Elias yell something obscene behind me. Typical. And Lucien curses, sharp, cold, too controlled for the chaos around him. Orin says nothing, but I feel him like an anchor, steady even as we’re hurled through the vortex. And Luna at the center of it all. She doesn’t scream. Doesn’t flinch. Her magic sings around her like it knows this place, this path. Like it’s been waiting for her to come home.
The ground hits my spine with a thud that knocks the curse out of my lungs. Elias lands on top of me. Or maybe I landed on him. Who the hell knows anymore.
The world reforms with a lurch. Stone underfoot, air thick with the scent of wild magic and ash. I half-catch myself, and immediately look for Luna. She’s standing a few feet away, hair wild, eyes wide, but she’s fine. She’s glowing faintly, likewhatever just happened fed something inside her. Or woke it up.
I glance around. We’re in a courtyard. Ruined. Ancient. A mirror of Daemon Academy’s, but twisted, the same bones, but corrupted. Overgrown with vines that pulse with unnatural light, statues crumbling into ash, the sky above us a bruised violet with no visible sun. This place is wrong. Familiar and wrong.
“Well,” Elias says, panting, hand braced on his knees. “I give the ride one star. Would not recommend.”
“Where the fuck are we?” Riven growls, stalking forward like he’s ready to tear the answer out of someone’s throat.
But Orin’s already moving. His gaze sweeps the courtyard, lands on a broken arch at the far end. His shoulders tighten. “This is the other side of the anchor.”
Lucien steps up beside him. “You mean the mirror?”
“No,” Orin says quietly. “I mean this is where the first one was built. Before Daemon. Before the divide.”
My skin crawls. “You’re saying Branwen brought us to the original Academy?”
“No,” Orin replies. “I’m saying she never left it.”
Luna exhales, slow and steady, and steps toward us, her expression unreadable. “Then it’s time we find her.”
And just like that, we move. Because if this place is her domain, we’re already in the mouth of the wolf. And if Branwen wants to play queen of a kingdom of ash, then we’re here to burn it down.
To be continued……