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Sometimes I wish I had a magical mirror and that by looking into it I could somehow see the outcome of absolutely everything.

Because if you know the future, you no longer have to fear it.

No matter what it shows you. You know it is going to happen, so you can prepare.

But not knowing, wondering whether one decision could lead you in one direction and the other down another path entirely is nerve-wracking.

I cannot help but envy Seers and their ability to have visions.

But I have heard of a magic that allows you to see.

Blood magic.

It is forbidden, but they say it is the most powerful.

I may not be a Seer…

But I could become one.

Tabitha Wysteria

Mal’s laughter rang wild and unrestrained through the open sky, carried by the wind as the dragons soared above the world.

The exhilaration of flight never faded, though this was a different dance than the one she was accustomed to with her wyvern.

Dragons were smaller, their wings slicing the heavens in slow, controlled beats, their movements steadier, more measured.

Nyx had always been a tempest beneath her, powerful and unpredictable, but this—this was gliding through the air as though weightless, as though the sky itself had folded her into its embrace .

Beneath them, the Kingdom of Fire sprawled in all its untamed splendour.

The jagged spines of volcanoes cut through the land like the teeth of ancient gods, their darkened slopes whispering of destruction long past. Beyond them, golden sands stretched towards the horizon, their edges kissed by the sapphire waves of the sea.

The castle of Spark, cradled within the bay, gleamed like a jewel set upon a throne of rock, its towers reaching desperately towards the sky, as if yearning to join them.

Their journey to the borders would take hours.

The castle, though grand, resided in one of the kingdom’s smallest cities.

The true heart of the drakonian empire, Fireheart, lay beyond the volcanic mountains, an expanse of stone and smoke and ceaseless life.

Ash gestured downward, calling out over the rush of the wind.

‘Fireheart,’ he shouted, his dragon veering closer.

Mal peered down at the labyrinth of roads and towering spires.

How much of this kingdom had she yet to see?

She had spent days within the castle, surrounded by its stone walls and high terraces, but what of the land beyond?

What of its people, its hidden corners, its untold stories?

A quiet longing stirred within her chest. Perhaps, on their return, she might wander through its streets, learn the pulse of this foreign place she was meant to call home.

The terrain below shifted from scorched amber to blood-red stone, marred only by the occasional defiant burst of green—small, fragile life clinging stubbornly to the harsh land.

Dragons drifted below them, their scarlet scales catching the sunlight, their riders clad in red, moving in synchronized formations.

‘Red Guard,’ Ash cried out again. ‘Training.’

Mal’s gaze strayed towards Hagan, who flew a few paces behind, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the sky.

There was something about him, the way he carried himself, the way his presence seemed tethered to Ash like an unspoken oath.

She had heard whispers of his past—how he had grown up within the castle, had left to join the Red Guard, had returned changed.

And then there was the way Alina held herself whenever he was near, her posture stiffening, her hands clenching ever so slightly, as though bracing for something unsaid.

Mal wondered if there was more to that story, something beneath the surface that neither dared to acknowledge.

The wall loomed in the distance, an iron-gray wound splitting the land. A hundred years ago, such barriers had not existed— but the war had changed everything. Now, the Kingdom of Magic stood caged behind stone, its secrets buried beneath layers of time and silence.

Mal had seen glimpses of the wall before—once many years ago, on a patrol with Kai, and on her journey to the Fire Kingdom, when she had flown past it and had fallen into the witchlands, dragged down by fate and misfortune.

But standing before it now, feeling the weight of its history pressing against her chest, was something else entirely.

She landed the dragon upon one of the wooden platforms that jutted out from the wall, the structure sturdy beneath its talons.

Ash followed, dismounting beside her, while Kai and Hagan touched down a little farther away.

Mal ignored the tension bristling between her brother and the Red Guard, turning her gaze instead to the land beyond.

The Kingdom of Magic stretched before her, eerily silent. A forgotten world of wild grass and crumbling ruins, its breath barely a whisper on the wind. The land had been abandoned, left to rot, yet something about it felt… watchful. As if, beneath the stones and shadows, something still stirred.

Mal descended from the platform, following Ash to one of the watchtowers. Few guards stood along the wall, and those who did appeared utterly bored. If the witches were to attack, they would be overrun in minutes. The thought unsettled her. No one was taking the threat seriously.

‘There are hardly any guards,’ she remarked.

Hagan snorted. ‘What do you need more for? All they do is stare at empty land. Thankfully the king is planning on expanding, taking a good chunk of the territory for us. We will have to pull the wall down, but it will be worth it.’

Mal froze. ‘What ?’

Hagan's fingers instinctively brushed the hilt of his dagger. ‘I thought she knew.’ His gaze snapped towards Ash.

Kai stepped forward, his voice low and sharp. ‘Explain.’

Ash exhaled, avoiding Mal’s gaze. ‘It is only a rumour. The king wishes to take some land from t-the witches to e-expand our kingdom.’

Kai’s dark eyes slitted, his gaze honing in on the space—no, the lack of space—between Mal and Ash.

The weight of his scrutiny pressed against her like an unspoken warning, sharp as a dagger hidden beneath velvet.

He had seen the kiss. She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the east. He had seen the way Ash’s stance had softened, the shift in his demeanour, the unguarded look in those golden eyes that had once been nothing but steel and fire.

His gaze flitted towards Mal, assessing, but whatever he wished to say, he held back— for now .

‘That would explain why there are rumours of witches everywhere,’ he said at last. ‘Whether he will do it or not, that would be enough to get the witches to rally together.’

Hagan scoffed. ‘How would the witches even discover such a plan?’

Vera . And who knew how many more like her? How many witches moved undetected within the castle, slipping through the halls disguised as servants, cooks, tailors? If Vera had heard the rumours, then the witches already knew. And now, they had reason to rise.

She opened her mouth to speak—

A deafening boom shattered the air.

The wall shook.

Mal stumbled back, shielding her face as a second explosion roared through the tower, sending stone and dust raining down.

The guards scrambled, shouting.

‘Witches!’

Mal’s blood turned to ice. She turned to the open land beyond the wall, but… there was nothing. No sign of an enemy. Only empty fields stretching towards the horizon.

‘Where are they?’ Hagan muttered. ‘The field is completely empty!’

A third explosion.

Mal’s breath caught in her throat.

‘They aren’t in the field,’ she said. ‘Witches use glamour .’

The realisation struck just as the door to the watchtower burst open.

Two drakonian guards entered—red uniforms, golden horns, blonde hair.

Only they weren’t guards.

Before their eyes, the illusion melted away, revealing two figures clad in black, their eyes gleaming like polished amethysts. The first witch lifted her hand, fingers curling as green smoke hissed between them, coiling like a living thing.

Her lips curled into a slow, amused smile.

‘Well, well,’ she purred. ‘What do we have here?’

The magic in her hand swelled, crackling with power.

And then, piercing through the chaos, shaking the heavens —

A wyvern’s roar split the sky.

…

Wren had introduced the valkyrians to Kage, their names etched into his memory not out of interest but simply because he never forgot what was relayed to him.

Three warrior women stood before him, their towering winged steeds at their sides, exuding an air of quiet menace, as if they were always moments away from charging into war.

Their very presence carried the weight of old battles and silent victories, their silver-plated armour reflecting the molten hues of the sky.

Kage considered pointing out that the gleaming war-plate on their horses was perhaps excessive—until the valkyrian with dark brown hair abruptly leaned forward and, without hesitation, licked his face.

Wren’s delighted laughter was a bell chiming in the air as Kage stiffened, his entire body recoiling in utter horror. He shot her a look so dark it could have withered forests, but she only giggled harder, pressing a hand to her stomach.

They mounted the winged steeds, each beast shaking its feathered mane before launching into the sky.

Wren rode alongside Thyra, a red-haired warrior astride a black stallion whose great wings shimmered with storm-cloud grey.

Astrid, golden-haired and ice-eyed, took Vera on a white steed so pale it seemed carved from moonlight.

And behind Kage, much to his displeasure, sat Freya, her sharp gaze unreadable as their steed vaulted skyward.