Page 28

ASH

Dusk bleeds between trees like a wound as I trek toward the boundary.

The forest transforms—shapes writhing, neither fully tree nor entirely sentient. Shadows deepen with intent, night itself a starving predator stretching awake.

I should feel terrified. Everything inside me screams danger. But the patterns spreading beneath my sleeve don’t fear. They recognize.

Home.

The word bubbles up like blood from a wound. Not safe— hell no —but right in ways that make my throat tighten with longing I can’t explain. For far too long I traveled to all corners of the earth, never once feeling like I belonged anywhere.

Turns out all I had to do was simply... leave .

I’m halfway to the boundary when it hits me.

Tomorrow night. Dinner with Orion.

My steps falter. Stomach lurches.

Fuck.

Warmth unfurls in my chest at the memory. His easy smile. The way his eyes light up when he laughs. That heat radiating from him felt like standing near a bonfire.

All threatened by what I’m about to do.

And Finnian—tomorrow after the evening meal, he’d promised to show me the restricted archives. Real information about the Four Treasures. His amber eyes were serious as he made the offer, trusting me with secrets that could destroy him.

I stop walking, hands clenched into fists.

“What the hell am I doing?” I laugh bitterly at the trees. “Compromising a twenty-five-year mission record for dinner plans. Real professional, Morgan.”

The forest listens. I feel attention focus from multiple directions—not threatening, just... present. Like whatever lives here wants to hear what I’ll say next.

“I know you’re listening, so let’s cut the mystical bullshit,” I say to the watching shadows.

“Help me figure out how to keep them alive while I work out what you’ve been hiding from me, or we’re all fucked.

” A branch touches my shoulder—answer enough.

“Then help me figure out how to save them without destroying everything we’re building. ”

“I’m about to call in a report that could end everything.

” My voice cracks. “Two weeks ago, that would have been easy. Mission first. Always. But now...” I press my palm against my chest where warmth spreads at the thought of amber eyes and flame-bright hair.

“Now I’m choosing them over orders that kept me alive for twenty-five years. ”

I walk slower now, feet reluctant.

“Orion makes me laugh—actual laughter that starts in my chest and escapes before I can lock it down. Not the tactical sounds I make in briefings.” My throat tightens. “When he looks at me, he sees past every lie I’ve ever told myself. And instead of running, I want to let him closer.”

A branch brushes my shoulder—too gentle to be accidental, too purposeful to be wind. I should feel terrified. I don’t. Instead, it feels right. Like showing up at Grandma’s house with cookies and milk sitting on the table.

“And Finnian...” His name tastes like honey and old books on my tongue.

“He sees through every deflection I throw at him, every wall I build. It should terrify me. Instead, he offers to share secrets that could get him killed.” I breathe.

“He trusts me with treason, and I’m about to prove he shouldn’t. ”

The pendant grows colder against my skin, fighting the warmth spreading through my chest as I think about them. Even Kieran—dangerous, infuriating Kieran who makes my blood sing and calls me by a name that feels more real than any identity I’ve worn.

“If Davis comes, they’ll think I was just using them,” I realize aloud. “That none of it mattered.”

A tremor runs through my bones as the truth settles—their opinions matter more than mission success now.

“Twenty-five years of training, and I’m hesitating because of a dinner invitation and some ancient books.” I laugh, the sound bitter in the night air. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s the way my body knows theirs. Like we’re pieces of something larger.”

But it is more than that. It’s the way my body responded to Orion in combat like we’d trained together for centuries. How Finnian’s touch sent warmth through me when I’d been cold for so long. The recognition in Kieran’s eyes when he looks at me, like he’s seeing someone I haven’t met yet.

“I could pretend the satphone won’t work,” I whisper. “Give myself more time.”

But Graves isn’t stupid. Three days of silence is already dangerous. Much longer and he’ll send Davis anyway. At least this way, I can control the narrative. Feed him just enough while I figure out what’s happening to me.

“Whatever I’m becoming,” I tell the forest, “I need time to understand it.”

The air warms slightly—approval or encouragement, I can’t tell.

Each step feels like betrayal of promises made—dinner with Orion, archives with Finnian, exploring whatever’s awakening inside me.

But maybe this is how I protect them. By keeping Graves at bay long enough to understand what they’re telling me about bloodlines and treasures.

Maybe this is the only way to keep that dinner date. The only way to see Finnian’s secrets.

The patterns pulse beneath my sleeve, and for a moment, I swear I feel someone else’s heartbeat echoing mine. Not human. Something wilder, older. Something that’s been waiting for me to stop running from what I really am.

“I’ll figure this out,” I promise the darkness. “I’ll keep them safe while I learn the truth.”

The presence in the shadows seems to approve, though it remains hidden. Waiting to see what I’ll choose when the real moment comes.

The pendant turns brutally cold as I near the boundary. Ice spreads from where metal touches skin, frost crystallizing across my collarbone in intricate patterns that look disturbingly familiar.

I stumble as pain flares down my chest, a rejection so violent I can’t drag air into my lungs. Three more steps and frost forms on my eyelashes, my vision blurring as tears freeze before they can fall. My throat feels squeezed by invisible hands, windpipe closing like someone’s tightening a noose.

The pendant doesn’t want me crossing the boundary. Or more accurately, it doesn’t want whatever’s inside me reaching the other side. Or leaving. I can’t be sure which it is.

I stop twenty yards from where Academy magic transitions to the human realm.

“What are you really suppressing?” I grip the chain until it cuts into my palm.

“Because this isn’t protection—it’s control.

You’ve been keeping me docile, haven’t you?

Good little weapon, never asking the right questions.

” The pendant burns colder in response, ice spreading across my chest in denial. “That’s what I thought.”

Options narrow. Past the boundary, technology works.

I can contact Graves, prevent extraction. But the pendant’s resistance promises consequences I can’t predict. What happens if I cross wearing it? What happens if I remove it?

I think of Orion’s dinner invitation. Finnian’s promise to show me the archives. The way Kieran said my name like it was something precious and dangerous.

I make my decision.

I reach for the chain around my neck, unclasping it with fingers gone numb and clumsy from cold. The moment the pendant breaks contact with my skin, the world explodes.

Colors sharpen—not just darkness but a dozen shades of night between trees, rich purples and midnight blues where before there was only black.

Night creatures’ heartbeats become audible—quick fluttering birds, slower pulses of larger animals watching from hiding.

Scents separate into information—age of trees, who passed hours ago, weather changes days away.

The patterns beneath my sleeve glow green-gold through fabric, spreading past my shoulder, across my collarbone, down my other arm like living vines seeking light.

My organs rearrange themselves again, finding configurations that can process this influx of sensation. My lungs expand, pulling in air so rich with information it makes me dizzy. My heart pounds with a rhythm that feels older than human, syncing to pulses in the earth beneath my feet.

I step forward with new certainty as the boundary approaches. The transition ripples through me before I physically cross—like moving from deep water to surface tension, pressure changing against every inch of skin.

Then I’m through, everything suddenly flatter, quieter, less. The vibrant pulse of Academy realms replaced by mundane reality that feels hollow and dead by comparison. Like stepping from a symphony into silence.

My satphone powers on, screen harsh and crude compared to the living light I’ve grown used to. I hold it reluctantly, suddenly aware how quickly I’ve adapted to a world without technology. How natural the Academy’s magic feels compared to circuits and code.

I compose my message carefully, selecting words that tell enough while hiding complications.

My fingers hover over the screen, each word feeling like a knife between ribs:

VERIFIED PRESENCE OF ARTIFACTS WITHIN ACADEMY GROUNDS. ACCESSING RESTRICTED INFORMATION THROUGH FACULTY CONNECTIONS. SPEAR LOCATION CONFIRMED. CROWN WITHIN ACADEMY PROTECTION. REQUIRE ADDITIONAL TIME FOR COMPLETE INTELLIGENCE GATHERING.

“Forgive me,” I whisper to the darkness as I hit send. “For all of it.”

The progress bar crawls across the screen. Part of me hopes it fails. That connection stays broken. That I can return without reestablishing contact.

Guilt hits hard, twisting in my gut like a blade between ribs. Years of following Graves without question, and now I hesitate? Twenty-five years of conditioning screaming that I’m betraying everything I’ve been trained to be.

The response arrives fast—thirty seconds after transmission.

INTELLIGENCE INADEQUATE. TIMELINE UNACCEPTABLE. MATERIAL CONFIRMATION REQUIRED WITHIN SEVEN DAYS OR EXTRACTION TEAM DEPLOYS. AGENT DAVIS STANDING BY FOR REINFORCEMENT.

Davis.