Page 25

Marigold

The third-floor study room in the academic wing had the best views of the mountains, but right now I could barely appreciate it through my growing frustration.

Scout chittered encouragingly from my shoulder, his crooked little bow tie bouncing like a cheerleader’s ribbon with every twitch as I tried the detection spell for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Like this.” Raven demonstrated again, her protective charms clinking as she moved her hands in a precise pattern. A soft pulse of magic revealed the traces of old spells lingering in the room’s corners. “You have to maintain a light touch while extending your magical awareness.”

“Think of it like creating a map,” Lucas added, his skeletal bird familiar hopping between spots where past magic had left marks. “The trials often include hidden elements that must be detected.”

I took a deep breath and tried again, reaching for my magic the way Dr. Reyes had taught me.

But instead of the gentle searching probe the textbook described, my necromancy surged.

Scout chittered a warning just before every trace of past death in the room became blindingly obvious—from mice that had died in the walls decades ago to the remnants of countless dead insects.

“Sorry!” I pulled back quickly as the dead things stirred. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s actually impressive,” a new voice said.

I turned to see a tall girl standing by the next table. Long copper hair, pulled back in a simple braid. No makeup, no flash—just steady posture and eyes that didn’t miss much.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Aurora Raynoff.”

Raynoff. My stomach did a slow twist. That wasn’t a name you forgot—not with Cyrus walking around like a firestorm waiting to happen.

The study room went dead silent.

Whispers from the other students started immediately.

“Raynoff? With her ?”

“Why is she even talking to the Shadow Heir?”

“I thought Cyrus wanted her gone.”

The tension tightened, coiling low in my gut. Aligning with her could paint an even bigger target on my back. I opened my mouth to say… something.

But Aurora just smiled again—warm, like she hadn’t heard a thing—and pulled over a chair. “Mind if I join? I could use the practice too.”

Raven immediately shifted to make room. “Aurora’s in our Practical Applications seminar.”

“The one where I keep detecting emotional traces instead of proper Raynoff power signatures.” Aurora demonstrated, her magic revealing pink-tinged echoes of past students’ feelings. “Family’s thrilled about that.”

I hesitated, glancing at Lucas and Raven, but they didn’t seem bothered by her presence. Maybe I shouldn’t be either.

Before I could respond, the sophomores at the next table weren’t even pretending not to watch.

“Did you see that? All the death magic she stirred up?”

“Why is Raynoff sitting with them?”

“I dunno. Maybe she’s got a thing for necromancers.”

They muttered as they packed up their things and moved to the other side of the room.

Aurora rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind them. My family’s reputation scares people into thinking we’re all like Cyrus.”

“And we both know that’s not true,” Raven added. “I mean, you’re at least thirty percent friendlier.”

Aurora snorted. “Cyrus would probably call me a disgrace to the bloodline. Can’t wait to hear the next lecture about ‘proper Raynoff discipline.’”

“Every family has its standards,” Lucas noted dryly. “Though some enforce them more rigorously than others.”

I could relate to that. My father’s legacy hung over me like a ghost no one would stop mentioning.

“Maybe we should take this somewhere with more space,” Aurora suggested. “The practice rooms on the first floor are usually empty this time of day.”

The practice rooms were smaller than regular classrooms but had the advantage of being warded specifically for magical accidents. Protective runes marked the walls, glowing faintly blue as we entered.

“Much better,” Raven declared, setting up her books again. “Now nobody cares if things get a little too… detailed.”

I tried the detection spell again, focusing harder on controlling the energy flow, on keeping my necromancy contained while reaching for magic traces…

The dead things surged without warning. Every trace of past magic in the room became visible—not just spells, but the lingering echoes of everyone who had ever practiced here. Scout pressed against my neck, his steady presence helping me filter through the overwhelming information.

“Fascinating,” Lucas muttered, already scribbling notes. “The necromantic energy isn’t just detecting magic, it’s revealing layers of magical history—”

“Look at this,” Aurora interrupted, examining a particularly old trace I’d revealed. “That’s from when they first built these practice rooms. You can see the original warding patterns.”

She was right. Unlike my failed attempts at light magic, this felt natural. The dead things weren’t interfering but enhancing, adding depth to what I could perceive. Through them, I could see how magic had shaped this space over generations.

“It’s because death magic understands patterns,” Aurora said matter-of-factly. When we all stared at her, she shrugged. “What? Everything leaves traces. You’re just seeing the ones most people forget to look for.”

“That… actually makes sense,” Lucas mused. “You’re not just detecting current magic, you’re reading the accumulated magical history. Rather brilliant, really.”

“But will it work for the trials?” I watched the layers of magical residue swirl through the air, Scout’s sharp instincts helping me tell one type from another—cool, ancient, chaotic. “They’re expecting standard detection spells.”

“Hey.” Raven’s charms clinked as she grabbed my hand. “The trials test magical awareness, not limitations. And this?” She gestured at the complex patterns I’d revealed. “This is definitely awareness.”

“Plus,” Aurora added with a grin, “imagine their faces when you find things no one else even knows to look for.”

We spent the next hour experimenting—learning to filter different types of magical traces, finding ways to focus on specific time periods, even discovering how to trace the path of active spells through the remnants they left behind.

By the end of the session, I could perform a detection spell that looked almost normal but revealed far more, guided by the dead things’ perfect memory of what had come before.

“Progress!” Raven declared as we packed up. “See? We’ll figure this out.”

A sharp chime cut through the room. Raven pulled out her phone, frowning at the screen. “It’s my mom…” Her protective charms clinked softly as she answered. “Hey, what’s—”

The color drained from her face. Boris, her skeletal beetle, skittered anxiously across her notes.

“Are they okay? How bad—? No, I understand. Yes. Keep me posted.” Her hands trembled as she lowered the phone.

“Raven?” Aurora moved closer, concern etching her features. “What happened?”

“My cousins were at Pike Place Market in Seattle.” Raven’s voice shook. “Vampires attacked. In broad daylight. They never—there’s a wellspring there, they shouldn’t have been able to—” She broke off, pressing her hands to her mouth.

“Were they hurt?” Lucas asked quietly, his bird familiar landing protectively on his shoulder.

“Marcus has a broken arm. Elena’s in shock, but physically okay. The Shroud Guard got there fast, but…” She swallowed hard. “Three people died before they could stop it. In the middle of the city. With a wellspring right there.”

The room went still. Scout curled tighter into the crook of my neck, his bones clicking softly as he shivered, tail wrapping around my collar like he could shield me.

Aurora squeezed Raven’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get you some air. Mountain View Cafe? My treat.”

“The skull foam art always cheers you up,” I added, trying to lighten the mood.

Raven managed a weak smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

As we headed upstairs, Scout nuzzled into the side of my throat, bones cool but familiar. The dead things whispered uneasily in the walls, their murmurs sharper now, as if echoing my own unease. This attack wasn’t just random vampire violence. It meant something more. Something worse.

If they could breach wellspring protections now… nowhere was truly safe.

The skull in my latte foam grinned up at me, its usual charm feeling hollow. Through the cafe’s floor-to-ceiling windows, mountains stretched endlessly toward clouds tinged pink with sunset. Raven’s hands still trembled slightly around her cup as she checked her phone again.

“Any updates?” Aurora asked.

Raven shook her head. “Mom says they’re still at the hospital with Marcus. Elena’s talking to the Shroud Guard about what she saw.”

“At least they’re safe,” Lucas said, his voice carrying forced lightness. His skeletal bird familiar hopped closer to Boris on the table, offering silent comfort.

Aurora stirred her drink absently. “I don’t understand how this happened. The Market’s close to the wellspring. That should have been enough.”

“Maybe that’s why the vampires targeted it,” I suggested. “To show they could breach even a wellspring’s influence?”

Raven swallowed hard. “Mom said the Shroud Guard had to cover it up. Make it look like a normal attack for the humans. They spun it as some kind of gang violence. But—” she exhaled shakily, “—that doesn’t change the fact that it shouldn’t have happened at all.”

Silence settled around our table, heavier than before. Scout pressed closer against my neck, while Boris clicked anxiously across Raven’s protective charms.

“We should head to Rivera’s combat training,” Lucas said finally. “After this, I don’t think any of us can afford to skip defensive magic practice.”