Page 4 of Pets in Space 10

Harmonia’s attention remained fixed on the delicate script unfurling across the brittle pages of the tome beneath her hands. The air hung heavy with ink, old parchment, and the deep-set hum of magic steeped over decades — her ancestor’s magic.

Night after night blurred together in a haze of resonance threads and tracking spells.

She scoured the ancient tomes — the ones Arastan had penned by hand — their ink still pulsing faintly with traces of his essence.

A dozen maps and glyph tracings surrounded her, each carefully aligned, meticulously examined.

Her fingertips tingled from hours of sifting through enchanted networks, searching for something that didn’t want to be found.

Then a flicker.

The tome beneath her hand pulsed gold for a heartbeat — then again.

Harmonia froze. Her breath caught in her throat as the glow danced across the page like firelight, responding to something unseen. Something missing.

She narrowed her focus, slipping her hand into the tracking net she’d woven earlier that week. Threads of magic shimmered in her mind’s eye like spider silk — delicate, ethereal… and broken.

Not one, but several lines of magic that should have been tethered to the vault had gone dark.

Gone.

She felt it before she saw it — the corrupted signature threading through one of the severed lines. It pulsed with a slow, sick rhythm, unmistakable in its source.

Ceto.

The name echoed in her memory like a curse. Ceto, the disgraced mage who had tried to steal the Stormhold legacy. Who had nearly consumed Wynter’s magic. And now, it seemed, her reach had extended beyond her fall.

The trail — the shattered threads, the poisoned pulse — all pointed to one place.

The world where Wynter had found Pow-pow.

The world of dragons.

Heart hammering, Harmonia closed the tome with deliberate care.

She stood, hands trembling slightly as she reached for her travel satchel and slid open the enchanted map case.

Her father’s ring-map unfurled with a soft shimmer, the dragon realm glowing faintly along its edge as though it, too, knew what had been lost.

She hesitated just long enough to whisper to the quiet room, “I’ll uncover your secrets, Ceto… and I will bring the missing rings back.”

***

Later, in the depths of the Nether Room, Harmonia sat cross-legged beneath the constellation-domed ceiling, the floor beneath her humming with quiet magic.

She had lost count of how long she’d been there, surrounded by tomes older than nations, tracing spells etched into the walls by ancestors who had lived and died for knowledge.

She studied the worn sigils in one of the memory rings, her gold band glowing faintly in response.

Her fingers brushed over an ancient incantation for energy stabilization — one she had never been taught but somehow…

understood. The runes whispered to her, and her lips moved in silent repetition, each word resonating through her bones like a remembered song.

A quiet warmth stirred in her chest.

It was happening more often now — the sense that something inside her was unlocking, blooming like starlight behind her ribs. Magic she’d always felt but never understood. Her father once told her not all power is taught — some must be remembered.

Her thoughts were cut short by a sudden tremor.

The floor beneath her shifted.

The walls groaned.

Books rustled on their shelves. A few glowing globes bobbed higher in alarm. Somewhere across the room, a soft bell chimed twice, then fell silent.

She rose slowly, every nerve alert.

A deeper pulse, ancient and uneasy, rippled through the room like a heartbeat.

Harmonia turned toward the Basin of Visions, its glass bowl held aloft by stone arms carved with swirling runes. The water within was still — until it wasn’t.

She approached, each step deliberate. A low, reverberating hum began to rise, like wind through hollow stone.

The surface of the water shimmered, rippled, then cleared.

A man appeared.

He stood in a flat-bottomed boat, gliding silently through a dark, mist-laced waterway surrounded by towering cypress trees. Faint lantern light flickered at the bow of the vessel, casting his face into half-shadow.

Her breath caught as he turned.

Rugged. Weathered. Striking.

Short, scruffy black hair curled at the edges, and his dark brown eyes searched the water as if listening to something beneath the surface. A neatly trimmed beard framed his jaw, and his hands — strong, calloused — gripped the oar with quiet confidence.

Her heart stuttered.

She didn’t know his name. She had never seen him before. And yet… something ancient and instinctual whispered that whatever was happening — whatever was coming — was tied to him.

The image held, frozen in a moment of quiet tension, before the surface rippled again — and vanished.

She exhaled sharply, unaware she’d been holding her breath.

Her hand rose instinctively. The gold ring gleamed brighter, stirred by the vision’s lingering magic.

She whispered a locating incantation, one older than the Council’s teachings, pulled from the depths of the Nether Room’s vault.

Swirls of light and color rose from her fingertips, dancing like smoke into the air before spiraling down and sinking into the ring’s intricate band. The enchantment sealed with a soft click, a pulse of heat traveling into her palm.

She cradled her hand against her chest, her heart racing.

The magic in the room seemed to pause… watching.

She stood frozen for several seconds, staring at the now-still basin.

Then, as if released from a spell, she turned and ran — her boots echoing sharply on the stone as she sprinted across the Nether Room. Her cloak flared behind her, catching glints of starlight from the crystal ceiling.

She didn’t stop until she reached the stairwell.

Didn’t pause until the door of the Nether Room sealed behind her.

She moved through her family’s halls with quiet urgency, the spell still burning against her skin.

She had a beginning now.

And she intended to follow it — wherever it led.