Page 19

HAZEL

T here’s a difference between being alone and being left .

One is choice. The other’s a punch to the chest.

I’m figuring that out in real time as I sprint toward the south ward line, heart in my throat and my wand vibrating with pure panic.

“Tell me this is a prank,” I mutter, ducking under a low-hanging branch. “Tell me some chaos gremlin threw up a spooky illusion and not?—”

Nope.

No such luck.

A pulse of dark energy slams through the air, nearly knocking me off my feet. My hair stands on end. The ground hums beneath my boots. Magic crackles—wild, unstable, ancient.

I slide to a stop just in time to see it.

The tear.

It’s not big. Maybe six feet across. But it’s wrong . A jagged gash in the veil between worlds, stitched in shadows and screaming softly like the space around it is trying to hold its breath.

And next to it?

A kid.

Of course.

Ashwin.

One of the first-year apprentices, barely old enough to summon a spark without setting his robes on fire. He’s standing in front of the tear with a look on his face that says, Oops, I broke reality and also maybe my pants.

“What the HELL, Ashwin?” I shout, hands up, breath shallow. “Please tell me this is a weird phase and not a full-blown interdimensional crisis!”

“I—I was just trying to amplify a locator charm,” he stammers. “For a beetle. A very rare beetle?—”

“A beetle? You summoned the void over a beetle?! ”

“I think I used too much ley pull,” he says, voice cracking.

“No shit .”

The tear pulses again.

The air around it shifts—pulling in, like gravity’s been reversed. Like the world is sucking itself inward.

And then the worst thing happens.

My magic disappears.

One second, it’s there—alive and bright and buzzing in my fingertips—and the next, it’s gone.

Like someone unplugged me from the ley lines and tossed me into a blackout.

I stumble, grabbing a nearby tree for balance.

“Hazel?” Ashwin squeaks.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Totally chill. Nothing like getting magically ghosted by the universe to spice up your Tuesday.”

The tear flares.

A tendril of black mist snakes out, lashing toward us like it’s searching for something to consume .

I push Ashwin back.

“Run.”

“What about?—”

“ RUN. ”

He bolts.

The mist curls around my ankles.

And I feel it—deep in my bones—that empty, hollow pull. Like the tear is looking at me. Like it knows .

And then, I feel it again.

That old fear.

Not of death. Not of monsters.

But of being powerless.

Of being abandoned.

Of being the girl no one comes back for.

I clutch my wand, heart racing, whispering a sigil I know won’t work but trying anyway.

“Lux... incendere... lux...”

Nothing.

The mist rises.

I can’t breathe.

The tear widens.

And I break.

Just for a second.

I drop to my knees and whisper, “Please. Just let someone see me. Someone. ”

Suddenly, a roar.

Not from the tear.

From behind me.

Derek.

He crashes through the trees like a nightmare made of leather and fury. His eyes are glowing. His voice is a snarl.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

He slams into the mist, blade out, slashing it back with pure brute force. The veil pulses in protest. The tendrils recoil.

He’s at my side in a blink, yanking me to my feet, arm braced around my waist like I’m something worth saving .

“I lost you for two hours, ” he growls. “And you end up at the edge of a veil rupture?”

I try to smile. “You always show up at the most dramatic moments.”

“Hazel.”

My throat tightens.

“I couldn’t feel my magic,” I whisper.

He cups my face.

“You’re not your magic,” he says. “You’re you. That’s enough.”

I believe him.

Derek’s blade is still humming in the air beside me, mist curling at our feet like smoke from a dying fire. My hands are shaking, and my magic’s still not fully back online, but I’m on my feet.

Barely.

Then I hear it.

Voices.

High-pitched. Scared.

“Hazel?”

I turn—heart in my throat—and see them.

Three tiny silhouettes stumbling through the brush at the edge of the grove. Phoebe’s clutching her charm pouch like it’s a life preserver. Milo’s dragging Jax, who looks pale and very much like he might either scream or vomit.

No.

No, no, no.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

I grab Derek’s arm. “There are kids. Behind the trees.”

His head snaps toward them, fangs flashing. “They shouldn’t be this close.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

I move before he can stop me.

“Milo!” I shout, using my Camp Counselor Voice—the one that can cut through a pixie tantrum or a runaway spell explosion.

His head jerks up. “Hazel?!”

“Yeah, it’s me! Congratulations, you’ve found the one cursed part of the woods we specifically told you to never enter! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Jax saw the sky glow,” Milo pants. “We thought it was fireworks!”

“It’s always not fireworks, you gremlin! Get your butts over here!”

Phoebe tugs at Jax’s sleeve, urging him forward, but he’s frozen. His lip’s wobbling. His eyes are glued to the tear in the veil still hissing like it’s hungry.

I move fast.

Drop to one knee, mud soaking into my pants.

“Jax,” I say, voice low now, all sugar and steel. “Hey. Look at me.”

He does. Barely.

“You know what this is?” I ask, even though I know he doesn’t.

He shakes his head.

“This is a test. And you know what I see when I look at you?”

Big eyes. Bigger tears.

“No,” he whispers.

“I see a kid who once hexed a swarm of bugs to spell the word BUTTS in glowing runes across the mess hall. You did that with one matchstick wand and half a spell scroll. You’re powerful. You’re smart. You’re brave. And I need you right now.”

His mouth wobbles.

“Can you help me?”

A pause.

Then he nods.

Good.

“Phoebe,” I bark, turning to her. “You’re in charge. Lead them to the scry pond. Take the ward path. Stay under the brush, eyes sharp, don’t stop until you’re at the top of the ridge. Got it?”

She salutes. “Got it.”

“And if anything tries to follow?—”

“Kick it in the magical nuts.”

“That’s my girl.”

Milo gives me a thumbs up, already dragging Jax behind him like a determined raccoon hauling a backpack.

I stand, hands shaking harder now.

Not from fear.

From focus.

Because I almost panicked. Almost froze.

But I didn’t.

I acted.

I led.

And they’re safe.

“Hazel.”

Derek’s at my side, his voice taut but steadier now.

I glance at him.

“I saw you,” he says. “That was…”

“Hot?” I offer, a little breathless.

His mouth twitches. “I was going to say impressive.”

“Well, yeah. That too.”

And for the first time since the tear opened, since my magic flickered and vanished like a pulled plug, I feel something new crackling beneath my skin.

Not magic or fear.

Purpose.

The veil hisses again behind us, louder now, angry that its meal ran away.

Let it be mad.

I’ve got kids to protect, a partner at my side.

And I know exactly who the hell I am.