LOGINEmory POVI made a promise. And no… it was not the quiet kind that slips off your tongue because someone asks you to, not the kind you break because time makes things easier. This one was said staring into my mother’s eyes, her hands cold against my face, her voice only a breath away from breaking.“Stay away from her.”So I tried. I really did.Monday morning came with students flooding the hallway. The boarding school was always too boisterous at this early time of the day with children laughing their eyes out, sneakers bumping on the stone stones and someone already screaming on practice tryouts.I would walk head down and hood up with my backpack on one shoulder. This was a practiced form of invisibility. I’d learned how to make myself small after the war, after Rain. It was easier to be the version of myself that no one asked questions about.My schedule changed last semester when I came back. The staff said they wanted to “reduce stress.” Translation: give the recently traumatis
Isolde I had been told that boarding schools were supposed to feel like beginnings. New routines. New friendships. New chances to become someone better than whoever you were before. But as I had walked through the gates of the now named Lannister Academy that first morning, all I felt was noise.It had not just been loud noise, not shouting students or blaring hallways. No, this was a quieter kind of noise. The kind that lives under the skin. The one that whistles in the air and touches the back of your neck like somebody is spying. Or waiting.My suit-case had gone rolling across the pavement. The college resembled an old one, which, though recently remodelled, was too old to be a mere school. The houses were high and slim, and the shadows were hanging upon their sides even in daytime. There was at the centre a courtyard fountain, and on one side of it was the narrative of a statue of a girl cut wholly of pale stone streaked with brands of soft gold, printed in a banner.Students pa
EliasThe ride back to the estate felt longer than it should have. The academy was barely a forty minute drive, but silence lengthens roads, and Aria hadn’t spoken a word since we left the parking lot. Her hands were clasped too tightly in her lap. She stared ahead as if the mist outside the windshield were capable of forming answers.I knew better.The gate guards stepped aside as the car rolled in. The Lannister estate, rebuilt, repaired, repainted, still looked like a scar trying to pretend it was skin. Half the stone was new. Half was still blackened at the edges. Rain’s statue glowed faintly under the courtyard lamps, the gold within her stone veins flickering like a quiet heartbeat.Grief does not leave. It shifts its shape.Kol was waiting for us at the front of the house. He still leaned on his cane though he did not really need it. His eyes found Aria first. He read her expression instantly.“What happened?”Not to me. Not to the boy. Not to the school.What happened to the t
EmoryAntiseptic and mint scented steam woke me.The white of the ceiling above me was too white, the clinical white that made you feel naked. I blinked, and my eyes had to adjust gradually, and it was some long few seconds before the other part of the world came into focus.I happened to be in the academy infirmary.I didn’t remember walking here. I didn’t remember fainting. I didn’t remember anything past sitting by the fountain and… a name. A whisper.Isolde.The room felt too warm suddenly. A white-gowned healer came forward with tied-back hair, and glasses sliding along her nose that gave the impression of her having been running about since daybreak.“You are awake,” she said, not so much with relief strictly speaking, but with the bone deep fatigue of one who had not time to get anymore emergencies. “What… happened?” My voice sounded dry. Rusted.“You fainted,” she said. “Your vitals dropped fast. Blood pressure, heart rate, the kind of drop we see in wolves experiencing high
AriaSome of the mornings were so silent sometimes that it was as though the house were not there, but the walls hung waiting until there was a crack.This morning was one of them. It was calm, as deep winter may be calm, cold and still, silent and heavy.And, in that silence I was thinking of the children.Mina and Gina laughing somewhere down a hallway, except they weren’t laughing anymore. They were off at the boarding academy, two years younger than Emory, trying their best to pretend everything was normal. Trying to move on. Trying to heal.And Emory… I pressed my hands against the counter, steadying myself. He had lost more than any child ever should. Rain had been his anchor. His grounding force. His mirror. His lover.When she died, when she ascended, or dissolved, or became whatever she had become, something in Emory broke. Or maybe something inside him simply returned to silence.They were all grieving in their own ways.But Mina and Gina, losing their mother was different.
EmoryI had forgotten how loud schools were.Not loud as battles were loud, battles were true, uncouth clatter, metal and breath and heartbeat clatter. School was still another type of noise, chatter, chairs creaking down floors, sneakers banging tile, a riot of faces all of which claimed to have never been burnt by anything in the world.Six months since the siege. Six months since the war. Six months since Rain.And this time, once more, I was walking down a hallway with the fluorescent lights and posters on college applications, and was faking like I was just another student, not the subject of conversation when half the city spotted my name.I kept my sleeves pulled down. The scars had long since ceased to be black, instead becoming faintly silver in tone, though they remained, just a reminder of the finger of the Shadow King on my bones. People didn’t notice them unless I moved wrong. I made sure I never moved wrong.The academy felt smaller than it used to. Maybe I’d just gotten







