LOGINWho'd have thought that after last semester's battle at OAU, Draven would be fighting on the side of OAU? He certainly didn't, and the Interregnum sure the hell didn't.
The tombs were colder than I remembered. Draven moved silently behind me, his boots scraping against rock and his hand brushing against roots that hung like skeletal arms from the ceiling. We had lit everfire torches, courtesy of Moira, to fend off the darkness, though they did little against the cold. I recalled our previous visit during spring break when we discovered the vault beneath the Ember Hills and learned the truth about Obscura’s origins and the Founding Houses. Names carved in stone haunted my thoughts: Cillian Hawthorne, Selene Nerezza, Alaric Everly, and Seraphine Aurelian—my ancestor, the dragon who united the clans until the last great war. Her legacy echoed softly in the tomb, and the place never felt empty; it hummed. Draven had been silent since we passed through the last archway, the weight of the silence pressing around us as we approached the center. Four sarcophagi stood in formation, each marked with their House crest. Draven paused between Selene’s tomb an
The knock came after dawn. I was halfway through pulverizing dried fennel when the castle’s ward pulse flickered, like someone sucking in air against a sealed door. It wasn’t much, but I felt it in my fingers, through the stones of the keep. Old wards did that. Dragged on your bones like a chain. And I’d personally rewritten these after the war. I scrubbed my hands on my robes and ran down the stairs, barrel-chested through the great hall to the outer courtyard. Barefoot. She was waiting by herself out front, snow dusting her cloak and curling up around her boots. Gloved fingers curled tight on the strap of an old leather satchel tossed over her shoulder. Long auburn hair, bleached white at the ends. Her lips quivered just so, enough to break me. “Hey, Elias.” My throat clenched. I hadn’t heard her say my name like that since before I’d cut my first spell. “Mom.” She took a step forward, and I didn’t hesitate. I braced myself, hands on her shoulders. When her arms came down
I wasn’t even at the top of the ridge when the raven came for me. Ember Hills was silent in that tense way silence only becomes when blood has been spilled and wards reconfigured. Pine trees powdered with snow that glimmered without muffling sound. I could hear the village beneath me. Merriment. Clanging metal on stone. Lyra’s voice ringing too far for winter. It all felt brittle. Temporary. Easy to dismantle. The raven shattered that illusion with a sharp crack of wings before hopping fearlessly onto the rune marker beside me. It was enough to make my back stiffen. Ember Hills wasn’t exactly inviting when it came to strange couriers. The bird cocked its head and presented its leg. The seal wrapping the scroll was black wax embossed with a sigil I committed to memory long before I understood language. My mother’s calling card. Isolde Nerezza. My hands didn’t tremble when I broke it open. If they hadn’t, that would have concerned me more. The lettering underneath was encrypt
The air smelled like pine and woodsmoke as I knelt to hammer another lantern into the ground. My fingers were numb, but thankfully, my heart wasn’t frozen. Ember Hills was lit up now, glowing gently along the paths. A half-circle of lanterns flickered near the edge of the main square. Charms twined around each pole, protecting anything underneath with Elias and Kellan’s favorite runes. Magic and mischief braided together here, holding us together, and it felt… Home. Feels like Home. Like we’d finally made it. Started actually to rebuild, not just survive. Lyra zoomed past me, her red mittens flying and tiny bits of enchanted snow floating behind her. “Did you see that one, Cael?” she laughed. “That one looked like a deer!” “I’ll bet it looked more like a goat,” I called after her, grinning. She poked her tongue out at me and tossed another scoop of frost-charmed snow into the air. I watched her race over to Mother, who was supervising wreath placement as if she were winning a
The axe cut through the wood with a loud thwack. I split the logs clean in half and threw them on the pile next to the fire. Placed another on the stump and waited for my breath to clear. Cold wind bit through my cheeks, bringing the crisp smell of pine trees and fresh snow. Something else underlay it, though. I straightened before swinging again. Someone was approaching. Soft footfalls hidden beneath tall trees that swallowed sound. Most people wouldn’t notice it. Most people weren’t me. I felt the air change. Wards humming with suppressed tension like a snagged thread. She stepped into the clearing. My mother. She wore a heavy black cloak dusted with gray fur at the edges, boots soft as deer skin against snow and stone. Except she wasn’t hunting right now. She looked almost ghostly, though not quite. Her braid, long and pale as winterfall, spilled over one shoulder, black hair like smoke and ash mingled with silver frost. Hawk eyes bright as moonstone met mine. I droppe
Snow still dusted the eaves like it didn’t want to melt, and I didn’t blame it. Ember Hills had its claws in everything here. Frost felt welcome. It had been a week since we’d come back from Obscura, since Maelin Lockspire hit the ground and her magic fizzled out underfoot. We should’ve been proud of the stillness. Of walking through pines without second-guessing every shadow. Ember Hills was quiet. We’d earned it. And yet I still found my fingers curling into fists like they’d forgotten how to let go of swords. Part of me hadn’t left that field. Ronan didn’t bring it up much. He had to. He didn’t have war on his arm like I did. But we both had it. He leaned across the path towards me, sleeves rolled up, and stacking wood for the night’s fire. His breath came out in clouds in front of him, hair bound back into the sloppiest knot imaginable. I still couldn’t look at him for too long without forgetting how to talk. Some days, I thought Ember Hills wasn’t big enough for how much I
Two days later. I’d barely slept. Every tremor along the floor, at every shift of broken air, mad me I twitch, half-expecting the world to end. I told myself she would have announced herself. That someone like Maelin Lockspire didn’t just waltz into places. I was mistaken. She didn’t come stor
She didn’t need to say anything. I knew the second Evelina stepped through the outer limit ward. The change. The ripple in magic buzzing around her like soot. It hadn’t belonged to her. Not leftover schoolwork residue or stray wild castoff from a poorly cast shield rune. Clean. Efficient. Elegan
Maelin Lockspire commanded the stage of the lecture hall as if she were its queen. No. Queen didn’t cut it. She inherited places like this. Talked like she was born to lecture from its podiums and walk its halls. Her smile was polite as she spoke, calm, regal. Her Thornveil robes flowed with subt
He didn’t resist when I grabbed him. Elias slumped against me, heavier than I thought humanly possible, blood blossoming dark red through the cotton of his shirt. When I’d thrown myself between him and Draven, I’d known there was no time to second-guess myself, not when I was standing between two







