All Chapters of Book One of the Rosewood Trilogy: The Broken Sanctum: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The bakery had finally gone quiet.The last of the evening dishes were drying beside the sink, and Mel had already gone upstairs to bed. The lanterns downstairs cast a warm glow through the kitchen, but the rest of the shop had settled into the soft stillness that always came after closing.I carried one of the journals upstairs with me.Mel had said to read them in order.So that was what I intended to do.I settled onto the edge of my bed and opened the worn leather cover carefully. The pages were soft from age, filled with my mother’s familiar handwriting.For a moment I simply stared at it.The shape of the letters alone was enough to stir a dozen memories—her sitting by the fire with a book in her lap, the smell of tea and herbs drifting through the house, the quiet way she hummed when she thought no one was listening.I pushed the memory aside and began reading.The entry started several years after the first one I had read.My mother had already graduated Rosewood by then.I re

The portal station outside Thornridge buzzed with the usual late afternoon traffic.Travelers moved in steady waves through the glowing rings set into the stone platform, merchants hauling crates and bags as they stepped through one portal after another.I leaned against one of the outer pillars, arms crossed, watching the crowd with mild disinterest.“Remind me again why we didn’t just portal straight to the gym,” Malachi rumbled beside me.The bear shifter towered over most of the people around us, his massive shoulders easily blocking half the walkway.“Because,” Calyx said lazily, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, “some of us enjoy civilization before we descend into Atlas’s favorite pit of violence.”I snorted.“You love the pit.”Calyx smirked.“True.”Ezekiel stood a few steps away from us, scanning the station with the same calculating look he always wore.Even standing still he carried himself like he already owned the place.“Where’s Bastian?” Malachi asked.“Probably alrea

Bjorn’s grip slipped.The iron rack we were moving slammed against the floor with a deafening clang that echoed through the gym.Bjorn swore under his breath, shaking out his hand.“Damn thing’s heavier than it looks.”“You say that every time,” I said calmly, steadying the rack before it tipped further.“That’s because every time it is,” he muttered.We had just finished closing the forge next door and were shifting some equipment in the back corner of the gym. Most nights were quiet this late—only a few regulars came in after dark to train without the crowds.One of them was here tonight.The quiet girl.She’d been coming in for months now, usually late enough that the gym was nearly empty. Small compared to most of the fighters that passed through here, but stubborn in a way that made it clear she wasn’t going to give up easily.Bjorn had noticed her too.Neither of us had bothered interrupting her routine.Until tonight.The rack clanged once more as we set it upright.Then—WHUMP

The bakery smelled like cinnamon and fresh bread.It always did in the mornings, but today it seemed stronger somehow—warm and comforting in a way that made the early hour feel less exhausting.I had been up since before sunrise.Mel handled most of the customer service, but with school starting soon we had been busier than usual. More travelers passed through Thornridge this time of year, and the bakery always became a stopping point.I usually stayed in the back.Baking.Preparing herbs for the teas.Making sure everything was ready before the doors opened.Today, though, Mel waved me toward the front.“Take these out for me, Esme.”She handed me a tray piled with pastries still warm from the oven.I hesitated.“You know I’m terrible at the customer part.”Mel snorted.“You’re terrible at avoiding people.”She nudged the tray into my hands.“Go.”I stepped into the front of the bakery just as the door opened.Four men walked in.My steps faltered slightly.I recognized one of them i

By the end of the week I felt like my brain had been stretched in ten different directions.Blood magic in the mornings.Metallurgy books in the afternoons.Angel physiology whenever I could squeeze it in between.It was… a lot.But for the first time in my life, learning magic didn’t feel like trying to grasp something just out of reach.Now when I meditated, I could feel it.The steady current of power beneath my skin.Sometimes it was calm.Sometimes it pulsed like a heartbeat.And sometimes it hummed so strongly it made my fingers twitch.It was strange.A little frightening.But it was also… mine.The metallurgy studies had progressed faster than I expected. Not enough to truly shape metal yet, but enough that when I visited Rosewood’s administrative office in town earlier that morning, I had managed to request a change in my practical course assignments.The clerk barely glanced at me before signing the adjustment form.Students switched specialization tracks all the time.Appar