The sharp tang of salt ambushed me the moment we stepped outside, a raw, clean scent carried on a breeze that whispered through Cassius’s dark hair. He stood statue-still, his gaze fixed on the packed earth at his feet, his jaw a ridge of stone beneath his skin. A chasm of silence stretched between us, and my own thoughts reeled, clumsy and loud, searching for a bridge of words to cross it. The pain radiating from him was a palpable thing, a low hum in the air.

He was the one to break the silence, his voice barely disturbing the air. “Are you certain you know the way?” The question was a thread of sound, frayed with doubt. He didn’t look up.

“I’m sure,” I said, my voice a mask of confidence I didn’t feel. “I can see it in my mind. Clear as a map.”

He gave a short, unconvinced nod, but he finally lifted his head. His eyes met mine, and for a heartbeat, I saw it—a sorrow so deep it felt like looking into a well at midnight. He shuttered it away almost instantly.

“Cassius,” I started, taking a half-step toward him. “I know this is hard. I don’t have the words to fix it. But I’m here. Whatever you need.”

A flicker of warmth, like a candle lit in a vast, dark room, touched his features. “I know,” he murmured. “And I’m okay. Truly. Just… processing. If you’re ready, I’d rather not linger.”

He was building a wall, brick by gentle brick, but I let him have it. For now. “I’m ready.”

I tore my focus from his guarded face, pulling an image to the forefront of my mind—an intricate illustration from a forgotten book. The air before us began to waver, then tear, the fabric of the world unraveling as a shimmering portal swirled into existence. The act felt strangely familiar now, the immense power of it settling into my bones like a second skeleton. Before I could look back, his hand found mine, his grip firm and grounding. His eyes were locked on the shimmering gateway.

Together, we stepped through.

The world dissolved in a silent, violent rush. The roar of the ocean collapsed into a hum and then vanished, taking the brine and the wind with it. We were remade in a field of impossible green, under a sun that felt warmer, kinder. The sweet, heavy perfume of a thousand different wildflowers replaced the salt. In the distance, a perfect circle of ancient trees formed the horizon. It was a paradise stolen from a dream, more vibrant than any ink on paper could ever capture.

But the tower was gone.

A flash of confusion crossed Cassius’s face before his expression went blank, his focus snapping to a point in the empty air. I followed his gaze and saw it: a faint distortion, a place where the light seemed to bend, like heat rising from sun-scorched pavement. Panic, cold and sharp, pricked at me. What if my memory was flawed?

I reached out with my will, weaving a tendril of mana and sending it probing into the distortion. It met an invisible resistance, a wall of pure force. My magic coiled around it, tracing the unseen contours of a massive structure. The tower was there, cloaked in illusion.

With a surge of defiance, I pushed.

The air shimmered violently, then cracked with a sound like fracturing crystal. Translucent fissures webbed across the sky, and from that shattered emptiness, a colossal tower of grey cobblestone bled into reality. Its enormous wooden door groaned in protest, spiderweb cracks racing through the timber before it swung inward with a resonant boom.

A mage in dark, severe robes stood framed in the doorway, his face a thundercloud of pure agitation. A knot of ice formed in my stomach.

The closer we got, the harder the mage’s features became. A muscle leaped in his clenched jaw. When he finally spoke, his voice was a roar that tore the peaceful silence to shreds.

“Who do you think you are?”

My hand instinctively clenched the rough fabric of my trousers. Tell him who I am? The thought was absurd. Word travels, even from a place hidden by such powerful magic. News of my survival, of my location, would be a death sentence delivered straight from my father.

“I’m… nobody,” I stammered, hating the weakness in my own voice. “I’m new to magic.”

The mage let out a bark of humorless laughter. His eyes, sharp as flint, darted between me and Cassius. “Unlikely. My senses tell me you have not a drop of readable mana, yet you just shattered a ward the tower master spent three weeks weaving. One does not simply trip through a barrier designed to repel others.”

“I’m sorry,” I insisted, my voice firmer this time. “I didn’t realize it was so… fragile.”

He rolled his eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t fall out. “Fragile? The Tower Master is going to be… displeased.” He pinned me with a glare that felt physical. “Tell me, ‘nobody,’ precisely how you did it.”

“I told you. I just… reached out, and it broke.”

“Show me,” he commanded, his voice sharp as broken glass. “You reek of suspicion, and your power is a void where it shouldn’t be. Prove you aren’t a threat.”

“Fine!” The word ripped from my throat, fueled by a sudden spike of frustration.

I thrust my right hand forward, calling my mana to the surface. It answered with a silent, concussive force, exploding from my palm in a brilliant, incandescent bloom of lavender and pink light. With a flick of my wrist, I sent the energy swirling into a shimmering vortex around me, the air crackling with its raw, untamed power.

The anger on the mage’s face dissolved, melting into an expression I couldn’t decipher—a profound shock that bordered on reverence.

The vortex of mana dissipated into motes of fading light, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. The mage could only stare, his previous fury forgotten. “But… you have no mana,” he sputtered, shaking his head. “No signature. How is that possible?”

With a slow, deliberate movement, Cassius reached up and pulled back the deep hood of his cloak. His long, elegantly pointed ears were stark and strange in the bright sunlight.

“Because her magic is not of your kind,” Cassius stated, his voice calm and steady in the charged air. “She is part elf.”

The man physically recoiled, his eyes widening with a fear that went far beyond mere suspicion. “An… an elf?” he whispered, the word catching in his throat. “That’s impossible. They’re legends. Myths for children.” His gaze flickered from Cassius’s ears to my face, his world visibly tilting on its axis. “You can’t be real.”

“And yet, here we stand,” Cassius replied. His tone was firm but held an undercurrent of ancient patience. “We have journeyed a long way and mean no harm. We seek an audience with the Tower Master.”

The mage stroked his chin, his gaze distant. “The Tower Master… he does not grant audiences lightly.” He fell into a contemplative quiet, and we waited, the air thick with the unspoken weight of his decision. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the silence.

Finally, he began to rock on his heels, a nervous energy seizing him. “However,” he conceded, his voice tight, “I cannot imagine he would refuse to meet a living myth. I will ask. You will both wait here. If he refuses, his word is law, and you will depart at once. Understood?”

Cassius gave a single, solemn nod. “Understood.”

With that, the mage spun on his heel and vanished into the tower’s shadow, the heavy door thudding shut behind him with an air of finality.

I turned to Cassius just as he was pulling his hood back into place, plunging his face into shadow once more. He let out a soft, weary sigh. “I never imagined a day where I would feel… exposed, for being what I am.” He looked at me, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I forced that same exposure on you.”

“You did what you had to do, Cassius,” I reassured him, my gaze steady on his. “Never be sorry for that.”

A soft, genuine smile touched his lips. “Thank you.” He shifted his weight, his attention returning to the imposing door. “I wonder how long he’ll—”

As if summoned by his words, the door creaked open. The same mage stood there, his expression now scrubbed clean of all emotion. “The Tower Master will see you.”

Hope surged through me, sharp and breathtaking. Oakhaven, I thought, the name a silent hope. We might finally get answers.

“Follow me,” the mage instructed, turning without waiting for a reply.

We followed him into the cavernous base of the tower. A spiral staircase of worn cobblestone snaked up into the oppressive darkness above, seeming to have no end. The air grew cool and still. As we began our ascent, our footsteps echoing in the immense space, I noticed intricate lanterns hung at intervals along the curving wall. They held no flame, but pulsed with a soft, steady, magical light, casting long, dancing shadows.

The climb was endless, a dizzying spiral that seemed to pull at time itself. When our guide finally stopped on a small landing, my legs ached with the effort. He gestured to an empty stone archway.

“Through here. This platform will transport you to the Master’s study.”

I glanced at Cassius, sharing a look of grim resolve. As we stepped past the archway, a soft, white light bloomed from the stone at our feet, rising to envelop us in its warm, silent embrace. This was it. The world outside the light faded, and for a moment, there was nothing but, hope and the light.