The air in the sitting room hung oppressively still, thick with the resinous scent of old wood and the ghostly, cloying sweetness of tea long cold. Midday sun speared through the tall windows, casting elongated, skeletal shadows and igniting dust motes into a swirling, silent dance. Amelia’s emerald eyes, chips of sharpened jade, raked over each of us. Her unannounced arrival surprised us all. I was convinced it was to keep us perpetually off-balance. Her gaze, a physical weight, finally settled on Finnian, who squirmed.

“I see you found the third coin holder,” she stated, the words smooth as polished river stones. A knowing, almost feline curve touched her lips. “How fares the wielding of ancient magic?”

Amelia’s theatrics. She already knew, of course. Frustration, pricked at me. She was always three steps ahead.

“It’s… progressing,” Finnian replied, his voice, a touch reedy at first, firmed. He straightened, a subtle squaring of his shoulders. “Challenging, certainly, but I’m beginning to feel its currents, to learn.”

“Good,” she murmured, though the smile remained pinned to her lips, never quite reaching the cool depths of her eyes. Her attention swiveled to me then, and my stomach clenched into its customary knot as her gaze seemed to peel back layers, gauging my reaction. “And I trust Kaelen has made his… presence known?”

The ensuing silence was a suffocating blanket. Liora worried a loose thread on her shirt into a fray, and Noctis’s jaw hardened to granite, but no one spoke. The question, barbed and direct, was for me. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll offer something real this time, I hoped, fighting to keep my expression a placid mask. 

“Yes,” I finally managed, my voice steadier than the tremor in my hands. “He has. Do you know why he’s become so twisted? Why he’s obsessed with the idea of me serving that tyrant king at his side?”

Amelia pressed a slim finger to her lips, her head tilting. “Hmmm. The elven race,” she began, her voice dropping, acquiring a somber, almost dark tone, “was annihilated centuries ago. Or so the histories claim. The truth, as always, is more… elusive.” A shadow, fleeting but profound—was it sorrow?—flickered in her eyes. “Some, like Kaelen, slipped through the cracks of that genocide, phantoms forced to be human, to mimic our clumsy ways.”

A small, choked gasp escaped Liora.

Amelia continued, her voice a low thrum. “Humans, in their arrogance, treated the Elves abominably. Elves are far stronger, yes—in their intrinsic bond with the earth’s thrumming currents—but their very nature is one of profound kindness, of an almost childlike trust. Humans… feasted on that vulnerability. Elves were ensnared in slave contracts, bound by oaths their spirit would shatter before breaking. They were even compelled to weave their essence into the foundations of Tirilla, to imbue its ancient ruins with their power. A vast portion of what our kind now calls ‘ancient magic’ is, in truth, elven magic. Few humans then were blessed with such innate connection.” She looked directly at me, her gaze piercing. “So, Kaelen is ancient, Lyra. He carries the weight of centuries, a chronicle of betrayal and unspeakable loss etched into his soul. The king has dangled the one draught Kaelen cannot resist: vengeance. A bloody reckoning against all humankind. That much is clear. What other insidious pacts were forged in the shadowed recesses of the throne room, what whispers bind him further… that, I do not know.”

The gravity of her words descended, pressing the air from the room. I pictured Kaelen, not as the snarling menace haunting my steps, but as an ageless being, bowed under an impossible burden of grief and distilled rage.

“But why Lyra?” Noctis cut in, his voice sharp, slicing through the oppressive quiet. His brow was a furrowed landscape of concern as his gaze flicked to me. “Why this… fated connection he perceives?”

“That,” Amelia conceded, her gaze softening fractionally as it moved between Noctis and me, “Perhaps it stems from the desperate bond forged in the fight that night, their shared flight for freedom. Or perhaps, Lyra, in you, he sees an echo beyond your human facade—a resonance of a past he cannot relinquish, or a future he desperately, destructively, craves.”

An uneasy silence, heavy with unspoken fears, settled once more. Finnian stared at his hands, flexing and unclenching them as if wrestling with the phantom weight of magic.

“So,” Liora eventually breathed, her voice barely a whisper, “why today, Amelia? You never grace us with your presence for mere pleasantries.”

“My master desires an audience,” Amelia stated, her tone shifting, becoming brisk, all business. “It is time you understood precisely whom I serve. More pressingly, it is time for you all to prepare. The encroaching shadow, the one we’ve all felt like a cold breath on our necks, is no longer a distant tremor. It is here. It is clawing at the gates.” She paused, each syllable a hammer blow, her emerald eyes locking with mine. “Yesterday, several… entities… breached the Great Wall.”

A shard of ice pierced my spine. Past the Wall? Impossible. Disbelief warred with a sickening surge of alarm. That barrier is woven from the most potent defensive enchantments, ancient spells designed to repel any encroaching darkness!

Amelia’s voice dropped further, drawing us into an unwilling huddle. “I believe,” she continued, each word precise, chilling, “that the king and his inner sanctum are no longer merely turning a blind eye to these incursions. They are actively orchestrating their passage into the very heart of the capital.”

Adrix, a thundercloud of grim silence until now, finally spoke, his tone edged with steel. “They’d need a mage of considerable power for that. Or Kaelen himself, if they’re bypassing wards of that magnitude.” The entirety of her news, or perhaps one specific detail, had clearly shaken him to his core.

“Indeed,” Amelia conceded with a grim, affirming nod. “But more immediate concerns demand our attention. I will be in contact within days to arrange the meeting with my master. There is much to discuss, much to prepare for.” Her gaze found Finnian. “And Finn, continue your practice. Your strength will be tested sooner than you think.” Her eyes swept over all of us, a heavy solemnity underscoring her next words. “We need all of you.”

Uneasy glances ricocheted around the room. Noctis, his jaw set, was the first to break the charged silence. “We’ll be as ready as we can be.”

Amelia’s gaze lingered on us for a final, unreadable moment before she rose, her movement a study in fluid, predatory grace. “Excellent. I shall hold you to that.” And with a whisper of displaced air, she was gone, leaving a vacuum of palpable tension in her wake.

The instant the door latched, Noctis turned to Adrix, his scrutiny intense. An unspoken current seemed to flow between them, a silent acknowledgment of shared burdens, perhaps of strategies yet unvoiced. “So,” Noctis began, his tone carefully neutral, “did you manage to seal more of your mana?”

Adrix nodded, a flicker of weariness touching the corners of his eyes. “I have. There shouldn’t be a repeat of… previous incidents.”

“What happens if you unseal it all?” Liora asked, curiosity battling the room’s lingering dread.

Adrix hesitated, a shadow flitting across his face. “There’s a significant risk of… overflow,” he admitted, the pause laden. “Like at the ancient city.” The memory was clearly a raw.

“I understand that,” Liora pressed, then shot me a pointed look, “but Lyra managed to calm you then. Aren’t we going to need every spark of magic we can muster, especially after what Amelia just revealed?”

“Eventually, yes,” Adrix conceded, his violet eyes finding mine for a fleeting, unreadable instant. “But not yet. Attempting to channel that much raw power takes a severe toll. The control required is… immense. I could sustain it only briefly, and the backlash…” He left the word hanging, implying consequences too dire to voice.

The atmosphere seemed to recalibrate as Finnian spoke up. He’d changed since this all began, still possessing his gentle nature, but now with an undercurrent of tempered steel. The timid man I first met was fading, replaced by someone who might just hold his own. “So,” he asked, a grin fighting its way onto his lips, “when are we sparring, Adrix?”

Adrix arched an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile playing on his own lips. “Perhaps after lunch.”

“I’ll land a clean blow this time!” Finn declared, his earlier confidence surging back.

A soft chuckle escaped Adrix, a surprisingly light sound in the heavy room. “I would very much like to see you try.”

“Just you wait!” Finn insisted, grin widening. “And when I do, I claim the rarest book in your collection.”

A ripple of shared, much-needed laughter went through us at Finn’s wager.

“It’s a deal,” Adrix replied, amusement still warming his voice. His gaze then shifted, lingering on me, a subtle softening in his expression. “If you all want to head out, I’ll join you shortly. I just wanted a private word with Lyra.”

Nods of understanding. As they began to move towards the door, Noctis hesitated, a reluctance in the set of his shoulders. He cast a swift, inscrutable glance between Adrix and me before following the others. He’s been different lately, I mused, quieter, his gaze more intense, more watchful. I can’t quite decipher the change.

Once the door clicked shut, wrapping Adrix and me in the sudden, intimate quiet of the sitting room, he turned fully towards me. His earlier teasing demeanor had vanished, replaced by a serious, searching intensity.

“You know you and Kaelen aren’t truly fated, don’t you?” he asked, his voice soft but unwavering. “Amelia’s insinuations… they haven’t unsettled you?”

Ah. The pieces clicked. So that was the source of Noctis’s earlier disquiet. He was worried for me, about this very thing.

“I know we aren’t,” I said, meeting Adrix’s gaze without flinching. There had never been a genuine question in my mind, not about Kaelen. “I… I like you, Adrix.” My cheeks bloomed with heat; I was certain a blush was creeping up my neck.

A small, genuine smile finally touched Adrix’s lips, melting the intensity in his violet eyes. “Good,” he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar, heart-fluttering teasing warmth that instantly eased the knot in my chest. “Don’t you go forgetting that.” He leaned a fraction closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You won’t find anyone nearly as devastatingly handsome and charming as me, you know.”

We both let out a soft laugh.

“Now,” he said, his smile lingering as he straightened, “we’d best join the others before Finnian starts claiming his victory.”