I was learning how to sit in stillness again. How to hold space while things quietly rearranged themselves around me. It wasn’t the same as inaction, but itfeltlike it sometimes. Waiting could be harder than deciding.
This morning, though, I’d rewarded myself for all that noble patience with a breakfast that warmed me down to my toes. There was nothing like cinnamon and brown sugar oatmeal, a generous pat of butter melting slowly into the top, and a spoonful of thick cream that curled into the ridges. I ate it from a deep clay bowl while curled up on a bench near the conservatory windows. The garden just outside was still more twig than bloom, but I swore I’d caught the hint of early shoots near the base of the old hydrangeas.
I took a slow bite, sweet, earthy, and just a little indulgent, and exhaled through my nose, completely content.
Then the sound came.
It wasn’t a bell. No knock. No rush of wind. Just a tone. Low, resonant, and unmistakable. It thrummed through the floor and hummed against my hip like it had been plucked from the very stone beneath me.
I froze.
My spoon hovered halfway to my mouth, oatmeal sliding off the edge and back into the bowl with a softplop.
The summons.
I knew it. Ifeltit.
Something—orsomeone—had arrived.
My heart picked up the pace, and I set the bowl aside carefully, wiping my hands on the edge of my shirt. A thousand thoughts crowded in at once, tripping over each other.
Was it another teacher?
A student?
Could it be someone from outside the valley? Someone who’d felt the pull, even with the Wards still unstable?
Or worse? What if it wasn’t an arrival at all?
What if it were Gideon?
I pushed the thought away quickly and reached into my pocket. My fingers closed around the dragon crystal as I felt the smooth, red teardrop shape the mother dragon had nosed toward me in the hidden wing.
It pulsed against my palm, warm and alive, as though it were already reacting to the magic now vibrating through the walls.
I held it tightly as I stood, put on my cloak, and started walking, fast enough to make the fabric swirl around my boots.
The corridor brightened ahead of me with every step, torches flaring to life along the curved walls. The Academy knew I was coming. It knew I’d heard. And it was guiding me, as it always did.
I passed the Grand Stairwell and took the eastern corridor, then cut through the gallery where the portraits always seemed to murmur when I walked past. One of the paintings, an older woman in fae robes with a particularly dramatic staff, actually winked as I passed.
I thought of my dad. Too much time had passed…
My feet hit the mosaic floor of the entry vestibule with a sharper click now, echoing down the hall. I adjusted my grip on the crystal, my fingers starting to sweat against its smooth surface.
It still amazed me how this stone could ground me, how a gift from a creature older than recorded magic could offer such comfort andclarity.
Because even now, even in this moment of breathless rushing and unknowns, I didn’t feel lost.
I feltcalled.
Still, I couldn’t stop the thoughts from rolling in.
The dragon egg was nearing its hatching, of that, I was certain. The pulses of magic I’d felt in the dragon wing had only grown stronger. The mother had barely moved from her post, her great eyes fixed on the egg with a singular devotion that made the air hum around her. It could be any moment now.
And yet, here was this summons. Now. At the same time.
What were the odds?
