I stood there long after the doors to the Oath Room opened, my pulse still racing, my thoughts tumbling over one another in a knot I couldn’t untangle.
Had that been the Academy?
Or her?
The question chased itself in circles through my mind, refusing to settle. The Academy had always guided me, sometimes firmly, sometimes with unnerving creativity, but never like that. Never with insinuation or with that intimate, blood-deep familiarity that knew exactly where to press.
And yet… the Academyhadled me here.
I dragged a hand down my face and let out a shaky breath. My reflection stared back at me from every angle, fractured and multiplied, a woman caught between past and future, between inheritance and refusal.
“What are you doing?” I whispered to myself.
That was when the frustration finally won.
I was so tired of messages. Of riddles. Of warnings wrapped in half-truths and delivered on someone else’s terms. I was tired of being nudged, herded, and frightened into understanding, rather than being trusted with it outright.
If this were a chessboard, I would be done waiting for my opponent to make the next move.
And maybe that alone was why the Academy led me here.
“All right,” I said aloud, my voice echoing softly through the Oath Room. “Enough.”
The mirrors shimmered faintly, their surfaces rippling like disturbed water, as if surprised by my tone.
I stepped forward.
I stepped deliberately and wasn’t asking for permission. I stopped before the central mirror, the one that had shown me the hardest truths a year before, and straightened my spine. Ilifted my chin, feeling my magic rise to meet my intent, not wild or reactive this time, but focused. Purposeful.
“You want to show me things?” I murmured. “Fine. But this time, we do it my way.”
The warmth at my hip flared, and I placed my palm against the glass. It was cool beneath my skin, resistant in that way ancient magic often was when it was deciding whether to cooperate. I thought of the times Grandma Elira stayed within these walls, but knew everything that was happening outside of them.
“Show me,” I said clearly. “I don’t want to see memory or possibility. Show me what the Priestess is doing at this very second.”
For a heartbeat, nothing happened, but then the mirror’s color deepened.
The silver surface darkened, stretching inward until it no longer reflected me at all. Instead, it opened like a window, and my breath caught as the image sharpened into something hauntingly familiar.
Her castle.
The Priestess’s stronghold rose from the mirror’s depths, just as it had the night I’d gone there on a broom.
I still couldn’t quite believe I’d trusted a stick with bristles with my life. Stone walls bathed in twilight were in front of me, with towers that cut into a sky bruised with storm clouds. Finally, I could see inside the walls as I drifted as quietly as Ember could when sneaking up on someone.
The Priestess moved through the halls.
Alone.
That surprised me more than it should have. There weren’t any attendants or guards, and no circle of disciples whispering at her heels. She walked with unhurried confidence, her dark robes trailing softly behind her, one hand resting lightly against the stone as if the castle itself were an extension of her body.
I leaned closer, heart pounding.
She passed rooms I recognized, but I knew there were so many more I hadn’t seen.
I spotted the entrance to the antechamber where Gideon had been held, and a shiver ran through me. I kept with her in my mirrored state as she stepped into a study.
It was quieter than I thought it would be, lit by tall windows that overlooked rolling hills fading into dusk.
