Tingling under her skin, she could still feel traces of equinox magic. Already, the witches summoning of autumn was at work. Not long ago, summer had lingered on the breeze; painting the rolling hills and mountains that surrounded Calami. What had so recently been warm and dreamy was now primal and cool—kissed by the promise of coming decay. A season that, despite everyone else’s contempt for, Seren found quite beautiful. The one she loved most, where vibrant green life caught the flame of burnt orange and scarlet. Where nature knew what it was tolet go. A talent she had yet to perfect.
The snap of a twig roused her from her thoughts. Seren jumped and reached for the magic that had pulsed within her for as long as she could remember. A quiet friend. A ready spell. It felt tired, but answered her summons all the same.
When a simple field mouse scurried by, a warm blush danced over her cheeks, burning its way to the tips of her ears. She thought back to her time in the maze. How she’d let her guard down for only a moment, and it was as if her nightmares had seized the lapse in judgment to breathe life. Like the briar maze somehowknewher deepest fears—first the unrelenting darkness and then that dreaded creature, a Wolrpia, both fierce and disgusting. Their slimed tusks dripped acid-laced poison that could melt the flesh off your bones. Not that they needed it. The tusks themselves were deadly sharp, and it was known that the creature’s brute strength equaled the might of ten grown men. She knew this for a fact because many locals in Little Ridge died trying to slay the one that had plagued Myrkwyn Forest back home.
With a gentle sigh, she pulled the edges of her capelet snugger over her shoulders. Begrudgingly, she felt a sense of gratitude for the full moon glowing overhead that cast the trees in a silver glow, yet knew that in order to accomplish what she set out to do, she would need to reach the deepest and darkest part of these woods where the moonlight could no longer reach her. Where she would be utterly alone, enveloped in gloom and shadow. The only key to getting over her fear was to face it head-on. It was something her father had told her a hundred times over. Tonight, she would finally take that advice.
As she went, the trees grew dense and unrestrained, their canopy of leaves a black shroud around her. With it, her fear blossomed. It always started the same–her breaths turning heavy but quick, the pressing sensation that she couldn’t take in enough air no matter how hard she strained. Then the shaking followed. A tremble to her knees that could not be quieted. In her hand, the ball of flame flickered–where terror lives, magic withers. The broody young professor had said the very words in her last defense lesson. Now, she could feel the truth of it.
Beneath her, a tangle of thick roots like snakes around her feet caught the tip of her boot. She stumbled forward, arms flailing blindly, and the remainder of her flame burned out with a great gust. Sharp underbrush bit into the flesh of her palms, tearing the thick skin. Her heart pounded wildly, and her breath was coming so fast she thought she might faint from the effort. Darkness pressed firmly around her, thick and unrelenting.
No,she told herself fiercely.No, you can do this. Get up.
Her arms trembled as she pushed against the earth until she was on her knees, palms stinging, she tried rubbing her fingertips together in the way that usually brought the flame to life in her hands, but only sparks appeared, streaking into the night like flint striking stone.
“Come on,” she snarled, rubbing more furiously though she’d started to bleed from a particularly deep cut below her pinky. After another try, the flame finally caught, but when a cool voice rang out from somewhere in the trees ahead, it spluttered out again.
“Beautiful night for a moonlight stroll.” A flash of striking green flame flared to life, illuminating the face of the figure in front of her.
With one glance up through her long lashes, Seren knew she was in trouble. Startlingly handsome, she let her gaze trail over him. Tall and willowy with golden tan skin and guarded amber eyes, flecked with a curious burst of orange around the pupil. They seemed to glow in the night almost as bright as the flame cupped in his hand.
“Who are you?” she demanded, cursing the quiver of fear that lingered in her voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What do you want?”
His answering smile was made of wicked charm. With teeth so blindingly white, it was beautiful but unnatural, like he’d used a spell to make them that way.
“Depends,” he said back, still wearing that infuriating smile. “What are you doing out here in the dark woods off limits to little witches like yourself?” He laughed at Seren’s frown, the sound haunting as a midnight symphony. “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve seen the Calami uniform before, although it usually isn’t as becoming to the female form. And green? You must be a Hatchling.”
Drawing close, she could feel the heat from his bright emerald flame as he offered out his hand to her. Seren ignored the gesture, pushing herself up and brushing the mess of twigs and fallen leaves off the front of her. “None of your business,” she said, her words curling defensively.
Hands stinging, she pressed into the rough bark of a tree behind her, craving space as the faint smell of mint became overwhelming. “What are you doing here? Calami is an all-witch school. They said this wood is off-limits to everyone. Don’t tell me they only make exceptions for sharply dressed Mistral Hall wizards.”
A wry glint ignited in his eyes. “Alas, they do not. Though they should.” A pause filled the air between them before he spoke again. “Maybe I’m like you.” His free hand found the tree behind her and he leaned in close. “Maybe I like breaking the rules.”
She moved from beneath his arm with one elusive duck. “I’m practicing.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow and turned to study her face. “Practicing what, exactly, falling down?”
His tone was warm and teasing in a way that would have most young women weak in the knees, but Seren had done this dance before with men just as self-satisfied as he seemed to be—men like her father’s friends, and the farmhand, Eli, she’d taken on for a brief time after Bella left.
“No–” she hesitated, jaw snapping closed. She’d told no one but her sister and father about this fear and worried that saying it out loud might make it more real. “I didn’t do as well as I’d hoped to at one of the opening trials. There was . . . blinding darkness, and they released a wolrpia. I guess I thought coming out here might help.”
At her own words, Seren felt a rush of foolishness. Had she really expected her fear to vanish after standing in the dark by herself for a few minutes? Typical of her father to think it would be such a simple fix. But that had been his way—straight-forward. Practical. It was obvious where Arabella got the traits from. But this ran deeper than that. A fear that went to the bone.
She waited for the wizard to laugh or mock her, but seriousness grew in his expression. The hint of understanding.
“Well, you won’t find any wolrpia in the Whispering Woods, I’m afraid. They were all captured or driven out during the Magnus Wars. Besides, what you really need doesn’t reside in these trees.”
“Oh?” Seren copied his earlier tone, lifting a brow the same way he had.
He nodded.
“Pray tell, what do I need, Mister—?”
That grin again. “Calder Darkmore. Those I tolerate call me Cal.”
The surname tickled at the back of Seren’s mind, certain she had heard it before, whispered in the wind. Passed between students with a hushed look of fear and awe. The thought made her blood rush pleasantly. Perhaps this was fate, bumping into a powerful wizard.
“Well, Calder,” she murmured, a hint of an idea taking root. “I’m Seren Marudas, you failed to mention what it is you’re doing out here,” she stuck out her hand, and he grasped it, his touch warm and inviting. She watched as his careful mask slipped a fraction, brief recognition sparking over his face, as though his thoughts had mirrored hers in a way.
