The idea that somewhere out there, scattered across stars and timelines, fragments of us are still searching, still waiting to feel whole. Maybe twin flames aren’t just myths, maybe they’re separated not just by distance but by fate itself, playing a wicked game.
Kazuki’s voice drops, low and bitter. “It’s one of the Gods’ favourite torments.” There’s something in the way he says it, as if he’s not just speaking from knowledge, but from experience. A quiet kind of ache he’s still carrying. The echo of our footsteps is the only sound, layered with the rhythm of my breath.“Before you go, remind me what you promised.”
“To do all my assignments but take the weekend off from training. To keep my mind sharp and my katana hidden, unless my survival depends on it. I know what I have to do.” A small, teasing smile slips through. “And you, Sensei? Maybe try to relax, drink some tea or get some sun.” He’s about to argue, but I turn around before my mentor gets the chance.
By the timeI reach the main hallway, miraculously without taking a wrong turn in this maze of stoned walls, sunlight streams through the tall windows decorating the hallways, casting golden streaks across the floor. Shit, was it a full day of training?
Or night?
Honestly, I’ve lost track of time. No wonder I feel like a walking corpse. The corridor is alive. Students hang garlands of pine. Thick ropes of green threaded with bright red bows, some big, others dainty. Water witches are icing crystal icicles and crafting enormous snowflakes, their fingers moving with practiced grace as they whisper the spells to keep them frozen in time. They'll have to renew the enchantments every twenty-four hours, or start all over again, joy.
Sakura rounds the corner with perfect timing, a cup of something steaming in one hand, her other hand slipping easily around my arm. Her shorter frame naturally syncs with mine as we fall into step, as if we’ve done this a thousand times.
“I’ve come to the delightful conclusion that you’ll probably be needing an energy potion after tonight,” she says in that soft, floaty voice of hers. Always dreamlike, always with that knowing sparkle in her brown eyes. “It’s quite the taxing affair, isn’t it?” She offers the cup, a gift wrapped in mischief. “I brought extras. Thought you might want to stash a few. You never know when you’ll need… a little pick-me-up.” Handing me two small flasks of dark liquid.
Of course, she knew, Sakura probably knew everything, like her father. I take the cup and down it in one go. The moment ithits my tongue, a warm wave rushes through me. Muscles that had been screaming suddenly go silent. The exhaustion I’ve been dragging around as a second skin just disappears, as if it was never there. I glance over at her, a small, surprised smile tugging at my lips.
“Thanks,” my voice softens with gratitude. “This stuff is incredible. It’s almost as good as an iced caramel latte, and that’s saying something! Why aren’t we using it all the time?”
Sakura shifts her weight, bouncing slightly on her heels. Her rose pigtails swing as she moves, each one adorned with little braids and complicated knots. Only she can pull off something this intricate effortlessly. Blowing a strand of petal-colored hair from her eyes, she says.
“Oh, it only lasts six hours. Then you have to wait a full twenty-four before you can enjoy it again, or you’ll fall asleep for twelve.” She pauses, eyes drifting, following a passing breeze. “Bit of a predicament, really.” She shrugs, then, almost as an afterthought, “Also… You slowly lose your ability to taste if you overdo it. But don’t worry, there’s a potion for that too.” My eyebrows shout to my hairline.
Right, and I’m guessing that potion comes with its own charming little hex.
“It’s a very delicate recipe, capricious, even. And those aren’t my favourite things to make.” Then she grins. “So, really, you’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, you’d still be feeling like total rubbish.” Her eyes sparkle, and despite everything, the prophecy, the training, the weight I’m carrying, I laugh.
True and unburdened, because in this moment, I don’t recall what loneliness feels like. And that, right now, does more for me than any potion ever could. Before I can say anything else, Sakura gently steers me down another hallway, our footsteps falling into rhythm again. Slipping through a side entrance, wehead toward the stables, where Nalaka and Vanessa are already waiting.
Slowing down, my brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”
“We have the Grianstad Eve Ball coming up real soon,” Nalaka says with her usual hint of urgency. “And trust me, you donotwant to show up underdressed for that kind of event.” She’s already prepping the fourth horse; clearly done this a hundred times before. Every motion is clean, efficient, and annoyingly graceful.
Van doesn’t even look up from her chipped black nail polish. “We’re going into town,” she says flatly, the whole thing boring her to death, but I catch it. That flicker in her eyes, a quiet glint of something closer to excitement than she’d ever admit out loud.
Something warm rises in me, a spark of giddy anticipation. Shopping for dresses with my girls. For one fleeting moment, it all feels wonderfully, impossibly,normal. Laughter, friends, the steady rhythm of hooves on the path. But as we ride deeper into the forest, the light changes, grows dimmer and a shadow cuts across the canopy, fast.
Too big to be any bird that belongs in this part of the woods. I glance up, heart skipping, just in time to see a pair of dark wings vanishing between the trees. A chill snakes down my spine; the wind is shifting. There’s something out there.
49
Avilyna
THREAD AND NEEDLE
The townstill held its charm, my memories not far off. Aged stone buildings, cobbled streets and winding paths that lead us straight to the center square, where merchants are already calling out to passing shoppers. But the warmth I remember, the laughter, the easy smiles, are gone. Now, it’s all tension and seriousness.
A desperate edge to every voice. People don’t just sell here anymore; they hustle to survive. The war has left scars that run deeper than broken walls. It carves through people, hollowing them out. Some have lost homes, others loved ones, and a few have lost everything. In the quieter corners, I see them. Old men begging for coins, children crying, not tantrums, but real hunger. And it hits me harder than I expected.
“Why aren’t there shelters for them?” I ask, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“There are,” Nalaka answers, her voice flat. “Just…Not enough. The ones that do exist are already packed. Kallahan doesn't have the workers or the funding to build more. And if you can’t make a living here, you won't last.” She glances around the square, eyes scanning.“Not everyone has the luxury of being able to leave, and not everyone wants to leave their home either.Ever since the Bloodmoon War, this is what it’s been for most mundanes, especially the ones who can channel none of Kvirr’s power. This city’s brutal on people, it chews them up.” Nalaka’s voice stays cool, clinical.
But I see it, the way her gaze softens, just a little, when it lands on two small figures near a broken post. A boy, maybe seven or eight, standing in front of a little girl as a human shield. Thin arms, jaw tight, brave in the way only kids who’ve been through too much can be.
Nalaka doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t speak. Just swings down from her horse in one smooth motion and walks toward them. She reaches into her coat, pulls out a small pouch, and writes something down on the notepad at her belt. When she presses the Legion seal into the page, it glows faintly gold. Then she kneels in the mud until she’s eye-level with the boy. He stiffens, pushing the girl a little farther behind him.
“What’s your name?” Nalaka asks gently.
