The final echoes of ‘To Kvirr’ drift upward into the vaulted ceiling, swallowed by crystals and candlelights. Then, at last, the music returns, soft strings laced with something older, colder, like wind over snow on distant hills. As if on cue, the hall shifts. Servers emerge from side doors with polished silver trays in hand, gliding between tables with wordless precision.
The feast begins.
58
Avilyna
PAGEANTRY FULFILLED
In Elgar,food isn’t just fuel. It’s tradition, power, and performance. Tonight, the table is a stage. Gilded plates catch the light, showcasing frost-pressed venison glazed in blackcurrant wine, pearlescent roe atop quail eggs dusted with gold maple dust.
Sakura admires the plating’s artistry. Vanessa takes a piece of Wyll’s glazed meat as if it’s hers. He doesn’t bat an eye, just slides his untouched venison her way. Bowls of elderflower broth arrive, steam curling up. Preserved stonefruit and smoked goat cheese follow, chased by orange fairy wine from the southern cliffs. Everything shines, around the room nobles toast each other with crystal flutes, leaning in for whispers that sound too delicate to be anything but dangerous. Laughter rings out in polished bursts, cutting as silverware; this is what Kallahan has become.
As the courses change to delicate cuts of silverfish laid over crushed ice with hints of citrus. Nalaka leans in to listen to Caleb as he explains an alchemy theory over the prolongation of encapsulated spells. The conversation quickly slips into focus, their voices low. I listen without really hearing, because I can feel him. Even with a hundred bodies around us andconversations spinning like a blizzard, his gaze cuts clean, sliding over my skin. I refocus on my plate, rearranging the root petals, but the weight of his attention is a second gravity, calling me. And I can’t help the way my pulse hums louder than the orchestra. It’s nothing, and yet it’s everything.
As the final course is cleared, thin slivers of crystallized pear, layered with vanilla cream and gold-dusted almond brittle, are set before us. The atmosphere begins to shift once more. The music softens into a slower, more romantic cadence. A few couples rise from their tables, drifting toward the polished center of the ballroom where the first dance begins. Laughter grows quieter, more intimate and the air warms with candlelight and wine.
At the edge, some guests begin to slip away, cloaked in fur-lined coats and quiet farewells. The crowd is thinning. The speech has been made, the pageantry fulfilled, and that’s our cue. Wyll rises, brushing the crumbs from his lapel as if they insulted him. Turning to Van with that sly grin he wears whenever he’s about to cause trouble. She doesn’t nod, doesn’t speak, just stands and slips her arm through his, off to a dance, they go.
Moving in sync as if they had already practiced it. Dressed in midnight, they’re both a warning and an invitation. Mesmerizing black roses blooming in a moonless graveyard. Drifting into the flow of nobles spilling toward the eastern corridor, but I watch them take a turn, where no one else does. Slipping through a black side door that leads to the chapel wing.
The wood swings shut behind them with a soft click, swallowed by the swell of orchestral strings. I told them everything last night. About the sealed passages leading to the old valkyrie temple hidden beneath the Institute. Maybe even through the whole kingdom, a secret maze.
“At the startof the school year, I found something. I wasn’t sure who I could trust then... but now, I do.” I sit cross-legged on the plush rug, watching the fire flicker.
Wyll stops spinning the cork between his fingers, his brows lifting in interest. Van glances over her shoulder from the windowsill, arms folded, jaw tight. Kai doesn’t move, but I feel his focus sharpen, anchoring on me, a tether.
“There’s something beneath the Institute,” I say quietly. “Not just tunnels or ruins. It’s a temple, a valkyrie one.”
Nalaka, perched on the edge of the couch, leans forward, arm resting on her knees.“I thought they were all destroyed.”
“The ones above ground were,” Wyll answers. “But no one’s ever found any secret ones or any hidden door.”
“That’s because there aren’t any,” Caleb adds from the kitchen table, absently fiddling with one of his gadgets. “At least, based on the archives, so no one deemed to investigate the question any further.”
Just then, Sakura drifts in, balancing a silver tray of porcelain teacups. She smiles softly and begins handing them out. Each cup is delicate, painted with tiny blossoms and veined gold leaves; it was Freya’s.Wyll’s look confirms it. And the fact that she’s still part of my life even now warms my heart. Caleb’s ears take on Sakura’s trademark blush as he takes his teacup from her small hands.
“That’s because it’s a secret,” she says, voice gentle. “Known only to valkyries. The temple calls to them. Its pull is like the Horn of Light, resonating in their blood. So it’s completely normal that no one knows about it.” Sakura sets a cup in myhand, adding almost reverently, “It’s where the first valkyrie was honoured by Kvirr.” That part doesn’t surprise me. The temple thrums with ancient magic. Heavy, palpable, you feel it in your lungs, taste it on your tongue. It’s more than ruins, it’s alive.
So I tell them about Skyfire, about the symbols, and finally, the prophecy. The air shifts with every word. No one interrupts, not even Wyll. When I finish, silence stretches thick and taut as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.Van straightens, her expression sharpening with focus. Caleb’s fidgeting stopped completely a while ago, his alchemy tools forgotten. Wyll leans forward, forearms resting on his knees, the usual spark in his eyes extinguished. Nalaka doesn’t blink, but something shifts in her. Shoulders square, spine rigid, a soldier poised for a mission. Sakura folds her hands quietly in her lap, as if she already knew this all along, simply waiting for the rest of us to catch up.
And Kai… he doesn’t move.I feel his gaze burning right through me. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and I’m too much of a coward to try to read his expression. Then his voice, strong and decisive, breaks the silence.
“We go to the temple tomorrow.”
And just like that, the plan is no longer a theory; it’s in motion, it’s real, in this together.
59
Avilyna
SILENT ACT
While the restof the ballroom moves beneath sparkling chandeliers and old traditions, Wyll and Van are already stepping into the shadows, heading toward the temple. And I feel it, the warmth of Kai’s hand, resting lightly on my thigh beneath the table, sending a sharp shiver up my spine. The ballroom carries on around us, unaware. And my focus narrows to his touch, to the silence between us.
Kai leans in, and his other hand moves slowly. Fingers threading through my hair, tucking it behind my ear with familiarity. As if he’s done it a thousand times before. His knuckles brush the side of my neck. The shudder that follows is electric. Kai’s lips are close, so close I can feel the shape of his breath when he speaks.
“Will you do me the honour of this dance?” whispered in a way that feels too much, but says little. For a moment, I forget how to hold the glass in my hand. I don’t answer him, my fingers already tingling, sliding into his palm. His grip tightens around mine, and Kai guides me gently to my feet.
