But now that it was fully awake, it could feel the drain.
And so could I.
The sprites moved faster now, their agitation rising as they circled the cauldrons. One clipped my shoulder in a brief burst of heat and panic before darting away again.
“I see it,” I whispered.
The thin thread of magic flickered, almost like it had noticed my attention, but then it pulled harder.
The glow of the nearest cauldron dimmed just enough to be noticeable, and my birthmark burned in response.
“Not today,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
The memory forge didn’t withdraw. If anything, it tightened, the pull growing sharper as though whoever controlled it had felt my interference.
My pulse hammered in my ears, and for a single, chilling moment, I had the distinct sense that the Priestess knew exactly what I was doing.
Somewhere, she was smiling.
The cauldron pulsed again.
I kept one hand on the rim of the cauldron and forced myself to think past the immediate problem.
The Priestess had brushed my thoughts too easily earlier. If the Academy’s awakening made its magic shine bright enough to draw her attention, then every open door in my mind was a risk.
I couldn’t leave everything sitting where she might reach it.
The idea settled in slowly, heavy but unavoidable.
She didn’t need to tear through my mind to win. All she needed was a crack—one moment where fear or doubt slipped in, and something important spilled through.
And there were things I would never let her touch.
Celeste’s first laugh in the kitchen was when she was small enough to stand on a chair and insisted on stirring the batter herself. The way her hair fell across her cheek when she stayedup too late reading as a teenager and hid under the covers. The stubborn lift of her chin whenever she pretended she wasn’t scared or didn’t need help.
Those memories couldn’t become weapons. They needed to remain as my anchors.
And if the Priestess ever reached far enough into my thoughts to twist them or turn them against me…
I pushed the idea away. I wasn’t willing to risk that.
A flicker of warmth brushed the back of my hand, and I looked down.
One of the smaller flame sprites hovered there, its ember-bright eyes fixed on me with surprising focus. Unlike the others, it wasn’t darting around the chamber. It simply watched.
“You can’t possibly know what I’m thinking,” I murmured.
The sprite tilted its head, drifted closer, and reached out, placing its tiny hand against my fingers.
The touch didn’t feel like heat.
It felt like light.
Something moved through me and became startlingly clear.
My thoughts didn’t disappear. They simply shifted. The sharp edge of panic eased, and the tight knot of fear loosened enough for something steadier to take its place.
Hope.
