“Do you have a name?” he asked.
The girl shook her head.
“Would it be alright if I called you, Elora?”
A faint smile broke through her fog. She nodded. The name felt foreign on her lips, yet somehow it belonged to her. The first thing of her own, besides the brown cloak she had no memory of receiving.
Tehvan’s voice painted worlds she’d never known. He spoke of emerald forests and sapphire seas, of heroes who conquered darkness with nothing but courage. Though the names were foreign, his stories awakened something in her—a hunger for places where children weren’t kept in cages. She clung to each tale desperate to replace the memories of cold metal bars.
∞∞∞
Time crept by, and Elora’s fever slowly waned.
As her strength returned, Elora ventured from the small room, Tehvan steadying her arm. The narrow steps creaked beneath her bare feet. On deck, sunlight assaulted her eyes. She squinted, raising a hand against the glare while gulping the salty wind that sent her cloak whipping behind her. Overhead, seagulls trailed the boat, their cries merging with the sounds of the open sea.
On the distant horizon, a sliver of land emerged, sharpening slowly against the jagged backdrop of mountains.
“Elora,” Tehvan called, gesturing for her to sit beside him. “It is time I tell you where we are going.”
Elora pointed at the land in the distance. “There?”
“Yes, The Miros Institute. It’s a… school. Created by the Gilded Empire to train children for government work, in the Ministry of Alchemical Handling Operations, MAHO,” he said. “Some children are sent by their parents, hoping for a better life.” He paused, studying her face. “Others are orphaned by the war at Mahoamorah.”
“Mahoamor…” Elora stumbled over the unfamiliar word, her tongue twisting around its strange sounds. “What is that?”
“The world tree,” Tehvan replied softly. “It’s not important right now.”
His tone grew serious, his eyes darkening. “But listen carefully, child. The Institute isn’t just a school—it’s a forge. Children walk in through those gates, but what emerges...” He paused, swallowing hard. “Headmaster Thorn breaks them down and remakes them. Wild spirits become obedient servants, questioning minds become tools. By the time MAHO claims them, there’s nothing left of who they once were—only what he’s molded them to become.”
Her chest tightened as memories surfaced. Stiff hands grabbing her. Cruel laughter cutting like knives. Gray days bleeding into one another. Her nails found her teeth as she stared at the jagged coastline ahead. Will this be another cage? The question coiled around her, squeezing like the metal bars she once pressed her face against.
His hand settled on her shoulder, thumb tracing gentle circles against her threadbare cloak. “I’ll be there, standing between you and them.” His amber eyes held hers, unwavering. “What happens to the others—that breaking, that molding—I won’t let it happen to you, Elora.”
She wanted to believe him.
She really did.
But something in her hesitated, something small and stubborn, pulling tight in her chest. Not a memory. Just… resistance.
The ship drifted closer to shore
Elora told herself she was safe.
But deep in her gut—
she felt delivered.
Chapter 1
Elora
Elora’s hands wouldn’t stay steady.
The laces of her bodice slipped through her fingers again, tightening unevenly as she forced them into place. She exhaled slowly, willing her thoughts to settle. They didn’t.
Nine years of preparation, and her mind had never felt less certain.
“Do you think they’ll test us on ingredients and recipes,” Arria asked from the doorway, her gaze distant, “or are we just supposed to brew something in front of them?”
