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Ella’s favorite flowers, peonies in a dusty lavender, adorned the tables. A barman shook cocktails for guests. Ella and Oliver were surrounded by people.

Various warming spells kept the cold winter air out, but Mira didn’t part with her coat and gloves. Gloves that hid the Shadowflame and her signifiers.

Ella’s mother hadn’t changed much over the years, aside from the added smile lines and gray in her brown hair. She gave Mira a hug when she spotted her.

“Good to see you, darling,” she said.

“We’re so glad you could make it,” Mr. Pearson, who was next to her, added.

For a moment, Mira wondered what her parents would have looked like by now. The image of her mother and father standing next to her with gray hair made her choke up.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” she managed to say.

The second the Pearsons’ eyes landed on Aidric, their smiles tightened. He wasn’t the only Wielder at the party. The Pearsons had several Wielder friends. But his name and reputation preceded him.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Pearson,” he said in his most polite voice.

“Any friend of Mira’s is welcome in our home,” Mrs. Pearson responded. “Come on, there is plenty of food and drinks.”

Mira and Aidric made their way to the buffet tent, and she scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Instinctively, she touched her arm. The scar itched under the sleeve of her coat. Aidric lifted her chin with his thumb until their eyes met, focusing her back on the here and now. He said nothing. He didn’t have to.

“I…have this feeling,” she sighed. “Like something bad is going to happen.”

This was the part where Ben had always told her she was just imagining things.

She looked at the ground. “I know it’s the trauma talking. In moments of normalcy, we often feel the most vulnerable. Like it all could be taken away from us in the blink of an eye.”

After the war, she had consumed copious amounts of literature on trauma. She understood it all from an intellectual perspective.

“Mira.” Her first name on his lips still sent shivers through her. She looked up at him. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.” His voice was hard. A promise. An oath.

Silver eyes seared through her, and she tried to believe him.

“I’m going to say hi to Ella and Oliver,” Mira said, noticing the crowd around them had finally thinned a bit.

“I’ll get us some drinks. Pretty sure that’s the only way to survive a dreadful Caster gathering.” With his signature smirk, he walked to the bar, which was set up in another tent.

Ella beamed with pure joy. Mira gave her and Oliver a quick hug before Ella was whisked away by relatives and friends who had traveled from several spheres away.

As she watched Ella disappear into the crowd, dread spread within her. She hated herself for it. Her old life was staring back at her. The people she had grown up with had all moved on. Why did she still feel this way?

From across the garden, she spotted Ben. He looked different. Older, she supposed. His light brown hair was a bit longer, and his face had become leaner. There was no avoiding talking to him, but when he marched toward her, the unease in her grew.

“Good to see you, Mira.” Even his smile seemed patronizing. “How have you been?”

She was certain news of her placement into Dark Magic had reached him. But she could fake some small talk. “Good. How about you? I hear you’re in the healing program at Bonnbridge?”

“Yes, great program. No Ivercrest, but I’m learning so much. I’m glad you went to Ivercrest. I know how you feel about magic, but I’m happy you didn’t let it define you and you’re going after your dream.”

With her foot, she drew small circles in the gravel. “Thanks.”

“I hear you were put into the Dark Magic Institute.”

There it was—the judgment in his voice.

“Yes. Still not sure why.”

“Do you have…the Shadowflame?” He attempted to make it sound casual, but the word sounded awkward coming from him.