Find Her

Kade sat in the little study room late in the afternoon. It was quiet aside from Bilia’s voice rising and falling like a songbird in spring.

“...and then the third High Matron of Seren’s Temple vanished without a trace. Some say she became starlight. Some say she is still there, her magic lighting the path for everyone.”

Kade’s head tipped back against the wall, his eyes half-lidded in dreamy thought. “That sounds like the kind of ending people clap for.”

Bilia lowered her book, brow furrowed. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

“I was!” His grin broke wide and boyish. “She vanished, didn’t she? That’s the best part. Like… poof!... gone into a legend. She got to walk out of her own story.”

Bilia squinted, offended on the book’s behalf. “That’s not what the record says.”

Kade chuckled, lifting his teacup with arms that still ached from training. Even that small effort felt tremendous. “Records are boring. Stories are better. And that was a great story.”

Her lips pursed. “You’re worse than Galir.”

“Hey,” he said, trying and failing to hide a laugh behind his cup. “That’s not a fair comparison.”

They were sitting in one of the smaller reading rooms, a space barely large enough for two desks, a bookshelf, and the sun-dappled window that Bilia always claimed as hers. Afternoon light poured in, warming Kade’s tired limbs.

He’d spent the morning struggling to control his magic, the afternoon training his muscles and stamina, and the past hour trying to remember the names of ancient dynasties, moon cycles, and war dates. It felt like being crushed beneath three different weights: the body, the magic, and the mind.

Bilia poured herself more tea, then leaned in, resting her chin on her hands. “Were there stories like this in your life? I mean… before?”

Kade hesitated.

He never knew how to answer that. “Before” was a fog, a place he couldn’t really bring here. But Bilia’s eyes were hopeful. She clearly wanted to know.

“There were stories,” he said slowly. “But… not like these. Not about moons or temples or people turning into stars.”

Her curiosity leaned closer. “Then what kind?”

He considered, then spoke slowly, the words dredged up from deep memory. “There was one… about a boy who found a ring. A small, plain thing, but it carried a shadow with it. The boy wasn’t strong or clever, but he had to carry the ring across mountains and fire to keep the world safe. He had friends who helped him, though, and in the end… it was because of their loyalty that the world didn’t fall.”

Bilia blinked, captivated. “That’s not boring.”

Kade’s mouth tilted in a small smile. “No. That one wasn’t. But most of the stories were about being good. Listening to your parents. Helping neighbors. The usual things.”

“Mm. Less interesting.” She bit into a sweet, chewing thoughtfully. “But that other one, I like it. Maybe you should tell me more of those.”

He let his smile soften, turning fond as he gazed at her. “Alright.”

She hummed and leaned over to refill his cup without asking.

Kade looked down at the steam curling from the surface, then back at her.

“Thanks.”

Bilia grinned. “You’re welcome. But tomorrow, I’m quizzing you on the Second Sundering. No escaping it.”

He sighed dramatically. “Cruel.”

“Necessary.”

He raised his cup to her like a toast. “To cruel teachers.”

“To lazy students,” she shot back, giggling.

****

The second week of training passed without incident.

Kade was still clumsy, but he could hold a barrier shape longer now, could aim his blasts with greater control.

His focus had sharpened, and so had his instincts. Hanel pushed him steadily, with quiet patience and deliberate precision. Always guiding. Always correcting. Still, it remained a struggle.

Kade was starting to enjoy it, though. The magic. The new life. Even if he couldn't do what other sorcerers could easily do.

Morning training was always in the east garden: a wide, pale-stoned courtyard bordered by vine-covered columns.

This morning, it was already occupied.

Of course it was. Galir was there, sweat darkening the collar of his tunic, blades flashing in quick arcs against a practice dummy.

Kade leaned on the railing. “How early did you wake up?”

Galir glanced over, not breaking rhythm. “An hour ago.”

He was talking back these days. Not exactly warm, but not avoiding him outright. Kade grinned anyway, like it was the best thing he’d heard all morning.

****

Kade was still catching his breath from warm-ups when the sound of boots approached. Hanel stepped into the yard, followed by a girl with golden-brown hair tied partially back on one side. Her green eyes were bright, darting over the space like she already owned it.

She grinned wide, the kind of grin that made you brace for whatever was coming next, and marched straight up to Kade.
“So you’re the one everyone’s talking about, shorter than I thought, like your hair though,” she said, circling him like she was inspecting a new horse. “Most people think you’re cursed.”

Kade blinked, caught between offense and laughter. “Do they?”

“Mm-hm,” she said far too cheerfully. “And you don’t look mistreated at all.”

“Mistreated? Why would I be?”

She tilted her head as if it were obvious. “Because people are terrified of Akalis. They’d call her a beast… if she wasn’t too beautiful for it to stick.”

Kade opened his mouth, shut it, and decided it was safer not to try and answer that one.

Before he could find a new topic, Ayen spun toward Galir. “I heard you punched Adar.”

Galir’s arms folded. “I didn’t.”

“You should be proud of it,” she said brightly. “You did everyone a favor.” She gave him a long, appraising look. “You’ve gotten taller.”

Galir said dryly. “You can tell a week's worth of growth now?”

“That girl who watches you train thinks it’s enough,” Ayen continued without missing a beat. “You know, the one who blushes when you walk past her store? She likes you. Can’t imagine why, though, you’re too gloomy for words.”

Galir’s glare could have cut stone. “You should try silence for once.”

“Oh, but then who would tell you all these interesting things,” she said, flashing him that same sunny, unbothered smile.

Hanel sighed like a man used to these antics. He stepped between them before Galir could decide whether to walk away or throttle her. “Alright,” he said, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Ayen’s here because I want her to duel with Kade.”

Kade straightened, surprise flickering into a quick grin. “A duel?”

“Not a competition,” Hanel clarified. “I want you to stop thinking so hard and let instinct drive you. You’ve tried bending your magic to mimic the Flame of Will, Form, and Grace. It is not working. That’s wasted effort. Today I want to see what your magic does when you just… let it loose.”

Kade’s pulse picked up. That sounded crazy. That sounded fun.

Across from him, Ayen’s eyes lit up like he’d just agreed to something she’d been hoping for all morning. “Oh, I'm going to have so much fun,” she said.

“Don’t hold back,” Hanel told her.

Ayen stepped into position across the sparring ground, tilting her head in mock thought. “I’m going to make you terrified, you know.”

Kade froze, not quite sure if she was joking. “Terrified?”

“Yes.” The word was soft, almost affectionate, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes now; it stretched wide, too wide, as something in her expression sharpened. The air around her seemed to shift, cool and thin.

Kade’s skin prickled. He didn’t even have to reach for his magic; at the first breath of unease, it answered, rushing up from somewhere deep and gathering at his hands, burning with readiness.

Ayen shimmered once like heat over stone… then vanished.

Kade blinked. She was gone.

Galir leaned on the fence, watching unseen.

Hanel’s voice came calm and even. “Find her.”

The yard was quiet except for the sound of Kade’s heartbeat. Somewhere, everywhere, Ayen was smiling.