Eira stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the brass flame resting in the woman's palm. It flickered gently, shaped like fire but impossibly still. Its beauty was quiet and dangerous, like the calm before a storm. The sight of it pulled at something deep in her chest, something old and restless. That strange warmth stirred again inside her, as if the flame was not only in front of her but within her too.
"You made that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The woman shook her head. Her eyes were sharp and pale, unreadable but not cold. They watched Eira too closely, like they saw things others missed.
"I didn't make it," she said. "I only unlocked it."
The flame danced slightly in her hand, casting long shadows across the walls of the orphanage dormitory. Eira stared at it, afraid to blink. She wanted to deny it, to tell herself it was a trick of the light or a dream she hadn't woken from. But she knew better. She had seen the metal melt under her fingers. She had felt it.
"What you touched today, Eira," the woman continued, "it's a sign. You're not just another orphan. You're something more."
Eira's breath caught. The room seemed to shrink around her. Her whole body tensed with the urge to run, but her legs wouldn't move. The fear was real, but so was something else. Something that almost felt like hope.
"Why me?" she asked. "Why now?"
"Because the Order of the Veil is coming for you," the woman said, her voice low and firm. "And when they find you, they won't ask questions. They'll tear you apart until they understand what you are."
The words slammed into Eira like a fist. Her mouth went dry. She thought of the silver masks. Of the stories the older girls whispered at night when the matrons were gone. Of what happened to those who were different. The Veil didn't tolerate magic. Not even the rumor of it.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"You have to leave," the woman said. "Now. Before they sense you."
She made it sound simple, but nothing about it was. Eira looked around the dark room. The other girls were sleeping soundly in their cots, unaware that the world was about to change. That she was about to disappear from it.
"I can't leave," she whispered. "This is all I know. Saint Mirelle's is my home."
"No. It's a cage," the woman said quietly. "You just don't know it yet."
There was no cruelty in her tone. Just certainty. She stepped closer and extended her hand. Eira didn't take it. Not yet. Her fingers twitched at her sides, aching with the memory of the heat from earlier.
"Trust me," the woman said. "I can teach you how to use what you have. Before the Veil does."
Eira hesitated. All her life she had learned to stay small. To survive quietly. Not to ask for more than she was given. But now someone was offering her something else. Not safety. Not comfort. But choice. That terrified her even more.
She thought of Old Man Gerren and the burn scars on his arms. Of the way he stared too long at the fire. She wondered what had been taken from him. What might be taken from her if she stayed.
She swallowed. The warmth inside her flared once more, insistent and alive.
"Okay," she said, so softly she barely heard herself. "I'll come with you."
The woman's face shifted slightly. Not a smile exactly, but a kind of quiet relief. There was no triumph in it. Just understanding.
"Good," she said. "But once you leave, there is no turning back."
Eira followed her into the cold night. The stone floors beneath her feet gave way to gravel, then dirt. The alleys were empty, the city sleeping. They moved like shadows through Valebourne's forgotten veins, past broken windows and doors with no hinges. The city looked different now. As if it already knew she was leaving.
When they reached the edge of the Lower Rings, Eira's breath came faster. The wall loomed ahead, cracked and old but still tall. The gate beside it was half-buried under vines and rust. She had never seen it before.
"This is the edge of the city," the woman said. "Beyond it lies the Wildlands. The Veil won't follow us there. But neither will anyone else."
Eira stared at the gate. The woods beyond looked like they belonged to another world. Untamed. Unforgiving.
"I'll be alone," she murmured.
The woman looked at her for a long moment. Then she said, "You've been alone for a long time, Eira. This time you'll be choosing it."
They stepped through the gate.
The air outside Valebourne was colder than Eira expected. It cut through her clothes, sharp and clean and real. Every sound was louder now. Every breath seemed to echo. Her heart beat faster. Not just from fear, but from something she didn't yet understand.
The woman walked ahead of her in silence. Eira followed.
And as the veil of darkness folded around them and the city disappeared behind her, Eira knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She couldn't go back.
No, she didn't want to.