Morning light spills through the tall windows, painting golden streaks across the silk sheets. I blink awake, slower than usual—no chains, no threats. Just warmth. Safety. At least for now.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and make my way to the bathroom where my toothbrush waits for me to use it. The light from the bathroom windows shine into the wide room, enlightening it with the morning Aetherra sun. I make my way to open the balcony windows after I finish getting dressed and push the doors open. The soft breeze of the morning air caresses my cheek as I walk onto the balcony overlooking the mountain side. Directly ahead, a wide cliff face rises across the gorge, split by a majestic waterfall that roars to life in the morning stillness. Crystal-clear water spills over the edge, crashing down into a deep basin below before smoothing out into a stream that winds gently through the forested valley at its feet. Sunlight catches in the mist, casting faint rainbows that hover like delicate illusions.
From this height, I can see the stream snake through a grove of golden-leafed trees before disappearing beneath the thick canopy. Birds glide just above the water, their wings skimming the surface, while the scent of wet earth and pine rises with the mist. The waterfall faces me completely, as if nature itself has arranged this view—wild, beautiful, and untamed.
Beyond the gorge, the Starcrest Mountains stand proud, their jagged peaks dusted with snow and wrapped in threads of silver cloud. The capital of Aetherra glimmers in the far distance, its spires piercing the sky, unreachable for now, but ever present on the horizon.
For a breath, everything feels still—like the land is watching back.
A soft knock taps at the door.
"Elena?" It's Samora's voice. "You up?"
I pad across the cold stone floor to the door checking to make sure I look presentable. When I open it, Samora's already smiling—her eyes tired but kind.
"Breakfast is starting in the North Wing," she says. "But Fynn and Kadyn found this hidden terrace near the east tower. You coming?"
Something inside me lightens. "Lead the way."
We weave through corridors painted in morning haze until we reach a secluded terrace draped in ivy and sunlight. A small table is set with fresh bread, steaming cider, sliced fruit, and golden pastries that gleam like they've been dusted with magic. Fynn is leaning against the stone railing, arms crossed, grinning like he's been waiting all morning.
"Took you long enough," he teases, a smile working its way out.
"I needed sleep," I shoot back.
Kadyn's sitting cross-legged on the low wall, tossing bits of bread to a sunbird fluttering nearby. "Glad you're here," he says simply, without looking up. And somehow, it means more than if he had.
Samora comes up from beside me, pouring warm cider into mugs. "You've had your share of chaos, Elena. I thought today… maybe we just breathe."
"Thank you," I say making sure I look at everyone before I sit down next to Kadyn.
We talk. We eat. We laugh a little more freely than the night before. The conversation shifts from training rumors to favorite songs, then to stories of home. Fynn shares a tale about trying to ride his bonded creature—a Kinetic Wyrm—when he was ten and ended up with a broken wrist. Kadyn admits he's terrified of butterflies and Samora, surprisingly, has the most contagious laugh of all of us.
For the first time since the letter arrived, I don't feel hunted. I feel… seen.
Hours go by, and we decide to walk the grounds outside before the sun fully dips behind the trees.
The cobbled path winds through a garden of flamebloom trees, their curled crimson leaves rustling in the breeze like whispering secrets. Behind them, the towering spires of the Trial Hall cast long shadows across the yard, and dragonfire lanterns flicker to life, glowing soft amber.
We're laughing at something Kadyn says when I catch movement near the obsidian wall by the west courtyard—a figure, lounging like he belongs in every shadow.
"Someone's following us," Fynn murmurs beside me.
But the stranger steps into the open before we can react.
"I was here first," he says, grinning. "You're the ones doing the following."
He's the kind of beautiful that makes your breath catch before your mind can form a reason why. Tall, with sharp cheekbones and a devastating smirk that looks like it was carved just to ruin someone's night. His hair is a tousled mess of inky curls that fall just above his lashes, and his eyes—stars, those eyes—are a molten mix of silver and gold, like dusk and dawn trapped behind lashes too thick to be fair. His shirt half way unbuttoned exposing his beautiful rock hard abs. He moves like he's used to being stared at, like every step is a dare.
"You're in the Trials?" I ask, stepping forward.
"Caelen," he says, dipping his head in a mock bow. "And yes. Unfortunately for the rest of you, I'm competition."
"That supposed to scare us?" Fynn says flatly.
Caelen shrugs, eyes never leaving mine. "Only if you spook easy."
There's something lazy in the way he talks, like he's playing a game no one else knows the rules to. But there's an edge underneath it. Like a blade sheathed in silk.
"You weren't at the induction dinner?" I say slowly.
"I was." He smirks. "You cleaned up well, Solace."
My eyes narrow. "You know my name."
"Everyone knows your name." His gaze dips to the phoenix pendant at my collarbone, then rises again. "Some of us know more than we should."
I go still. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He steps closer, close enough that I catch the scent of smoke and storm-wind clinging to him.
"It means some fires don't burn clean," he says quietly. "And not everyone who fights beside you wants the same kind of victory."
Before I can ask what he means, he's already turning away, hands shoved in his pockets.
"See you soon, Solace," he calls over his shoulder. "Try not to get scorched too early."
He disappears around the hedge, leaving nothing but a trail of questions behind.
Fynn watches him vanish, jaw tense. "You trust that guy?"
"No," I whisper. "But I think he knows something we don't."
We turn around and start to walk back as my mind tries to understand what he meant by, "It means some fires don't burn clean. And not everyone who fights beside you wants the same kind of victory," echo in my mind. What does he know?
We reach the door to the South wing a little to quickly than I hoped.
"You guys go ahead," I say with a little smile, "I need a couple more minutes outside before I go in."
"You sure," Flynn asks, "I can stay out here with you."
"No, I'm ok. Go inside, I won't be far behind," I say shooting him with a encouraging look.
"I'll see you guys at dinner."
I turn my back away from the door and start down the narrow stone path to the orange orchard. Ashveil flies in behind me landing on my right shoulder as I continue walking.
"What do you think he meant?" I say asking her.
"I don't know, but I'd look out for that one," she responds in the same calm, undisturbed voice she used back in Willowrift.
We, soon later, approach the white fence keeping me from entering the beautiful green and orange orchard. I open the white gate and walk in to be greeted with the gentle hush of wind slipping between the leaves, rustling like secrets told to the trees. Rows upon rows of fruit-laden branches stretch into the distance, their twisted trunks heavy with glistening amber-orange globes that glow like lanterns in the late afternoon sun. The grass underfoot is soft and damp, dotted with pale wildflowers that seem to hum with quiet magic.
The scent in the air is thick with citrus and honey—rich, intoxicating. Somewhere deeper within, birds trill sweet, melancholy notes, and I catch sight of a silver-winged moth fluttering lazily past, disappearing into a shadowy grove at the orchard's heart. The whole place feels… alive. Not just growing—but watching. Waiting.
Ashveil lingers at the gate behind me, eyes scanning the trees like she's expecting them to speak.
I walk further inside and find bench and sit, taking in the surroundings. Movement in the bushes catches me off guard a second later. I walk towards it and a small Fire Crab tumbles over and lands right in front of my foot. I look around to see if it belongs with anyone and pick it up. Fire Crabs are known for having a hard shell on its back and farting out fire out of its butt. They are extremely hilarious creatures. People, who these animals are normally bonded with, normally are really intelligent.
"Oh my god, thank you so much for finding him," a man says approaching out from behind me. His robes dusted with ash and the faint scent of smoldering pine clinging to him as he gets closer. He is tall and lean, with tousled auburn hair and spectacles that looked far too delicate to survive a world full of magic and mischief. A belt of leather pouches and strange instruments clinked softly at his waist, and a faint glow pulsed from one of them—likely a charm to locate misplaced creatures. His eyes lit up with a mix of relief and amusement as he spotts the Fire Crab cradled in my hands.
Clearly a scholar of some sort—or perhaps a wandering arcanist—he moved with a kind of distracted grace, the sort of person whose thoughts were always half-occupied by riddles and runes. There was something endearing in the way he spoke to the crab, as if it were an old friend rather than a fire-farting crustacean.
"Umm…no problem. He was behind the bush," pointing over to it. I give him his creature from the cradle the I made with my arms.
"I'm Milo," holding out his hand for a handshake.
"Hi, I am Elena."
"I know, practically everyone is talking about you; not that its a bad thing," he adds quickly.
"That's definitely great," I say sighing sarcastically. I turn back around to sit at the bench where Ashveil is currently poached.
"Wow, she's beautiful," he says admiring the phoenix.
"Thank you," she says responding to him.
"You can talk!"
"Yeah," I say taking over for her, "she likes to butt in on my conversations," looking at her wide eyed.
"Well it was nice to meet," I say trying to end the awkward conversation.
"Right, yes, I will get out of your hair. Thank you again for finding him." And he was walking away before I could say, no problem.
I lingered outside for a few more hours, until the afternoon sun slipped behind the trees. The lanterns lining the path guiding me back toward the southern wing. I am a few feet away from the door, when I see a tall muscular figure leaning against the door frame.
"What do you want," I say to Caelen making sure to show no interest.
"Can I not stand here admiring the night sky and the lady in front of me."
"No you may not," accidentally slipping out a small smile then looking to the ground before looking back up at the handsome man in front of— Stop you need to calm down. Stop flirting. Go inside and walk to the dining room for dinner.
I quickly correct my face and begin to walk inside. I reach the door when a arm blocks my path inside.
"Where are you going?"
"Inside," I say like it is obvious, "I am starving."
He lowers his hand and I start up the steps to the third floor. I look behind me hoping to see him following me, but he remains at the door continuing to look at the night sky. I force my feet to continue up the steps and walk to the already busy dinning room.
I take a seat next to Samora and start to pile food on my plate.
"You were gone a while," she says nudging my shoulder.
"I needed a minute to myself," I reply back focusing my attention to the food in front of me.
I finish eating and start back to my room thinking about my interaction with Caelen.
"Elena, wait up," Fynn yells back running up from behind me.
His soft, grey eyes meeting mine causes butterflies to fly around in my stomach.
"Hi," I respond softly and a bit quieter then I wanted.
"Is there something wrong?"
"I just miss Liira," not finding the words to tell him about Caelen.
He gives me a delicate hug like he is trying not to hurt me.
"I know" he responds back.
Fynn walks me all the way back to my room, silent but steady beside me. My guard stands where I left him, looking just as bored as before.
I pause at the door.
"Thanks for walking with me," I say.
Fynn just smiles, soft and understanding.
I nod, push open the door, and slip inside.
The room is quiet.
I lean against the door for a moment, letting the stillness settle over me. Caelens smirk still lingers in my mind—his voice, his presence, the way he didn't follow.
And then Fynn. The way he looked at me, like I mattered.
I close my eyes, exhale slowly, and whisper to the silence:
"I need to stop getting distracted."