In Erathil, capital of the seven Houses where the wardlight's warmth had protected the city for centuries, Senior Scribe Kaelen Virelle has spent seventeen years hiding her flame magic heritage.
When impossible snow begins to fall and a mysterious prisoner arrives, asking about forbidden scripts, her carefully hidden life starts to unravel.
. . .
"Kaelen, you need to see this!"
Lyra's call cut through the Great Archive's corridors.
Kaelen looked up from her copying work. Ink still dripped from her quill.
"What troubles you—"
Kaelen stopped speaking.
Lyra gripped the window frame at the third balcony, one hand pressed against the frosted glass.
Below them, white flakes fell across Erathil's inner ring.
Snow.
In a city that had not known winter for four centuries.
"Tell me I am dreaming."
Kaelen crossed to the window. The glass felt cold beneath her palm.
This cannot be real.
Thomas burst through the doorway. His spectacles hung crooked. Scrolls spilt from his arms.
"The entire lower district lies covered! People abandon their shops!"
Lyra pointed upward.
"But observe the sun-stone. The orb blazes brighter than ever."
The sun-stone blazed overhead, its wardlight protecting the city.
"How can we have snow when our protection burns with such intensity?"
Kaelen studied the glowing orb. The sun-stone had protected their realm for generations and never failed. Never faltered.
"Perhaps our protection finally weakens."
Thomas laughed and adjusted his spectacles.
"Weakening? That orb could melt the northern peaks. What power causes this snow—the failure lies not in our sun-stone."
"Then what power could override the wardlight?"
Lyra turned from the window.
"You are the youngest senior scribe in Archive history. If anyone should know—"
"Being young does not make me all-knowing."
Kaelen returned to her desk.
"Being seventeen merely means I am skilled at reading old books. Not foreseeing magical collapse."
Thomas tilted his head.
"Hold. Seventeen years of age? Senior scribes must be twenty-four minimum."
"Usually, yes. But when you can read flame scripts that have been lost for centuries, the Council makes exceptions."
Exceptions they might regret.
"What kind of flame scripts?" Lyra asked.
"Forbidden incantations. The texts that got my mother killed."
No one spoke.
Thomas pushed his spectacles higher on his nose.
"Your mother died in a transcription accident. Everyone knows that tale."
"Do Council members believe that tale? Or is the accident story merely what the Archive tells junior scribes?"
"What are you saying?"
"Perhaps I do not know as much about my own family as I thought."
. . .
Lyra turned back to the window.
"Movement at the north gate."
They pressed against the glass.
Six black-armoured warriors escorted a prisoner across the courtyard. The man moved well despite iron shackles.
Thomas leaned closer to the glass.
"Who is he?"
Kaelen saw the violet collar pulsing at his throat.
Mage-binding iron.
"I have not seen mage-binding iron in years. What kind of magic requires that level of binding?"
The prisoner stopped walking. He ignored the warriors' harsh commands.
He tilted his head back and scanned the Archive's towers.
Searching.
Lyra pointed.
"He seeks someone."
His gaze found their window.
Found her.
When their eyes met, she knew him. Not from memory—from a magical recognition she could not explain.
I know this man.
Lyra touched her arm.
"Kaelen? Are you well?"
The silver pendant beneath her robes grew warm. Her mother's flame wrapped around a quill.
The pendant had never grown warm like this before.
"I am well."
The prisoner held her gaze.
Thomas squinted at the prisoner through the frosted glass.
"You know him?"
"Impossible. I have never left the city."
"But?"
The pendant burned against her throat.
"I cannot explain it."
The warriors yanked the prisoner's chains.
He followed without resistance. But kept watching the Archive walls until he disappeared.
What is happening to me?
Lyra picked up a fallen scroll.
"What did you mean about your mother?"
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."
"Kaelen—"
"I said to forget what I mentioned about my mother."
. . .
"High Senior Scribe Halden."
Thomas stepped aside as Halden appeared at Kaelen's elbow, arms full of parchments. His grey beard bore fresh ink stains.
"A word, Kaelen?"
She set down her quill.
Lyra gathered her scrolls.
"We shall be in the binding room if you need us."
Lyra paused at the door, glancing back. Thomas followed, equally reluctant.
Once alone, Halden set his parchments on the desk.
"Interesting weather."
"You have witnessed this snow before."
Not a question.
Halden's expression shifted—the look of someone deciding what truth to share.
"Twice. Both times preceded wars and fallen kingdoms. Upheaval that reshapes entire realms."
The pendant burned hotter.
"The prisoner. Who is he?"
"Claims to be Riven Drae. Northern war commander."
Halden frowned.
"Says he crossed the cursed wastelands alone."
"No one survives the cursed wastelands."
"No one human, certainly."
Halden set down his parchments.
"The warriors mentioned he kept asking about fire and burning. Flame magic. Hollow Script, they called the writing system."
Kaelen's hand moved to cover the pendant.
"I have never heard of Hollow Script."
"Have you not?"
She waited. Halden's tone revealed hidden knowledge.
"Your mother was researching Hollow Script before she died."
Kaelen gripped the desk edge.
"You never told me this."
"Seventeen years ago, Maera Virelle was the Archive's foremost scholar on forbidden texts. Hollow Script was her speciality."
"That is not what you told me. You said she died copying bloodline records."
"I told a frightened child what you needed to hear."
"And now?"
"Now you are not a child."
Halden moved to the window.
"Blood magic has awakened in this city again."
"My mother's death was not an accident."
Halden turned from the window.
"Your mother did not die in an accident."
"Who killed her?"
"Council members who could not allow certain discoveries to reach the public. Evidence that could topple their power. Proof that exposes what Erathil's magical protection truly costs this realm."
Kaelen moved back from the desk.
Everything I believed was a lie.
"What did my mother discover?"
"Your bloodline, Kaelen. Your family's connection to the sun-stone."
Halden paused.
"Your mother found evidence that powerful Archive leaders wanted destroyed."
She thought of the locked chest beneath her bed. The one she had never opened.
Mother's secrets.
"That prisoner did not arrive here by chance. This snow is not natural weather."
"What are you saying?"
"A magical summons through bloodline connection. The flame mage bloodlines have awakened. Your bloodline lies at the centre."
Halden's gaze moved to the window, where snow continued to fall.
"The Virelles have been magically bound to this city's fate for four hundred years. Ever since the first sun-stone was lit."
"What my mother was attempting to discover when Council members killed her."
Footsteps echoed. Multiple warriors, moving quickly.
"Warriors come for the prisoner. You have inherited your mother's thirst for forbidden knowledge."
The footsteps grew louder in the stairwell.
"The warning is a choice. Stay safe, keep copying harmless texts, pretend none of the blood magic matters. Or learn why a northern commander crossed the cursed wastelands, asking about your family's magic."
The voices grew closer.
"What would you do?" she asked.
"I would remember that some truths, once learned, can never be forgotten."
Halden's footsteps echoed down the corridor, leaving her alone with falling snow and a burning pendant.
The choice is mine.
. . .
The stone felt cold, ordinary. Kaelen pressed her palm against the wall.
Warmth flowed from her skin into the mortar.
She snatched her hand back.
Too late.
Red light burst between the cracks where her palm had rested. The magic flowed through the mortar, revealing symbols carved deep in the Archive's foundations.
Forbidden script.
"By our protection. That display is fascinating."
Behind her stood the prisoner.
Tall, lean, free.
The violet collar was gone.
"You."
"Kaelen Virelle. I have been seeking you for a very long time."
"Impossible. You are supposed to be in the dungeons."
"Am I? Where do you believe I am right now?"
The wall behind her grew brighter. Red symbols spread wider, forming shapes like words.
This cannot be happening.
"What is this magic?"
"Your heritage. Your mother's legacy. The powerful Council members killed her to hide."
"You knew my mother?"
"I knew what she discovered about the sun-stone. What she died protecting."
"The truth about what our protection consumes. What keeps this city warm whilst the rest of the world freezes?"
"What does it consume?"
Whose lives are we burning?
"What the sun-stone devours is what we need to discuss tonight. Third level beneath, the old archives."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You want to know why your mother truly died. You need to know what the sun-stone's collapse means for this city."
Footsteps from the stairwell. Warriors, approaching with haste.
"The warriors are coming."
"The warriors will not find me. But they might find you."
He glanced at the wall.
"That light you are creating? The glow is visible from three floors down."
She looked back. Red lines covered ten feet of stone, glowing steadily.
If they see this, I am dead.
"You cannot stop the magic. Not until you accept what you are."
"The last flame mage of your bloodline. The key to everything Council members have tried to hide."
"Tonight. Come alone."
"What if I refuse?"
"Then this city dies from the sun-stone's hunger. And you will never know why your mother died."
He moved back into the shadow.
Gone.
"Trust no one in the Archive, Kaelen. Not even those who raised you. Everyone here has family magic secrets worth killing for."
The footsteps grew louder.
Cold air and snow scent lingered.
The red light was fading. But not quickly enough.
Kaelen pressed both hands against the glowing wall.
"Please. Go away. Go away."
The magic dimmed.
Please work.
"Miss Kaelen?" A voice called from below. "Do you require assistance?"
"Well! Merely checking the windows!"
"Checking for what?"
"Snow damage!"
The light vanished as Lieutenant Willem rounded the corner.
"Snow damage? These walls have stood for centuries."
"You speak truly."
She stepped away from the wall.
He peered at the stone where light had been.
"Curious. Looks like carvings beneath this mortar."
"Does it?"
He can see them.
"Flame script, perhaps. Can you read these symbols?"
"I would need better light to read the script properly."
"Well, if everything is secure..."
He turned to leave, then paused.
"Captain Marcus approaches."
"Captain Marcus?"
After he left, she ran her fingers along the stone.
Symbols remained visible. Barely visible beneath centuries of paint and mortar.
Her mother had died for this knowledge.
What kind of mage am I becoming?
Why can I activate magic that others cannot see?
Tonight, she would find answers.
Or die trying.
End of Chapter 1
. . .
Next Chapter Preview: Mother's Secrets
Kaelen finds her mother's hidden journal. The truth about the sun-stone's consumption of life force will shatter everything she believes. But when she meets the prisoner in the forbidden archives, she discovers some family magic secrets are worth more than a city's survival. The Council knows she is investigating. And Council members are coming.