-Asher-
I didn't even see the damn vine, but I was still hearing about it.
"Oh my gods, she grew an elaren vine!"
"Like, by accident! In class!"
"She didn't even chant!"
Alexia Mae Carter—storm-girl with the floppy-eared dog, chaos in jeans—had magic so raw it could regrow extinct plants and hush half a classroom in awe. Now she was out there eating tacos with Finn like she hadn't just shattered the calm of Whisperwind. I leaned in the archway shadow, arms crossed, eyes fixed on them while pretending I wasn't watching. Her laugh rang out—bright, unguarded—and made something in my chest tighten.
"Let me guess," I muttered, "next she'll regrow the entire forest. Maybe raise a few dead gods while she's at it."
"You're still stuck on the vine?" Soren's voice, quiet as a ripple, slid in behind me.
"I'm stuck on everyone losing their minds over someone who's been here five minutes."
"She connected with something most of us can't," he said simply. "Instinct like that is rare."
I snorted. "It's dangerous."
"And compelling," Jasper added, materializing beside me like a smug shadow. "Look at Finn. He's practically glowing."
"He's drooling," I corrected. "Over a girl with a rescue mutt for a familiar."
"She named the vine," Jasper added.
I shot him a look. "I bet she knitted it a sweater too."
He smirked, but before he could needle me again, I cut him off with a glare that ended the back-and-forth.
Soren's gaze was steady. "You wouldn't be this irritated if you weren't feeling something too."
"I feel plenty," I snapped. "Suspicion. A need to keep Finn from proposing over a side of guacamole."
Jasper raised a brow. "You're not mad at her. You're mad you're not her."
That one stung. Because it wasn't entirely wrong.
They drifted off to join her and Finn, laughter rising like it was nothing, like this wasn't dangerous, like she wasn't a walking question mark in our already fractured lives.
I turned on my heel and headed for the gym.
The empty training hall was perfect: iron in the air, rune-scored mats, punching bags lined up like silent confessions. I threw off my jacket, wrapped my hands, and hit the bag. Hard. Again. And again. Focus. Focus. But her laugh stuck in my head, bright and safe. The way Finn looked at her like he knew something, like he was sure. Jasper was watching her too, a glint in his eye he got only when something fascinated him. And Soren… Soren was too quiet around her, which was saying something.
And me? I didn't trust it. Didn't trust her. Didn't trust the way something deep inside me kept circling her like I recognized something I didn't want to name. I don't trust easily. Not after that night. A flash: Moonlight. Blood on the marble floor. My mother's cold hands on my shoulders, her whisper: "Never trust what you can't control." The light of her eyes flickering out while my father's voice echoed in the hall, swearing vengeance I was too young to understand.
I gritted my teeth and slammed my fist into the bag.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The four of us—me, Finn, Jasper, Soren—we were a unit. Balanced, dangerous, clear on our mission. Now she was here, unraveling everything just by existing, and the bond that should've been stable was humming with something new. The bag wasn't enough. I needed something to hit back. The door creaked open.
"Planning to murder that bag or warm it up for a real fight?" Instructor Vale stepped in, shadow long on the floor.
I didn't answer, just wiped sweat off my face.
He cracked his knuckles. "Don't waste that energy. Spar. Now."
We bowed, and then he was on me—fast, brutal, no room for thought. I blocked, countered, moved on instinct honed from years of surviving, but her laugh kept sliding into the corners of my mind.
Vale's fist caught my ribs, knocking out my breath.
"Focus, pup," he barked. "You're fighting with your head somewhere else."
I snarled, lunging in, letting the rhythm drown out the memory of Finn's smile and her bright laugh. Letting fists and pain burn away confusion.
Vale swept my legs, and I hit the mat, gasping.
He offered a hand, his dark eyes calm. "Name it, Asher. Or it will own you."
I took his hand and pulled myself up, chest heaving, but silent. Because I couldn't name it. After he left, I sat on the mat, sweat cooling, silence pressing in. It wasn't jealousy. It was fear. Fear that the bond was real. That she was exactly who the bond wanted. That she would unravel everything we'd built, and that some traitor part of me might want her to.
I stood, grabbed my jacket, and paused at the door. Laughter drifted in from the courtyard—hers, Finn's, Jasper's. It followed me as I stepped into the fading light, the weight of what I couldn't control pressing against every breath I took.