After Lincoln vanished, the palace felt quieter than before — but not in the way that comforted.
Everyone moved like they were holding their breath.
And for a while, so did we.
⸻
They didn't call us immediately.
Not that day. Not the next. We stayed inside the guest wing, with wards layered over every door and the stone humming quietly beneath our feet.
I couldn't see the walls, but I felt their shape. Stark and regal. Elven construction. Every stone carried mana worked into it like breath in bone. And when Queen Fay entered the room on the third day, it felt like the stone itself shifted.
Her presence was nothing like King Beren's, not sharp or alert. It was quiet, fluid, and impossibly old. Her mana was the slow-passing rhythm of tidewater through glass. I didn't need to see her face to feel the weight of it.
"Annabel," she said gently. "Will you come with me?"
Salem stirred behind me, her mana lifting slightly protective. The Queen's did not respond. Neither challenged the other. Just a moment of silence shared between powerful women.
"I'll be fine," I murmured.
I followed.
The room was smaller than I expected.
Not a throne room. Not a war chamber.
Just a circular table carved of polished stone, with three seats, and both royals already waiting.
Queen Fay sat like water held in form. King Beren like a blade sheathed in ice. Their auras pulsed faintly, in rhythm with the room — as if the building itself recognized them.
I stood for a moment, then sat when told.
"Tell us," the Queen said, "everything."
And so I did.
I told them how Lycian found me, how his voice had always seemed too smooth, too convincing. How he never once flared his mana, not even when angry. Because he didn't need to.
"I knew something was wrong," I said softly. "But I ignored it. He was kind. Calm. He never hurt anyone. Held back his mana pretty much always, and even than he was around a rank two or three, so who knows how strong he is."
The Queen did not interrupt.
King Beren's outline was still, his mana sharp as ever.
I continued.
"He used something called a Tempting Whisper. A devil charm. I read about it once in old war journals, written during the second siege. It makes you… follow them. You trust them. Even when you know you shouldn't."
I hesitated.
"It's worse when you're blind," I said.
The Queen tilted her head faintly.
"I see mana," I explained. "Outlines. Pressure. But to resist a whisper, you need to reinforce your thoughts with mana. That's how the soldiers in the old wars survived — mental fortification. But for me…"
I hesitated again. Ashamed.
"I was already using mana. All the time. Just to see. Just to exist. It's not like I didn't have any left to reinforce. It just slipped in through the cracks."
Salem's hand wasn't there, but I could almost feel it.
"I think he brought me there for a reward," I added. "He kept saying things like 'I've earned this' or 'if he could leave to get what was promised' I couldn't tell who he was talking to. Only that they wanted Kali to drain me. Take my mana. My gifts. Probably to make her stronger."
"And why you?" Beren finally asked. "Why not any prodigy?"
"You already know," I said quietly.
The King didn't reply.
But his mana shifted — like a door quietly closing.
"Thank you for telling us," Queen Fay said. "This will not be forgotten."
"I don't need it remembered," I replied. "I need it prevented."
I could feel the King give a slow nod. "We'll debrief with Lincoln when he returns. Until then… get some rest. You've earned it."
I paused.
"There's one more thing," I said.
They both looked to me — not with surprise, but readiness.
"Where's Dr. Lorre?"
The Queen's aura shifted faintly, like a breeze catching still water. "She's in Velshire," she said gently. "Making preparations for the Ætherbound. Back in Hearthwood."
"She was supposed to be your new advisor, your Majesty," I murmured.
"Yes," King Beren said, with a small nod. "That is something you'll learn more about soon, Annabel. But she's doing just fine. I know you were always close with her. Especially when you first arrived."
I let out a soft breath, somewhere between relief and remembrance.
"…Yeah," I said, almost to myself. "She saved me."
⸻
We left the Elaran at the end of the week.
Just before we departed, Lincoln returned.
He his mana scanned me the same way as last time. Calm, quiet, outlined in mana denser than anyones even when holding back. But Kali walked behind him now. Her silhouette restrained, her aura tight as a sealed vault. She was still dangerous. But bound.
Lincoln approached me before I mounted my horse.
"I read the report," he said.
His voice was softer than usual. Like it was meant only for me.
"You did good," he added. "You survived something most people wouldn't."
I nodded. "Thanks for… everything."
He paused. "Goodbye. And good luck."
Then he turned from me.
His next words were aimed at King Beren, standing at the top of the steps.
"We need to talk."
Beren didn't answer.
He just turned and led Lincoln inside.
I never found out what was said.
But i had a feeling i would.
⸻
Home was a blur of outlines and arms.
My mother's mana was the first to meet me — light and fast, a thousand motions in one moment. Elara touched my arm before I even finished taking off my boots. Then my father, Alaric was slower, heavier, solid as stone. His hug was quiet, unmoving, unspoken.
"I'm fine," I murmured, lying again.
"You always are," my mother replied gently.
Then came Ramon — my older brother, my shadow as a child, my rival when I still believed I had something to prove.
He stepped into the doorway with a slow whistle.
"Well, damn," he said. "You look like you got chewed up and spit back out."
"I feel worse," I admitted.
He laughed. "And you brought your demon with you again, huh?"
Salem entered behind me. Quiet footsteps, low aura. She bowed slightly toward my parents, unnecessarily formal.
"Be gentle," Ramon stage-whispered. "They're clearly an item now."
My face burned hotter than any spell. "Ramon shut your face."
Salem's mana flicked — amused. She didn't correct him.
My parents didn't react with shock. They didn't judge. for a long time i thought they would if i were to become an item. But i was glad that there was nothing to explain.
Not to them.
Then came the Sinclairs. Marcus, kind-eyed and quiet; Maria, fierce and too loud; Evelyn, who barely waited before launching herself at me with her tiny blur of mana.
"How are you growing so fast Annabel, i wanna be taller to" she murmured
"I'm sure your growth spurt will happen any day now." I said while patting her head
I smiled. For the first time in days, it wasn't a lie.
⸻
The days passed slowly. The air was colder here. Not from wind, but from stillness. Home always felt like the pause between thoughts. Between battles. Between versions of myself.
I took long walks, fingers brushing along bark and stone, memorizing the terrain the way my feet already had. Ramon teased me about how often Salem tagged along. I let him. It was easier than explaining the way her outline steadied my heart.
At night, we played memory games. He'd quiz me on everything from potions to poetry, always with a smug edge in his voice.
"I don't understand how you are so good at games like these when you can't even see them. You really remember stuff weird," he said once. "Like you've been through it before."
I didn't answer.
Because It wasn't just flashes anymore in my My dreams.
I remembered.
Most of my past life.
Even the memory games i used to play with my soldiers at night.
I hadn't told anyone.
Not Salem. Not even my parents.
And maybe I never would.
Because that life—it wasn't something I missed. It was something I endured. This one? This life?
This one feels like a home I never thought I'd have, no matter how hard it gets.
I'll protect the ones i love.
Then, at the end of that same month. The last night before i would go back to the academy, my mother pulled me aside.
Her mana was soft. Searching.
"Annabel," she said gently, "you haven't said anything real since you got back."
"I'm fine," I replied. Flat.
"I've heard what they're saying. That you were taken prisoner by devils. And now you're walking around like it never happened?"
"I'm. Fine."
"You're not."
I turned away, breath tight in my throat. "You wouldn't understand."
"Then help me."
Her voice didn't rise. It never had to.
"I've barley been around you while you grew up, but i know you have scars that you never talk about. I've tried to let you become your own person. But not this time. You are still so young."
I didn't answer.
"You always hide it behind quiet," she said. "Behind good manners and clever words. But I know my daughter."
I turned, sharp. "I said I'm fine!"
Silence.
My fists were clenched. My mana buzzing.
Then I breathed in.
And out.
"…Sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to snap."
She stepped forward, resting her hand against my shoulder.
"You don't have to be okay," she said. "Just don't lie about it."
I nodded. Once.
She didn't push further. She knew i wasn't going to share it. Not now.
⸻
The morning we left, the whole family came to see me off.
The street outside our home smelled like fresh-baked honeybread and sun-warmed stone. The kind of morning that should've belonged to a harvest fair, not a departure.
Marcus pulled me into a tight hug, his leather gloves creaking faintly. His outline always flickered around the edges — like his mana was trying to crack a joke it couldn't quite finish.
"Keep your gear intact this time," he said, mock-scolding. "I might be rich, but you can't keep burning through it like spellpaper."
I smiled. "No promises."
He groaned. "You never change."
My mother kissed my forehead. Her outline was gentle and full, like a tree that never bent too far in the wind. "Come back whole okay? I love you." she said softly.
"I love you to." I said as i pulled her into a hug
Ramon didn't say much — just ruffled my hair and muttered, "Don't get yourself killed." His mana buzzed warm with worry beneath the words.
My dad…thew Evelyn at me. "INCOMING!"
I casted a quick portal spell to land her safely "are you two are crazy?!" Both of them laughed, i could feel the shock on Maria and Marcus which made me chuckle aswel.
"Ill miss you all, hopefully i can see you all again soon."
Me and Salem stepped out and waved back at them, i could tell all of there mana outlines apart even from a distance, my mother felt so worried, but telling her my bourdons would only make it worse. So i'll stay strong for her and all of them.
I held onto the moment like a stone in the current.
And then we were walking. Just me and Salem. One last time through the familiar streets, the cobbles worn smooth by years of footsteps and spell-surge runoff. The city was half-awake, light spilling like ink from shuttered windows.
We didn't speak for a while.
Not until we walked trough a quiet part of a town where we've never been before
Salem's mana twitched beside me. She hesitated. Then said, almost too softly, "You were crying in your sleep."
I stopped walking.
"I, um… I kept you close. I didn't know what else to do. I hoped it helped."
It had.
But I didn't say that.
Instead, I reached for her hand, pulled her gently toward the wall — and placed my palm over her chest, where her outline burned brightest. Warm. Steady. Brave in a way she didn't show anyone else.
"I wish I could see you fully," I said.
Her breath caught.
I hugged her.
But for a moment i wanted more.
Wrapped my arms around her and held tight — long enough that the alley fell silent except for our breathing.
"Thank you," I whispered.
⸻
And then after traveling from home, we returned to the Academy.
It had changed.
Wards laced the gates like webs. Guard towers dotted the outer paths. Even the mana in the stones pulsed with a heavier rhythm. Security. Preparation.
But more than that, it was anticipation.
They knew something was coming.
Classes resumed. We studied harder than ever before — magic theory, close combat, alchemy, astral pressure modeling. Our professors didn't smile anymore. Even the most arrogant among us were humbled after Blazewind.
I trained. I fought. I bled.
Salem trained even harder.
Every day. Every week. Every spell. Like she was trying to carve the guilt from her own skin.
Sometimes I'd find her out by the southern range alone, sweat thick in the air, her mana wild and vicious. I never asked why. I already knew.
She blamed herself for me being taken.
She wasn't there.
It wasn't her fault, but she would never agree with that.
⸻
And slowly, I rose.
One duel at a time. One trial at a time. Until one day, my pressure cracked through the ceiling during a magic capability test— and the air shifted. The instructors stared like I'd grown wings. I didn't need to be told.
I'd become Rank 1. Finally.
Salem didn't say anything at first. But when we got back to our dorm, her outline wrapped around mine like fire curling around a candle.
"I felt it," she whispered.
I nodded, exhausted.
"I'm proud of you."
I said nothing, i just curled into her, heart racing slower now.
⸻
We didn't see Lincoln again.
But we heard about him.
A devil envoy tried testing our borders once, a minor warband, no more than twenty. They didn't make it past the first line of defense. Kali was with him. Apparently she wasn't fighting, just present. Shackled and sharp. A reminder.
Her existence alone was enough.
Lincoln's silence became its own warning.
And then, just days before Velshire —
I got a letter. Anonymous.
Tightly sealed. No crest I recognized. But the mana woven into the seal was cold, ancient, and frighteningly exact.
Inside was a single sheet of high-density spellweave parchment. Text burned into the fibers in void-ink — not visible to the eye, only to pressure.
They're building a group. Not for peace. Not for the armies.
For assassination.
Lincoln is their target. You will likely be included.
Prepare.
I didn't sleep that night.
The next morning news came quietly. News i was already aware of.
No blasts of mana. No trumpets. Just whispers through the Academy's upper halls, carried by assistant mages and urgent dispatches: The Ætherbound Project was real and finalized.
Fifteen mages.
Chosen from all three continents.
Bound to one purpose — and to something stronger than any spirit pact in living memory.
No names were given.
Not yet.
The ceremony would be held in Velshire, capital of the human continent, like king beren told me last year, in just over a week. No students would attend. Not unless they were summoned. Not unless they were chosen.
But the part that caught everyone off guard?
Lincoln.
He'd been offered a place.
And he'd refused.
The strongest mage alive.
Rank 0.
And he said no.
I first heard it that morning, sitting across from Rōko in the Academy's east cafeteria, with a half-eaten piece of toast in my hand and the early light cutting soft gold across the table.
She leaned forward, voice low but tight with disbelief.
"He just said it outright," she whispered. "Told the Circle he didn't need more power. That others should carry it instead."
I didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
Salem sat beside me, quietly focused on her tea, her aura calm but slightly drawn inward — listening.
I just nodded faintly.
And the moment passed.
That night, I sat on the stone bench beneath the dormitory's southern archway — where the wind curled like breath, and the sky above felt too big to reach.
Salem sat behind me, upright and quiet, her one arm wrapped loosely around my waist. Her head rested against my shoulder, her mana soft and slow like a sleeping ember.
I didn't see her face, not really. Just the dark blur of her outline lit faintly with that familiar flickering pressure. Sharp at the edges, warm in the core. Her aura always moved like it didn't know whether to burn or protect.
But her hand was real. Real against me. Holding just tight enough to remind me I wasn't alone.
"I just don't get it," I whispered, staring into the dark above us. "He could've taken the seat. Ætherbound. Stronger than spirits. Stronger than almost anything."
No response. But her grip on my side shifted slightly.
"I mean, sure. Maybe it's about strategy. Let others rise. Play the numbers. But it's Lincoln. He could take the top twenty mages from all three continents and come out without a scratch."
I felt her lean in slightly.
"And if there really is a group being trained to kill him, like the letter said, shouldn't that matter?"
Then…
She bit me.
Not hard. Not cruel. Just sharp enough to cut my words clean out of the air. Her teeth sank gently into the side of my neck, right where it met my shoulder. A slow, pointed warning.
I startled, a shiver running through me.
And then she kissed the same spot — long, warm, and slow, as if to say "I'm here. Stop spiraling."
Before I could think to speak, her weight shifted.
She slid onto my lap, one knee on either side of me, straddling me in a way that made my whole body go still. Her outline was close now. Too close. Her head hovered just above mine, her mana flickering in slow waves, lit bright where it touched me.
I didn't need sight to know how intense she looked.
I felt it, like heat beneath skin.
When I opened my mouth to speak, her hand rose — her only hand — and she gently placed a single finger across my lips.
"Stop bickering with ghosts," she whispered.
And I would've said something. Anything.
But then her fingertip traced my cheek — slowly, almost playfully, and I felt the sharp edge of her nail slide across my skin, never breaking it, just marking me.
I froze.
My heart kicked once, and the heat rose fast up my throat and across my face, fierce as mana flaring under pressure.
She didn't tease me for it.
Didn't gloat.
She just rested her forehead lightly against mine, her aura curling tighter, softer.
She held me like she'd always known how. Like she'd never been touched wrong.
And I let her.
Because for once, it didn't feel like the world was falling apart.
Just shifting.
And if they were choosing fifteen…
If the Ætherbound were truly awakening —
Who would have been picked?
I wonder if an old friend might be among them.
⸻
And so the world turned.
Waiting.
While in the dark —
The old powers moved.
We left for Velshire three days later.
Not as witnesses. Not as soldiers. Just summoned students.
But the world didn't care. Not anymore. There weren't many students that were summoned but the ones thar were. Were watched like they carried prophecy.
The interior creaked around us — all stiff wool and tension. The roads weren't paved this far out, but the wheels still hummed.
I sat close to Salem. I always did.
Her outline curled beside mine, quiet, steady.
Across from us, Rōko slouched low, all muscle and lazy confidence. Her mana crackled faintly, sharp at the edges even when she was still. Everyone could tell she was no noble thats for sure
Next to her sat Fay. Noble-blooded, soft-spoken, iron-willed. Her outline glided with elegance even seated. No unnecessary movements. No wasted breath. Her mana was layered like veils — light, refined, hard to read.
William sat at the far end, opposite Alven. Both of them quieter than they used to be. Their outlines used to flare with noise, all heat, all show. Now they burned lower. Tighter. Like they'd started to understand something bigger than themselves.
They've come a long way from being total idiots, I thought.
Not out loud.
But Salem's outline twitched.
She probably heard it anyway.
"We'll get there before sundown," Fay murmured.
"Might as well be midnight," William replied, tone light. "The whole city's probably lit like a ritual circle by now."
"They don't even know who's being chosen," Rōko said. "It's all anticipation. Like the whole continent's convinced that these fifteen will stop another tragedy like Draumhold"
"Fifteen people," Alven said. "I doubt they know what they're even binding to. It's probably beyond our understanding."
"No records. No history," Fay added. "This isn't like a spirit pact. It's… something else."
Something new.
Something old.
Something no one fully understood.
"I hope they announce the Ætherbound all at once," she said suddenly. "One by one would be so—dramatic."
"That's the point," said Fay softly. Her voice was warm milk over glass. "Theatrics keep people inspired. And afraid."
Her mana had the lightest texture of all of us — almost see-through. Soft and elegant, like it bowed as it passed you. Everything about her felt practiced, but never fake.
"You'd think after a city gets destroyed by a single devil we'd be done with fanfare," Rōko muttered, brushing her short hair back. "Just name them, crown them, and let them save us."
"I think," William cut in, "people need something to look at. Someone to point to and say, there that's our shield. It's kinda the same as fay being given the same name as my mother…the Queen."
"Yeah yeah we get it prince." Rōko murmured
He wasn't wrong.
His mana was clearer now than it had been a year ago. Still noble, still a little too sharp around the edges, but it had lost that frantic twitch it used to have. Like he didn't need to prove anything anymore.
Near death had changed him.
"I still think they'll pick my brother," alven said for the third time.
"Lumos is a given," William replied. "Second strongest human mage alive? He's practically the poster boy."
Then Rōko leaned slightly toward Alven. "Hey. Real question."
He made a sound halfway between a sigh and a grunt. "Those are dangerous."
"Do you actually like your brother?"
That landed.
The cart creaked as we took a turn. No one filled the silence.
Alven's outline dimmed a little. Not weaker, just quieter. Like he was remembering something he wasn't sure he should say.
"I don't know," he admitted. "He's… a force. Always has been. Strongest human alive after Lincoln, even before all this. Everyone loved him for it."
Another pause.
"I used to think I hated him. But maybe I just didn't know how to exist in the space where someone has power like that."
"No shame in that," William said, voice surprisingly soft.
"Maybe not," Alven replied. "But it still leaves a mark."
Rōko nodded once, her outline pulsing in thought. "Well. He's still kind of a prick."
Alven huffed. "On that, we agree."
That earned a low chuckle from William. Even Fay's mana shifted — warm at the edges.
I didn't laugh. But I smiled.
We didn't talk much after that.
Just sat in shared quiet as the cart climbed the final ridge.
And then…
I felt it.
The air thickened. Mana curled down from the horizon like low stormclouds — layered, immense. Pressure rolled outward from the heart of something ancient and newly awakened.
I could feel the city rising ahead.
Velshire.
The capital.
Its outline spanned the entire skyline — walls etched with warding, towers dense with chant-scripts. I couldn't see the architecture, but I felt its echo through the ground beneath the cart. Like a giant breathing in stone.
Thousands of mana signatures churned in the outer districts — bright, panicked, hungry. Hope. Fear. Expectation. The kind of noise that meant the world had turned toward one place.
Toward one question.
Fifteen.
Who?
I leaned a little closer to Salem. She reached for my hand before I even asked.
And as the cart slowed.
As the first checkpoint pulses swept over us.
I knew, deep down, something was waiting just beyond the gates.
Something vast.
Something new.
I felt skeptical, yet i felt excited.