"Marvelous…" Edgar breathed, stepping closer, his eyes fixed on the swirling void in Serenya's palm. "I've never seen anything like it."
The black whirl pulsed softly, bending the light around it. Just as he leaned in, Serenya closed her hand, dispelling the magic. The sudden snap of nothingness made him flinch, stumbling back a step.
"I… I've only ever heard whispers," Edgar admitted, voice a little hushed. "They called it Void Magic—the art that erases everything it touches. But every record of it was destroyed. Probably burned out of existence years ago."
"Why?"
"That's what I don't understand." He ran a hand over his beard. "The first sightings were in Azalia, but after that… silence. As if the world itself swallowed the truth."
Serenya's gaze flicked to Natalia, measuring her reaction.
The half-drachen shook her head. "I have no memory of Azalia, my lady. My mother once said we fled to begin anew, but she never spoke of what drove us away."
Serenya leaned back, thoughtful. "So why is it that the people of Euthalia know nothing?"
Edgar only shrugged. "Could be politics. Could be fear. Or maybe the Archmage Houses buried it so deep, no one dared remember—just an assumption, though." He reached out, dragging the gold ingots toward him with greedy fingers.
"I need more," Serenya pressed, signaling Natalia to drop another pouch of coins. The heavy clink echoed in the chamber.
Edgar's eyes flickered, then he sighed, shaking his head. "As much as I'd like to take your gold, that's all I have. Beyond whispers and ashes… there's nothing left."
✦
Serenya draped her cloak over the sofa and sank into its cushions, Edgar's words replaying in her mind. The scraps of knowledge he had given her were little more than smoke, but even smoke hinted at fire. She needed more.
Her thoughts turned to House Lunaris' famed Library of Memories. If answers existed anywhere in Euthalia, they would be there. But access meant patience—and trust. Cordelia might be adopted, but the Lunaris family guarded her like a priceless relic. Serenya would have to wait, play her part carefully, and strike at the right moment.
"Void magic, huh…" she murmured, summoning the dark orb into her palm. The miniature black hole spun silently, bending the air, its pull tugging faintly at the threads of the world.
If her suspicion was right, this magic could shatter the very foundations of the system the Archmage Houses had built their pride upon. A power immune to all known magic. If wielded selfishly, it could crown her queen—or condemn her as a monster no one could oppose.
But conquest had never crossed her mind. She didn't crave thrones or empires. What she wanted was far simpler—freedom. The freedom to live without chains, without expectations, without being branded a failure or a tool to be used until broken.
Still… the thought lingered. If she could master this void, she could leave a mark on the world no one could erase.
For now, though, she would bide her time. Learn its origins. Test its limits. Let the river carry her forward—until the moment comes when she would bend its current to her will.
✦
Moments ago, she'd been amusing herself with idle thoughts of ruling a continent. Silly, harmless musings—or so she believed. Never did Serenya imagine such thoughts would be followed so quickly by an actual attempt on her life.
Now she was sprinting barefoot through the woods, branches slapping against her arms, breath sharp in her throat, as knives hissed through the air, flashing past her face, embedding themselves into bark with a sickening thunk.
Sure, she could erase magic. Spells she could unmake. But steel—steel was a different story. And right now, steel was winning.
"Where is Natalia when you actually need her?" She muttered under her breath, ducking as another blade whistled past her ear.
It had started barely minutes ago. She was about to drift off into the edges of sleep when a prickle of warning dragged her eyes open. A masked man loomed over her bed, a knife poised to plunge into her chest.
Instinct saved her. She rolled aside, the blade sinking into the mattress where she had been. Her foot shot out in reflex, catching him in the stomach. His grunt—high, startled, and almost pitiful—was the only confirmation she'd struck true.
But he recovered fast. Knives flashed in his hands, thrown in rapid succession. Serenya barely dodged, feeling one graze her arm as she dove for the window. Glass shattered. Cold air hit her skin. And she ran—straight into the dark, merciless woods.