The airship purred through a sky stitched with twin suns and ribbons of stormlight. Inside its belly—half workshop, half war crime—I knelt before a flame that wasn't really a flame.
"Nobody explode," I told the universe. "Especially me."
The ember hovering over my palm bent the air around it, black-red and hungry, a little sphere that drank light like tea. Nihility Fire—a gift from my mother, Hel, and an excellent way to shorten my life. It didn't burn; it edited. It erased the useless parts of reality and kept what it liked. Usually that meant my skin.
I dropped a leaf of silver-sage into the void. The herb sighed, crumbled to dust—then turned into a crystal bead of pure essence. I blinked.
"Oh?" I whispered. "Refined Tier Two. Look at that—"
BOOM.
The vial exploded. Sparks scattered like gossip. Bottles clinked. A cauldron fainted. The entire world smelled like toasted sugar and shame.
"Progress!" cried a bright voice through the smoke. "It only exploded once this time!"
Laura Valentine popped up from behind a pile of brass tubing, goggles fogged, hair smoking. My little sister was a one-girl laboratory accident. She handed me a towel already on fire.
"It's experimental," she said. "Hydro-Flamecloth. It fights itself."
"It's winning," I said, smothering it against the wall.
From the rafters came a lazy drawl. "You two would make great salespeople—if you sold disaster insurance."
Daniel, my twin, dropped soundlessly beside me, shadow scarf fluttering. A small spirit-ledger hovered behind him, ticking.
"Seventeen broken vials," he said, scanning the mess. "Three singed eyebrows. One prince ignoring the concept of outsourcing."
"I'm right here."
"And fragile, which is why we outsource." He flicked a coin through his fingers. "Sell me your next batch of herbs. I'll move them in the student markets before we dock. No explosions. Profit guaranteed."
"I need practice."
"You need a body that doesn't creak like a haunted cupboard," he said, ruffling my hair.
From across the hold, Klaus Valentine shut his strategy tome with the kind of sigh that rearranged destinies. The eldest brother looked exactly how authority should look: clean lines, calm eyes, disappointment professionally cultivated.
"Save the ship," he said. "We arrive in ten minutes."
"Two," corrected Daniel. "I bribed the dockmaster."
Klaus raised one brow—the family version of thunder. Daniel winked and vanished behind a crate.
I stared at the little flame still swirling over my hand. The Nihility Fire purred, pressing against the skin like something half-alive. Every time I used it, it ate a little more of me, like rent. I whispered, Easy.
The fire sank obediently back into my veins. Pain rippled up my arm, a reminder that my body was built for breathing, not rewriting the universe.
Laura handed me a vial. "Drink this! It stabilizes your pulse. Pear flavor!"
It tasted like pears—and regret.
The ship's horn moaned, low and heavy. Through the portholes the clouds thinned, sunlight glancing off something vast above us.
Klaus came to stand beside me. "First sight of Celestara always does that."
I followed his gaze.
The mist parted—and the Celestara Academy appeared.
A floating city. A crown of mirrored islands orbiting a tower that touched the stars. Waterfalls of light flowed upward. Bridges of glass braided air into pathways. Entire gardens drifted like dreams that refused to end.
Somewhere deep inside, the Nihility Fire hummed, interested. I couldn't blame it. The place looked alive.
"Try not to blow it up," Daniel murmured behind me.
"No promises," I said, but my voice was small.
For a heartbeat I forgot the weakness in my legs, the flame under my skin, the curse that ate at my ribs. All I could see was the city in the clouds, mirrors turning like eyes, waiting to judge us.
And for the first time in a long time, the idea of being judged didn't scare me.
Maybe, I thought, this time I'll rewrite myself instead of the world.
The airship tilted into descent. The decks groaned. Laura squealed. Daniel bet Klaus five gold I'd faint before docking. Klaus accepted without looking up.
I smiled despite everything.
"Easy," I told the fire one last time. "We're almost home."