—Asher—
She collapsed in my arms, and the world shattered—not like clean glass breaking, but like earth ripping open. Vines tore through stone. The wind howled with teeth. Green light bled into gold, pulsing wildly across the courtyard. Her magic—too big, too bright, too wrong—surged outward, touching everything.
Then—silence. The kind that comes after thunder. Everything stopped. No one moved, not because of magic, but fear. Finn stood frozen, arm half-raised as if to reach her. His face was pale, eyes wide. Jasper's mouth hung open—no sound, just shock carved into his face. Soren gripped an unactivated rune. Even the crowd was dead and still. No running, no shouting, just blank stares. Stunned stillness. Like no one could believe what they'd seen.
Honestly? Neither could I. But I wasn't frozen. I held her. Alexia. Unconscious. Her head pressed against my chest, hair tangled with sweat, leaves, and a faint trace of magic. Her breathing was shallow and uneven. Skin hot—burning, almost—but flickering cold beneath it, like her magic scorched her strength clean.
And Zeus. He stood like a stone statue in front of us, ears forward, body low, ready. Not afraid. Not frozen. Watching. Guarding.
"Good boy," I muttered, shifting my grip.
The courtyard felt like a war zone that hadn't realized the battle was over. Magic residue buzzed faintly, but no enchantments held anyone in place. They were frozen by shock. All of them. Even the ones who meant to hurt her. She'd stopped them—without trying. Without aiming. Without knowing how.
I looked down at her peaceful, too-still face. No teachers. No healers rushing over. No orders. Not even Finn calling her name. Just silence—and that awful, buzzing fear from those who'd seen too much and understood too little. I wasn't waiting for someone else to decide what came next.
I looked at Zeus. "You leading?"
He flicked his ears and turned. I followed. No one stopped us. Heads turned, lips moved, but no one spoke. No one moved. Just wide eyes and white knuckles—the kind of stillness that only comes when magic defies logic and terrifies everyone watching. I took the long way—down the path behind the courtyard, past the greenhouses, into the shade behind the west wing. Zeus stayed close, never ahead, never behind. Solid. Ready.
At the old infirmary's back entrance, the door stuck. I kicked it in. Dust and dim light met us. I carried her inside, gently but firmly. Whatever just happened had cracked something deep in her—and maybe in me too. I laid her on a cot in the back corner, heart still thundering like the storm hadn't passed. She didn't wake. Barely moved. Her magic still hummed faintly beneath her skin—not angry, not calm. Just... waiting.
The infirmary was cold and quiet. Dust clung to the air like memory. I paced. Zeus curled beside the cot, head on paws, eyes open but still. Watching. Same as me. She hadn't stirred. Not a twitch. Chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. The humming in her magic had quieted, but hadn't disappeared. If anything, it felt like it had retreated, watching. Waiting. A knock. Not hard. Not loud. But urgent.
Zeus's ears perked. I crossed the room in three strides and cracked the door.
Jasper stood there.
His eyes locked on mine. "You brought her here?"
"Yeah," I said flatly. "Where the hell were you?"
His jaw clenched, no comeback.
Finn pushed in behind him, shirt wrinkled, hair wild, expression raw.
"We couldn't move. Not at first. Like we were—"
"Stunned," Soren added, appearing at his shoulder. "Not by magic. By her."
"I carried her," I said, not stepping away. "Because none of you did."
Finn stepped forward, but Zeus lifted his head and gave a low warning growl—not loud, just a reminder. Finn stopped. I let the door open fully.
"She's still unconscious," I said. "But breathing."
They came inside slower now, eyes scanning like the walls might bite. The soft afternoon light made the room feel dimmer with all of them there, heavier. Their gaze locked on her—the bruises under her eyes, the twitching fingers, the faint glow clinging to the veins beneath her skin.
"What the hell was that?" Finn whispered.
Jasper shook his head. "That wasn't nature magic. It looked like it, but it felt—"
"Wrong," Soren finished quietly.
I didn't argue. I had no answers.
"I've seen Earth spells lash out," Jasper said. "Green magic lose control. But never vines tearing stone like paper. Or light do... whatever that was."
"She didn't mean to," I said.
"No one's saying she did," Finn replied, voice sharper than he intended.
"But she's dangerous," Soren said.
Zeus let out a low warning huff.
I faced them. "She's scared. That makes it worse."
"Those three pricks in the courtyard are still out cold," Jasper said. "Everyone's whispering like it was a curse. Or prophecy."
I looked at Alexia—the way her face twitched in sleep, like she was still fighting.
"She didn't lash out because she wanted to," I said. "She broke. That wasn't an attack. It was a scream."
Silence stretched.
Then Finn asked, "What if it happens again?"
"Then one of us will catch her," I said without blinking.
No argument.
Soren crossed his arms, mouth tight. "She's going to need help."
"Then we help her," I snapped.
"She might not let us," Jasper said gently.
That hit me. I glanced at her again—unconscious, bruised, flickering with magic she didn't understand, and none of us could name. What if she wakes and pushes us away? What if she fears us more than the storm inside?
"Doesn't matter," I said finally. "We stay."
"Even if she pushes?" Soren asked.
"Especially then."
Finn exhaled hard, running hands through his wild hair. "Gods. What the hell did we just see?"
No one answered. Because deep down, we all knew: We didn't just see magic. We saw power. And power like that doesn't stay hidden for long.