Evie #2
“Why would you risk that for me?” The question bursts out before I can stop it. “I’m just a first-year. A bookish Thorne who can barely hold a blade. You’ve made it clear over the past two months that you think I’m… how did you put it? A spoiled brat who would die the second my magic failed?”
His heat spikes. It’s not the sharp, focused flare I’ve catalogued during combat drills, and not the full-body surge from the Fury Loop.
This is warm, concentrated in his chest and climbing his neck.
It’s the same pattern I first caught when he placed the crossguard dagger in my hand and said learn how the fire moves through it while his fingers lingered a beat longer than necessary.
He stands up, walks to the weapon rack, and runs his fingers over a blade handle.
When he finally speaks, his voice is all steel.
“I’ve watched too many witches die because no one taught them how to survive when things went wrong.”
The dead witches from the vampire attack.
Everyone knows that six years ago, Kieran and a group of witches were ambushed by vampires with magic-dampening artifacts. The others died helpless, unable to access their fire. Kieran was the only one who survived, because he trained with steel instead of relying on magic.
No one knows the details. No one dares to ask. All we know is that he started teaching at Blaze Academy soon afterward, to ensure the students here won’t meet the same fate as the witches he couldn’t save.
When he turns to look at me, his expression is as hard as the weapons he wields.
“You climbed to the forbidden peak of a volcano in the middle of the night because you needed answers.” His grip shifts on the blade handle. “Your stubbornness will either get you killed or make you dangerous. I’d prefer the latter.”
The weight of his words settles into my bones. Because I’m studious. Meticulous. Thorough. I’m the kind of student who color-codes her notes and sneaks into her father’s study to read restricted texts for fun.
But dangerous?
That’s not a word anyone associates with Evie Thorne.
“I’m going to be one of the only people in the world who knows what the Crown really does,” I say slowly, testing the shape of this new reality.
Kieran nods, watching me carefully.
“My magic is permanently stronger now.” I hold up my hand, feeling the heat sensing ability humming through my veins like a second heartbeat. “I can sense details I’ve never been able to before. And they’re not just clearer. I can sense them from farther away, too.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that I want to use my amplified ability to find Oliver. The faculty can investigate all they want, but they don’t have a sister’s connection to his thermal signature. They don’t have…” I gesture vaguely at myself. “Whatever I am now.”
He studies me with the same assessing look he gives students before deciding whether to double their training.
“That’s a dangerous path to walk,” he finally says.
“I’m aware.”
“You could get caught. Memory-wiped. Worse.”
“I said I’m aware.” I meet his eyes, holding his gaze. “But he’s my brother. I can’t sit in the library and pretend everything’s normal while his heat signature is burned into the Crown like a…”
Like a grave marker.
I can’t make it real by putting it into words.
So, I swallow down the fear in my throat. “You know this island. You know I’m more powerful than I was before. Will you help me?”
He turns back to the weapon rack, draws a blade, and tests its edge against his thumb.
He’s going to say no. He’s already risked enough by telling me about the Crown. Asking for more is—
“I’ll do what I can.”
The words are clipped. Almost grudging.
But they’re a yes.
“Thank you,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“You need to return to your room.” He sets the blade back in its place and turns to face me. “If your roommate wakes up and finds your bed empty, she’ll have questions.”
Jade.
Who I can’t tell any of this to.
The secret lodges in my throat like I swallowed it wrong.
“Right.” I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress. “I’ll use my heat sensing ability to sneak around, like I did to get to the Crown.”
“That’s too slow. Too risky.” He crosses toward me, and my heart rate spikes. “I’ll fire travel you to Phoenix Hall. You can use your heat tracking to make it inside undetected.”
He stops in front of the bed. The dawn light catches the sharp angles of his face, the deep green of his eyes, the tattoos that trail down his arms and disappear beneath the waistband of his—
Focus, Evie. Missing brother. Inappropriate thoughts about combat instructor. Priorities.
“Come here.” He extends a hand.
I reach for it automatically, my fingers brushing his palm. Then, I stop.
Because I’ve never been able to fire travel before. It’s an advanced skill most witches never master. But that was before my magic was amplified by the Crown.
“Evie?” Kieran stares me down, impatience burning in his eyes. “We have to go.”
“Give me a second.” I pull my hand back and close my eyes.
Fire travel. The theory is simple enough—I’ve read about it extensively.
You call on your magic, visualize your destination, and let the flames carry you through the space between.
The execution is where most witches fail.
It requires a level of magical power and control that doesn’t come naturally to most.
But I’m not most witches anymore, am I?
So, I reach for the flame that every witch carries in their core.
It answers immediately, brighter and hungrier than ever.
I picture the back entrance of Phoenix Hall, where the hedge grows wild enough to cast deep morning shadows against the weathered stone. Ivy climbs the walls in tangled patterns, and there’s a patch of darkness near the foundation where even the sharpest observer would miss a person standing still.
Then, I reach.
The world dissolves into heat, and then my body’s made of flame, my consciousness stretched across the distance between Kieran’s room and my destination.
A second later, I’m solid again.
I stumble as my feet hit grass, catching myself against the cool stone wall of Phoenix Hall. The morning air is crisp against my skin, carrying the salt-smell of the ocean and the sulfur of the volcano.
I did it.
I actually did it.
A laugh bubbles up in my throat—slightly hysterical, and definitely inappropriate given everything that happened tonight. But I can’t help it. I just fire traveled. Me, Evie Thorne, the bookish one, the forgettable one, the fourth copy of the Thorne template.
I fire traveled on my first try.
If fire travel is possible, what other limits have been erased? What other abilities are waiting to be discovered?
I press my palm against the stone wall and let my heat sensing ability expand through the building. Jade is in our room, her thermal pattern soft and slow with sleep. The hallway is empty. The common room has two students—early risers, probably, or people who never went to bed.
I start moving, threading through shadows, avoiding heat signatures with an ease that feels like cheating. By the time I slip through our door and into my bed, Jade hasn’t stirred.
I lie there in the growing light, staring at the ceiling, my body exhausted but my mind racing.
The blast on the Crown. Permanent amplification. A witch who can compel other witches. Kieran’s offer to help.
Now my magic’s humming at a new frequency, like an instrument restrung with heavier gauge. It’s the same notes, but deeper and louder.
I need to learn exactly what the Crown did to me, how far my abilities extend now, and what I’m truly capable of.
Because somewhere on this island, there are answers about what happened to my brother.
And I’m going to find them.