Evie
The Ember Archives smell like dust and secrets.
That’s not a metaphor. There’s actual dust coating every surface, thick enough that my fingers leave trails on the leather-bound spines.
Secrets are locked away in tomes that haven’t been opened in decades, maybe centuries.
The stone walls hold no residual warmth, just centuries of cold pressing in from every direction.
Kieran’s the only heat source in the entire room, and my scanning keeps drifting to him like a compass needle finding north, which is incredibly unhelpful when I’m trying to concentrate on texts about ancient maritime routes.
“This is pointless.” He shoves another book across the table, where it joins the growing pile of rejects. “We’ve been through half the maritime section and found nothing useful.”
“We’ve been through approximately thirty-seven percent of the maritime section.” I don’t look up from the page I’m scanning. “And we’ve found several useful pieces of information. The current patterns around the island. The magical wards extending into the water. The—”
“None of them tell us where your brother is.”
I bite down on my lip, forcing myself to keep reading so I don’t snap at him.
Page 247. Maritime Protection Protocols. Section 12: Emergency Procedures.
“I’m close.” My finger traces the faded text.
“You’ve said that three times in the last hour.”
“It’s been true three times in the last hour.” I flip to the next page. “Each text builds on the previous one. The current patterns connect to the ward structures, which connect to the emergency protocols, which—”
“Which connect to more texts that connect to more texts and more texts.” Kieran pushes back from the table, his chair scraping against the stone floor. “It’s nearly four in the morning. You haven’t slept in over twenty hours.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You’ve read the same page three times in the last ten minutes.”
He’s not wrong. My eyes have been blurring over the text, the words swimming together until I have to blink them back into focus. But sleep is irrelevant when Oliver’s out there somewhere, possibly hurt, possibly trapped, possibly…
Stop. Focus on the text.
“Emergency Procedures,” I read aloud, partly to drown out my own spiraling thoughts, the other part to prove I’m awake. “In the event of a catastrophic breach of island defenses, the following evacuation protocols shall be enacted...”
Kieran paces behind me. He moves like a caged animal when he’s frustrated, restless energy with nowhere to go. The rhythm is distracting, but I’ve learned to tune it out over the past few hours.
“Evacuation routes are detailed in Appendix C,” I continue, scanning ahead. “Primary route: the portals in the common rooms of each dormitory, after the Headmaster or Headmistress activates them. Secondary route: maritime passage to the designated safe harbor.”
I stop and read the line again.
Maritime passage to the designated safe harbor.
“Kieran.”
He stops pacing and looks at me, his gaze sharp enough to cut through the thickest book in the library.
“Safe harbor.” My pulse kicks hard against my throat. “There’s a designated safe harbor for academy emergencies.”
He’s beside me in a single stride, leaning over my shoulder to read the text. His body heat’s rolling over me in waves, and my heart jumps from the awareness of what’s very close to my head with Kieran standing over me while I’m sitting down.
Focus on research— not on calculating the exact distance between your face and your combat instructor’s waistband.
It’s easier said than done, but I manage to keep my eyes fixed on the text, since the alternative is anatomically unavoidable and professionally catastrophic.
“The Sorceress’s Watch is an ancient agreement between Blaze Academy and…” I pause and point at the place in the text. “Aeaea.”
The page details essential information about Aeaea, the home of the legendary sorceress Circe who transforms men into pigs and commands the winds that guide lost souls. According to this text, she’s been the designated guardian of Blaze Academy evacuees for over eight hundred years.
“Circe’s isle serves as the keystone of magical defenses surrounding Blaze Academy,” I read aloud. “All vessels approaching the island without authorization are redirected to Aeaea, where intruders are collected and contained until their intentions are verified.”
Collected and contained.
If Oliver and Thad left by boat, Circe would have intercepted them. They could be there right now, trapped on Aeaea, waiting for someone to find them.
“There are directions.” I flip to the next page, then the next. “Maritime coordinates, star charts, and…” The next line hits me so hard I have to read it twice. “Instructions for where to find the boats.”
“Boats?” Kieran leans closer, and I lose my train of thought for a full two seconds before my brain kicks back into research mode.
“They’re hidden in the depths of the island.” I trace the faded diagram with my finger, memorizing every detail. “There’s a cave system accessible through the volcanic tunnels. The academy keeps emergency vessels there for evacuation purposes.”
For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
“No.” His mouth presses into a flat line, his green eyes hard.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no.”
I sit back and cross my arms. “I haven’t told you what I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking about stealing a boat and leaving the island.
” He’s standing perfectly still, his heat spiking in a pattern I’ve learned to recognize as Kieran trying very hard to not lose his composure.
“You’re thinking about risking your life on the chance that your brother ended up on Aeaea instead of—”
He stops.
Instead of dead.
“I have to try.” The words scrape past the knot in my throat. “He’s my brother.”
“And you’re—” Kieran cuts himself off, his hand going to the hilt of the dagger on his weapons belt. “You’re a first-year student. Those waters are treacherous. The creatures—”
“I’ve read about the creatures.”
“Reading about them and facing them are different things.” Each word lands clipped and hard. “The sirens. The cyclops. The storms. You wouldn’t last a day.”
I stand up so fast my chair nearly topples over. “So what’s your suggestion? Go to classes like normal while Oliver rots in a sorceress’s dungeon? Wait for the faculty to investigate, even though they’ve done nothing useful in a week?”
“I’m suggesting you don’t go on a suicide mission.”
“It’s not a suicide mission. It’s a rescue mission.”
“It’s the same thing if you go alone.”
The words land like blows. Because he’s right. I have no sailing experience, no combat training worth mentioning, and no plan beyond stealing a boat and getting to a sorceress’s mystical island.
I hold his gaze anyway, not backing down. Fear and logic are screaming at me to agree with him, but Oliver’s face keeps flashing behind my eyes, and that’s louder than both. Plus, giving up has never been a Thorne trait, and I’m not about to start now.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, and I don’t blink. Neither does he.
“If you do this, you come to me first so I can go with you.” His words are calm, but his heat steadies like it does when his decision is final.
I stare at him. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“No. You can’t.” I shake my head, the words refusing to arrange themselves into anything that makes sense. “The academy is already down one teacher. They can’t afford to lose another.”
“The academy will survive.”
“But your position. Your career. Everything you’ve worked for…”
“I don’t care.”
“Why would you risk all of that?” I ask before I can stop myself.
His core temperature spikes, his pulse elevates, and every muscle locks tight.
Then he turns away and reaches for the open book on the table. “You can’t be found with an Ember Archives text.”
The deflection is so obvious it almost makes me laugh.
“I’m not leaving it here.” I cross my arms, trying and failing to calculate a way to snatch the book from him.
“I said you can’t be found with an Ember Archives text.
I’m faculty, and I can.” He tucks the book under his arm.
“We need the instructions, the coordinates, the location of the boats, and the star charts.” His eyes meet mine.
“You have a fantastic memory, but will you bet your brother’s life on it? ”
“No,” I admit.
“Then I keep the book. And when you do this reckless thing, you come to me first.”
“I already said I would.”
“Good.” He holds my gaze until my skin prickles, and I have to fight the urge to look away. “Now, you need to get some sleep. Fire travel straight to Phoenix Hall, and don’t stop anywhere else.”
“I know how to be discreet.”
He glares at me, but I think it’s a glare of agreement. Only Kieran Cross could make hostility look like a yes.
“You go first,” he tells me, and it’s a command, not a suggestion.
“Okay.” I hesitate, then add, “Thanks.”
“Go before I change my mind,” he threatens, and I close my eyes and picture the back of Phoenix Hall.
Flames rise around me, warm and familiar, and the archives dissolve.
Once back at Phoenix Hall, I head to my room, which is easy since no one’s awake at this hour to avoid.
Jade’s bed is empty. She’s probably training with Logan. Or maybe she ended up at the Forge Party.
It doesn’t matter. Because the only thing that matters is getting to those boats, leaving this island, and finding Oliver.