Avery #2
“Callie’s missing.” Alessandra doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.
“She didn’t answer when I knocked on her door.
We searched the entire dorm, and no one’s seen her since this morning.
And my emberlink bond...” She presses a hand to her chest. “I can barely feel her anymore. It’s like she’s…
well, I’ve never felt her this far away. Ever.”
Tobias sets down his paperwork slowly, recognition flickering across his face. It’s the look of a man who understands this kind of pain—who really sees the person he’s talking to.
Just like how he saw me last night.
His eyes drift to me for a beat longer than necessary before settling on Alessandra.
“I know the past few days have been a lot.” He glances at the window, his eyes going far off for a second before he refocuses on us. “But sometimes when people are struggling, they withdraw. She might just need space.”
“Callie hates being alone.” Alessandra doesn’t waver. “And she wouldn’t ignore me. I know she’s not in there.”
“I hear you, and I don’t think you’re overreacting.” He pauses, as if swallowing whatever official line he was about to deliver. “But Constance is stretched thin right now. She asked us to hold non-emergency matters until things stabilize.”
“This is an emergency.” Her hands ball into fists at her sides.
“Get the Headmistress and have her open Callie’s door.
If Callie’s in there sulking, I’ll apologize for wasting everyone’s time.
If she’s not...” She pauses to take a breath.
“As Callie’s emberlinked partner, I have the right to know if she’s in danger. ”
Tobias’s gaze moves between us. He’s still in a quiet, present way, like he’s giving Alessandra’s fear the space it deserves instead of rushing to fill it with reassurances.
When his eyes meet mine, a question flickers in those pale depths.
Are you okay?
I just shrug, because what’s there to say?
I haven’t been okay since my emberlink bond severed during the Halloween Ball.
My magic’s been weaker, my thoughts muddier, and whenever I try to remember what happened during the ball or leading up to it, it’s like trying to put a porcelain vase back together when some of the pieces are missing.
Finally, Tobias stands, slow and deliberate. “Wait here.”
He disappears into flames, golden light swallowing him whole, and Alessandra and I stand here and wait.
Neither of us speaks. We don’t need to.
Twenty minutes later, golden flames flare in the center of the room. Tobias is back. His gaze finds me first—just for a moment—before he turns to Alessandra.
“Constance will meet you in your suite in an hour.” He hesitates, then adds, “I’m sorry she can’t be there sooner, but this was the best I could do.”
“An hour’s great.” I give him a small, encouraging smile. “Really great.”
His lips curve, but it’s tentative. “I’m glad it helped.”
Alessandra looks between us and nods, relief and anxiety warring on her face. “Yes, thank you so much,” she says, already moving to the door. “I’ll wait there.”
I should follow her, but my feet won’t move.
“Go ahead,” I tell Alessandra. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She pauses, glancing between me and Tobias again with a flicker of curiosity. But her need to find Callie apparently wins out, and she slips through the door without argument.
Tobias watches me with those pale eyes, within arm’s reach but somehow feeling far away at the same time.
I press my palms together to stop them from shaking. This is my moment to tell him what’s been on my mind this past week, and I’m not going to waste it.
“I keep thinking about what you said last night, about how emberlink bonds can behave unpredictably,” I start.
“But it’s not just the bond that feels wrong.
It’s everything. My memories of the days before Oliver disappeared feel fragmented.
It’s like pieces are missing, or like someone smudged the edges so I can’t see them clearly anymore. ”
Tobias goes still. “What do you mean by fragmented?”
“I don’t know how to explain it.” I press my fingers to my temples for a moment, frustration bleeding into my tone.
“It’s like... you know when you’re trying to remember a dream?
How the harder you focus, the faster it slips away?
That’s what it feels like when I try to think about certain moments. ”
“You don’t trust your own memories.”
“No.” The admission feels like pulling out a splinter. “And you’re a memory specialist. If anyone can help me figure out what’s missing...”
I trail off, hating how desperate I sound. The middle child, always overlooked, begging a man she barely knows to fix what’s broken inside her head, just because we had one good conversation at a party.
Pull yourself together. You’re better than this.
But I’m not. Not anymore. Oliver’s gone, my memories are broken, and I’m falling apart piece by piece.
His eyes drop to his hands, then lift back to me. “I want to help. Just give me some time to figure out how.”
“Thank you.” I reach forward as if to take his hand, stopping myself at the last minute. “I know you’re busy with the investigation, and I know this probably isn’t your priority, but—”
“Go back to your suite, Avery,” he says gently, almost pleading. “I’ll be in touch when I can. I promise.”
* * *
The hour that follows is agony.
Alessandra paces the length of our suite. I sit on the couch and watch her, too exhausted to move and too anxious to rest. The sandwiches she brought sit untouched on the table, the soup long since gone cold.
My mind keeps drifting back to Tobias, no matter how many times I try to steer it elsewhere. I keep replaying how his eyes went soft with recognition when I admitted I didn’t trust my own memories, and how when he promised he’d be in touch, he sounded so certain that I felt it in my bones.
I press my fingers against the inside of my wrist, where my pulse is running faster than it should be. When did the grief of Oliver’s absence start sharing space with how seen I feel when I’m around Tobias? The two shouldn’t coexist. One should cancel out the other.
But here they are, existing side by side, and the guilt of feeling both at once is its own kind of punishment.
When the knock finally comes, Alessandra and I both jump.
She reaches the door first, yanking it open to reveal Headmistress Constance Holbrook in her usual severe black dress, her silver hair pulled back tight.
“I understand there’s concern about Callie Bennett’s whereabouts,” Constance says, brisk and professional.
“She’s not here.” Alessandra curls her hands into fists, as if she’s barely controlled. “Open her door and prove me wrong. I want to be wrong.”
Constance studies Alessandra, then nods once. “Very well.”
She crosses to Callie’s door and presses her palm flat against it. The sigil on the frame flares bright orange, recognizing the Headmistress’s authority, and the lock clicks open.
The door swings inward.
Callie’s not there. Her room, however, is a mess.
The wardrobe’s open, hangers askew, with gaps where clothes should be. A drawer’s been pulled out and not fully closed, revealing nothing but shadows inside.
“She packed.” Alessandra gazes around the room as if looking hard enough might make Callie magically appear. “And she left. How did she leave? She can’t fire travel. How can she just be gone?”
Constance moves through the room with practiced efficiency, opening drawers, checking the closet, and running her fingers along the window frame. Her brow furrows deeper with each passing moment.
“I’m going to personally conduct a search of Hydra Hall.” She turns to face us, and her thumb presses against her ruby ring, twisting it a quarter turn before she catches herself and stops. “If Callie still can’t be found, I’ll begin a formal search of the island. I assure you—we will find her.”
“And if you can’t?” I ask.
“We will.” Constance straightens. “Now, get some rest. I’ll send word the moment we know anything.”
Then she’s gone, and Alessandra and I are alone in the suite, staring at Callie’s empty room, listening to the silence where answers should be.