Chapter 14 Lindsay
FOURTEEN
LINDSAY
I wake up to the sterile scent of antiseptic, the kind that immediately tells me I’m not in my own bed.
My body is sore, aching in places I can’t quite remember, and my head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton.
I blink a few times, trying to shake off the lingering haze of magic that still clings to me, and groan as I sit up.
The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of magical light. It smells like herbs and old stone. My throat is dry, and as I adjust, I realize I’m not alone.
An old woman stands beside the bed, her long silver hair twisted into a loose braid, sharp eyes watching me with a quiet intensity. She’s wrapped in robes so faded they seem to blend with the stone around her, like she’s part of the walls themselves.
She doesn’t speak right away, but her presence is commanding—familiar, in a strange way. Her gaze flickers over me, assessing.
“You’re awake,” she says finally, her voice gravelly, like it’s been used to speak ancient secrets. “Took you longer than I expected.”
I swallow, feeling disoriented. “Where am I?”
“The infirmary,” she replies shortly, tapping the side of my cot with her bony fingers. “You’re lucky. That kind of magic overload isn’t something to mess with.”
I nod absently, trying to remember what happened. Combat Casting, Raiden, trying to control the magic—it all comes back in a rush, but then it’s gone again, slipping through my fingers like smoke.
“How long was I out?” I croak.
“A few hours,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve got a strong connection to that magic, child. But you’ve got to learn control before it controls you.”
I blink at her, unsure if I’m imagining it, but there’s really something oddly familiar about her, even if I can’t place it.
“Who are you?” I ask, frowning.
She looks at me for a long moment, then gives a low, throaty chuckle. “Name’s not important right now. But I’ll answer for your peace of mind—Matron Isolde Cray. I’m the one who makes sure you heal when you burn out with magic or get injured.”
“Matron Cray,” I repeat.
She gives me a sharp look. “It’s a lot of magic you’ve got running through you. Not something you can ignore. I’ve seen it before, but only with those who’ve got a strong tether with the Veil. And you, child, are tangled up in it.”
I frown, trying to make sense of her words. “Tether with the Veil?”
She doesn’t answer immediately, instead folding her arms across her chest. “You’ll know soon enough. Right now, focus on getting your feet under you before your head explodes from the weight of it all.”
My head spins as I try to wrap my brain around everything that’s happened. I want to ask more, but before I can get the words out, the door creaks open.
Tamsin walks in, her curly hair a mess, eyes wide with worry as she scans the room.
"Lindsay," she says, relief flooding her voice as she hurries to my side. "I heard you were out. You okay?"
I blink at her, confused for a second. "How—?"
“I was in the library,” Tamsin says, brushing a curl from her face. “The whispers started spreading fast—something about a magical surge during Combat Casting, and someone collapsing.” Her voice lowers. “Word got out it was you. And Raiden.”
I jerk upright, heart pounding. “Wait. Raiden—what happened to him?”
Tamsin’s expression darkens. “They said he dropped, too. Not as bad, I think—he came to faster. Said a few words. But he hasn’t been seen since.
” She glances around the infirmary. All the other beds are empty.
“He’s not here either. One rumor said he was carried out of the training wing.
Another said the bond glitched and blew half the room’s runes off the walls. ”
I drag a hand over my face. Guilt twists in my stomach. I really know how to make a mess of things.
Tamsin shakes her head, sitting beside me. “Relax, you’re fine. Magic gets a little out of control, that’s all.”
I glance over at the matron, but she’s already moving toward a nearby shelf, her attention shifting away. She’s like a shadow, always there, but not quite present in the way most people are.
“Thanks for…being here,” I mumble, not sure what else to say. It’s a bit overwhelming.
Tamsin laughs softly, glancing toward the matron’s retreating figure. “Don’t thank me yet. I may or may not have loudly suggested that they stop throwing you into magical chaos every five minutes.”
I blink at her. “Loudly suggested?”
She grins. “Okay, fine. I might’ve yelled at Professor River outside the library. He didn’t seem thrilled.”
That actually makes me smile—for half a second.
“Seriously though,” she says, softer now, “you’re okay? After…whatever that was?”
I nod slowly, but the motion feels fragile. “I think so. But I don’t know what’s happening to me, Tamsin.”
Her expression softens, her usual teasing manner slipping away as she places a hand gently on my arm. “You’ve got more power in you than you realize. And you’ve got people looking out for you. Matron Cray, me, Nolan…” she trails off, as if unsure whether to say more.
I feel a spark of hope despite everything swirling in my head. “I don’t even know how to control it. The magic…it’s alive, Tamsin. I can feel it in me, pulling on me. I’m not sure I can do this.”
Her eyes harden with resolve. “You will. And when it feels like it’s too much, we’ll be right here. All of us will. You’re not alone in this.”
Her words are comforting, and I realize how much I need to hear them. Maybe I can get through this, step by step. With people like Tamsin by my side, maybe I have a shot.
Matron Cray, who has been watching the interaction quietly from the side, finally speaks, her voice soft but laced with wisdom. “Remember this, girl—no magic exists in a vacuum. You are the source, not the victim of it. You control it, or it controls you.”
I nod slowly, absorbing her words.
“Now, rest,” Matron Cray says, with a sudden sternness. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”
Tamsin smiles, clearly relieved that I’m not in a state of panic anymore. “I’ll come back after dinner and check in, okay? Rest up, Lindsay. We’ve got a lot to work through. But for now, just breathe.”
I fall into a restless sleep not long after Tamsin leaves. The quiet of the infirmary settles around me, and I feel my body start to relax enough to sleep. But the peace doesn’t last long.
The dream comes in pieces at first—a faint shimmer of light, an echoing sound, like someone calling my name from far away. Then, suddenly, everything shifts, and I’m not in the infirmary anymore.
I’m standing in a vast, moonlit ballroom, the kind that looks like it belongs in an ancient fairy tale.
The floor beneath me is smooth marble, gleaming like glass, and the air is thick with magic.
The walls stretch into shadow, fading into an endless abyss.
There's an ethereal glow to everything, soft and glowing like the moon itself is casting a spell over the room.
A figure steps out of the shadows, tall and regal. His dark black hair catches the moonlight, contrasting with his pale eyes that burn with an intensity I can’t quite name. His presence pulls at me, and I feel it in my bones.
Kael.
He moves toward me with an effortless grace, his steps silent on the marble floor. Before I can speak, his hand is extended, palm up, like he’s offering me a choice.
The music begins—a soft, haunting melody that seems to come from nowhere, as if it’s always been here, waiting for someone to listen.
Without thinking, I place my hand in his. His skin is warm, but there’s something else about it. His touch is bare, and I feel it all the way down to my core—raw and unguarded, unlike anything I’ve felt before. Magic hums between us, a soft vibration that settles into my chest.
The moment his hand touches mine, the world spins—just for a moment—and suddenly, we’re moving together, dancing. The steps are fluid, like we’ve done this a thousand times before, like I was meant to be here with him in this moment.
We glide across the floor, the music surrounding us, drawing me closer into the rhythm of it, into the pull of him. I can feel the magic wrapping around us, pulling me deeper into the dream. His eyes never leave mine, and I can’t look away. The intensity of his gaze is magnetic, powerful.
“You’re not what they think,” Kael whispers, his voice low and laced with a strange, ancient pull. His words feel like they come from deep within me.
I try to focus, to make sense of what he’s saying, but it’s hard to think with him so close, with his body moving against mine. The way his touch feels like fire and ice at the same time.
“What do you mean?” I ask, barely above a breath. His grip tightens around my waist, pulling me even closer.
“You’re tangled up in this world, in a way no one expects. But you’re not like the others,” he says cryptically, his words tinged with something darker, something knowing.
I try to pull away, confusion flooding me. “What are you talking about?”
He steps closer, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers, “You’re more than just a human in this place, Lindsay. And you’re not just the Veil’s chosen. You’re something else. You always have been.”
His thumb brushes gently across my cheek, his touch soft but lingering, like he’s debating something.
I feel it, the warmth of his fingers as they trace the curve of my skin, a question hanging in the air between us.
I realize at that moment, he’s close enough to kiss me, and I can almost feel it in the air, a magnetic tension pulling us together.
Before I can respond, he leans back, his eyes searching mine with a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. The room seems to shift, the music slowing, as if time itself is stretching between us.
“I can’t tell you everything now,” he says, voice barely more than a whisper. “But this world, this place—it’s not what it seems. And neither are you.”
I try to speak, to ask more, but before the words come out, he vanishes. Not like before—this time, he melts into the shadows, leaving me standing alone in the center of the ballroom.
I blink, my heart pounding, the dream slipping away like sand through my fingers. The magic, the music, the feeling of him…all of it starts to fade.
I jerk awake with a gasp, my heart pounding in my chest, the remnants of the dream still clinging to me like a shroud.
The grand ballroom, the soft glow of magic, Kael’s pale eyes, and the feel of his bare hand in mine, everything from the dream lingers like an echo.
I reach up, fingers brushing my cheek, still warm from his touch.
But the warmth doesn’t last. Reality seeps back in, cold and real. I’m not in a ballroom anymore. I’m in the sterile confines of the infirmary, the soft glow of the magical lights overhead grounding me back into the present.
My breath slows as I try to shake off the remnants of the dream. It felt too real, and I can’t ignore the magnetic pull I still feel in my chest. Kael’s words swirl in my mind: You’re not what they think. What did he mean? I still don’t understand, but a part of me is afraid to.
I push myself up into a sitting position, the room spinning slightly. The feeling of being caught between worlds sinks into me.
"You can go, but no magic for the next twenty four hours." Matron Cray’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, her form appearing at the door. She’s standing there, watching me with a quiet, knowing expression. "And rest, you’ll need your strength for the storm that's coming."
I nod, trying to collect myself, but the dream lingers.
"Thanks," I mutter, the words not quite feeling real, like everything around me is shifting too fast for me to keep up.
Matron Cray gives me one last look before she turns and leaves, her presence like a shadow in the quiet room. I sit there for a moment, staring at the walls, and try to steady my breathing.