Chapter 27 Avilyna
Avilyna
HIDDEN PAST
School kicked my ass today. And sure, not sleeping doesn’t help, but neither does walking around with the magical knowledge of a toddler.
I expected classes to be rough, but not accidentally almost burn down the alchemy lab rough.
Not a strategy class turns you into a full-time demon conspiracy theorist, rough.
And definitely not magic lessons remind you you’re not a witch and make you question your entire existence, rough.
Apparently, that’s the bar now. The beginner’s classes lived up to their name because they were another level.
To say that school in a magical world would be more educational is an understatement, thrilling, sure, dangerous, definitely.
There isn’t really room for mistakes when you create potions, and I learned that the hard way.
The report the Institute received of me portrays my abilities as strong, which they are, but they’re without a doubt temperamental.
Our teacher, whose name I’ve already forgotten, since you know, I have other things to keep in mind, asked us to create a potion to help with focus.
Because I quote, “You’re all savages, prey to your emotions, so a bit of focus during the evaluation period will be greatly beneficial,” says Miss.
Prav-something with a sing-song voice as she walks between the long tables cluttered with herbs and beakers.
She naturally assumed that I knew the blueprints of essence, since I’m technically in my second year of magic, and that’s, apparently, last year’s curriculum.
So I go ahead and add a few drops of rosemary oil to my wooden bowl. Add peppermint roots, sprinkle with black pepper, and finally add a garlic clove. But the thing is, you can’t put two spiced elements together; fire with fire always leaves a spark.
“Fotar”, the word leaves my lips, bringing everything to flame, activating the focus spell, and it focused alright.
Except for the counter-effect of the smoke, which caused the whole class to lose their sense of smell. And with my strong affinity to Kvirr, well, there’s a good chance it will last all day, Miss. Praventi lectured me in front of the whole group, making my cheeks a shade closer to my hair colour.
If I’m going to survive this place, I need to keep my power controlled and unquestioned.
I have to practice in places where eyes and curious minds can’t follow; the clearing could be a good spot.
Speaking of keeping things quiet, my charming roommate is expecting a report every.
Single. Day—Ugh. I need to be careful with what I report back.
Stupid Corporal is a real pain in my ass.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Kai is missing a few brain cells, especially if last night’s drinking isn’t exactly a rare occurrence.
A small part of me wonders what he was trying to drown.
We’re all held hostage by something, and some days it’s too loud, easier to silence the ghosts than face them.
Still… he did take care of me.
In his own unorthodox, chaotic, questionably unsober way.
And that counts for something, I think. Pushing those thoughts aside, I walk into the cafeteria and immediately regret it.
The noise hits me first, then the crowd, and I freeze mid-step, caught in the middle like a deer in headlights.
It feels as if every eyes are on me, and then I know they are.
The lycan table is staring me down. Kai is sitting at the center, looking completely unfazed, and Heather is draped across his leg, a long nail tracing down his torso.
Her smile is as sharp as ever, pleased with herself.
Brackwell doesn’t react to the noise, doesn’t react to her.
But when our eyes meet, something tightens in my chest. Shame, anger, probably both.
Kai’s face is unreadable, but I see it. In the way he’s relaxed in his chair, enjoying this.
Fucking asshole.
I’m so happy I didn’t kiss his stupid, handsome face. Then Wyll appears out of nowhere; he must have read it all on me. I’ve always been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve. Slinging an arm around my shoulders.
“You’ve eaten yet?” he asks, his tone light.
“I’m good,” I reply flatly. “Lost my appetite.”
Across the room, Kai’s jaw twitches, just enough to confirm he heard me. Rolling my eyes, I turn my back, not giving him the satisfaction of a second glance.
“Alright,” Wyll says, adjusting his pace to mine, “where are we going?”
“The library.” My voice is steady now, sharper.
I’m done playing helpless in a place crawling with predators just waiting to take a bite out of me. I am nobody’s prey.
The library is seriously impressive, with its gothic archways.
Its soaring ceilings, endless shelves and stained-glass windows that cast a soft pink glow, a permanent sunset.
It’s one of those places that makes you feel small, but in the best way.
Lost somewhere between dust and art. Tapestries line the walls; elegant elves in forest glades.
Another shows a golden plain full of corn, centaurs and gryphons woven into the scenery.
I realize each one represents a kingdom: Elveron, Arvendal.
To the right, Saltmere is depicted with a grand ship cutting through ocean waves, flanked by armoured Elgarians.
And then there's Kallahan. Snow-covered mountains, a fierce valkyrie astride a pegasus, and a pack of lycans at her heels—fearless.
Wyll’s leading me through the maze, explaining the search system like he’s done this a million times. Some students shoot him smiles or waves, but he barely bats an eye at them. We both spot Caleb at the back table with piles of books.
“First time seeing you here,” he says, eyeing the cowboy as if he’s a rare specimen.
“Just passing through,” Wyll shrugs, flipping a chair around to straddle it. “Lyna needed a little help.”
“Lyna?” Hearing that nickname from Wyll, it hits differently.
When Aaron and Van started calling me that, it was more like a group thing than an out-of-nowhere established identity.
But that familiar pull, like when Kai called me Vi, is there in the air, sweet on my tongue.
That feeling that screams at the back of my head, but I shake it off and get to the point.
"Caleb, where can I find info on the Bloodmoon War?"
"Already an assignment, huh?" His warm gaze assesses me, and I don't dare speak. Lying in a place where magic is law? No, thank you. So instead of opening my mouth, I just nod.
"Follow me."
We dive into stacks of dusty books, flipping through pages and scribbling notes.
Turns out, Netherworld attacked five days before Grianstad Eve.
Everyone was too caught up in the festivities, eager to finally enjoy the holidays, to notice.
And then it was too late, cities across Elgar were massacred.
Kallahan suffered the most destruction, but every Elgarian lost something that day.
"The reason my mom and I moved here," Caleb says. I learn that his father, the General of Elveron’s army, died on the battlefield. Isolde swore to honour his memory, so she joined the Legion, the strongest army in Elgar, taking her son away from all he ever knew. Growing up in Elveron, Caleb always had his nose to a book, that’s why the library was the first place that didn’t feel foreign to him, and the rest is history.
The only reason we’re not all under Nekros’s thumb is because of the Queen’s ultimate sacrifice. She gave her essence back to Kvirr, sealing all the gates in Elgar and giving the people a chance to survive. And that’s what tipped the balance, her sacrifice.
I can’t help but wonder... Did my mom know her?
Probably. Ruby said that Theo only worked with the ones leading the battles.
Leaning back, I ask, “So why are the valkyries getting blamed if they’re the ones who saved us?”
Caleb shrugs. “Conspiracy theorists say only valkyries can open portals without being part of that specific world.”
Wyll snorts. “Please. There are plenty of other ways to open portals, and everyone knows it.”
“Like?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Some of my ancestors were human, witches. So I can open Elgar and Mundane World’s portals,” Wyll says, arms crossed, shooting me a sideways glance from under his cowboy hat, not caring about etiquette. I’m surprised nobody told him to remove it.
“And what about the rest?”
“They get blood to unlock portals. Buying it, borrowing it. It’s pretty common. Or sacrifices for Netherworld’s devils,” he adds, like it’s no big deal.
I blink. “Wait… sacrifices? Seriously?”
“Yep.” Wyll deadpans.
I frown. “But if the valkyries’ whole mission is to protect Kvirr’s children, this betrayal story doesn’t add up.”
“Some say their ego is to blame. They wanted to honour that title so badly, they pretended to work with Nekros, but got played themselves,” Caleb says, as if it doesn’t sound far-fetched at all.
I laugh dryly, the sound ricocheting off the walls, alerting the patrons. “That’s complete crap.”
“Careful, darling,” Wyll warns, straightening up. “Some people eat that crap up like candy.”
“Do you believe it?” I lean in, eyes sharp.
Only then do I realize that the air has become still, the library being way too quiet.
“I only believe what I know for sure,” he says, locking his golden eyes with me. The weight of the others’ stares burns my skin. “So I’m still figuring it out,” Wyll adds straight back.
He just threw me a lifeline, making it clear maybe I’m not a conspiracy nut or worse, a traitor. I need to be more clever and wary, like Ruby so carefully warned me.
“I’m gonna find something to read,” I say, grabbing a few books to put back. Heart’s racing, I get out of sight.
This was definitely a close call. Wyll might have my back, maybe. It’s subtle, but it’s something. Caleb? He’s all about facts and data, so no hard feelings there. And I don’t really know him, from what I figured, he seems like a practical guy.
I wander off, my fingers trailing on the cold stone wall, and suddenly the patterns feel familiar, like déjà vu.
Me, running around, playing hide and seek. Phantoms of hidden pasts dance in front of my eyes. Two children running in the library, Alek and I.