Chapter 1
Elora
Elora’s hands wouldn’t stay steady.
The laces of her bodice slipped through her fingers again, tightening unevenly as she forced them into place. She exhaled slowly, willing her thoughts to settle. They didn’t.
Nine years of preparation, and her mind had never felt less certain.
“Do you think they’ll test us on ingredients and recipes,” Arria asked from the doorway, her gaze distant, “or are we just supposed to brew something in front of them?”
Elora didn’t answer right away.
She pulled on her scuffed leather boots, wincing as the worn soles scraped against the floor. The bottoms were so thin she could feel every uneven board beneath her feet. Today, of all days.
She had been preparing for this since the moment Tehvan brought her to the Institute.
He promised it would shape her future.
She made sure it did.
Endless hours studying. Brewing until the scent of MahōKi Sap clung to her skin no matter how often she washed. Memorizing every ingredient, every reaction, every mistake she could not afford to make.
She wanted this.
She had always wanted this.
But now, with her time here ending—
Elora tightened the laces harder than necessary.
She wasn’t excited.
She was afraid.
“I’m not sure,” she replied as the girls left their dorm and headed to the courtyard.
The bright sun washed over them, a warm greeting.
Elora squinted against the light. She liked the warmth it provided, but it washed out her already pale, freckled skin.
Arria basked in it. She closed her eyes and drew it into her, as if absorbing its strength.
The light complemented her deep brown skin, the golden rays making her appear like the goddess of the sun, if one did so exist.
The warm stone beneath their feet bore the marks of time: cracks running like veins, patches worn smooth from years of eager footsteps.
Elora’s gaze wandered over the towering arches of the surrounding buildings; their walls entwined with ivy that crept upward as though trying to reach the spires above.
A fountain stood at the center of the courtyard, its once-grand statue of a winged figure now weathered, water trickling from its outstretched hands into a mossy basin.
Around it, students milled about in small groups, their hushed voices mingling with the distant trill of birdsong.
“Elora!” Rian skipped to meet her, grabbing Elora’s hands tightly. Her blue doe eyes were sparkling, as they always did. “Are you ready for the trials?”
No. “I’m as ready as I can be.” She forced a smile, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Of course you are!” Rian wore a cheerful grin, a permanent crease in her laugh lines, and Elora wondered how someone could always be so happy and positive.
Rian’s gaze looked past her, distracted when Alfie entered the courtyard from the boy’s wing.
She dropped Elora’s hands, and ran over, continuing her rounds of seeping her joy onto others.
The air was rich with the scents of salt from the ocean and blooming herbs from the nearby garden.
Arria took a deep breath, spinning once as if to shake off the tension.
“Let’s find a spot,” she said, tugging on Elora’s sleeve.
Together, they walked past the fountain toward a quieter corner, where the shadows of the arches offered some shade.
“I can’t believe it’s finally here.” Arria tucked her coiled hair behind her ears. “All those years of classes, endless lectures, potions blowing up in our faces… Soon we’ll be empire alchemists.” Her fingers toyed with the end of her braid, probably imagining what their life would be like.
The anxiety curling in Elora’s gut eased slightly. Even with the trials and threat of failure looming over them, Arria had a way of making everything seem less daunting. At least a little.
“Do you think we’ll get to stay together?
” Elora asked, while tugging at a loose thread of her skirt.
She hoped they would. Arria was the first friend she made when she arrived at the institute.
They shared everything. The thought of being separated now left a sharp ache in her chest. It would be almost as heartbreaking as saying goodbye to Tehvan.
Arria leaned into Elora’s side, her head resting on her shoulder. “I hope so,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine it any other way.”
The air stilled as Symond entered the courtyard.
He hunched his broad shoulders, and a scowl warped his face.
His presence was a stark contrast to the eager, excited students mingling around the grounds.
The morning sun caught the wild mess of his blond curls.
They tumbled off his forehead and ears like a wispy golden crown.
His footsteps were heavy, striking the ground with a dull thud and crunching the pebbles.
His ever-present essence of bitterness clung to him just as much as the ash from the forge.
The other students glanced at him but said nothing.
Symond had a temper that flared like dry tinder, and no one wanted to be the spark.
He hadn’t always been like that. There was a time when he and Elora would laugh together, whisper secrets in the dark corners of the library, and curate reckless plans that would surely get them caught despite how fool-proof they seemed.
One adventure led them to sneak into one of the alchemy labs after hours. It was harmless. They just wanted to look at the colorful potions. They had barely explored when the door suddenly swung open and Headmaster Thorn stood in the doorway.
They’d been caught red-handed. But it was fine, or at least she thought it was.
Tehvan showed up, ushered her away and made her write the rules down fifty times as punishment.
But Symond… Thorn had dealt with Symond.
She didn’t know what his penance was, but after that day, everything was different.
She saw the change in him, the anger, the resentment, especially whenever Tehvan was near.
Now, his gaze swept the courtyard until it found her. His eyes narrowed, lips curling into a familiar sneer. He strode toward her, his hands casually in his pockets, but she sensed the tension radiating from him before he even reached her. What now?
He opened his mouth to speak, but Elora quickly cut him off. “You don’t seem excited about the trials.” She had come to realize that if she got the first word in, she could throw him off whatever game he intended to play.
His hazel eyes, flecked with traces of gold, widened. “Excited?” He scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Why would I be?” The scent of iron and smoke seemed to linger around him, mingling with the faint tang of sweat.
“Oh, I just thought you’d be relieved to go. You know, finally be free.” She knew Symond had always hated it here. He made his opinions very well known.
He laughed, the sound harsh, almost like a bark. “Free?” he repeated. “You can’t actually believe we’ll ever be free. Out there, it’s just another kind of prison.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Always so dramatic. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be excited to get away from all this?” She gestured to the surrounding courtyard.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Not really. “Everyone thinks leaving will fix everything. Make the pain stop. Give us purpose…” He paused for a moment, his gaze distant, as if he were reliving a memory.
“…If we aren’t owned by Thorn, then we are owned by MAHO, the Empire.
We’re just… commodities, Elora. Sold off to the government like cattle. ”
Elora couldn’t stop herself from eyeing the scars that marred his arms. One ran jaggedly across his bicep, while another curved along his forearm and hand. They were old marks, and she wondered what he had done to deserve them.
“What did he do to you?” The question slipped out before she could think better of it. She had asked many times before, and he had always slammed a metaphorical door in her face. She didn’t know what compelled her to ask him again now.
His gaze bore into hers, the intensity of his eyes a stark contrast to the fatigue lining his face.
For all his strength and the fire in his veins, Symond was a puzzle.
He never talked about the scars, the burns, or the memories that haunted him.
And she had stopped trying to figure him out long ago.
“You would know. But you’ve been sheltered by Tehvan your whole life.
” His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her as though he could see right to the heart of her insecurities.
“You’ll find out, though. The world isn’t going to be kind to you.
No one will coddle or treat you specially out there.
” He gestured to the ocean and lands beyond.
“Frankly, I don’t think you’re ready to face it. ”
His conviction made her flinch and heat rise to her cheeks. She didn’t like the power his words held over her.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” He stood up straighter, uncrossing his arms as he watched the impact of what he said settle on her face. “So, stay. You’re safe here after all.” He tilted his head, his sneer deepening.
She couldn’t stand the way he was looking at her, like he could see her fear, in spite of her best efforts to hide it.
But what was worse was that he’d struck her right where he knew it would hurt.
Her dependency on Tehvan, the comfort he provided her, the safety he represented in a world she barely knew. He was right. She was terrified.
Elora exhaled a shaky breath as he finally walked away. The pressure in her chest eased, but the doubt he planted still lingered.
“Being a ward may not be as bad as we’re told,” Elora said, softer than the squeak of a mouse.
Arria turned to look at her directly. “A ward?” She placed her hand on Elora’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to Symond. You’ve worked too hard to give up now.”