Cateline was watching the water glisten beneath the sun, the runes glowing idly as the energy flowed in a circle around her. She still knew so little about magic, but at least she now understood how it felt.

And it was undoubtedly terrifying.

That said, Cateline was never the type to let a bit of terror sway her. It was beautiful out today and she had nothing planned. Tomorrow evening she was to meet with the headmistress to practice magic and she had no idea what to expect—her experience with magic was limited to that of storytelling and encyclopedias. After her mother gifted that pendant to her she no longer had to worry about the uncontrollable energy that flowed through her. She only had to fret about her father.

King Airen was not somebody to take lightly. He was a mean man, one that led the execution of so many people both before and after her birth. Her eldest brother, Terrence, witnessed the bloodshed at such a young age. And to think that bloodbath was supposedly coming to an end when he was born. It never stopped—even when Cateline was at her oldest. Men lost their lives daily and she had to sit and watch from her castle walls.

The walls had ears and eyes, though. It was what taught her how to be her sneakiest. The servants would eavesdrop. The guards would gossip. The cooks would complain. It was a cycle, one that inevitably landed in the heart of Axulran and caused a ruckus so loud it shook the castle walls with rebellious citizens for weeks.

This was the last thing she remembered of Axulran—terror, rage, and violence. There was a false sense of comfort within those castle walls. A dream of hope, silence, and ignorance.

This chaos was the only thing fueling her ambitions following her dispute with Aiora earlier.

Ignorance. The one trait that she claimed to loathe, and yet she did nothing to better her own ignorance. She dind't seek out how she got to Traburg, why that ghastly woman keeps appearing like a nightmare, or what was causing this sudden implosion of magic now that the mindless pendant did not hold her hostage.

She would say she was disgusted in herself, but that feeling was nonexistent. She found comfort in not knowing—in willful ignorance—because it meant any of the dangers that lurked around the corner were unknown, too.

Shaking her head, Cateline turned at the sound of clapping. In the distance, at the dip of a small hill, Thaddius. The tufts of fur at his calves were matted with mud, and his horns charred at the tips. Despite the crazy appearance, his laugh boomed louder than thunder. Standing to her feet, Cateline left the fountain of runes and stood behind a tree that was a bit closer. She did not want to intrude upon his sparring, but she yearned to get a better look.

Thaddius looked burnt and was stumbling with each step he took. The bottoms of his hooves were blackened, but he stood upright with the confidence that outshined any warrior she had seen. Granted, she had seen few, but it still impressed her.

He was battling against a ghost, one that stole her breath. It was alive and well, responding to each of his attacks like it was able to be harmed. This ghost, wearing what seemed to be steel armor, held a figment of a sword in one hand, and an orb of energy in the other.

It took a heavy step toward Thaddius, reaching its hand out as a blue orb of energy escaped from the transparent fingertips. It was electric and shot toward the satyr at the speed of molasses.

Cateline grinned as Thaddius stumbled away, tripping over the exposed roots of great oaks and falling to his knees. He pleaded for the ghost to stop between heavy breaths of laughter, to which it crossed its arms and simply observed the orb as it circled around Thaddius. He yelped louder and higher than Cateline could probably even mimic, only stopping when the ghost held its arms out with open palms. The orb vanished, leaving Thaddius to stand in peace.

Cateline’s smile fell at the sight, turning her gaze away as her heart sank. There was nothing she could do with her disadvantageous ignorance of magic outside of making efforts of her own to expedite the relentless learning curve. She would just have to persevere and continue yearning.

How to welcome a ghost to duel. How to pull from the elements, and even raise the dead. She yearned for it.

Who knows, maybe she would make friends with the ghost. It wasn’t like she had many who still lived and breathed like Thaddius and Varin. Of course, there were reasons behind this lonely awe.

The first, and most frequent, was when her father deemed her friends dangerous or a risk to the well-being of Axulran. They always seemed to disappear in the most silent ways. The second, and most gruesome, was when they betrayed the royal family and threatened to expose them on their many accounts of inhumanity. Oftentimes, they used Cateline as a sweet and impressionable source of information.

As a result, Cateline found it difficult to find trust in those who were too enthusiastic to get to know her. She supposed that was why she found comfort in the cold and silent nature of Varin. Even then, she had her worries.

Turning away from the duo, she took a step toward the academy and felt a hand grab onto her wrist. She jumped out of her skin for a split second, wondering if this was the time she was caught. The right assassin tracked her down, seeking nothing but her head on a stick to bring to the highest bidder.

As she faced her attacker, her heart thumped beneath her chest bone and she could hear nothing but ringing.

“Your situational awareness is worse than I have ever seen.”

“Varin,” she breathed, “what are you doing?”

Cateline snatched her wrist away from his and rubbed on it to ease her anxiety. She took a few steps back and looked around once more just to make sure no true assassin sat in the shadows, waiting to pounce at the right moment.

“I saw you spying on Thaddius,” Varin said with a snicker. “He does not bite most of the time. Why not join him?”

“You know why,” Cateline whispered.

“I do not.”

She sighed. “I don't know how to yield magic like that, Varin. I have tried with Aiora, and failed.”

Varin nodded. “So I have heard. About that, Cateline, I was wondering what your story was. How can you know so little about magic but be so welcomed by our headmistress? You’re a massive risk, if I can be so blunt.”

Cateline gulped and tore her stare away from his. He doubted her. She should have seen this coming. “I was born in a family that wants nothing to do with magic, Varin. It is a consequence of growing up in Axulran. That type of thing is so frowned upon.”

“I understand,” Varin said and crossed his arms over his chest, “but the call to magic is powerful. Yes? How did you avoid it for so long?”

Cateline looked down at her right wrist, pursing her lips tightly at his pestering. Before arriving at Traburg, there was a golden leaf pendant that would hang snug. It kept her safe from the threat of magic. “I suppose I was just unlucky. Or ignorant, one of the two.”

Varin hummed, shrugging his shoulders. “Let us go with ‘unlucky,’ else your ego will suffer... You have so much to learn. After all, Lunarseve is just around the corner.”

“Aiora was telling me about that. Should I be concerned?”

Varin eyed Cateline head to toe for a split second before gesturing toward the academy. “Lighthelm will tear you inside out before it can strengthen you, Cateline. Lunarseve only hastens that rite of passage. Would you mind if I showed you something?”

Cateline saw a glisten of mischief in his eyes at the implication of her turmoil throughout Lunarseve. This would be the first time she had witnessed this period without the protection of her pendant. Before now, she had no idea what Lunarseve was. Varin seemed entertained, to say the least.

“What is it?”

“Just something to put you at ease. Or, rather the opposite. It is a comforting form of disarray.”

Cateline watched Varin walk towards the academy with little regard on whether she was actually following him or not. He held himself upright, and despite his confusing words she felt drawn to the idea. She was already so confused, what was one more thing?

Giving into the call to curiosity, Cateline took a brief look around before catching up to him. “What type of disarray?”

Varin smirked the second she joined his side, slowing his pace so Cateline could keep up. She was a short girl, he knew she was no match for his long strides.

“I have been at Lighthelm for three years and one day—one day too long, if you ask me. My point is, even with all of my time spent here, I still find myself at a loss for words. Some things simply do not have explanation, and if they do they are better left uncovered. Skeletons have a habit of getting dug up and the mess they cause are often irreversible.”

Three years. Cateline cleared her throat and held her hands in front of her as they entered the grandiose entry hall, a few scholars scattering into their chambers as the bell tolled from town. It was almost supper time.

“Three years, truly?”

“Truly.”

“Why so long? You speak like you were not planning on staying that entire time.”

Varin shrugged his shoulders, grabbing hold of a golden banister that accented the stairwell. He turned briefly to look at Cateline and gave her a genuine smile. A sad one, but genuine no doubt.

“Perhaps one day I can tell you why I came here. But, that story is too long. For now I will keep it simple—time is stolen by magic, Cateline. Even our greatest plans get squashed by the idea of time. That said, magic does not forget—regardless how many years have passed. Run for ten years, magic will steal twenty more. That is life, at least that is my life.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it promptly. She only had questions that would be rewarded with vague and confusing answers. That was the pattern she was finally catching onto. Grabbing hold of the bannister, she lifted her skirt and followed him up the long flight.

The only thing she could say was, “I am sorry.”

“Do not pity me” Varin responded without hesitation. “I would not trade this for anything in the world. This academy is the only thing allowing me to return home with the strength I need.”

Strength. Cateline eyed the back of Varin’s head as they approached a familiar, dusty landing. She wanted to pry, to ask him how he gained the strength to go home and face his monsters. Perhaps Varin was just like her—with a family that had a broken, bloodied reputation. Varin might not have been so different, after all.

As she joined him, she eyed portraits covered by torn up tarps that rested against the wall lazily. There was an old wooden table with meaningless knick knacks and broken vases. Varin approached a door that was barely held on its hinges, a lock holding it shut. She watched closely, trying her best to not breathe down his neck as he grabbed hold firmly.

“Aiora broke this door, and the brilliant Jaspar decided it would be best to hold it together with a padlock. I think she tore it right off the hinges when she brought you up here weeks ago.”

Cateline recalled when she saw the crazy-eyed girl jump feet first off the balcony. It still made her blood boil at the thought. That felt like so long ago.

His hand radiated this blue energy that could not be easily described. It reminded her of the moon and the way it would shine on the winter solstice. Given the cold and icy nature of Axulran, it was the most brilliant in the colder months. She felt a draw to that moon just as strongly as she felt a draw to this energy.

The lock clicked, falling to the ground just before Varin pushed the door open. “Welcome back to the place where the headmistress stores her forgotten things.”

It was dustier than the landing, thousands of little things scattered around and covered with the same torn burlap as the portraits outside. It was as untouched as when she first explored it with Aiora upon her arrival. She traced her fingers against one of the dusty tarps and rubbed the grime until it disintegrated into the air.

Moving to the opposite side of the room, she pushed one of the tarps away and found a portrait of a family. They were young, most of them brunette and tan. There was a child, though—one with midnight black hair and eyes as blue as the sea. She looked familiar, but the family was unknown to her.

Varin joined her and leaned in to get a closer look, cocking his head to the side. “I wonder who they are. No sense in having this random portrait up here.”

Cateline nodded in agreement and moved to the side so Varin could carefully pick it up by the frame. He turned it around and squinted at faded scripture.

“It is dated, but the ink is so faded it would be better off not signed. Pity, I love a good family story. They had to be important to the headmistress—even the forgotten things serve purpose to her.”

“So much stuff,” Cateline whispered and peered out the stained glass windows. Rays of light bled into the room as the sun greeted the horizon. The last minutes of light were always so beautiful.

After Varin carefully placed the portrait down, he moved to the side and uncovered another object. Cateline watched from a distance, a faded golden border glistening when the godrays touched it. Dirt covered the tiny accents engraved into the frame. It was a mirror—a rather ordinary looking one at that.

“I am often just as confused as you are, Cateline. Fortunately I understand the concept of magic, and how to safely wield it, but I will never understand the mind behind our mages. So much betrayal, so many reasons to think of your closest friends as traitors.”

“I relate to that sentiment,” Cateline said and lowered her gaze to the ground. “I have witnessed betrayal so large it ended in bloodshed.”

Varin looked at Cateline with raised brows. “That is surely awful to witness. Was Axulran that dramatic, even as a commoner?”

She let out a chuckle, nodding curtly. A commoner. “I was young, but thinking back to it always makes my heart hurt.”

Cateline closed her eyes and recalled all the yelling in the castle that night. Partly from her mother, mostly from her father. They thought she was tucked away in her chambers, but they didn’t realize the underground castle corridors led right under their quarters. She saw guards fall in the throne room without a second thought through a rat-sized hole in the wall. In the basement and bleeding through the floor, she heard servants plead for their lives, and if it wasn’t their own lives it was for their wives and children. She felt the heartbreak when her mother wept over the body of the midwife that helped her birth Cateline as she hid curled away in a since-forgotten corner of the cellar.

The darkest, filthiest corners of the castle served to be the most enlightening and comforting when her father destroyed the livelihood of so many. For such an elaborate fortress, there were so many ins and outs of underground passageways that were forgotten even by the guards.

The night she that haunted her the most, and was the cause of the bloodhsed she just referenced to Varin, to involved a spy that was roaming the castle walls. He would relay information to the enemies of Axulran. This tormenting violence continued for what felt like weeks until it stopped for no reason. Around this time, her favorite and closest servant, Alleyn, went missing. Her father claimed he moved to do bigger and better things, but she always had reason to think otherwise.

“Come here, Cateline.”

Opening her eyes, she approached Varin and took a shaky breath. He stopped her before she stood in front of the mirror, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Before stepping in front of the mirror, look at your surroundings closely. We are the only ones in this room.”

Dropping his hand from her, he gestured toward the mirror and backed away. Cateline blinked, perplexed at first. She had no idea why he had her staring at this mirror.

Until he talked. “Magic often has no explanation, but when it does it is better left alone.”

He was now by the doorway, leaning against the broken frame with his arms crossed. However, the reflection said otherwise. In the mirror, he stood still, even blinking at her as she stared with a dumbfounded look. She stepped in front of it and touched the reflection with one hand, grasping the golden border with another. She could hear Varin curse at her, but before she could understand what he said she was in another realm.

It was a foggy reverie, one that felt eerie. There was a room in the distance, and as she moved closer to it she saw a wooden table and silver chalices scattered across the surface. As she got closer, she saw two men sitting there with the cups pulled to their lips. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach within half a second.

At the head of the table, with that long, graying beard and cruel eyes, sat her father. 'King' Airen of Axulran. He held his fist clenched atop the table, his lips drawn into a scowl and brow furrowed. Across from him was her brother, Terrence, with his curly dirty blonde hair and kind, green eyes. She wondered where he got those eyes—they were too kind to be her fathers, but too curious to be her mothers.

He had his head turned downward, lips contorted into the saddest frown she had seen since they were children. Terrence was defeated and depressed—she wanted so badly to go and hug her eldest brother and tell him he would be the greatest ruler Axulran would see, regardless of what their father said.

Just as quickly as she had approached that scene, it disappeared. She returned to reality with a gasp and turned around, looking at Varin just as he was grabbing hold of her shoulders. He ripped her away from the mirror and scolded her for the decision she had made. As she was torn away, her hand caught on a sharp golden piece of the border, slicing into the meaty part of her palm.

“How long has it been?” she asked.

“Has what been?” Varin asked, his eyes stuck on the mirror.

“Since I looked into the mirror. Since I grabbed it!”

Varin furrowed his brow and looked at her once more. “Seconds, Cateline. What has gotten into you? Do you know what you have done?”

Cateline gazed longingly at the mirror, a tear stinging the corner of her eyes. In the reflection stood a vision of herself, only this one stood mindlessly still and did not mimic her expressions. Surely, that was not her replica. A twin stuck in a realm that would forever be a mystery to her?

“I saw my family,” she whispered, “only for a moment. But I saw them.”

Varin shook his head and led her from the room, assuring her that she could tell them more after she got some rest. He looked so worried, lines creasing at his eyes and his shoulders slumped. Cateline was not anxious about the reflection of herself in that mirror—she was more concerned about how she could see her family again. Even if it was just the tasting of a scene like it was there.