"Where is Alleyn?" Cateline asked with a croaky voice, lips chapped and throat sore.

The second that question slipped from her tongue, the hand parted from her shoulder and the blurry figure stepped away. Cateline groaned and rolled on her side, closing her eyes to ease the sun that blazed on her. As her fingertips grazed the grass, reveries of her laying in the courtyard back home consumed her mind. Oh, how she craved for the ice to ease her burning skin. Traburg was a hot kingdom—and, when it was not hot, the sun was still a menacing thing.

Perhaps she was spoiled by the chill temperament of her home, or perhaps Traburg was her own hellscape to traverse. After that fight with Aiora, it surely felt like it. The way that slithering plume of smoke engulfed her nasal cavity would forever haunt her—Aiora would never be a friend to her again.

“Cateline?” another voice approached. “Wake up, you can’t sleep on me now.”

Her eyes opened and she looked up at Varin. Gasping, her senses coming back to her within that instant, she pushed herself up and away from him. He had as little trust in her as Aiora did, how was she to be certain that he would not one day approach her with a dagger? Or worse, his magic? Surely, enchanted swords and the might of a warrior would be just as terrible as being suffocated.

At least Varin would ensure her death was quick, she knew that was in his character. Regardless—death was not an option for Cateline. She had too much to uncover and fix.

Varin held his hand out to signal that he was not out to harm her, his caramel eyes giving her a once over. He was assessing her—surely, he saw her as a risk. Afterall, Cateline did pick a fight with an elven mage that was far more powerful than she was. A fool’s game, but she had little time to feel embarrassment.

Aiora was no longer laying on the ground. In fact, she was nowhere to be seen. It was just he, Cateline, and the headmistress who stood by the well to her left.

“I told you, Cateline, Lunarseve can bring out both the best and worst in us. It is instinctual, but you have to level yourself now. We cannot tear eachother apart if what you said is true.”

“And what Aiora said? Is that true, too?” Cateline asked between shaky breaths, her eyes averting to Leolina now. She knew the headmistress would know considering she had an eye over her entire childhood. Cateline grasped at her abdomen to ease a severe pain, one that she ignored for now.

Leolina simply stared, the smallest hint of a smile approaching those thin lips. Her eyes almost outshone the sun. After a quick, careless shrug the headmistress took a step toward them. “And, tell me Cateline, why would you have any doubt of your legitimacy?”

“I will not play your game. If you know, tell me!”

“My question stands—do you know the answer in your heart?”

Cateline sucked in a breath, hands trembling at her side. Her father, brothers, and practically everybody that descended from the King’s bloodline was tan and fair haired. She thought she simply earned her mothers luck when it came to hair, and lost out when it came to skin. Reaching up to touch her lips, she thought about just how different her brothers were—from the shape of their nose to the angularity of their eyebrows. Such small, finite details that made the biggest difference.

“A bastard child…” she whispered. “How? Why?”

Leolina walked closer and held her hands at either side of her, palms facing the sky as if to pose a question. “Cateline Bennett, Princess of Axulran and never considered an heir to the throne. Harsh to swallow, is it not? Tell me you did not think it normal that your father kept you tucked away all your life...”

“Varin was right,” Cateline said beneath her breath and looked at him. “You said that I was naive. A fool. Nothing more than a lost child. How could I have missed this?”

“Cateline, I instructed you to find yourself. There is a key thing missing there, and that is your identity. If you will, I can help you now. Once you understand your origins, then perhaps we all can agree on our next steps. Afterall, Lunarseve is fast approaching. I need you to be prepared for the banquet, and anything that may come from it.”

Leolina held out her hand, holding the key that Cateline had stolen from the attic. After hesitation, she accepted the key and gripped it firmly. As each of them began their walk back to the academy, she gripped at her core again when a knot twisted. These next handful of hours would surely be hell, and for more than one reason.

Varin, Cateline and Leolina stood in her office. The luminous trees that shined so brightly in the corner when she first arrived at the academy were now dim and dull, the leaves limp. She stood nearby the fire, observing Jaspar sulking in the corner.

“Did you know, too?” she asked him.

The elf looked up, his eyes twitching as he shook his head chastly. “No, Your Highness.”

Scoffing, Cateline moved her eyes to the fire and watched the dancing flames. The headmistress sat at her desk, flipping through pages of a large book.

“Where did Aiora run off to, Varin?”

“No idea, Headmistress. I helped her up and she ran for the woods.”

Leolina hummed, a long sigh following. “She is reverting back to her old ways. Has she seen Seraphine yet?”

This was when the room grew still. Cateline’s gaze flickered between Leolina and Varin, his leer as wide and confused as hers. “You knew?” Varin asked first.

Leolina smiled at the two of them. “Surely, Varin, your studies were thorough enough to have read the prophecy. That was foundational—how long have you been here again?”

“The prophecy?” Varin laughed. “That rhyme was told for ages. It’s nothing more than a nursery rhyme at this point.”

Leolina’s stare grew dark now, turning her attention back to the book until she landed on a page. She began to read:

Denzethea, the land of sorrow...

A princess, tales told of ice in the morrow...

Cursed and weak, only the ghost shall come to speak.

When her power is found as the Blood Moon rises,

She shall be crowned while the Silver Dragon takes prizes from the cries of fallen kingdoms.

After crimson has shed, the land will awaken with the seed of Denzethea.

All who turn their head shall be forsaken and then led by peace with the Rise of the Firstborn

"What is that?” Cateline asked.

“The prophecy, Cateline. To be specific, your prophecy,” Leolina said without a flicker of insecurity in her statement. “When your mother told me that you froze their dinner table, soon after Airen found out about your true bloodline, I realized the potential. It was too coincidental to be considered a simple scandal.”

“Did they know about it, too?”

“Your mother, yes. I am not sure if she ever told your father—but I assume he has taken it upon himself to become educated since he sought to use you as a weapon.”

“Weapon…” Cateline held onto the shelf that rested atop the fireplace, biting her tongue so she did not keep asking questions. “There is no way my father would ever consider me a weapon. He forbade magic.”

“Keep your friends close—” Leolina started.

Varin finished. “—but your enemies closer. Cateline, you said your vision hinted the possibility of war?”

This was when Leolina’s face dropped. “Vision? What war?”

Cateline walked over to them, hands resting on the golden back splat of the chair. “Before I discovered those letters and this key, Leolina,” she said and rested the key on the tabletop, “I utilized the… mirror. Varin and I had an accident up there, one that had part of our souls locked in that reflection, it seems.”

“They are not part of soul,” Leolina said and stood. “I should have known this would happen one day. That mirror, Cateline, has your doppelganger trapped in it. Varin, too, if he was involved. They're tricksters, but can be used for good.”

“Right… Well, I think it was good, this time around at least. It brought me back home, but I cannot say for certain if it was in the present or near past. I watched my brother and father scheming over a map, speaking of Lunarseve like it was a casual conversation to them. Terrence thought it strange, my father thought it fact. Regardless, the king was set on blood.”

“So, I was right,” Leolina said and shook her head. “He did educate himself. I am sure Traburg is his first plan of attack, being we are neighbors.”

“How long do you think we have?” Varin asked, leaning forward on the chair, too.

“A day, if we are lucky. Lunarseve is less than 48 hours away, Varin. If he truly underestimates the power of magic, he will attack when we are most preoccupied.”

"We must call off the banquet, then!" Varin exclaimed, standing upright.

"No," Leolina said sternly.

"No? You are mad. Those innocent people will be exposed to the risk of—"

"—the risk of what? We can protect them far better than the guards of this kingdom can. We have magic, they do not. Have trust, Varin."

Cateline waited a minute, only continuing when Varin relaxed. “If he underestimates magic, why would he attack during Lunarseve? How would the prophecy sway him?” she asked.

“This is more than a prophecy to him, Cateline. If he is as blood hungry for power as your mother last told me before Alleyn left Axulran, then he understands that while magical creatures exist on Denzethea, he will never be able to execute his empirical rule over the surrounding kingdoms. I am sure once he discovers where you are, he will utilize your unstable powers to aid him in this worldwide siege.”

“That is ridiculous,” Cateline muttered between deep, trembling breaths. “My father is cruel, but he is not a madman. Even if he manages to capture control of two kingdoms, there is an entire other side of the world ready to fight him. It is impossible.”

“Not with the help of the prophecy,” Varin said. “If he finds you, he knows the firstborn cannot rise. Without that, we—mages—will forever be weakened.”

Leolina tapped her finger on the key. “Cateline, this key unlocks a home in Javunger. It is a cruel city, so I trust Varin and Thaddius will lead you there in confidence. You will find some things to better prepare you for Lunarseve. All of you, to be clear. Go there today before dusk, and you will have a place to rest until the morrow. While you are gone, I will secure the mirror to ensure the doppelgangers do not fall into the wrong hands.”

“And Aiora?” Varin asked. Cateline looked over at him, bags darkened underneath his eyes and lips curved into a worried frown. His fingers were picking at the embroidered fabric of the chairs while he awaited her answer.

“She would be saddened to know that the heretic cults will soon see the truth behind their beliefs. Her father died for those ideologies, and she refused the call that many of them felt before following her father. I am sure she will find her way home—but, for now, we shan’t worry about Aiora’s whereabouts until we secure the kingdom's safety. Thaddius should have returned from chasing after Aiora, Varin. Find him, and go to Javunger with Cateline. We will reassess the situation in the morning.”

“I shall go warn the crown,” Jaspar said and left the room without another word.

Grabbing onto the key, Cateline looked at Varin with a sullen stare before they, too, exited the room. They were silent, but any anger they had felt toward each other was void. They knew what they were after was bigger than themselves, bigger than politics and scandal, bigger than irrelevant quarrels.

And, for once, she felt comfort in this madness. Answers were trickling in.

"I must go find Thaddius, and run a quick errands. I will return within an hour, meet me at the entryhall and we will leave on horseback." Varin said, parting from her with a silent goodbye.

When she headed toward her quarter’s wing, she saw a man dressed in emerald green sitting by the door. His hair was grayed, a long beard extending from his jaw to his collarbone. As those golden eyes lifted up, meeting hers instinctually, the breath got caught in her throat and she fell numb.

He stood and quickly approached her with a sad look in his eyes. When he stopped, he was still an awkward distance from her but she refused to move any closer. Was this a ruse? A dream-like vision, similar to the morning in the bathhouse?

“Sprite,” he said, voice wavering, “I’ll ask you again. What are you doing in Traburg?”

Alleyn. It was far too real to be considered anything—or anybody—else.