Of all things Juniper was good at, navigation was not one of them.

She’d been deep in thought, puzzling out a way to warn the twins off their future mission without making her seem like an unreliable loon, so she didn’t notice when the tram reached the Halogenworks Station. She didn’t notice the next one, either, so Juniper had to go back two whole stations to return to her original destination.

She’d then proceeded to get lost following the barkeep’s instructions–it said the entrance was behind a pastry shop at the corner with Brightstone, but the barkeep had failed to mention there were three such shops.

Eventually, an hour later than she’d planned, she managed to find the haven thanks to an older man who’d seen her running around like a headless chicken and had taken pity on her. Juniper didn’t know what he did for the Ravens, but she remembered seeing him visit the orphanage in the past.

Apparently giving confusing instructions and sending greenhorns on wild goose chases was a favorite pastime of haven keepers, and Juniper was only its latest victim.

Juniper thanked the man as they entered, and watched him head for a booth near the back of the room. This bar was busier than the last one, with about half the tables occupied. The clientele was an exercise in contrasts–a shady group who spoke in hushed tones, a boisterous woman who’d climbed on top of the table and was showing off to her buddies with a questionable impression of the Duke, and many other colorful or less colorful people.

In the back, hidden away from the rest of the patrons, Juniper could see men and women in suits and fancy dresses. One would almost think they were nobles, if such a thing were possible.

Juniper had given the room a thorough scan, but as far as she could see, Adar and Hester were not present. The barkeep here was a tall, blond man, who was currently juggling multiple orders from a pair of thuggish looking men. Juniper waited for him to be done, and asked, “I’m looking for Hester and Adar. Have they been through here, lately?”

“Those two?” He looked around the room with a frown. “They usually come by for lunch around this time. If you wait for a bit, they’ll probably be here soon.”

“Thanks,” Juniper replied, her heart beating faster. It looked like the first part of the plan, finding the twins, would be easier than she’d expected. She took a seat at the bar, resting her head on her palm.

“Want anything while you wait?”

“A lemonade would be nice.”

The barkeep nodded, turning around to prepare the drink while Juniper fished through her pockets for coin.

“And what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” a rough voice asked, startling Juniper. She looked up to see one of the men she’d marked as a thug earlier swaggering towards her. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” He sat down on the seat next to Juniper with a leer on his face.

Juniper cringed inwardly. This was part of why she hated dealing with Ebonfell’s underworld. Sketchy people like this were right at home.

The man was easily twice her weight, if not more, and he was leaning in a way that made him look even bigger. It didn’t look like it was the first time he tried to prey on a helpless young woman.

The haven was a neutral ground, though, and Juniper banked on him not wanting to risk punishment. “Leave me alone,” she said coolly.

It was something of a gamble. There were two ways these kinds of men reacted to a flat-out denial–either they backed off, cutting their losses and searching for a new victim, or they flew in a rage. Most belonged to the first group.

This guy didn’t.

“I don’t think so,” he said, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Leave her alone, Rob,” his friend called out, a defeated look on his face. So he was the reasonable one in their little group.

“Listen to your buddy,” Juniper said, her eyes narrowing.

She’d been watching him carefully, hackles raised, so she was instantly aware when he moved to grab her arm.

As a second year student practitioner, most of her knowledge of magic was theoretical. There were three core facets to being a practitioner–the Will, the Soul, and the Path. A practitioner wasn’t considered a full practitioner until they’d unlocked all three, and Juniper was still short a Path.

If one were to compare a practitioner to a warrior, the Will was the sword, the Soul was stamina, and the Path was the technique. This meant Juniper was limited to only the basic applications of any discipline.

But that was alright, because a basic application was all she needed.

As soon as the thug–Rob–got a hold of her right arm, she hit him with an open palm straight in the belly. To anyone watching, they would expect this to be an exercise in futility–she was mostly skin and bone, and the man was many times her size.

They would normally be right–except Juniper’s strike had been empowered by the most basic application of Dynamics–the force multiplier.

Rob went flying, also yanking Juniper off her seat before he lost his grip on her arm. He crashed into a table not far away, where a group of three had caught wind of the altercation and were watching curiously. The table broke under the thug’s weight, and he fell in one of the men’s laps, who pushed him off.

Juniper winced. She hadn’t intended to hit him that hard–she just wanted to dislodge him–but in the heat of the moment she’d gone on instinct. He was still breathing, though, so at least he wasn’t dead–she could explain the self defense, but actually killing the man might have put her in hot water.

Then she regarded the broken table… “He started it,” she said, turning to the barkeep, who was staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of him. She did not want to be on the hook for the damages.

As for Rob’s friend, he’d just stared dumbly for a few seconds before shooting Juniper an apprehensive glance and finally going to help his friend.

The bar had gone eerily quiet, and Juniper was dearly hoping she could be anywhere else.

Practitioners were generally rare–on average, about one in ten thousand could awaken their talent, with the vast majority among the nobility. Among the common folk, practitioners were something to be feared–if you stepped on one’s toes, they might just turn you into a frog.

Which Juniper thought was rather silly. Transmuting one inanimate material into another was difficult. To turn one living thing into another one, and with such a great difference in mass? That would probably take a Third Gate practitioner who specialized in the Living Arts.

Juniper was saved from the awkwardness a minute later, when she heard a familiar voice.

“June! Is that you?” Hester called out, prancing into the room with a jolly look on her face. Adar was right behind her, his eyes darting from corner to corner before stepping in. Hester regarded the moaning man on the floor and the broken table, before shrugging and saying, “Well, that’s a doozy. Drinks?”

At once, the tension vanished.

Juniper ran up to the twins, throwing an arm around each of them. “I missed you guys.”

Hester patted her on the back before extricating herself. “Now, I know you love me–I love you too. But not here. Let’s find a booth and we’ll talk.”

A short while later, they were seated, and the atmosphere in the bar had returned to normal. Apparently small altercations like this were common enough–only they didn’t usually involve practitioners. Once it was clear that no one was getting turned into a frog, everyone went back to their own business.

Hester hadn’t been surprised to hear Juniper’s summary of the moments leading to her arrival. “There’s always a sleaze or two,” she said, distaste clear on her face. “You have to ignore them. If you interact with them at all, you’re just playing into their hand.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You probably won’t need to. The tale of the mage who punted Rob the Knob into the scenery is gonna spread like wildfire,” Adar explained.

“Rob the… Knob?” Juniper’s brows went up.

“He’s not very bright,” Hester said. “See the guy that’s with him? That’s Lev. He usually keeps him out of trouble.”

“So, what brings you to these parts?” Adar asked. “I thought you’re not beholden to the House for another two years.”

“I’m not,” Juniper confirmed. “I was looking for you guys, actually.”

Adar’s eyebrows rose. “I doubt it’s a social call,” he murmured.

“Yeah, what’s up, June?” Hester asked.

Juniper had long considered how to confront the twins. Telling the truth about being sent back in time was straight out–Evie had been a taste of how people would react to that. But she had another card she could play here: practitioners had a lot of mystique surrounding them. Most of it was rooted in myths and folklore, but common people didn’t know the difference between myth and reality, and Juniper could use this to her advantage.

She schooled her face, forcing herself to appear as serious as possible. “Okay. So,” she began, taking a deep breath. “A year ago, I started having prophetic dreams.” She almost cringed as she said this. The idea of prophetic dreams was completely divorced from what a practitioner could do. It felt bad to take advantage of the twins’ lack of knowledge, but it was for their own good. “If you don’t know what that is, it means sometimes I can see the future when I sleep. Mostly it’s just fragments, but they always happen exactly, unless I interfere.”

Adar grew pensive, while Hester frowned, biting her lip. “Where are you going with this?” she asked.

“Two days ago, I had one of my most vivid dreams yet. I was at Paratha’s house–imagine that, me, at Paratha’s? She was hosting an event–I thought it was a party at first. But then I saw the funeral shrine. With your pictures on it.” Juniper paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. Hester’s eyes were wide, and Adar’s face was a mask. “The matron was there too. I heard her say, ‘The Ravens took them from me.’” Juniper whispered the last part. You never knew who was listening in, and badmouthing the Ravens in their own house was not healthy for one’s long term survival.

“And you expect us to believe this?” Adar asked, expression severe.

Juniper put her hands on her on the table, palms up. “All I have is my word. But I promise you, everything I said was true.”

“And what do you want us to do about it?” Hester asked. “The way you make it sound, it’s inevitable.”

“This stuff doesn’t usually happen long after I dream of it. A month at most, I think,” Juniper said. “Just, I don’t know, take a month off from Raven stuff. Go see the world, or something.”

Adar and Hester shared a long look, and Adar shook his head.

“Look, June, I believe you,” Hester said. “But I don’t think we can take a break. We have this–”

“Hess,” Adar interjected. “You can’t tell anyone about that.”

“Juniper isn’t just anyone,” Hester protested. “She’s our friend.”

“She is, but we can’t tell her. Oath, remember?”

Juniper started at that. They were under an oath? What had they gotten into?

“Shit,” Hester exclaimed. “You’re right.” She gave Juniper a tight smile. “Sorry, June. But… yeah, we have a commitment right now.”

Juniper’s stomach dropped. No, she’d been so close. “Is it that much more important than your lives?”

Hester let out an awkward laugh. “Believe me, we’d be in mortal danger either way.”

“Hess!” Adar hissed. “Stop talking, now.”

Hester mimicked zipping her mouth shut.

“Right, June,” Adar said, giving her a sympathetic look. “There’s nothing we can do about this. But I’m taking your warning seriously. I promise we’ll back out immediately if it starts looking bad.”

Juniper bit her lip, then finally nodded. This wasn’t what she’d wanted, but it was better than nothing. With forewarning, they had a chance to make it out alive.

Hopefully, it would be enough.

***

When she finally returned to her room, Juniper felt like she was walking on clouds. She’d spent the better part of the day catching up with Adar and Hester, who were more than happy to fill her in on all the stuff she’d missed. She was still worried about them, but she’d done all she could right now. Especially if an oath was involved.

There was no one in the room as she entered–she supposed Evie must have been at the cafeteria. An annoying growl alerted Juniper that she should probably have done the same thing, but she was too mentally exhausted to care.

A thought popped up in Juniper’s head as she sat down at the edge of her bed. The last time around, she’d found the second note–the one under her pillow–the day after tomorrow. But maybe it was already there?

She gave her pillow one good look. There was no evidence of tampering. Then, she yanked the pillow away.

Juniper let out a whoop of victory as she reached out for the note. A wave of anticipation washed over her as she wondered what it would say this time. The first one had been different, so would this one continue the trend?

She unfurled the note, revealing a single line.

35.4.9.15

Juniper frowned in confusion as she considered the contents. The numbers didn’t make any sense to her. Were those supposed to be coordinates? An address? Something else? It seemed oddly familiar, but it also didn’t look like any positional system she knew.

While she sat there pondering the numbers, trying all sorts of permutations and substitution ciphers to make them make sense, Evie returned.

Evie threw her bags in the corner, greeting Juniper as she passed.

“Hello,” Juniper mumbled through her closed mouth. She was bent over, resting her face on her palm.

“What’s that?” Evie asked. She wasn’t bringing up the previous day, so Juniper counted that as a win. “Wait, is that a love letter?” she asked with a grin.

“What?” Juniper asked, jumping to alertness. “What? No, absolutely not,” she denied, flustered. “I just found this and was trying to figure out what it was. I think it’s some kind of code.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure,” Juniper said, offering Evie the note. She didn’t see any harm in a second opinion.

Evie regarded the note for a few seconds, then raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised this is stumping you, of all people.”

“What is it?” Juniper asked, slightly annoyed. How had Evie figured it out so quickly?

“Whatever you’re doing, you’re probably overthinking it. Think smaller. Closer.”

Juniper was about to protest that it wasn’t as obvious as Evie was making it out to be when the answer hit her in the face. She closed her eyes, dragging a palm over her face. “I’m so stupid.”

Evie grinned. “Happens to the best of us.”

The numbers were not a cipher, or an address, or coordinates–

Actually, they kind of were coordinates. Just not the kind Juniper had been thinking of. Instead, they were coordinates for–obviously–the filing scheme of the Skystrall Library. Which was pretty much Juniper’s second home at the academy.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” Juniper said. This is actually embarrassing.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Evie said solemnly, before breaking into giggles.

Juniper rolled her eyes, then sighed.

At least she’d figured this note out easily, even if she had help.

Now, she just needed to figure out why her mysterious watcher was sending her to find a book.