Chapter 15 — The Message in the Frost
Zamira's POV
The words on the fogged glass didn't move.
They didn't smear.
They didn't fade.
They just stared back at me — a sentence with no breath, no warmth, no hand to write it.
THE ENVOY NEVER REACHED KVARTOR.
My pulse stuttered. My hearing aid buzzed sharply in my ear, like a swarm of bees.
I blinked twice.
The message remained.
Rosalith's fingers tightened around mine, her touch cold. "Zamira… this isn't normal. Is someone playing with illusions?"
I swallowed. "If they are… they're very good."
Because the message didn't feel like magic performed by a student.
It felt older. Heavier.
Like the words had condensed out of the air itself.
I forced myself to look away, but the buzzing didn't stop. It grew louder, rising in my skull until the classroom blurred around the edges.
Professor Nahlil kept lecturing at the front, oblivious, droning on about the Second Breach of the Veiled Realms.
I clenched my eyes shut—
—but the buzzing kept rising—
—until it dissolved into something else.
Whispers.
Dozens of them.
Layered.
Indistinct.
Distant.
"…lost…"
"…cold…"
"…they never came…"
"…wrong path… wrong path…"
"…find the last one…"
I gasped, the sound barely escaping my throat.
My hand slipped from the desk; my breath hitched. Rosalith was instantly beside me, eyes wide.
"Zamira? Zamira, look at me. Hey—hey, breathe."
But the room felt like it was tilting. My vision shivered. The foggy window pulled at me, drawing me in, enlarging, expanding—
No.
Not expanding.
Opening.
A flash—
Snow.
Mountains.
A broken carriage.
A lantern flickering in the wind.
A crimson scarf half-buried in the ice.
And a man—his face turned away—kneeling in the snow with shaking hands, trying to write something before the cold swallowed him.
A single line in the frost.
"They didn't let us pass."
Then—
Darkness.
My head hit Rosalith's shoulder as the world snapped back into place. I sucked in a sharp breath, like someone had plunged me into a frozen lake.
"Zamira!" she whispered urgently, steadying me. "What happened? Talk to me."
I forced my eyes open. The classroom was normal again. Students scribbled lazily in their notebooks. No one else seemed to notice anything strange.
The fog on the window was gone.
The message was gone.
Only my own trembling remained.
Rosalith brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, looking terrified. "You didn't hear the professor. You just… checked out."
Checked out.
That was one way to put it.
"Did you see it?" I whispered.
She hesitated. "I saw the writing… but nothing else."
Of course she didn't.
Why would she?
These things always came to me.
The memories that weren't mine.
The dreams that weren't dreams.
The visions that felt like stolen echoes of other people's fear.
I swallowed the rising panic and tried to steady my voice.
"It wasn't an illusion," I whispered. "Someone was trying to send a message."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
I glanced at the now-clear window.
"But they're dying."
Rosalith's breath hitched. "The envoy?"
"Maybe the envoy. Maybe whoever went looking for him." I pressed a hand to my forehead. "But someone didn't reach Kvartor."
Rosalith looked around the room with growing dread. "Should we tell someone? A professor? The Headmistress?"
I shook my head sharply.
"No."
Her eyes widened. "Why not?"
Because I remembered the rule.
The one every student whispered about but no one wrote down:
Anyone who brings unwanted news into Qasratul Jinnan never leaves the same way they entered.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice to the faintest whisper.
"Because whatever is happening… the academy already knows about it."
Rosalith froze.
And for a long time, we just sat there, side by side, pretending to read ancient scrolls while the truth curled between us like smoke:
The envoy didn't disappear on the road.
He was stopped.
Blocked.
Turned away.
On purpose.
And whoever tried to warn us… had paid for it in blood and frost.
---
Rosalith didn't notice the ringing in my ear.
She never noticed.
No one ever did.
Because I trained myself to never flinch, never touch the hidden device under my hair, never let my face betray the storm behind my skull.
Instead, I forced the dizziness down, blinking as though I was only tired.
"Sorry," I whispered. "I'm fine. Just… dizzy."
Rosalith frowned. "You've been dizzy a lot lately."
"I don't sleep well," I lied. It came out too smoothly.
She sighed, linking her arm through mine as class dismissed. "You could tell me if something was wrong, you know."
I smiled weakly. "I promise, it's nothing."
If only that were true.
---
We walked down the long glass corridor, the winter sun spilling through the runed windows. Students chattered around us, laughing about exams, gossip, duels, and who got caught sneaking out last night.
Normal things.
Human things.
Meanwhile, my mind kept replaying the vision —
—snow—
—the broken carriage—
—the crimson scarf—
—the message smeared in frozen air.
My hearing steadied eventually, settling back into its usual muted, uneven filter. I pretended nothing was wrong. Always pretending.
Rosalith tugged my sleeve gently. "Come on. Let's go somewhere quiet."
She pulled me toward one of the small study courtyards — a round, open space filled with frostbitten vines and a fountain enchanted to never freeze.
The moment we sat on the stone bench, she turned to me.
"Zamira, what did you see?"
Her eyes were soft. Caring.
But caring was dangerous here.
I chose my words with care. "I saw… snow. A carriage. Someone injured. And a message written in the frost."
Rosalith swallowed. "From the envoy?"
"Maybe. But it wasn't just a picture. It felt like…" I hesitated, searching for the right word. "Like someone was begging."
Rosalith's brows drew together. "But how could a vision reach you here? Inside Qasratul Jinnan?" She lowered her voice. "This place blocks outside magic. Completely."
I nodded slowly. I knew.
And that was the problem.
"It wasn't a spell," I whispered. "It was a memory. A last thought. Something someone wrote right before…" I trailed off.
She didn't push me to finish.
We both sat in silence for a long moment, cold wind threading through the courtyard.
Finally, Rosalith whispered, "If the envoy never made it to Kvartor… then someone stopped him before the border."
"Yes."
"And if someone stopped him…"
"…they were close," I finished quietly. "Closer than anyone thinks."
Rosalith wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "Zamira… do you think we're safe here?"
I didn't answer.
Because safe was a word that didn't belong in Qasratul Jinnan.
Not for her.
Not for me.
Not for anyone who asked questions.
Finally, I said the only honest thing I could:
"We'll be safe if we act like we know nothing."
Rosalith nodded — slowly, reluctantly.
"Then," she whispered, "we keep this to ourselves."
"Just us."
She squeezed my hand.
And for the first time since the vision hit me, I didn't feel like I was drowning alone.
But the wind shifted — just slightly — and the fountain's reflection trembled.
As if something unseen had passed by.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
---
---
Rosalith and I sat in silence, letting the cold wind tug at our cloaks…
until the peace shattered with:
"HELLOOOO BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE WHO PROBABLY DIDN'T MISS ME."
Rami.
He barreled into the courtyard, sliding across a patch of ice, arms windmilling, nearly crashing into the fountain.
"Careful!" Rosalith squeaked.
"I'm ALWAYS careful," Rami declared proudly—
—and immediately slipped again.
I caught him by the sleeve before he face-planted.
He grinned at me like almost dying twice in ten seconds was perfectly normal.
"See? I was just testing your reflexes. You passed!"
Rosalith pinched the bridge of her nose. "Rami, what are you doing here? You almost broke your neck."
"That's what the neck is for," he said confidently.
"…to break?" Rosalith asked.
"I didn't think I'd be explaining anatomy today," he said, brushing imaginary snow off his shoulders. "Anyway! I came because everyone at lunch was depressed, and clearly you two needed my sunshine energy."
"We're not depressed," I said softly.
"You're literally sitting like you're planning your funerals."
Rosalith choked. "We're not—!"
"It's okay," Rami said, dropping onto the bench between us. "I'll cheer you up. Watch this."
He opened his hand dramatically.
Inside it was a lizard. A very fat lizard. Wearing a tiny paper hat.
"…Why," I whispered.
"His name is Sir Wigglesworth," Rami said proudly. "He is my emotional support reptile."
Rosalith stared. "Where did you even GET that?"
"I don't question where he comes from," Rami said gravely. "And neither should you."
Sir Wigglesworth blinked at us, hat slightly crooked.
Despite everything — the vision, the fear, the fogged message — I felt a small laugh escape my chest.
Rosalith laughed too.
And Rami lit up like he'd won a war.
"There it is!" he said triumphantly. "See? Happiness. You're welcome."
Rosalith shook her head fondly. "Rami… sometimes I think you're purposely insane."
"I'm not insane," he said, offended.
Then he paused.
"…I'm just narratively efficient."
We stared.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing." He quickly stuffed Sir Wigglesworth back into his pocket. "ANYWAY. What's going on with you two? You look like you saw a ghost."
Rosalith and I exchanged a quick glance.
We couldn't tell him.
Not here.
Not now.
Not ever, if we wanted him safe.
"We're fine," I said softly.
Rami narrowed his eyes. He wasn't stupid — chaotic, yes; stupid, no. Not when it came to us.
"You're lying," he said.
Rosalith tensed.
But he didn't push. Instead, he nudged my shoulder lightly. "If you ever want to talk… you know I'm not going anywhere, right?"
My chest tightened.
For all his jokes, for all his dramatic nonsense… Rami's loyalty was a force of nature.
"I know," I whispered.
He smiled. "Good. Because if someone's messing with you guys, I WILL fight them."
"You lose most of your fights," Rosalith pointed out.
"I win spiritually," Rami corrected.
I wasn't sure what that meant, but it was very Rami.
He stood, stretching. "Okay! Now, come on. Dinner time. And rumor says the kitchen accidentally made forty extra pies so we—"
"—are NOT stealing pies," Rosalith said firmly.
Rami gasped, betrayed. "Zamira, say something!"
I stood up. "We should not steal pies."
Rami pointed at me. "I expected that from Rosalith, but YOU? My own friend? My own sister in chaos?"
Despite myself, I smiled. "You started slipping on ice the moment you entered the courtyard, Rami. If you try to steal pies you'll set the academy on fire."
"Only a small fire," he muttered.
Rosalith looped her arm through mine again. "Come on. Let's go before it gets dark."
Rami rushed ahead dramatically, cloak flapping like a poorly trained bird. "TO THE DINING HALL! FOR GLORY! AND PIE!"
Rosalith sighed. "We're babysitting a menace."
"Two," I corrected softly.
Because even with Rami's jokes filling the hallway and Sir Wigglesworth's head poking out of his pocket…
the message from the frost still lingered in the back of my mind.
They didn't let us pass.
Who?
Why?
And how close were they now?
As we walked toward the dining hall, a shiver crawled down my spine.
Someone in this academy was watching.
And they'd seen the message too.
---