—Finn—
The second Alexia's magic tore through the courtyard, the world spun sideways. Green and gold light cracked the air like a supernova, and everything—wind, stone, instinct—reacted to her. I staggered back, shielding my eyes just in time to see her crumple. I should've been faster. But Asher was closer. That's the only reason he got to her first.
Still, I saw red. He lifted her—limp, unconscious, too pale—and vanished before her magic's last flickers burned out of the air. I clenched my fists, rage coiling like a storm inside me. That bastard better pray she's okay. Because if anything happens while she's with him, I'll end him. But first, there was other trash to take down.
Soren stood by a scorched patch of stone, pointing at the groaning students sprawled across the courtyard. "We warned these motherfuckers," he said, voice sharp as glass. "Touch Alexia Carter again, and you'll be lucky if all you deal with is us. She's under our protection."
"Why?!" a dragon shifter barked, voice cracking. "She's dangerous! Should be reported—could've killed someone!"
"I am fully aware of Miss Carter and her power."
Silence slammed down like a gavel. Headmistress Shade stepped into the courtyard, her presence slicing through tension like a blade. Black coat snapping, boots crunching gravel, her eyes froze the speaker in place.
"She's coming into her powers," Shade said. "New to this world. That's what Whisperwind is for—to guide those who haven't had the privilege of training. Just like each of you once were."
Her gaze swept the courtyard—fae, vampires, wolves, witches. No one met her eyes.
"This was not her fault," she said coolly. "And most of you know the consequences of harming a witch's familiar. Count yourselves lucky. It could've been far worse."
The courtyard was a ruin—charred grass, cracks in stone. The air still pulsed with wild magic, feral and raw. Even I felt it thrumming beneath my boots. Let them feel it. Let it sting.
A fae boy opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it when I locked eyes with him. Wise.
"If you'd paid attention in Magic Ethics," Soren drawled, "you'd know hurting a witch's familiar is a direct assault on her magic. It wasn't her attacking. It was her magic defending itself."
"Defending her soul," I added, voice flat and dangerous. "That wolf is more than a pet. He's part of her."
The crowd shifted, guilt souring the air. Still, no apologies. Typical.
A growl rose low in my chest, but Shade raised a hand.
"Finn," she said, calm but iron-edged, "where is Miss Carter now?"
I hesitated—only a second.
"She's in the garden," I said, steady. "It let her in. Shut the rest of us out."
A lie. But not a full one. The garden accepted her earlier, shielded her. But she wasn't there now. She was with Asher in the old infirmary—a place long forgotten, but not locked. And Asher—being Asher—knows how to slip through doors no one else notices. Her being alone with him? It sat wrong, like a blade under my skin.
The Headmistress tilted her head slightly, as if listening beyond this world. "The garden only opens for those who need peace," she murmured. "Or healing."
"Exactly," I said quickly, forcing the lie to settle like truth. "She's overwhelmed. Her magic's reacting, not lashing out. This all happened because someone attacked her familiar. Again."
That landed. I saw it in the shift of shoulders, the way some dropped their eyes. Shame was finally rooting.
Jasper spoke next, voice cold and crisp. "You're all so quick to call her unstable, but none of you asked why her magic surged. Zeus was attacked. She passed out. Trauma, not war."
Shade exhaled through her nose and folded her arms. "There will be no further consequences today. But let me be clear: anyone who harms Miss Carter—or her familiar—will deal with me. Personally."
No one argued. One by one, they trickled out—muted, ashamed. But not nearly enough. Soren caught my eye and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head. Not yet. When the last had left, Shade turned back to me.
"When she's ready," she said, "you'll bring her to me."
I nodded, expression unreadable. "Of course."
She watched me a beat longer—like she knew. Then turned and walked away, her cloak cracking like thunder. As soon as she was out of earshot, Jasper stepped in beside me.
"You lied."
"Obviously."
"She's not in the garden," Soren added, brushing soot from his coat. "You think she's safe with him?"
"She's safer there than here," I muttered. "But no. I don't think she's safe."
Soren's mouth twitched into an almost-smile. "You going after her?"
I didn't answer. I was already moving. I'd felt her magic tear through the world, and now all I felt was the hollow space she left behind. I needed to find her. And when I did? Asher and I were going to have a long, quiet conversation. One that ended with him understanding exactly how replaceable he was.
The old infirmary sat behind the west wing, where trees crowded the walls and moss ruled the stones. Whisperwind hadn't used it since the Healing Hall opened last year—but I never forgot it. None of us had. I barely glanced at Jasper before he followed. Soren came too, muttering something about keeping idiots from being dramatic, but I knew better. We were all drawn by the same pull. By her.
The door creaked open before I touched it. Of course, he was inside. I stepped into the dim hallway first, others flanking me. Dust floated in shafts of golden afternoon light slanting through broken windows. The scent of dried healing herbs clung to walls, mixed thick with her magic, wild and barely contained. Asher sat near the far bed, elbows on knees. Jacket tossed on a chair, jaw tight.
Alexia lay curled on the mattress behind him. Small. Pale. Still. Her hands curled protectively near her chest, like shielding even in sleep. Zeus nestled at her side, head on her legs, eyes half-lidded but alert. He looked at me and rumbled a low warning. Fair. I was still pissed. Asher turned but didn't stand.
"You finally figured it out."
"Didn't take much," I said low. "You always run to shadows when things get too bright."
His jaw twitched, but no bite back. Maybe he knew I wasn't in the mood for a fight. Or maybe—for once—he agreed.
"She collapsed," he said. "Didn't even fight it. One second burning, the next… gone."
I moved to the other side of the bed, opposite him. Gaze on her—the curve of brow, the slow rise and fall of chest.
"She shouldn't be alone."
"She's not," Soren said, posting near the window, arms crossed. "We're here."
"About damn time," Jasper muttered, conjuring a folded blanket and setting it gently over her legs. "She's freezing."
"Her magic's still fluctuating," Asher said. "Draining her while trying to repair itself."
I stared at her fingers twitching once, like reaching in a dream. For a second, I couldn't breathe.
"She's going to be okay," I said—more a promise than belief. "She has to be."
"Magic like hers doesn't break," Soren said. "It bends. Rewrites itself."
"Still hurts like hell," Asher added.
We fell into silence. Waiting. Holding breath underwater in the dark. Zeus nudged her hand with his nose. She didn't stir, but her fingers shifted slightly toward him.
"I don't think she remembers what she did," Jasper said quietly.
"Good," I murmured. "She doesn't need to carry that."
"She's stronger than we give her credit for."
"She's also one breath away from never trusting anyone again," I shot back.
And maybe that was what scared me the most. She was opening up—slowly, painfully, piece by piece. But it wouldn't take much to make her shut down again. This? This could slam every door she'd started to crack open. I sat on the bed's edge, just far enough not to touch her, close enough that if she reached out, I'd be there. "We stay."
Asher looked up. "Until she wakes?"
"Longer, if we have to."
No one argued. We stayed. Jasper whispered a quiet protection charm. Soren sat against the far wall, watching the ceiling like it might fall in. Asher hadn't moved—eyes locked on her face, jaw tight, regret across every line. Me? I watched her sleep. Because I needed to see her eyes open again. Hear her voice, even if angry or scared or confused.
She'd been wildfire—untamed, unafraid. Now she looked like ash. But even ash holds heat. And I would sit in the embers as long as it takes for her to rise again.