My breath caught. I hadn’t expected that.

  “I was hidden,” she went on, her hands wringing together. “Still am. If anyone found out who I really am… what I am… I’d be marked. Not just politically, but magically. You know how bloodlines work here.”

  I nodded slowly; the implications settling over me like dust. This wasn’t just a shared curiosity. Mika had skin in the game—blood and history and secrets so dangerous they could crack this place open.

  And now I did too.

  The confession unfurled like a long-suppressed whisper—tender, aching, and too heavy to float for long. Mika’s voice had trembled only slightly, but the truth in her words echoed through the room like a bell tolling secrets too sacred for daylight.

  Her heritage wasn’t just a hidden detail—it was a quiet war she fought alone. And now that war was partially mine, too.

  “Does Levi know?” I asked, my voice low, like I was afraid the question itself might expose her.

  Mika’s lashes flickered as she nodded. “He knew the moment he saw me,” she said. “He trained with Elysia. They were part of the same unit for a while.”

  She paused, toying with the edge of her sleeve. “He’s gruff, yeah—but he looked at me like he’d seen a ghost. I think… I think he loved her.”

  A hollow note rang in my chest. “I thought he might be in love with you.”

  Her laugh was small and wistful, tinged with disbelief. “Me? No. Levi’s… untouchable. He has a reputation. He’s the youngest Guardian to lead his own squad. He follows protocol like it’s religion. He’d never fall for a student. Especially not the messy little sister of a Guardian who vanished without a trace.”

  “You’re beautiful,” I said quietly—like it was just a fact, a truth anyone could see.

  Mika’s expression softened, gratitude flickering behind her eyes. “Thanks, Elara. But Levi doesn’t care about beauty. He respects order. Precision. He likes women who sharpen like blades under pressure—not ones who crumble under the weight of their own secrets.”

  Her gaze swept across her room—the notes strewn across her desk, the crooked stack of books, the empty tea cup staining a napkin. “Look at this place,” she murmured, gesturing half-heartedly. “It’s chaos. I’m chaos. He deserves someone… easier.”

  I didn’t agree. But I didn’t interrupt.

  “And sometimes I think the only reason he’s even nice to me,” she added softly, “is because I remind him of her.”

  I heard the question buried in her words—the quiet ache of wondering if she could ever be more than a memory’s echo.

  “Has he said anything about Elysia?” I asked.

  Mika shook her head. “Nothing real. He holds it all tight. Like if he lets it out, it’ll fall apart.” A bitter smile tugged at her lips. “Or maybe he’s protecting me from something I don’t want to know.”

  A familiar ache stirred in my chest. It was what Toru had done, wasn’t it? Withheld things, not out of cruelty—but out of some misguided belief that silence was mercy.

  My mouth went dry.

  “Why did you tell me?” I asked. “Your secret. Why trust me?”

  Mika looked at me for a long time. No smile. Just quiet honesty.

  “Because I see it in you,” she said. “The same kind of silence. The kind that comes from hiding something that could get you killed.”

  She turned to the window, where the sky had gone obsidian and still. “It’s blood magic, right?”

  The breath caught in my throat.

  “What… how do you⁠—?”

  She didn’t look at me. “Because I have it too.”

  Thirty-Two

  I blinked.

  I must have misheard her… right?

  But Mika didn’t flinch. Didn’t backtrack. Her calm, almost wistful expression remained steady, like she’d been carrying this truth for far too long—and was relieved to finally set it down.

  “You have blood magic too?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended, hushed like speaking it any louder would make the walls turn against us.

  Mika gave a small, knowing smile. “I figured you did,” she said simply. “The way your power exploded in class, how it came late and wild—yeah. I’ve seen it before. In myself.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Others wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t dare assume it. But me? I’ve lived it.”

  The air seemed thinner. Like her admission had punctured a seal I didn’t realize I’d put around myself. “I didn’t think anyone else had put it together,” I said, voice unsteady. “I’ve tried so hard to hide it.”

  Her eyes met mine, soft but steady. “Of course you did. So did I. You don’t exactly throw around something like blood magic in casual conversation. Not here.”

  “No,” I agreed, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. “You really don’t.”

  For a beat, we sat in silence—me, reeling from the confirmation that I wasn’t alone, and her, like she’d finally been seen.

  “The fact that there are two of us here…” I trailed off, fingers tightening in my lap. “That’s not just chance, is it? I mean, it feels too… intentional.”

  “I thought that too,” Mika said. “At first, I kept waiting for the trapdoor to open—some grand reason we were both brought here. But if there is one, I haven’t found it yet. And honestly?” She gave a shrug, light but not careless. “This place still beats being home.”

  There was something brittle in her smile. Too bright. Too clean.

  I didn’t press her, even though I wanted to. Instead, I offered a softer truth. “Is it awful that I’m relieved? That I’m not the only one?”

  Her smile wavered—this one real, if small. “Not awful,” she whispered. “Just human.”

  I let out a slow breath. The tension in my shoulders eased, just a little. Somehow, in this web of secrets and sharpened edges, I’d found someone who understood. Someone whose shadow mirrored my own.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” she said, the edge in her tone softer than usual, cautious. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me.”

  There was a brief hesitation—like she was weighing how much to say, or whether to say it at all. Then, more gently:

  “After Elysia passed… I went through her room. At home. I found her date book. She was supposed to meet Toru.”

  The words hit me square in the chest, like a gust of wind that stole the breath from my lungs.

  “I… I didn’t know about that,” I said, too quickly. My thoughts scrambled, trying to make sense of it, to absorb the implications.

  I had talked to Toru. I’d tried. But whatever had happened that day, he’d shut it down, shut me out.

  “He doesn’t want me looking into it,” I murmured, my voice tight. “He said it’s dangerous.”

  Mika let out a slow sigh, the kind that sounded like surrender. “Yeah.” Her eyes met mine—open, honest, tired. There was something in her expression that mirrored how I felt.

  But surrender was something I wasn’t ready for.

  “I’m still going to figure it out,” I told her, the words coming out firmer than I expected. “She was a Guardian. If you have your stone, no one should be able to touch you, let alone⁠—”

  I stopped. I didn’t need to finish the sentence. We both knew what I meant.

  Mika leaned in, her voice barely a breath. “The Sagittarius stone is gone.”

  She looked at me like she was telling me a secret the world wasn’t supposed to know.

  “That’s what makes it so strange. The stone is missing, Elara. Someone stole it.”

  My stomach flipped. A cold sensation crawled up the back of my neck. Guardians were sacred. Their stones—sacrosanct. If someone had managed to take one, it meant… everything we thought was safe, wasn’t.

  “But who would do that?” I asked, the question trembling at the edges. “Why?”

  Mika’s gaze darkened, her brows drawn together. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But there’s a history to this kind of thing.”

  She exhaled, and something about the weight in her tone told me she wasn’t just guessing.

  “A century ago, a Guardian was killed. You’ve heard of the Stellar Nexus, right?”

  I frowned. The name was familiar—but in the way that bedtime legends were familiar. “That’s just a myth,” I said cautiously, though doubt was already creeping in.

  Mika shook her head. “It’s not. It’s real. The Stellar Nexus is the convergence of all twelve stones—the embodiment of celestial balance. It’s been hidden for centuries, but when it reappears…”

  She looked at me then, her voice steady despite the enormity of what she was saying.

  “…that’s when the Zodiac Guardian is supposed to awaken. The one who unites all twelve.”

  I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

  The room felt smaller somehow, the walls of the academy pressing in with the weight of buried secrets and broken myths.

  If the Nexus was real… if Elysia had been targeted because of it…

  Then I wasn’t just chasing answers anymore.

  I was stepping into something ancient, dangerous, and written in the stars.

  A chill crawled up my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake as Mika’s words settled like a shadow across my mind. “Apparently, the last time, the Shadows of Desolation managed to corrupt the Guardians,” she said, her voice heavy with the burden of knowledge. “They started killing each other from the inside out.”

  The thought sent a shiver straight through me. I swallowed hard. “What if this is history repeating itself?” I whispered, the weight of it all pressing against my chest.

  The possibility twisted in my gut—a gnawing, ancient dread. If the Shadows had returned, if they were slipping through cracks in our ranks, then everything we knew was already compromised. The fate of Serendal… maybe it was already unraveling.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Mika admitted, her voice quiet but firm. “There’ve been wars before. There’s always someone after the stones. And until the Stellar Nexus is formed, it’s just going to keep happening.”

  Her words drew a bleak picture—an endless loop of destruction, like we were all caught in some celestial game doomed to repeat. “Maybe my sister was trying to find the Stellar Nexus,” she said next, her expression caught somewhere between hope and heartbreak. “Maybe she was close. And maybe that’s why she was taken.”

  I turned the thought over in my mind, anxiety curling in my stomach. “Maybe,” I echoed. “But then why wouldn’t the school say anything?”

  She scoffed, shaking her head. “Because they don’t want anyone to panic. They need everyone to show up, keep going to class—because if there is another war, and there will be, they need soldiers.”

  I stared at her, trying to piece it all together. The administration’s silence, the secrecy, the increasing tension between factions. “Is that why Toru’s with the Royals?”

  Mika nodded. “Exactly.”

  I blinked. “How do you even know all of this?”

  She hesitated, then dropped her gaze. “My father,” she said quietly. “He knows everything. He collects secrets the way other people collect stones. That’s what makes him so dangerous. It’s why I can’t tell anyone who I really am—because he could ruin my mother.”

  Her confession hung between us, thick and sharp-edged. A thousand questions formed at once, but only one made it to my lips. “Do you think he knows what happened to Elysia?”

  Mika’s eyes widened, surprise flickering behind them. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “But if anyone does, it’s him. Maybe I can find out when I go home for the Solstice.”

  I nodded, trying to ground myself. My mind raced. Secrets, stones, old wars, missing girls—every thread seemed to tangle around the next.

  Mika turned to me, her expression suddenly focused. “Do you have access to Toru’s room?” she asked.

  The question caught me off guard, and heat flushed my cheeks. “Why?” I asked, my voice hitching slightly.

  “It’s the perfect time to check his room,” Mika pressed, her tone sharp with urgency. “There might be something—anything—that points to what happened to my sister.”

  The suggestion landed like a stone in my stomach.

  Search Toru’s room?

  The very thought sent a jolt through me. It hadn’t even crossed my mind, and now that it had, it rattled me. The idea felt intrusive, like stepping over a line I wasn’t sure I could uncross. Toru’s space was sacred to him—private, orderly, untouched by anyone but him. And yet… the need to know what happened to Elysia loomed large enough to blur the boundaries I once held.

  I stared at Mika, torn between a loyalty that rooted me and a desperation that tugged me forward. She must’ve seen it, the war behind my eyes.

  “I hate to ask,” she said quietly, her voice softer now. “I don’t want to put you in a bad spot, really. But you’re the only one who could do this.”

  My throat felt tight.

  “Toru might know something,” she added. “And that meeting—who knows what it’s really about?”

  She wasn’t wrong. He had been acting strange. Distant. Guarded. Every time I asked him about Elysia, he deflected or shut down. No explanations. No reassurances. Just that look—that careful, protective look like I was glass he didn’t want to shatter. But that’s just it. He didn’t see me as a partner. He saw me as something fragile. Something to keep in the dark.

  His silence hadn’t just confused me. It had cut deep.

  Mika, sensing my hesitation, started to backpedal. “If it’s too much—forget it. I’ll figure out another way. Don’t put yourself in the middle if it’ll mess things up between you two.”

  But the seed had already taken root. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was being kept from me—and not just by the school. By him. Toru. The one person I trusted the most.

  And if he really was hiding something?

  That thought alone made my skin crawl.

  “No,” I said finally, the word coming out harder than I meant it to. I met her eyes. “I’ll do it.”

  Mika didn’t say anything for a moment. But I saw the relief flicker across her face. And beneath it, a silent thank-you she didn’t know how to speak out loud.

  Still, as the promise settled in my chest, I felt the chill of what I’d just agreed to. Crossing into Toru’s space. Digging through his things. Risking what little trust still stood between us.

  But I couldn’t turn back now.

  If he wouldn’t let me in, I’d have to find my own way in.

  Even if it meant breaking the rules—and his trust—to finally uncover the truth.

  Thirty-Three

  The dining hall buzzed around me—laughter, clinking silverware, the warm hum of conversation that usually made this place feel like home. But tonight, it barely registered. I sat across from Vespera, picking at my food, my mind spiraling with secrets I couldn’t share and plans I wasn’t proud of. The scent of roasted herbs and fresh bread drifted through the air, but I couldn’t stomach a single bite.

  Vespera watched me with her usual sharp gaze, the kind that saw far more than I wanted her to. “You’ve barely touched your plate,” she said, her tone gentle but laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

  I looked down, guilt already bubbling beneath my ribs. “Just not feeling great,” I said quickly, offering a weak smile. “Probably something I ate earlier. I think I’ll turn in early.”

  She didn’t buy it. But instead of pushing, she leaned forward, her voice softer now. “Lar… you know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

  And there it was—that quiet, unwavering loyalty of hers. It only made the guilt worse. I was keeping her in the dark. I hated it. But what was I supposed to say? Hey Ves, I’m planning to sneak into my husband’s room tonight and look for clues because I think he’s lying to me and may know something about Elysia’s death?

  “I know,” I murmured, barely getting the words out. “And I do appreciate it. Really.”

  She reached across the table and gave my hand a light squeeze, warm and steady. “Whatever this is… you’ll get through it. You always do.”

  That nearly broke me. Vespera had always believed in me. She was constant. Solid. And lying to her felt like I was slicing through the one thread holding me steady.

  We stood to leave, and she gave me a worried glance, like she wanted to say more but didn’t. I couldn’t look back. Not when I was about to do something that might destroy everything I thought I knew.

  The halls were dim, moonlight catching on polished stone and casting long, eerie shadows. They followed me like ghosts as I made my way back to my room, each step heavier than the last.

  Once inside, I didn’t turn on the light. I just stood there, still in my boots, staring out the window. The institute looked peaceful from up here—quiet, disciplined, safe. But I knew better now. There were cracks in the foundation. And I was about to chip at one of them.

  The clock on the wall ticked softly, marking the minutes like a countdown. I waited, pacing in slow, careful lines, every nerve on edge. My palms were damp. My mind raced.

  Toru didn’t want me involved. That much was clear. But this wasn’t about disobedience. It wasn’t about rebellion. It was about Elysia. About truth. About the weight of silence pressing down on all of us.

  I took a deep breath.

  Then I turned, grabbed my cloak, and slipped into the hallway.

  Tonight, I wasn’t just a wife or a student.

  I was a girl chasing ghosts.

  And I wouldn’t stop until I found one.

  My heart thundered in my chest as I moved through the dim, unfamiliar corridors. The professors’ wing was set apart from the rest of the Institute, intentionally secluded. Students weren’t meant to be here, not without a summons. It made each shadow feel deeper, every silence more accusing.

  I turned a corner—and froze.

  Someone was coming.

  My body reacted before my brain did, pressing me flat against the wall, breath caught in my throat. Long, graceful strides. A familiar shimmer of presence. Lyra Nightshade.