A chill crept down Vesper’s spine. “Ember mentioned magical disturbances in the outer districts.”

  “Ah.” Ash’s expression darkened. “I was wondering when we’d get to that.” He carefully closed the ancient tome, dust motes dancing in the dim light. “The mages are searching for something. Something powerful enough to make them risk open warfare in the streets of Nightreach.”

  “What are they looking for?”

  “Two things, it seems. Your grimoire and an ancient artefact called the Echo.” Ash’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Your grimoire… The binding marks, the shadow magic traces—they all point to someone trying to locate it. Someone powerful enough to make the mage factions work together. Presumably D’Arco, since he was rumoured to be searching for artefacts before he was banished.”

  The Echo. Rafe had mentioned it before, but she’d been too caught up in the whirlwind of her emerging magic and the Concordat trials to even remember it.

  “The Echo?” Her voice wavered. “I thought it was just a story.”

  “Most think it’s an urban legend.”

  “But you don’t?” When he nodded, she asked, “What is it, exactly?”

  “The Echo is a repository of magical memories that has the power to reshape reality itself. The sort of thing that belongs in fairy tales, not serious magical discourse. Have you heard of the Arcana?”

  “Arcana,” she murmured. “In tarot⁠—”

  “No, the Arcana is a trove of magical relics. Powerful, dangerous, and lost. The Echo is said to be one of them.”

  The crystal at Vesper’s throat grew warmer as understanding bloomed. If the Echo truly held such power over memories and magic, no wonder everyone wanted to find it. No wonder they’d attack a library, coordinate across factions, risk exposure.

  Her stomach twisted. As a Resonant, she possessed a natural connection to magical frequencies—including, potentially, the Echo itself. The thought settled like lead in her gut. She couldn’t hide her abilities forever. Someone would notice the opalescent sheen of her magic, the way she seemed to instinctively understand magic. The trials would expose her eventually, and the third trial was the last.

  And so, the game was revealed. This was what Selene had died for? The Echo?

  “What’s your stake in all this?” Vesper met Ash’s steady gaze. “Why tell me?”

  Ash’s lips quirked into a sheepish smile. “Truthfully? I’d love another chance to study that grimoire. The academic possibilities alone…” He shrugged. “But it wouldn’t matter, even if you handed it over right now. The grimoire’s chosen you. It would never yield its secrets to me.”

  His honesty surprised her. Most people she’d met in Nightreach seemed to operate through layers of ulterior motives and hidden agendas. Ash’s straightforward admission felt refreshingly genuine. The shop’s shadows felt less threatening now, more like silent witnesses to the weight of her decision.

  But Vesper’s hand went back to her dagger all the same. Ash knew. He knew what she was. He’d basically told her without saying the words outright.

  “If you’re telling me all of this, then you understand what I’ve been going through,” she said, meeting his gaze. “You know why the grimoire chose me.”

  Ash nodded once, his expression falling to her hand.

  “Then you also know I need help preparing for the third trial,” she went on. “Not just magical practice—I need the academic side, the theory. Things that might hint at what they’ll throw at me…and how to protect myself.”

  Ash’s grey eyes studied her, calculating. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the waking Bizarre filtering through the shop’s walls.

  “There are things you’re not telling me.” His voice carried no accusation, just quiet certainty.

  Vesper met his gaze. “Yes. Just as there are things you’re holding back.”

  “Fair enough.” A slight smile tugged at his lips. “But if I agree, this stays between us. The fewer people who know⁠—”

  “Except Rafe,” Vesper cut in. “I won’t lie to him, not about this. The Concordat named him as my mentor. There’s no way around it, even if I wanted to.”

  Ash’s eyebrows rose. “Even after he kept D’Arco’s connection from you?”

  “I’ll handle Rafe.” The words came out sharper than she intended.

  “Very well.” Ash extended his hand across the counter. “Partners in research, then?”

  Vesper clasped his hand. The moment felt heavier than a simple agreement—like stepping through a doorway that would vanish behind her.

  “Partners,” she agreed. “But if you⁠—”

  “You’ll gut me like a fish. Got it.”

  Vesper smiled, letting his hand go. She’d never gutted anyone, let alone a fish, but he didn’t need to know that. “I need to get back.”

  The Echo. A repository of magical memories powerful enough to reshape reality. No wonder the mages fought over it, no wonder Selene⁠—

  Her throat tightened. Had Selene known? Had she recognised Vesper’s dormant Resonant abilities and deliberately planted that grimoire, knowing it would awaken her powers? The thought of her friend manipulating events, even in death, sent a chill through her bones. But she couldn’t believe that Selene had any other motive but to safeguard any potential Resonants and the Echo.

  And now it was looking more and more like Selene’s killer was D’Arco himself, or someone working for him. All she needed was proof. Then she’d make them pay.

  “Thank you, Ash.” She pulled Rafe’s jacket tighter. “For telling me the truth. About D’Arco, about everything.”

  Ash nodded, his grey eyes sympathetic. “Be careful who you trust with this information. Even within the Concordat.”

  The warning hung between them. If the Concordat discovered her Resonant nature, would they protect her from the mages hunting the Echo—or use her themselves? The third trial loomed ahead, a perfect opportunity to expose her.

  “The shop’s always open if you need somewhere quiet to study.” Ash gestured at the towering shelves. “Away from prying eyes.”

  Vesper’s hand found the crystal pendant at her throat. Everyone wanted something from her—the mages, the Concordat, even Rafe with his secrets about his fractured memories. Only Ash had been honest about his motives, academic curiosity and all.

  “I appreciate it.” She meant it, even as isolation settled deeper in her chest. The weight of secrets pressed down on her, the list growing longer with each passing day. What a mess. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “And I’ll be here.”

  The brass bell chimed as Vesper stepped out into the already buzzing Bizarre.

  She pressed herself against the weathered stone facade of Brigue & Sons, heart thundering in her chest. The world felt distant and hollow, as if someone had drawn a shroud across the marketplace.

  Through gaps in the early morning crowd, a flash of deep blue caught her eye. The exact shade Marina favoured, complete with silver threading that caught what little light filtered down to the street. Vesper’s fingers found her dagger’s hilt, but as the figure drew closer, details emerged that marked them as distinctly not Marina. The walk was wrong—too rigid, lacking the witch’s fluid grace. The cloak’s hem dragged slightly on the cobbles, something a vain woman like Marina would never allow.

  Vesper eased deeper into the shadow of the doorway, letting the darkness wrap around her. The crystal at her throat remained cool, offering no warning of immediate danger. Still, she held her breath as the blue-cloaked figure passed within arm’s reach.

  Only when the figure disappeared into the crowd did Vesper dare move. Each shadow between her and the townhouse held new meaning. Every corner could hide someone working for D’Arco, every alley might harbour Marina’s spies. Mages, witches, murders…

  Vesper began picking her way through the Bizarre, keeping to the edges where shadows ran deepest.

  She’d changed. Grown. And was no longer afraid…but enraged.

  Chapter 13

  Rafe rapped his knuckles against Vesper’s bedroom door, the sound echoing through the empty hallway.

  His magic churned beneath his skin, dark and volatile after yesterday’s row with Vesper. The memory of their argument left a bitter taste in his mouth. She’d been reckless during the trial, deliberately sabotaging her work to hide her abilities. Didn’t she understand the danger she was in?

  “Vesper?” His voice came out rougher than intended. “Time for training.”

  Silence greeted him. Not even the rustle of bedsheets or the soft padding of feet across floorboards.

  “Come on, we haven’t got all morning.” He knocked again, harder this time, his knuckles stinging against the wood.

  Still nothing.

  A tendril of unease crept up his spine. He grabbed the handle, twisted, and pushed the door open. Morning light spilled across rumpled bedsheets, but the room was empty. No sign of Vesper.

  Rafe’s heart skipped. He stepped into the room, magic already flowing through him. The air held only stale traces of her power, hours old at least.

  “Bloody hell.” He strode to the window—locked from the inside. The wards he’d placed around the house remained intact, undisturbed. But Vesper was gone.

  His magic surged, darker than before, responding to the spike of panic in his chest. After everything he’d done to keep her safe, all the warnings about the dangers lurking in Nightreach, she’d simply vanished?

  Rafe’s gaze swept the room, searching for any clue to her whereabouts. Her boots were missing from beside the bed, but the grimoire still sat on her desk.

  She’d left voluntarily then. Sometime in the night, while he’d been sleeping. After their argument, after he’d lost control of his magic in front of her, she’d chosen to go out alone rather than trust him.

  He stormed out of her room and down the stairs. One of his jackets was missing from the rack by the door.

  Rafe burst onto the cobbled street, his boots striking the uneven stones as he broke into a run. Dawn painted Nightreach in muted greys and purples, the magical city still shaking off the night. Shops were still closed, their awnings furled tight against the morning chill.

  His magic pulsed erratically, darker than ever. Each surge sent warning tingles through his fingers, but he couldn’t afford to stop and centre himself. Not with Vesper missing. If someone had lured her away…

  Rafe cut through a series of narrow alleys, past sleeping shopfronts where magical items dimmed behind dusty windows. The routes between threads were shorter at this hour, before the city fully awakened and stretched into its daily configurations. Did she even know how the city changed at night? How the spires stretched taller in summer and shrunk in winter?

  A group of early-rising witches scattered from his path as he rounded a corner at full tilt. Their startled exclamations faded behind him as he vaulted over a low wall, landing in one of Nightreach’s suspended gardens. The floating pathway offered a direct line to Hampstead Heath, though its translucent surface did nothing to calm his churning stomach.

  Images of Vesper flashed through his mind—alone in the pre-dawn streets, vulnerable to the shadow creatures that had already tried to take her. Cornered by the mages who’d ambushed them in the Bizarre. Or worse, accidentally fallen into the Fold again.

  His fingers curled into fists. If anything happened to her because he’d pushed her away…

  The bitter wind cut through his coat, carrying the metallic tang of old magic that always surrounded Thornhallow. But beneath it, something else caught his attention—a familiar scent of metal and citrus that marked Vesper’s unique magical signature.

  She’d definitely passed this way, and recently. Rafe picked up his pace, following the trace of her power through the twisting streets of Nightreach until he found a doorway that would take him the rest of the way.

  Rafe burst through the portal onto the dew-slicked magenta grass of Hampstead Heath. The early morning mist clung to the ground, transforming Thornhallow Manor into a looming shadow against the pale sky. His magic roiled beneath his skin, darker and more volatile with each passing minute.

  The ancient wards around the manor hummed as he approached, recognising his magical signature. Two guards stood at attention beside the wrought-iron gates, their silver-threaded uniforms marking them as members of the Concordat’s security force.

  “Thorne.” The taller guard nodded, his hand relaxing on his staff. “Bit early for a visit.”

  “Have you seen Vesper Ainsley?” Rafe’s voice came out sharp, betraying his anxiety. “She might have come through here in the last few hours.”

  The guards exchanged glances. “No sign of her,” the shorter one said. “We’ve been here since midnight. Nobody’s passed except the usual patrol changes.”

  Rafe cursed under his breath. He’d been so certain he’d tracked her magical signature in this direction. But if she hadn’t come to Thornhallow, then where was she?

  “You sure?” He pressed, scanning the grounds behind them. “She might have used a different entrance⁠—”

  “All entrances are warded and monitored,” the taller guard cut in. “If she’d crossed onto Thornhallow grounds, we’d know.”

  Rafe’s magic surged, sending dark sparks cascading from his fingers. The guards tensed, hands tightening on their staffs, but he forced his power back down.

  “Right.” He stepped back, his mind already racing through other possibilities. Perhaps she’d gone to the Bizarre. He ought to try there, next.

  Rafe turned from the gates, his magic still crackling beneath his skin. The sound of soft footsteps on the dewy grass made him pause.

  The guards eased the gates open, letting through a single witch. Marina glided towards him, her blue cloak catching the pale morning light. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders, not a strand out of place despite the early hour.

  “Rafe?” Concern creased her brow as she approached. “What brings you here at this hour?”

  His jaw clenched. “I’m looking for Vesper.”

  “Vesper? Is she missing?” Marina’s perfectly painted lips formed a small ‘o’ of surprise. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, and warmth spread from her touch, easing the chaotic swirl of his magic. “What happened?”

  The whispers that had plagued him since their conversation about his past grew stronger, darker. He should have known better than to leave Vesper alone after their argument. Should have placed stronger wards, kept closer watch. She was too new to this world, too reckless with her own safety.

  “We had a disagreement.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth. “She was gone when I went to check on her this morning.”

  Marina’s fingers tightened slightly on his arm. “Oh, Rafe. You mustn’t blame yourself. Some people simply aren’t suited to the responsibilities that come with power. Perhaps she wasn’t ready for the burden you’ve placed on her shoulders. The trials do take their toll.”

  The whispers agreed, wrapping around his thoughts like smoke. He’d pushed too hard, expected too much. Asked her to hide her true nature while throwing her into trials that could expose everything.

  “I should have protected her better,” he muttered, the darkness in his magic responding to his guilt.

  “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Marina’s fingers trailed down Rafe’s arm, leaving trails of warmth that seemed to sink beneath his skin. His magic responded, the darkness within it purring at her touch. The sensation felt familiar, comforting—like falling into a dream he couldn’t quite remember.

  “Walk with me,” Marina murmured, guiding him through the gates and into Thornhallow’s grounds. “The gardens are lovely at dawn.”

  Rafe followed, his feet moving of their own accord across the dew-dampened grass. Marina’s magic wrapped around him like a blanket, soft and heavy. The churning anxiety about Vesper’s disappearance began to blur at the edges. She’d come back when she was ready.

  “You know,” Marina’s voice floated through the morning mist, “I’ve seen this before. Young practitioners, overwhelmed by their sudden power, seeking out…dangerous knowledge.”

  The whispers in Rafe’s mind grew louder, echoing Marina’s words. Had he noticed how often Vesper disappeared into her books? How much she’d been studying the grimoire…

  “She has access to your home now,” Marina continued, her fingers still resting on his arm. “To your research, your artefacts. Everything you’ve gathered about your family’s disappearance.”

  The darkness in his magic swirled faster, feeding on his doubts. Images flashed through his mind—Vesper studying his books, approaching the warded room, asking about his past.

  “And that grimoire she carries…” Marina’s magic coiled around his consciousness like silk ribbons. “Such power could be tempting. Especially to someone so new to our world.”

  “But she doesn’t have a grimoire,” he lied.

  “Doesn’t she? I find that hard to believe.”

  Rafe tried to focus, to separate his thoughts from the whispers, but he was exhausted by Vesper’s drama. Everything felt distant, hazy, except for Marina’s voice and the growing certainty that he’d been blind to the dangers Vesper posed.

  “After all,” Marina’s words dripped like honey, “how well do you really know her?”

  Vesper slipped through the front door of the townhouse, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. Pale morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the wooden floors.

  The house was silent. Rafe wasn’t here.

  Her heart lifted for a moment—she needed time to think, to process everything Ash had told her about the ominous Lucian D’Arco and the Echo. An argument was coming, but she had to have a clear head before then.

  Across the lounge room, the door to Rafe’s warded room beckoned. Squaring her shoulders, she crossed over to it and pressed her palm against the magical barrier, feeling it yield to her touch. The wards acknowledged her presence now, though she hadn’t ventured beyond them before, save for when she’d put the grimoire in there.