“It is.” Vesper stepped closer, close enough that he could see the flecks of silver in her eyes. “Don’t you deserve answers?”

  The scent of wild magic clung to her skin, mixing with the earthier notes of the forest. His own magic stirred in response, reaching for hers without conscious thought. The connection between them hummed with possibility and danger in equal measure.

  “What if the answers make things worse?” The fear he’d buried for years clawed its way up his throat. “What if there’s a good reason I can’t remember?”

  Vesper’s expression softened, but her voice remained firm. “What if there’s a reason you should?”

  She was right. The gaps in his memory had shaped every decision, every relationship, every moment since he’d arrived in Millbrook. Not knowing felt like walking through fog—each step uncertain, guided by shadows and half-truths.

  His feelings for Vesper twisted in his chest. The way his magic reached for hers, how his heart quickened at her touch—were those responses genuine? Or had something, or someone, orchestrated their connection? The thought unsettled him. Perhaps it was a good thing he’d kept his distance and never acted on the pull between them.

  “Keep your distance,” he said, looking up at her.

  He left Vesper in the forest, striding towards the cottage. Magic crackled beneath his skin as anger rose, hot and sharp. He’d had enough.

  The cottage door groaned under his grip as he shoved it open. Familiar scents washed over him—burning wood, ageing parchment, the herbs Aldrick always kept drying by the windows.

  Aldrick sat at the dining table, hunched over a collection of old books with fraying spines. His fingers traced patterns across yellowed pages, but the slight hesitation in his movements betrayed his awareness of Rafe’s presence.

  Rafe’s hands trembled as they pressed against the wooden table. Books shifted beneath his palms, their spines creaking in protest. Still, Aldrick didn’t acknowledge him.

  “The pendant I wore when you found me,” Rafe said. “The one with the symbol. You knew what it meant, didn’t you? All these years, watching me search for answers about my past…you knew.”

  Finally, Aldrick looked up. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper than usual, his expression unreadable. “What makes you think that?”

  “The grimoire.” Rafe’s fingers curled against the wood. “It showed Vesper the same symbol…right after you baited her into opening it.” His chest tightened at the memory of the pendant slipping from his grasp, another piece of his past lost. “Stop hiding behind your lessons. Tell me what you know about who I was.”

  Something flickered across Aldrick’s face. Too quick to catch, but enough to confirm Rafe’s suspicions. The old mage knew more than he’d ever admitted.

  “Who were my family?” Rafe pressed closer, voice dropping. “Why can’t I remember them?”

  Aldrick set his quill down with deliberate care. “Some questions are better left unanswered.”

  “Not this time.” Magic crackled between Rafe’s fingers, responding to his anger. “No more riddles. No more protection. I deserve to know the truth. Why me? Why her?” His heart leapt, beating a painful rhythm.

  Aldrick rose from the table, shoving the chair back. The air grew thick, heavy with the crushing weight of his magic. Rafe’s own power stirred in response, but he held it in check. Just.

  Not even the barest hint of surprise crossed Aldrick’s face. No telltale twitch or shift of gaze. Nothing. The complete absence of reaction hit harder than any denial could have.

  Aldrick knew the truth. He’d always known.

  Rafe’s fingers dug into the table’s edge until splinters threatened to break skin. The cottage walls seemed to press closer, filled with memories that suddenly felt tainted. Here was where he’d learned his first spell. There was where Aldrick had praised his progress. All of it built on lies.

  “You were never going to tell me.” Rafe’s voice came out quiet, controlled despite the magic crackling beneath his skin. He straightened, letting go of the table. “All these years, watching me search for answers about my past. Teaching me. Training me.” His throat tightened around the words. “And you knew.”

  The weight of betrayal dug deep. This man had been the closest thing to family he’d known. Had filled the void left by memories he couldn’t reach.

  “You didn’t want me to go to Nightreach because that’s where the Echo was.” He scoffed. “Vesper is linked to it. Where I came from… I’m not a Resonant, I know that, but…” He looked up, his eyes wide. “It’s magic has touched me before, hasn’t it?”

  Aldrick’s magic surged, but still he neither confirmed nor denied.

  “If you won’t give us answers, there’s no reason for Vesper and I to stay.” Rafe lifted his chin. “We’ll find the fragments without you. What happens then…it’ll be her choice.”

  Something shifted in Aldrick’s expression. It wasn’t quite anger, but a darkness that made Rafe’s magic stir uneasily.

  “Where is the pendant now?” Aldrick’s voice dropped low, sharp edges hidden beneath the quiet tone.

  Rafe met his gaze without flinching. “I traded it so we could find the Echo.”

  “You fool,” Aldrick hissed. His hands trembled, knuckles white against the table’s edge. “That pendant was your only connection—your only link to who you were. And you traded it away like it meant nothing?”

  Rafe’s jaw tightened until pain shot through his temples. His own magic rose to meet Aldrick’s, the two men a hair’s breadth away from physical blows. “If it was so important, why didn’t you tell me? All these years, watching me wonder about it. Letting me think it was just another dead end. Why?”

  Aldrick watched him, eyes dark with an emotion Rafe couldn’t name.

  Then Aldrick turned away. His footsteps echoed against the floorboards as he walked out, leaving nothing but questions in his wake.

  Coward.

  The irony twisted like a knife. He’d given up a piece of his own history to help Vesper unlock hers. Yet here stood Aldrick, holding the answers all along.

  Memories flickered through his mind—fragments of his early days in Millbrook. Waking up confused and alone. Aldrick finding him wandering the village square. The careful way the old mage had taken him in, taught him control over his wild magic. Built trust, all while keeping this secret locked away.

  His magic pulsed, reaching instinctively for Vesper’s presence somewhere outside. At least that connection felt real, untainted by lies, but even that raised questions. Why had Aldrick really agreed to train her? What did he know about her connection to the Echo, about Rafe’s own past?

  The fire crackled low, casting his shadow long against the wall. Rafe remained rooted in place, chest tight with frustration. Everything he thought he knew about himself, about his place in this world, was a lie.

  Chapter 21

  Blair flipped through a charred notebook, her eyes stinging from the lingering scent of burnt paper and magical residue. The safehouse’s kitchen table had become their makeshift research station, covered with salvaged fragments from Theo’s workshop. Broken equipment, half-destroyed notes, and components that had somehow survived the attack.

  “Anything that might tell us where to find Orme?” she asked, watching Theo hunched over a pile of singed diagrams.

  “Nothing yet. Most of it’s ruined,” he muttered, not looking up. “Years of research, and all I’ve got left are fragments.”

  Blair set down the notebook. She’d been sifting through the debris for hours, cataloguing every scrap that might hold answers. The familiar rhythm of investigation work, even when the evidence was magical rather than mundane, helped steady her nerves. “We’ll piece it together. You said your memory’s solid for the core principles.”

  Theo didn’t respond, his attention suddenly fixed on something he’d just uncovered. From behind a scorched resonance diagram, he carefully extracted a folded page that looked older than the rest of his notes. Blair watched as he unfolded it with delicate movements, the yellowed paper crackling beneath his fingertips.

  His expression shifted. His eyebrows drew together and his jaw tightened.

  “What is it?” Blair moved around the table.

  “It’s not mine,” Theo said quietly. “It’s Orme’s handwriting.” His fingers traced the spidery script. “I don’t remember ever seeing this note before.”

  Blair peered over his shoulder. The note was brief, written in a meticulous script that looked decades old. Her eyes caught a reference to ‘the quiet stacks beneath Langmere Hall,’ and beside it, a small sigil pressed in faded ink.

  “That symbol…do you recognise it?” she asked.

  Theo nodded. “It’s Orme’s personal warding signature. He used it to mark his private research.”

  Blair studied the note again. Langmere Hall. The name wasn’t familiar, which immediately raised flags. She’d spent the past five years mapping every corner of Nightreach’s magical landscape, building mental files on locations both known and obscure. Yet this place had never crossed her radar.

  “What is Langmere Hall?” she asked.

  Theo’s expression changed, a flicker of reverence crossing his face. “It’s an old College archive building, decommissioned decades ago. Officially, at least.” He set the note down carefully. “Now it’s privately held by a closed circle of high-ranking Artificers.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Blair said.

  “You wouldn’t have. There are no public records of it, but I’ve been there. Once, as a student, under Orme’s protection.”

  Blair’s watch gave a subtle vibration against her wrist. Not Theo’s doing, but something about the very mention of this place seemed to trigger the enchantment.

  “What exactly is this place?” she pressed.

  “Langmere Hall isn’t just a library.” Theo’s fingers traced the sigil on the note. “It’s a fortress of knowledge and reputation. The building itself is surrounded by protective barriers so old they’ve practically woven themselves into the city’s bones. Wards layered over centuries, some dating back to the founding of the College.”

  Blair leaned against the table, arms crossed. “And you think Orme went there?”

  “It makes sense. If he wanted to disappear completely, where better than a place that officially doesn’t exist?” Theo looked up. “A place where only those with sufficient standing in the magical community can even see the front door?”

  Blair absorbed this, her mind already cataloguing the complications. Finding Orme wouldn’t be the hard part—he’d left them a breadcrumb trail. Getting inside Langmere Hall without notice would be the real challenge. Places with that level of magical protection didn’t welcome uninvited guests, especially ones without magic of their own.

  She drummed her fingers against the table, considering their options. The smart play would be to gather more intelligence first—map the location, identify weaknesses, maybe find another way to contact Orme. But every hour they spent planning was another hour for whoever had attacked Theo’s workshop to consolidate their position.

  “How tight is security?” she asked.

  “It’s not about guards or locks.” Theo’s expression was grim. “It’s about reputation and magical standing. The wards themselves judge who’s worthy to enter.”

  “So how exactly are we supposed to get past these wards?” she asked. “I’m not exactly on the College’s guest list, and I’m guessing you’re not either.”

  Theo ran his fingers over the sigil again, a strange intensity in his eyes. “If Orme used the same signature here, I can try to replicate the unlocking sequence he taught me.” He looked up, meeting her gaze directly. “It won’t be perfect, but with luck, and enough care, it might grant us access to the lower levels without setting off containment protocols.”

  “Might?” Blair arched an eyebrow. “That’s not particularly reassuring.”

  “It’s the best I can offer.” Theo shrugged, but there was tension in his shoulders. “Orme was paranoid, but methodical. He built patterns into everything he did.”

  Blair’s watch pulsed again, a slower rhythm this time. This felt different from Theo’s ambient magical signature. Something else was stirring in the city tonight.

  “This is all great and everything,” she said, “but where did the note come from?”

  “I must’ve kept it,” Theo began, but he sounded uncertain.

  “You don’t remember seeing this before?” she pressed, tapping the yellowed paper.

  “No,” Theo admitted, frowning. “But after what happened at the workshop…”

  “Someone could have left it for you to find,” Blair said, her cop instincts humming with warning. “This could be bait.”

  Theo’s eyes widened slightly. “Or Orme himself left it, knowing I’d eventually need to find him.”

  Blair touched her watch, feeling its subtle warmth against her skin. She weighed the risks one more time. Going in blind was dangerous, but waiting might be worse. If Orme was their only lead, they needed to reach him before someone else did.

  “Either way,” she decided, “Orme is our only lead, and no one has ever accomplished anything in my line of business by taking the safe path.” Blair grabbed her coat from the back of the chair. “Whatever Orme knows, it won’t stay secret forever. And if someone else is watching him too, we may already be late.”

  Theo raised his eyebrows as she put on her coat and checked her dagger. “You want to go now?”

  “Did you miss the part where I said it might already be too late?” Blair rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, Hardy.”

  Blair kept to the shadows as they navigated the southern edges of Nightreach, her eyes constantly scanning for threats. The district had changed since the Echo shattered—buildings that once shifted with magical currents now stood rigid and unfamiliar.

  “Stay close,” she murmured to Theo, who followed a step behind.

  Her watch gave a faint vibration against her wrist as they turned down a narrow alley. Energy lingered here, old and deep, woven into the very cobblestones beneath their feet.

  “We’re getting close,” Theo whispered, his eyes darting between landmarks only he could recognise. “It should be just past the old scribing houses.”

  The buildings around them grew more decrepit, their facades worn by time and neglect. Two defunct scribing houses loomed ahead, their windows dark and shuttered. Between them, nearly invisible, stood an overgrown iron gate beneath a crumbling stone archway.

  Blair approached cautiously. The static hum of ancient power pressed against her skin, raising the fine hairs on her arms. Her watch warmed, confirming what she already knew. Powerful wards were embedded in the stone, defences that had survived centuries of Nightreach’s changes, even the reconnection of the ley lines.

  “These wards,” she murmured, “feel different. More like a warning than a barrier.”

  Theo nodded, his expression tense. “The outer defences don’t keep people out. They just make sure you know you’re being watched.” He stepped forward, raising his hand toward the gate. “The real security lies deeper.”

  Blair observed carefully as Theo traced Orme’s sigil in the air. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the pattern flared with soft blue light before dimming again—as though the barrier had recognised him.

  The gate unlocked with a low, metallic groan that seemed to reverberate through the ground beneath their feet. The surrounding air shimmered and shifted as the protective wards temporarily released their hold.

  Blair followed Theo through the opening, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her dagger. The narrow alley beyond stretched before them, walls pressing in from both sides. Shadows pooled in corners where no light had touched in years.

  At the alley’s end stood a heavy oak door, its surface carved with symbols that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of her eye. But as they approached, Blair noticed something that made her pause.

  “Wait,” she said, grabbing Theo’s arm. “Look at the ground.”

  Theo followed her gaze. The cobblestones directly in front of the door were different—newer, cleaner. No moss grew between them, no accumulated grime dulled their surface.

  “Pressure plates?” Blair asked.

  Theo crouched down, studying the stones. “Worse. These aren’t just triggers—they’re anchors. Step on the wrong one, and the ward network will lock down everything within a hundred yards.” He looked up at her. “Including us.”

  Blair knelt beside him, her trained eye picking out the subtle differences in the stonework. “There’s a pattern here. See how every third stone is slightly raised?”

  “The safe path,” Theo murmured. “Orme would have known which stones to avoid.” He stood, wiping his hands on his coat. “We’ll have to move carefully. One at a time, testing each step.”

  Blair went first, her weight distributed evenly as she placed each foot with deliberate precision. The raised stones felt solid beneath her boots, while the others seemed to give slightly, as if hollow underneath. Halfway across, her foot slipped on a patch of moss-slicked stone. She threw out her arms for balance, heart hammering as she teetered on the edge of a sunken plate.

  “Careful,” Theo whispered, his own face pale with tension.

  Blair steadied herself, took a breath, and continued forward, navigating the last stretch of the trapped courtyard.

  When they finally reached the door, both were sweating despite the cold night air.

  Theo reached out and laid his palm against the wood. He muttered something under his breath—words Blair couldn’t catch—and the symbols briefly glowed with amber light.

  The door swung inward without a sound, revealing darkness beyond.

  Blair stepped through the door behind Theo. Langmere Hall’s entrance hall opened before them, vast and silent. The air hung heavy with dust sprites that danced in the thin beams of moonlight filtering through the high, narrow windows.

  Vaulted ceilings stretched overhead, supported by massive wooden beams blackened with age. Twisted iron brackets held the remains of long-dead torches, their metal corroded into bizarre shapes that cast strange shadows. Along every wall, crooked shelves sagged under the weight of countless books and scrolls. Glass-fronted cabinets displayed artefacts whose purposes Blair could only guess at, their protective cases cracked and clouded with decades of neglect.