She woke to the low hum of murmuring voices.

It didn’t take long for the weight of memory to settle back over her. Her aching eyes and the tight heaviness in her chest were enough of a reminder.

Her head throbbed. Everything she had tried to bury the night before clawed at the inside of her skull, aching to break free.

She opened her eyes slowly. Her skin felt sticky with old tears, her eyelids puffy. Her throat burned—dry and raw—as she pulled in a careful breath. Soft sunlight shone through the small windows, painting the carriage in a honey-like glow.

The voices snapped her drifting thoughts back into focus.

“Come on, Artur, you’re the only one who’s really talked to her,” one voice whispered.

“Yeah, can you tell or not?” Another pressed, more persistently.

A soft shuffle followed—someone shifting.

“I don’t know, guys,” Artur said, his voice quieter. “I don’t think she knows anything. She doesn’t seem like she’s faking. She just seems… nice.”

She furrowed her brow. Sleep still blurred the edges of her thoughts, making it hard to focus.

Faking, she thought. What would I even be faking?

"But you saw how the others took to her, right?" The first voice said, sharper. "Did you see the way the demon kid latched on? There's no way they don't know each other."

The second voice jumped in. "Sir Arminel’s group all came from the same town. They're definitely frauds. What are the odds that all four of them lived together?"

She shifted closer, careful not to make a sound. What are they talking about?

She heard Artur sigh, then the faint scrape of metal. "Why must you two be pessimists?"

She barely had time to react before the door swung open.

Light poured in, and she jumped, trying to sit up too quickly.

"Oh—good morning, Miss Scarlett." Artur blinked, clearly startled. He took a small step back. "Apologies—I didn’t realize you were right by the door. I should’ve knocked."

She sat up quickly, face hot with embarrassment. "No, no—it’s alright. I should’ve moved." She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, avoiding his gaze.

Behind him, two guards leaned in, peering over his shoulders like kids spying through a window. Both stared at her like she was some quaint, two-headed animal on display.

Don't either of you have any manners?

She huffed, her cheeks still burning. Artur glanced over his shoulder and gave them a look. They immediately turned away, suddenly very interested in the sky.

He extended a hand, and she took it, letting him help her to her feet. His soft smile as she awkwardly fixed her hair and smoothed away the sleep didn’t help the stubborn heat rising in her face.

“Thank you,” she muttered, clearing her throat and scooping her blanket off the floor.

“Did you sleep well, miss?” he asked, stepping inside to pick up the pillow she’d left behind.

“Yes, thank you.” She turned, hoping he wouldn’t notice the color still clinging to her face. “Should I wake them?” She nodded toward the kids as she began folding the blanket.

“Let them sleep—actually,” he paused, straightening, “the chancellor would like to speak with you.”

She turned toward him slowly, brows knitting. “The who?”

“The chancellor,” he repeated gently. “Didn’t you two talk last night?”

Her eyebrows climbed. “He was a chancellor?” Her voice cracked louder than she meant. She winced when she saw Via stir slightly, then leaned closer and whispered, “He’s a chancellor?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by her shock. “I’m surprised you didn't know.”

“What is a—” she started, then stopped as both Via and Olive stirred. She waved him toward the door and stepped outside the carriage. “What is a chancellor doing here?”

What am I doing here?

Artur’s smile twitched at the edges, and something flickered behind his eyes. A shadow. A crack.

“He’s here on business,” he said with a shrug that looked too practiced.

She opened her mouth, grasping for a retort—anything smart—but nothing came. She closed it. Opened it again. Then she sighed, her temples throbbing in rhythm with her pulse.

She leaned back against the carriage, her body swaying slightly as the pounding in her skull surged back with a vengeance.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice was closer, his hand landing lightly on her arm.

She took in a sharp breath, skin electric where he had touched her. “Yes. I think… I just need breakfast.” She drew in a slow breath.

The other guards watched her as she passed, eyes lingering like they knew something she didn’t.

They probably did.

She could feel their gaze burning into her back as she rounded the front of the carriage and approached the firepit. There was no fire—just a scatter of ash and blackened earth. The camp was already in motion, guards busy loading wagons and saddling horses.

“Ah, Mrs. Dominique. You’re up.”

She startled, spinning around.

The chancellor stood behind her, smiling. Not kindly—just amused.

“Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll fetch you some breakfast.” He gestured to a nearby log, his tone warm but off, like a song just out of tune.

She sat slowly, never taking her eyes off him. She watched as he strode over to a guard stationed by a pot, retrieved a bowl of porridge, and returned with that same eerie smile still carved across his face.

He handed her the bowl and settled beside her. Just far enough away to seem polite, yet close enough to feel stifling.

Perhaps at another time, she'd be starstruck at the idea that a chancellor had just served her breakfast. Her parents certainly would be. But circumstances meant otherwise.

"Apologies, it’s nothing too fancy,” he said, crossing his legs. His golden eyes caught the light, sharp and unblinking.

She forced a smile and dipped her spoon into the bowl. “Oh, no. It’s fine. It’s quite good,” she said, her voice level as she took a cautious bite.

He smiled, amused by something she couldn’t see. “Tell me, Scarlett—do you dream of a grander life?”

She blinked. The question hit her sideways, catching her off guard.

“I’m sorry?” She tried to keep her voice even, but her spine straightened on instinct. What kind of question was that?

“Oh, come now,” he said with a chuckle, inching closer. “Surely there are dreams tucked away in that head of yours. Wild wants. Hidden ambitions.”

She shifted back ever so slightly, her bowl cupped in both hands like a shield. “Honestly, I think I’d take a little more simplicity these days.”

She avoided his eyes and brought the spoon to her lips, forcing calm into her movements.

He let out a thoughtful hum, reclining again. “How… intriguing.”

Of course it is, she thought. Everything’s always 'intriguing' with you. Like she was a riddle he couldn't quite solve.

“I suppose,” he added, voice gentler, “some simplicity might seem nice for you right about now… given your circumstances.”

His smile softened—less practiced, maybe. But something in it still made her want to flinch.

"Yes, I suppose," she echoed, keeping her voice steady as a blade. "And might I finally ask what has brought on these current circumstances?"

She met his eyes head-on, her expression carved from stone. The same mask she used back home—against snide noble children, chatty market vendors, and whispering neighbors. She wore it like armor, every polished edge pulled tight around her.

He smiled. The same maddening smirk widened. "That's a conversation I can’t wait to have." He paused for a second, like he was debating whether to just tell her early. "But not just yet," he added, rising to his feet with irritating nonchalance.

She caught her scowl before it could surface, pressing her mouth into a line.

"Well—I can't wait then," she said flatly, standing to match him.

He gestured toward the bowl in her hands. "It’s not much, but I recommend eating up. We've got a long day of sailing ahead."

"Sailing?" she echoed, stiffening.

His grin widened, knowing something she didn’t—which he clearly did. They all did. "Indeed."

She looked around, eyes narrowing. They were surrounded by forest. Still inland. No water for miles.

"But… we're nowhere near the ocean."

He glanced back at her, and for just a moment, something flickered in his gaze.

"I know."

Scarlett had only used a waygate once in her life. She must have been ten or eleven at the time, and even then, the memory was hazy. She never imagined she'd pass through one again.

Across from her, Via and Olive bounced with barely contained excitement. Neither had stopped talking since they’d learned they’d be using a waygate.

“Everything gets all shimmery, and the air changes colors!” Via kicked her legs excitedly.

“But first there's this like—like surge of energy, and there's wind everywhere!” Olive flung his arms wide, eyes lighting up.

She offered a smile, trying to keep her focus on them. But her head still throbbed tirelessly. Breakfast had done nothing to dull the sharp ache behind her eyes, and every passing minute only deepened it. A low pulse pounded in time with her heartbeat, pressing against her skull like a tide rising too fast.

Then came a knock at the carriage door. A moment later, the lock clicked open, and the door swung wide.

“We’ll be entering the waygate shortly," Artur said from outside. “Is everyone settled?”

Via and Olive nodded, their excited fidgeting settling.

“Have you ever used one before?” He asked, glancing at Scarlett with a polite smile. “It can be a little jarring if you haven’t.”

“Only once. A long time ago,” she replied, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll be fine.”

He gave her a hesitant look but smiled. “Alright. I’ll be back to check on everyone once we’re through.” He closed the door, the latch clicking softly behind him.

She turned in her seat, peering at the window above Evelyn as voices outside began to rise—sharp and energetic.

A small tug on her dress drew her attention. She looked down to find Via standing beside her, face bright with anticipation.

“Can you lift me up, Miss Scarlett? I want to see him open the gate.”

“See who?” Scarlett asked, frowning. She realized, suddenly, she hadn’t given any thought to how the gate would be opened. Waygates were usually fixed in specific locations—temples, city gates, political centers—but they were still in the middle of nowhere.

Via pointed toward the front of the cart. “The scary man. The one with the glasses.”

She blinked. “The man in the glasses?”

Via nodded eagerly. “Yeah. The one who sits up front.”

Outside, the commotion grew louder. Her gaze drifted back to the window, unease prickling at her spine.

She stood up and stepped onto Evelyn’s bench. The girl shifted aside without protest, her usual scowl replaced by quiet observation.

Scarlett peered over the ledge. Just ahead, a group had gathered several feet down the path.

Sure enough, the chancellor stood at the center, arms extended as he urged the onlookers to step back. His expression was sharp—focused. It was the first time she’d seen him look truly serious. She didn't think he could look serious.

“Is he opening the gate?” Via scrambled up beside her, jostling Evelyn, who responded with an irritated glare as she slid farther away.

She leaned down and scooped Via into her arms. She was light and easy to lift.

Balancing her in front of the window, She did her best to keep a view for herself as well.

One of the older guards pushed the crowd farther back while the chancellor stepped forward onto the open trail. He drew something small from his vest and held it tightly in both hands.

He bowed his head, murmuring something she couldn’t hear. The wind picked up around him, lifting dust and bits of grass into the air.

Then—light.

A brilliant flash burst outward, followed by a rushing gust of wind. A sound cracked through the air, high-pitched and humming.

When the light finally receded, Scarlett lowered Via slowly and turned back to the window.

The trail was gone.

In its place stood a swirling plane of light, imposing and wide. Colors shimmered through its surface—liquid gold, deep violets, flickers of blue—melding and separating like ripples on water.

It was… beautiful.

Something tapped against the carriage wall as she stepped down from the bench.

“We’re heading in!” Artur called from outside.

She quickly sat, a flutter of nerves rising in her chest. Her heart was pounding, faster than before, and her head throbbed in rhythm with it. She felt hot—feverish, almost—but she couldn’t tell if it was the headache or the magic.

Then, the light came.

A pale, shimmering glow washed over the carriage. The air shifted, thick with a dreamlike haze that swallowed them. Everything inside blurred, like the world had been submerged in water.

A soft buzz ran beneath her skin, electric and alive. Her body felt weightless, floating between moments. She couldn’t explain it—only that it made everything she’d felt before seem dull by comparison. It was explosive. Too much and not enough.

Olive and Via giggled as the wind tousled their hair. Even Evelyn tilted her head back, eyes closed and arms loose at her sides. For a heartbeat, Scarlett could’ve sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on her lips.

The wind pulled away in one final breath, and the shimmering air vanished with it. Her body buckled. Her limbs suddenly leaden, breath catching in the shift. Her hair clung wildly to her face, strands stuck to her cheeks and tangled in her lashes.

She pushed it back, a breathless laugh slipping out. Her skin still hummed, as though the magic had settled into her bones and hadn’t quite let go.

Across from her, Olive and Via were giggling, both of them smoothing their windswept hair with wide grins. Even Evelyn let out a small laugh as she parted the curtain of hair in front of her eyes.

She was so absorbed in the moment, she hadn't even heard the door creak open.

"Everyone make it through in one piece?" Artur leaned in, his grin spreading as he took in their exhilarated faces.

"That was incredible!" She stood, tucking her hair behind her ears as she rushed toward the door. She glanced back at the fading portal of light, where the last guards were stepping through. “You didn’t tell me it would feel like that.”

Artur laughed, stepping aside as she leaned out. “Like what?”

“Like—” Her voice caught as a wave of heaviness dragged at her limbs. She gripped the doorframe, fingers clammy. The buzzing beneath her skin had sharpened into a sting—burning and restless.

Her head drooped. The world tilted.

“Miss?” Artur’s voice cut through the haze. He stepped forward, arms half-raised to catch her.

The burning returned, roaring beneath her skin. Her skull throbbed violently, as if something inside was fighting to get out.

She forced herself upright, breath ragged as she clung to the doorway.

Then Artur stopped short.

“Your eyes…” he whispered, his voice tight.

“What?” Her legs buckled slightly. “What about my eyes?”

“They’re… gray.”

He caught her arm, steadying her just as her knees gave out.

“Huh?” The word was barely a breath. Her body felt like it was being pulled down, piece by piece.

“Miss?”

“Scarlett!”

The world blurred. The ground rushed up to meet her—but something caught her, cradled her weight as she fell.

Voices surged around her, panicked and distorted. Shouts. Whispers. And then—

A blinding light swallowed her whole.