Mirael woke suddenly.

The surrounding air trembled—soft, invisible ripples spreading through the castle halls. She felt a gentle tug deep inside her chest, a pulse of magic she could neither explain nor ignore.

Barefoot, she stepped into the corridor. The stones beneath her feet were cool, the torches along the walls flickering as if stirred by an unseen wind. With every step, the pull grew stronger, drawing her towards the grand ballroom.

When she reached the tall doors, the feeling peaked. The air buzzed faintly, charged and alive. Mirael hesitated for a second before she pushed them open.

A blast of wind struck her full-on, warm and fierce. She gasped, shielding her eyes as grains of sand whipped across her skin. Her long black hair, marked by a bold streak of crimson, thrashed wildly in the storm of air. The hem of her cloak snapped around her ankles, and the light from the chandeliers wavered as golden currents of energy surged through the room.

There it was, a shimmer in the air, gathering at the room’s centre. The light twisted, folded, and with a deep, resonant hum, the shape took form: a tall, golden oval, alive with swirling energy.

The wind surged again, sweeping Mirael’s hair across her face and sending a cascade of sand skittering across the marble floor.

And from its centre, a figure stepped through, clad in unfamiliar clothing, the symbol of a lion gleaming in the circlet across her brow.

Mirael lowered her arm from her face as the winds calmed, her breath quick and uneven. They appeared in the ballroom as the last threads of sand fell. The glow surrounding her dimmed, revealing a woman cloaked in travel-worn fabric, her bearing regal despite the exhaustion etched into her features. Her hair gleamed like pale sunlight, catching the faint gold of the gate’s fading glow.

Mirael’s silvery-grey eyes widened, her pulse quickening. There was something familiar about this woman.

“Your Majesty?” Mirael whispered.

The woman’s eyes, warm and steady, but carrying the weight of countless miles, met hers.

“Mirael,” she said softly. “I’m home.”

Her voice struck Mirael like a spark. A single tear ran down her cheek. The missing queen, whom they were prepared to look for when dawn broke, was standing in the ballroom, unscathed.

Mirael’s knees buckled beneath her, and Elena quickly reached out, bracing her fall. The magic was too intense for Mirael to handle.

“I’m glad you’re safe… His Highness was so worried,” Mirael managed, her voice cracking before closing her eyes.

Bang!

“What's all this noise!? People are trying to—”

The voice cuts off as Elena locks eyes with them.

“Dear,” Elena said softly, a faint smile touching her lips.

“My dear…” Eldric’s voice broke. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Eldric pinched his cheek, wincing at the red mark it left behind.

“You are not,” Elena chuckled gently.

“Oh! Mirael—she collapsed again!” Eldric blurted, rushing forward.

“Again?” Elena asked, puzzled.

 Eldric knelt beside Mirael and lifted her into his arms.

 “It happened before,” he said, “back in the forbidden library. She went pale and collapsed right where you disappeared.”

Elena’s brow furrowed slightly as she slipped the scarf off her head. “I see…”

As he adjusted his grip, Eldric’s expression shifted—half disbelief, half amazement. “Oh, and Nyra has returned to her lioness form.”

Elena’s eyes widened. “Goodness me,” she said, managing a small laugh. “I’ve missed quite a lot these past few months.”

Eldric looked at her, confused. “Months? It’s only been two days.”

Elena paused, her gaze distant for a moment.

As he carried Mirael back to Nyra’s room, he explained everything that had happened since Elena’s disappearance. His voice broke every so often, still disbelieving that she was truly beside him again.

Eldric then looked down at Mirael as he placed her back onto the bed. Nyra twitched but didn’t wake.

“Phew,” Eldric sighed.

Elena touched his shoulder gently. “She’ll wake soon; the gate's energy may have overwhelmed her,” she whispered.

Eldric nodded, though worry lingered behind his eyes as he left the room with Elena.

***

Mirael stirred.

Her eyes opened to darkness. The familiar shape of the ceiling blurred, melting into a pale fog that rippled faintly like water in moonlight. She sat up, or thought she did, and found herself above a vast, glassy surface. It reflected the stars above and below, leaving her suspended in an endless night.

“Where…am I?” she whispered. Her voice sounded strange, soft, echoing, as though it didn’t quite belong to her.

Then, out of the fog, the scenery shifted; dusty rubble rose around her, the broken remains of what might once have been a castle wall.

A woman stepped forward, her movements fluid and graceful. Silver-grey robes flowed around her like the mist itself, and a short cloak blew in a wind that wasn’t there. Her long black hair with streaks of silver flowed past her shoulders, and her eyes—a deep violet—watched Mirael with quiet curiosity. The woman wore a circlet studded with a single cracked gem that pulsed faintly red.

“Who’s there?” The woman asked.

The woman blinked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was musical but distant, as though carried by water. She looked around; her gaze searching through the haze.

“I—Mira…,” Mirael stuttered.

Mirael’s voice wavered. No matter how much she tried, the words came out fractured and faint.

“Mi…l,” Mirael tried again.

“Mil?” the woman asked.

“No!” Mirael’s voice echoed, rippling through the air. “Mira…”

“Mira?” she asked.

“…es,” Mirael managed.

“Well, Mira,” they said gently. “Welcome to the Broken Fringe. A place the Solkara desert left behind, along with me, as it whisked off into a second dimension.”

“So, wh... you,” Mirael tried again.

“Naelle,” the woman replied. The name rang clear and deliberate, steady in the still air of the ruined place. “You tremble under magic’s weight. I can feel it tearing at you—dizzy spells, breathlessness. What a pity. Magic should never punish the delicate. When I wield it, it is I who punish the damned, not magic itself.”

Mirael staggered back at Naelle's words. Her form flickered, faint light breaking across her edges like a candle’s wavering flame.

“Don’t worry,” Naelle added quickly. “It’s self-defence, for those who would attack what remains of these lands.”

Mirael's flickering sped up, her form stuttering like a broken light.

“Oh. I see,” Naelle said calmly. “You’re out of time. If you return, I will show you how to still the weight of magic. You need not drown in it… unless you choose to.”

The scenery vanished into darkness. Naelle dissolved with it.

Mirael’s breath snapped in as the real world reclaimed her. Her heart hammered in her chest as Nyra stirred beside her.

The morning light poured through the curtains, casting beams of light across the sheets. For a moment, Naelle’s voice lingered: You need not drown in it… unless you choose to.

“Elena,” Mirael suddenly blurted.

Nyra blinked one eye open. “Elena?” she thought.

“Her Highness has returned; she’s in the ballroom,” Mirael continued.

Before Nyra could react, Mirael threw the covers aside and hurried to her feet. Nyra growled in alert, but Mirael was already out the door.

Mirael ran through the hallways barefoot. She skidded in front of the tall doors once again, and without hesitation, she pushed them open.

“Your Majesty!” Mirael called.

The ballroom was empty, without a single grain of sand in sight.

“Did I dream it?” Mirael thought.

“What’s with this racket?” Someone yawned from behind.

Mirael turned around to see Rachelle behind her and Nyra at her side.

“You rushed out in a panic, so I brought Rachelle to see what was happening,” Nyra said, with Rachelle’s hand on her back.

“Queen Elena had come back,” Mirael said, breathless. “There was sand everywhere.”

“Sand?” Elena said sarcastically.

“What sand?” Eldric chuckled softly.

Rachelle and Nyra turned to Elena and Eldric standing behind them. Without warning, Nyra lunged at Elena, knocking her to the ground with a loud thud and refusing to move, resting her forehead against Elena’s.

“Oof, Nyra!” Elena gasped, laughing despite the weight pinning her down. “You’re a little heavy.”

Nyra let out a deep rumbling purr, still refusing to move.

Then, suddenly, Nyra’s eyes widened as she dropped to the floor, and Elena was back on her feet, standing next to Eldric.

“Wah!” Eldric cried.

“How…did you—” Rachelle stammered.

“Surprise!” Elena said with a grin.

Eldric blinked several times, still processing what he had just witnessed. “You just—teleported?!”

Elena brushed a few stray hairs from her face and smiled innocently. “Practice makes perfect, doesn’t it?”

“Practice?” Eldric repeated, exasperated. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Elena laughed softly, shaking her head. “More or less. Solkara has its ways of teaching—though not all of them are pleasant.”

“Teaching what?” Mirael asked curiously.

Elena’s expression softened.

“As we all know, magic is returning,” she said. “It seems I was granted the ability to move between places—to open gates across long distances—when I first touched that book.”

She paused, frowning slightly.

“Speaking of that book… I wonder where it went. It vanished somewhere along the way—perhaps I left it in the elder’s tent.” Elena thought.

“So do we have magic too?” Eldric asked.

“Maybe,” Valerie answered as she appeared from down the corridor, with Valen close behind. “Although I’d say you’ve had it for a while already, Your Majesty. It would explain how easily you tamed wild animals.”

Rachelle’s eyes widened. “Then… can Nyra shapeshift? She’s turned into a human before.”

“Possibly,” Valerie replied, tapping her chin. “But we still haven’t figured out what triggered it.”

“I wonder what powers I’d get,” Rachelle mused aloud.

“Don’t you already have them?” Valen said bluntly.

Thwack!

“Ow,” Valen said, rubbing his arm.

“I warned you. Watch your words!” Valerie snapped, then turned to Rachelle. “But Valen isn’t wrong. Your ability to communicate with animals counts as magic in itself.”

“So how do I change back if I really can shift forms, and is it just lioness and human, or do I have more?” Nyra questioned as Rachelle's hand returned to Nyra’s back.

“I do not know,” Valerie said. “The first thing we need to do is check Dawellen’s wall, but we can’t just stroll up and say, ‘Hi, Duke Dawellen, kidnapper of Nyra, we think your wall turned Nyra into a human, can we look?’ Can we?”

Nyra lets out a huff.

“We can do research later, I don’t think Rachelle wants to be the translator all the time, and I do wish to talk freely on my own sometimes without causing trouble for her if I get mad at Eldric again,” Nyra complained.

“Hey!” Eldric blurted.

Valerie exhaled slowly, fingers lacing together as she glanced between Nyra and Rachelle.

“That is true, and Nyra has already shifted once,” she said, measured but thoughtful. “Then, hoping to shift won’t be enough alone. Shifting accidentally is rare to happen twice.”

Valen snorted. “So what—you’re saying she needs a manual?”

Valerie shot him a look. “I’m saying she needs context.”

Elena tilted her head slightly. “The Royal Library has a section where copies of forbidden texts that were permitted for use are stored. You can try there to see if it has anything to help you with this.”

Valerie’s eyes lit with quiet resolve. “Then that’s where I’ll look.”

“You? You're not taking Nyra with you?” Eldric asked, surprised.

“No, I’ll be quick. You can wait in the ballroom as it has more space for this, and it has experienced magic already when Queen Elena returned.” Valerie instructed.

She turned, already halfway down the corridor, her steps brisker than usual, less princess, more purpose.

***

They entered the ballroom and moved around the tables and chairs to create more space. The ballroom felt different now—almost alive.

Sunlight spilt through the large windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. Nyra stood near the centre of the marble floor, claws flexing against the stone she no longer scratched.

Valerie returned moments later, a thin, leather-bound book tucked under her arm. Its spine was cracked, the title worn smooth with use, and a page threatened to slip free.

“This is all I could find,” she said, offering it to Nyra. “It’s incomplete. More theory than instruction.”

Valerie placed the book down in front of Nyra, opening it to a marked page. The ink was faded but still legible.

Nyra stared at it.

She let out a low growl as she looked up at Valerie.

Valerie frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Nyra nudged the book with her paw and huffed.

“You haven’t tried yet, you can’t give up already,” Valerie encouraged.

“I would help, but I can’t understand what she wants,” Rachelle said. “Huffs and growls don’t translate.”

Nyra roared quietly.

“Oh! How silly of me.” Rachelle said.

“What is it?” Valerie asked.

“She’s a lion right now… she can’t read,” Rachelle laughed awkwardly.

Valerie paused. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed again as realisation struck, followed by a small, embarrassed cough as her cheeks flushed red.

“Right,” she said. “Of course.”

Valerie picked up the book and read the page aloud, and Nyra followed as instructed.

Nyra closed her eyes.

Her breathing slowed.

The air stirred.

At first, nothing happened.

Then the warmth came—not sudden like Elena’s gate, but steady. Deep. It rolled beneath Nyra’s skin like a tide pulling inward.

Her form wavered.

Fur rippled into skin, then back again, unstable, flickering between shapes. Nyra growled softly, forcing herself not to panic.

“Anchor yourself,” Valerie said quietly. “Not to the magic. To you.”

Nyra focused.

On the weight of her body.

On the memory of paws against earth.

On the strength she had always known.

The shift completed with a soft rush of air.

Nyra stood human once more—unsteady, breathless, but whole.

She looked down at her hands, flexing unfamiliar fingers.

“…I did it,” she murmured.

Elena smiled. “Well done.”

“Eep!” Nyra squealed after looking at herself a second time.

Elena noticed too.

“Eldric, Valen, look away!” Elena blurted.

As they averted their eyes, Nyra shifted quickly back to a lion.

“Maybe we should get some clothes first before we try again, and practise without the men here,” Rachelle said as everyone's face flushed red.

However, Mirael hadn’t spoken in some time.

At first, no one noticed.

Her gaze had gone distant, unfocused, fixed somewhere beyond the ballroom walls. Her breathing was shallow, even.

“Mirael?” Eldric asked.