The vial pulsed softly beneath my pillow that night, radiating a low warmth that kept sleep at bay.
My mother had been a Spellweaver.
It explained so much the rumors of her death, the way she vanished from court overnight, the way Father never spoke of her after. And now her blood lived on in me. A drop of golden inheritance sealed in glass and secrets.
At dawn, the imperial bells rang across the valley.
Three chimes.
The signal for a Church summons.
My stomach dropped.
The moment I stepped into the high-vaulted cathedral, I knew I was being watched.
Incense curled in lazy spirals from golden braziers, and pale sunlight filtered through stained glass depictions of holy knights burning mages at the stake. Subtle. Very subtle.
How poetic, I thought grimly.
Two templars in red-trimmed cloaks guided me through the marble hallways, past monks with hollow eyes and scribes muttering prayers.
At the top of the central dais stood High Inquisitor Maren a hawk-nosed woman in robes the color of dried blood, with a smile as brittle as bone.
"Lady Seraphina," she greeted, hands folded. "His Holiness has received troubling reports. Magic was witnessed at the Winter Masquerade. Unauthorized magic."
I bowed slightly. "There was an accident, Your Grace. A chandelier. I hear a servant used a rune-engraved pendant to divert the damage. Likely stolen from a merchant."
A pause. The lie hung in the air like incense sweet, choking.
Maren tilted her head. "You're well-read for a noblewoman."
"Books don't question your bloodline."
Her smile faded. "Do you fear God, Lady Seraphina?"
"I fear the empire crumbling beneath its own lies."
A dangerous silence stretched.
Finally, she stepped forward. "Be cautious, girl. The Church may tolerate cleverness but not arrogance. If the Spellweaver appears again, we will find them. And when we do…"
She touched the silver chain of the holy pyre hanging from her belt.
"I'm sure," I replied smoothly, "God will guide your fire to the right sinner."
I turned and walked out before she could see my knees trembling.
Back at Aurelian Manor. Kael was waiting in my drawing room.
He was reading one of my poetry books upside down. Clearly on edge.
"You went to the cathedral alone?" he demanded, standing as I entered.
"Should I have brought a battalion?"
"They could have killed you."
"They don't know who I am." I paused. "Not yet."
He looked like he wanted to argue, but instead said, "Then we need to move faster."
He reached into his coat and tossed something onto the table.
A black envelope.
"An invitation to join the Academy of Divine Arts."
I blinked. "The Imperial Academy? The one reserved for royalty and military heirs?"
He nodded. "With a magic division hidden beneath the archives. You'd be safe there. Or at least… harder to find."
"And how did you acquire this?"
His lips twitched. "Don't ask. I'm already breaking a dozen laws just speaking to you."
I held up the envelope. "You're helping a suspected Spellweaver. You're one flame short of treason."
"I know."
The room stilled. For a moment, his gaze dropped to my collarbone where the rune had once glowed.
"I made a mistake in our first life," he said softly.
My breath caught. First life?
He blinked. Realized. Then stiffened. "I mean first year of court. I misjudged you."
He was lying.
He remembered something.
Maybe not everything. But something.
He cleared his throat. "You don't have to trust me. Just take the invitation."
I tucked the letter into my pocket. "I'll think about it."
He left without another word.
That Night, I sat at my mirror, staring at the vial of blood again.
Was this what my mother died for?
Had she tried to protect me by disappearing? Or had someone taken her because of what she was?
I had no answers only questions that glowed faintly in the dark.
I touched the rune at my collarbone. It pulsed once in response.
Then so faint I nearly missed it I heard a whisper.
"Find the mirror that remembers."
I sat upright.
"Who said that?" I whispered aloud.
But no one was there.
Just me.
And the magic.