-Soren-
After what Alexia tells us about her dream—the man with glowing blue eyes—I know who she had seen. Gideon. Her father. Chaos incarnate. And if word got out that he'd reached her, even in dreams, it wouldn't just be bad for her. It would be bad for all of us.
I remember the night the wards screamed. Whisperwind had never truly known silence. Even in the dead of night, you could feel the hum of old magic, the soft thrum of vines against the towers, the breath of something ancient shifting through the stones. But that night, the air tastes different—like rain before it falls, sharp, electric, alive.
I stand in the Council Hall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, the perfect image of a bored young vampire, indulging my sire's insistence that I learn how the world was "managed." Then Gideon Marek walka in, and the room changes.
He stands alone, robes like smoke, emerald eyes bright and hard as shattered glass. His hair was streaked black and silver, storm-colored, framing a face that was tired but unbowed. Power coils around him, bending the shadows at his feet, the wards in the stones humming a warning.
"Gideon Marek," the Headmistress announces, voice steady but edged with steel, "you stand accused of destroying the Sacred Hall and violating the Concord of Balance."
He laughs, once, sharp and harsh. "Balance." Magic crackles at his fingertips, shadows dancing, alive. "You call stagnation balance."
I feel it then—his power, raw, wild, alive in a way that made my dead heart lurch. It reaches for something inside me I didn't have words for yet.
The Headmistress raises her hand, and the air thickens with ozone. Vines tear through banners, torches burst into cold blue flame, and the walls flicker between stone and forest.
"You fear me because I see the truth," Gideon whispers, as the containment rune flares around his feet, light coiling upward to swallow him. "You cannot cage chaos. You can only delay it."
And then he smiles. Not the smile of a madman or conqueror, but a tired, knowing smile, as if he saw something no one else did.
"One day, the chaos will find its vessel."
The spell strikes, swallowing him whole, leaving behind nothing but the scent of rain and something older, darker. Silence falls. Not peace, but something waiting. Watching. I feel the vines outside pulse once, the stones under my boots tremble, and the wards crack in a way only I could hear. I didn't understand it then, why his words echoed in my mind long after the hall empties, why the storm in the air feels like a promise.
But now, when I hear Alexia's laughter in the halls—soft, fierce, alive—when I see vines curl around her fingers without a word, when storms roll in on clear days just because she is near, I wonder if Gideon saw her that night. If he knew chaos wouldn't just find its vessel. I would love her. And we would, too.
I leave the window only when her laughter returns, softer now, like she's reminding herself it's safe to breathe. I sink into the circle, dropping into a chair as Jasper deals another round, his smirk returning.
"You in?" he asks, flicking a card at me.
I catch it midair, raising an eyebrow. "Wouldn't miss watching Kaia lose."
Kaia snorts. "Says the man who doesn't even know how to smile."
"I smile," I reply flatly.
"No, you glower slightly less," Jasper corrects, laying down his hand. "And that, my friends, is a winning flush."
Kaia curses, slamming her cards down. Alexia giggles, leaning into Finn, tension easing from her shoulders as she studies her cards, chewing her lip.
"Do you even know how to play?" Jasper teases.
She sticks out her tongue. "Finn showed me."
"Then we're doomed," Kaia mutters, shuffling the discard pile with unnecessary aggression.
I let their banter wash over me as I watch Alexia. Now and then, she glances toward the window, toward the wards, eyes distant. Her magic hums through the room, restless, vines in the potted plant twitching before settling when she does.
I know what I should say is that the man in her dreams is real. Dangerous. Tied to everything we're trying to protect her from. That he's her father, but the words won't come. Not yet. She isn't ready, and neither are we. And even if I said it, what would it change? We'd still be here, playing cards, pretending we could keep her safe from everything for just a little longer.
She tosses down a card, victorious, laughing as Jasper groans, clutching his chest like he's been mortally wounded.
"Traitor," he gasps at Kaia, who cackles.
"I said I wouldn't hex you, not that I'd let you win."
Finn's deep laugh joins Alexia's, the bond pulsing warm between them, bright enough that even I can feel it, brushing against the edges of my connection to her, soothing something in me I didn't know needed soothing.
For a moment, it's easy to pretend we're normal. Friends. Family. A girl and the idiots who somehow became hers. But the storm outside is coming. I can feel it in the wards, in the bones of this ancient place that has seen too many storms already. One day, I'll tell her the truth.
But not today. Today, I'll watch her laugh, watch the light in her eyes return, and let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we can keep this moment a little longer. Because when the storm comes—and it will—we'll face it together. And this time, chaos won't be alone.