LOGINLyra POVWe were surrounded.Not the dramatic kind of surrounded where there’s still a clever way out—no gaps, no hesitation in their stance, no fear in their eyes. Just white-robed figures encircling us in a perfect ring, their feet planted firmly against the cold stone of the mountain path. The wind howled above us, tugging at my cloak like it wanted to drag me off the cliff itself.Scott stood beside me, shoulders tense, fists clenched so tightly I could hear the crackle of lightning answering his anger. Blue sparks crawled across his knuckles, crawling up his arms like living veins of light.He was seconds away.“Scott,” I said quietly.He didn’t look at me.“I said, Scott.” I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.The lightning flared—then stilled.“They outnumber us,” I said, forcing the words past the knot in my throat. “And they’re not hesitating.”“I can take them,” he growled. “Just give me—”“No.” I tightened my grip. “We can’t win.”That finally made him turn to me
Julianna POVThe house hadn’t changed.That realization hit me the moment I stepped inside, like a punch to the chest I hadn’t braced for. The faint smell of ginger tea lingered in the air. The old clock on the wall still ticked slightly too loud. Even the floorboard near the hallway still creaked when I stepped on it.Home.For a second, I just stood there, my bag slipping from my shoulder, wondering how a place could feel so safe and so fragile at the same time.“Mom?” I called.“In the kitchen,” she answered.Her voice grounded me immediately.I followed it, finding her by the counter, hands wrapped around a mug, eyes tired but sharp in the way only hers ever were. She turned the moment she saw me, and before I could say anything, she crossed the room and pulled me into her arms.I didn’t even try to hold it together.Everything I’d been carrying—the fear, the anger, the confusion—collapsed all at once. I pressed my face into her shoulder, breathing her in, reminding myself that th
Lyra POVJulianna had been quiet all day.Not the peaceful kind of quiet. Not the I’m thinking about homework kind. This was the kind where she smiled too quickly, laughed half a second late, and stared at nothing for just a bit too long.Which meant something was wrong.I watched her from across the bench outside the west wing, my chin resting in my palm. Students passed by in clusters, laughing, arguing, living their lives like nothing had happened weeks ago. Like the world hadn’t almost cracked open.Julianna didn’t notice any of it.“Okay,” I said finally. “That’s enough.”She blinked. “Enough of what?”“Whatever emotional nonsense you’re trying to pretend isn’t happening,” I replied. “Out with it.”She scoffed. “Nothing’s wrong.”I leaned closer. “You just lied to my face.”
Julianna POVSolara’s return changed the air at Paranormal High.Not loudly. Not dramatically.Just enough that everything felt… tilted.I noticed it first in the little things.Scott standing a bit too stiff whenever Solara entered a room. Solara hesitating, like she wasn’t sure where she was allowed to stand. Conversations cutting off halfway, words swallowed instead of spoken. They avoided each other’s eyes with the careful precision of people who knew exactly where not to look.And that made it worse.We were gathered on the open training grounds that afternoon, the wide stone arena ringed with sigils carved deep into the earth. The sky above was clear, but the air buzzed faintly with magic—anticipation, tension, curiosity.Solara stood near the edge, hands clasped in front of her, shoulders squared but uncertain. Her red hair caught the sunlight strangely, almost glowing, embers flic
Solara POVThe sickness started quietly.That was the cruelest part of it.At first, it was just exhaustion. The kind that clung to my bones no matter how long I slept. I’d wake up feeling like I hadn’t rested at all, my limbs heavy, my chest tight, as if the air itself had weight.“You’ve been training too hard,” Scott said one afternoon as we sat on the academy steps, sunlight warming the stone beneath us. “Phoenix fire drains stamina if you don’t balance it.”“I barely trained today,” I muttered, rubbing my wrist. My skin felt too warm. Not burning just… wrong.“You’re glowing,” he added jokingly.I laughed, but it came out weak.The healers noticed before I did.They started pulling me from class, running scans, whispering in corners when they thought I wasn’t listening. My fire began to flicker instead of burn—erratic, u
Solara POVI don’t remember my parents.That’s the first thing people usually ask, and I never know how to answer it without disappointing them. They expect a tragedy faces, voices, last words whispered through tears. But all I have is absence. A blank space where memories should be. Like someone erased the beginning of my story before I ever got the chance to read it.The orphanage smelled like old wood and boiled vegetables. Not unpleasant. Just… permanent. The kind of smell that settles into your clothes and reminds you that you’re not going anywhere.I learned early not to cry when other kids were adopted.I learned to smile, to wave, to say I’m happy for you and mean it just enough that no one would question me. I learned to sit on my bed at night and stare at the ceiling, counting cracks, imagining them as constellations instead of fractures. I told myself I didn’t need anyone. That it was safer t







