Chapter 13: Lost All My Composure
"Feyri!"
"Feyri!"
"Feyri!?" Blinked a couple times. I looked around, Selene, Jori, Rowan were all in absolute shock. Caelen just stared at me.
Realization of what just happened set it. Oh god, what have I done? I yank my arm away from Rowan's grasp and stumble a little. God, God what did I just do!?
My breathe hitches and goes manual, I force myself to breathe, in and out, heavily fast. My chest rising. with each breath. I couldn't tell but my breathe was shaking. I was shaking.
As I force myself to breathe I could not it contain in and threw up. I stumbled backwards more. I saw their mouths moving but I heard no sound. For the first time I didn't hear everything. My ears rang, it hurt.
I turned foot and ran. I didn't look back I just ran. My breathing was labored with each step. Just keep running just keep running.
What did I do?
Why did I do that?
Oh God, what have I done?
Branches whipped past me as I tore through the dunes, sand slipping under my boots, lungs burning. My vision blurred at the edges, tunneling into a narrow strip of darkness and moonlight. I didn't know where I was going — only that I had to get away.
Away from their faces.
Away from their shock.
Away from what I'd done.
My legs carried me on instinct, not direction. My breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, each inhale scraping my throat raw. My ears still rang, a high, piercing whine that drowned out everything else. No whispers. No footsteps. No heartbeat but my own.
I stumbled over a root and caught myself on my hands, sand grinding into my palms. My stomach lurched again, but there was nothing left to throw up. Just acid and fear.
I pushed myself up, swaying. My knees trembled violently.
"Stop," I whispered to myself. "Stop. Stop."
But my body didn't listen.
I staggered forward again, deeper into the dunes, the grass brushing my legs like reaching fingers. The night air felt too thin, too sharp. Every breath hurt. My chest tightened, squeezing like a fist around my ribs.
I fired a Mana spell.
In front of them.
In front of everyone.
I hadn't even thought.
I hadn't even aimed.
I just reacted — like a cornered animal.
My hands shook uncontrollably. I pressed them against my temples, trying to steady myself, but the tremors only worsened.
What if I'd hit one of them?
What if the explosion had been closer?
What if—
I choked on a sob I didn't realize I'd made.
The dunes blurred again. My vision swam. I blinked hard, trying to clear it, but tears spilled anyway — hot, unwanted, blurring the world into streaks of gold and black.
I sank to my knees.
My fingers dug into the sand, desperate for something solid, something real. The grains slipped through my hands like water.
"I didn't mean to," I whispered. "I didn't mean to. I didn't—"
A sound behind me — faint, muffled by the ringing in my ears.
Footsteps.
I froze.
No.
No, no, no.
I couldn't face them. Not like this. Not shaking, not crying, not broken open like a cracked ward.
I scrambled to my feet, wiping my face with the back of my hand. My breath hitched again, sharp and painful.
"Feyri!"
Rowan's voice — distant, distorted, like he was shouting through water.
I flinched.
Not him.
Not now.
Not when he'd seen everything.
I turned and ran again, deeper into the dunes, ignoring the way my legs screamed in protest. My boots slipped on loose sand, but I forced myself forward, driven by pure panic.
"Feyri, wait!"
His voice cracked.
He sounded scared.
I didn't stop.
I couldn't.
The dunes grew steeper, the grass thicker. My breath tore out of me in ragged gasps. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it might burst.
I didn't know how long I ran — seconds, minutes, hours — until my legs finally gave out. I collapsed behind a tall dune, hidden from sight, curling in on myself.
My ears still rang.
My hands still shook.
My chest still heaved.
I pressed my forehead to my knees, trying to make myself smaller, quieter, invisible.
The image replayed behind my eyes — the orange beam, the explosion, the shock on their faces.
Selene's wide eyes.
Jori's hand over her mouth.
Caelen frozen, staring.
Rowan reaching for me, terrified.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"I messed up," I whispered. "I messed up so badly."
The ringing in my ears pulsed, sharp and painful.
I didn't know if the creature was gone.
I didn't know if it had even been real.
I didn't know if I'd imagined it — if my fear had twisted the shadows into something monstrous.
But I did know one thing:
I had lost control.
Completely.
Utterly.
And now they knew.
They knew I could use Mana.
They knew I wasn't just a rune caster.
They knew I was dangerous.
I curled tighter, nails digging into my arms.
"What have I done?" I whispered again, voice cracking.
The wind answered with a low, mournful howl across the dunes.
And somewhere behind me — faint, distant — I heard someone calling my name again.
But I didn't lift my head.
I couldn't.
Not yet.
The dune behind me feels like a wall, cold and unyielding against my back. My breath comes in short, sharp bursts — too fast, too shallow. I can't slow it. I can't think. My hands won't stop shaking. My ears still ring, drowning out the world.
I curl forward, arms wrapped around myself, forehead pressed to my knees. The sand is cold beneath me, but my skin burns. My thoughts spiral, slipping through my fingers like water.
What have I done?
Why did I do that?
Why did I lose control?
My chest tightens again. I gasp, but the air doesn't reach my lungs. It's like breathing through a pinhole. My vision blurs. My fingers go numb.
I'm shutting down.
I know the signs.
I've been here before.
My ears twitch — once, twice — then flatten against my head. The ringing grows louder, drowning out even my heartbeat. My body trembles violently.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Stop," I whisper. "Please stop."
But the panic doesn't listen.
And then—
A cold shadow falls over me.
My breath catches.
No.
No, no, no—
I lift my head slowly, dread crawling up my spine.
It's there.
The figure.
Closer than before.
Too close.
A tall, warped silhouette against the moonlit dune, edges shifting like smoke. Its presence presses against my skin, heavy and suffocating. My breath stutters.
It tilts its head.
And then—
It speaks.
Not in one voice.
In many.
A chorus of whispers, overlapping, familiar and foreign all at once.
"You lost control."
"You're dangerous."
"You always were."
"No one will trust you now."
"No one will stay."
My stomach drops.
Those voices—
Some are strangers.
Some are memories.
Some are people I wish I'd forgotten.
My hands fly to my ears, trying to block them out, but the ringing only sharpens.
"Stop," I choke out. "Stop talking."
The figure steps closer.
"You failed."
"You exposed yourself."
"You think they'll forgive you?"
"You think they'll stay?"
I shake my head violently. "No—no, I didn't— I didn't mean—"
It crouches in front of me, its shape warping, stretching, shrinking. Its edges flicker like dying flame.
"You're a monster."
My breath breaks.
"No," I whisper. "I'm not—"
"You are."
The voices shift — deeper, harsher.
"You always have been."
My vision swims. Tears spill hot down my cheeks. My hands tremble uncontrollably.
"Go away," I whisper. "Please—just go away."
It doesn't.
Instead, it reaches out.
A long, shadowed limb extends toward me, fingers tapering into sharp points. I flinch back, scrambling in the sand, but my legs won't obey. My body is frozen, locked in panic.
"Don't touch me—!"
The figure lunges.
I scream.
My arms fly up instinctively, flailing, trying to push it away — but my movements are wild, uncoordinated. I'm not fighting. I'm just panicking. My hands swipe through air, through shadow, through nothing.
And then—
A sharp sting across my forearm.
Not deep.
Not bloody.
But real.
A scratch.
I gasp, clutching my arm. The skin burns where it touched me. My breath shatters into pieces.
The figure looms over me, its voice twisting into something crueler.
"Look at you."
"Pathetic."
"Falling apart."
"Just like before."
"Just like always."
My vision blurs again. My ears ring so loudly I can barely hear my own sobs. I curl inward, arms over my head, trying to make myself small, trying to disappear.
"Stop," I whisper. "Please stop. Please—"
The figure leans closer, its voice a hiss of a thousand memories.
"No one is coming for you."
My heart stutters.
And then—
Through the ringing—
Through the panic—
Through the crushing weight of the shadow—
A voice breaks through.
"FEYRI!"
Rowan.
Closer this time.
Desperate.
Terrified.
"Feyri, where are you?!"
The figure's head snaps toward the sound.
I gasp, lifting my head just enough to see the shadow recoil, its form flickering violently — like Rowan's voice burns it.
It twists once, twice—
And vanishes.
Leaving only the cold wind.
The dunes.
And my shaking breath.
"Feyri!" Rowan calls again, closer now. "Please—answer me!"
I try to speak. Why, why did I try...
But nothing comes out.
I'm frozen.
Shaking.
Barely breathing.
And Rowan's footsteps crunch closer through the sand.
"Feyri!"
Rowan's voice cuts through the dunes — closer now, breathless, terrified.
I jerk upright, heart slamming against my ribs. My whole body trembles. My throat is raw from crying, from screaming, from breathing too fast. The ringing in my ears pulses painfully.
His footsteps crunch through the sand.
"Feyri, please—where are you?"
I scramble backward, palms slipping in the sand. "Stay away!"
My voice cracks, sharp and desperate. Rowan freezes somewhere beyond the dune's crest.
"Feyri?" His voice softens, but it trembles. "It's me. It's just me."
"Don't come closer!" I choke out. "Don't—don't touch me!"
Silence.
Then a broken exhale.
"Okay," Rowan says gently. "Okay. I won't."
But I can hear him shifting, trying to find me, trying to see me. Panic spikes again — hot, blinding, suffocating.
I can't let him see me like this.
I can't let any of them see me like this.
My hands shake violently as I press my fingers together, forming the shape I swore I'd never use again. Mana stirs beneath my skin — unstable, frantic, mirroring my heartbeat.
"Feyri?" Rowan calls again. "Please answer me."
I whisper the word before I can stop myself.
"Vanish."
Mana snaps around me like a cold wind.
My body flickers — then disappears.
The world shifts. The air feels different against invisible skin. My breath still shakes, but Rowan can't see me now. None of them can.
"Feyri?" Rowan's voice cracks. "Feyri, please—don't leave."
But I'm already moving.
I slip past him, sand shifting under my invisible steps. He turns sharply, sensing movement but seeing nothing.
"Feyri!"
His voice breaks.
I don't look back.
I run.
The dunes blur around me as I sprint, invisible, breath ragged and uneven. My legs burn. My chest aches. My ears ring so loudly I can barely hear the wind.
I pass Selene and Jori on the lower slope — both pale, frantic, searching the dunes.
"Feyri!" Selene calls. "Feyri, please—come back!"
Jori's voice cracks. "We just want to help!"
I slip past them like a ghost.
Caelen stands farther down, scanning the dunes with narrowed eyes. He senses something — he always does — but he doesn't see me. His gaze passes right through me as I dart past him.
I don't stop.
I don't breathe.
I don't think.
I run until the dunes give way to stone paths, until the academy towers rise above me like silent sentinels. My invisibility flickers with every panicked breath, but I force it to hold.
Just a little longer.
Just until I'm safe.
Just until I'm alone.
I reach the dormitory steps, nearly tripping as my boots hit the stone. My lungs burn. My vision swims. My hands shake so violently I can barely keep the spell stable.
I push through the doors, slipping past a pair of students who don't even glance up. The hallway is dim, lantern-crystals flickering softly. My footsteps echo faintly.
I reach my room.
And freeze.
My door—
Is covered in scratches.
Deep.
Jagged.
Fresh.
Dozens of them.
Claw marks gouged into the wood, splintering the frame, tearing through the protective runes I carved last month.
My breath catches.
"No," I whisper. "No, no, no—"
The invisibility spell collapses. My body flickers back into view, knees buckling. I grab the doorframe to keep from falling.
The scratches are everywhere — across the door, the handle, the wall beside it. Some marks are so deep they've carved through the wood entirely.
My wards…
My protections…
All torn apart.
My ears twitch violently.
Something was here.
Something touched my door.
Something wanted in.
My stomach twists. My vision blurs. My breath stutters.
I reach out with a shaking hand and touch one of the gouges.
The wood is cold.
Too cold.
A chill runs down my spine.
Behind me, faint and distant through the hallway—
"Feyri!"
Rowan's voice again.
Closer.
Searching.
Desperate.
I press my back to the ruined door, sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the scratches with wide, unblinking eyes.
My breath trembles.
My hands shake.
My heart pounds.
And Rowan's footsteps draw nearer.
My breath trembles as I stare at the gouges carved into my door. The wood splintered. The runes shredded. The protective lines I carved with my own hands — ruined.
I force myself upright, legs shaking beneath me. My fingers fumble for the handle.
I twist.
It doesn't move.
I twist harder.
Nothing.
"No, no, no—" My voice cracks. "Open."
I shove my shoulder against the door. The frame groans but doesn't give. The broken runes flicker weakly, like dying embers. They're not protecting me anymore — they're trapping me out.
"Open!" I slam my palm against the wood. Pain shoots up my arm. "Please—just open!"
The door doesn't budge.
My breath hitches. My vision blurs. Panic claws up my throat.
"Pathetic," I whisper to myself. "You can't even open your own door."
My fingers curl into fists. My nails dig into my palms.
"You're useless," I hiss under my breath. "You can't control your magic, you can't protect yourself, you can't—"
My voice breaks.
I slam my fist against the door again, harder this time. The wood rattles, but the lock holds. The broken runes spark weakly, mocking me.
"Why won't you open?" I choke out. "Why—why can't anything just—just work?"
My knees buckle. I catch myself on the wall, breath shaking violently. My ears twitch, ringing again. My heart pounds so hard it hurts.
I can't stay here.
I can't let them find me like this.
I can't let Rowan see me again.
Not like this.
Not broken.
Not weak.
I push off the wall, stumbling backward.
"Get away," I whisper to myself. "Just get away. Anywhere. Anywhere but here."
My legs move before my mind catches up. I turn and run down the hallway, boots slapping against the stone. My breath tears out of me in ragged gasps.
"Pathetic," I mutter between breaths. "Running again. Always running."
The lantern crystals blur past me. My vision tunnels. My hands shake so violently I can barely keep balance. I don't know where I'm going — I just know I can't be here.
Not near the door.
Not near the scratches.
Not near the memory of that thing touching my home.
I round a corner too fast and slam into the wall, pain blooming across my shoulder. I push off and keep running.
"Stupid," I whisper. "Stupid, stupid—"
My breath catches. My chest tightens again. The ringing in my ears spikes.
I stumble into the stairwell, gripping the railing to keep from collapsing. My legs tremble beneath me. My lungs burn. My throat feels raw.
I can't breathe.
I can't think.
I can't stop.
I force myself down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last step. I catch myself on the wall, fingers scraping against the stone.
"Why can't you just be normal?" I whisper. "Why can't you just—just hold it together?"
My voice cracks again.
I push off the wall and run toward the back exit of the dormitory. The night air hits me like a slap — cold, sharp, real. I gasp, stumbling into the courtyard.
The world spins.
I grab the edge of a bench to steady myself, but my grip slips. I fall to my knees, palms scraping against the stone. Tears blur my vision.
"Get up," I whisper. "Get up. Don't let them see you. Don't let anyone see you."
But my body won't move.
My breath comes in short, broken bursts. My hands shake uncontrollably. My ears ring so loudly I can't hear anything else.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Please," I whisper to no one. "Please just stop."
But the panic doesn't stop.
The fear doesn't stop.
The shame doesn't stop.
And then—
Through the ringing, faint but unmistakable—
"FEYRI!"
Rowan's voice.
Closer.
Searching.
Desperate.
I choke on a sob.
"No," I whisper. "Not him. Not now."
I force myself to my feet, legs trembling, vision swimming.
I run again.
Anywhere.
Anywhere but here.
Anywhere he won't find me.
The courtyard blurs around me as I run, my breath tearing out of my lungs in ragged bursts. The lantern-crystals lining the path smear into streaks of gold and white. My legs feel like they're made of glass — brittle, shaking, ready to shatter — but I force them to move.
Just keep running.
Don't stop.
Don't let him see you.
Behind me, faint but growing louder:
"Feyri!"
Rowan's voice.
Too close.
Too desperate.
I duck behind a stone pillar, pressing my back against the cold surface. My breath hitches, loud in my ears. I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to quiet the sound.
Footsteps crunch across the courtyard.
"Feyri, please—just talk to me!"
I squeeze my eyes shut. My heart slams against my ribs. My ears twitch violently, the ringing pulsing with every beat.
No.
No, I can't let him find me.
Not like this.
Not shaking, not broken, not… whatever I am right now.
I peek around the pillar — Rowan is scanning the courtyard, chest rising and falling with frantic breaths. His eyes are wide, searching, terrified.
He's looking for me like I'm dying.
I can't bear it.
I slip into the shadows cast by the academy's outer wall, keeping low, keeping silent. My steps are uneven, but I force them to be light. I skirt the edge of the courtyard, moving behind hedges and statues, avoiding the lantern glow.
Rowan turns sharply at the sound of a rustling leaf. "Feyri!"
I freeze.
He takes a step toward the noise.
I bolt.
I sprint across the lawn, boots pounding the grass, breath tearing from my throat. The cold air stings my lungs. My vision blurs again. Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and unwanted.
"Feyri, wait!"
I don't.
I run faster.
The academy gates loom ahead — tall, iron, half-open. I slip through the gap, nearly tripping on the uneven stone. The moment I'm outside the walls, the air feels different — colder, freer, sharper.
The woods stretch ahead, dark and familiar.
Home.
Not my real home — but the closest thing I have left. The trees don't judge. The wind doesn't ask questions. The shadows don't demand explanations.
I sprint toward the treeline, my breath ragged, my legs trembling.
Behind me, Rowan's voice cracks.
"Feyri! Please—don't go in there alone!"
I don't slow.
The moment my boots hit the forest floor, something inside me loosens — just a fraction. The scent of pine, damp earth, and moss wraps around me like a cloak. The canopy swallows the moonlight, turning the world into a muted blur of shapes and shadows.
My ears twitch, but the ringing softens. The woods muffle the world, dampening the noise, the panic, the memories.
I weave between trees, ducking under low branches, leaping over roots. My breath still shakes, but the rhythm of running feels familiar — like a language my body remembers even when my mind is chaos.
The woods have always been my refuge.
My sanctuary.
My hiding place.
I slow only when my legs threaten to give out. I collapse against a tree, sliding down the rough bark until I'm sitting on the cold ground. My chest heaves. My hands tremble uncontrollably.
I bury my face in my knees.
"Why," I whisper, voice cracking. "Why did I do that?"
The orange beam.
The explosion.
The look on their faces.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
"You're pathetic," I whisper to myself. "You can't control anything. Not your magic. Not your fear. Not even your own body."
My breath hitches again. I dig my nails into my arms, trying to ground myself, trying to feel something real.
The woods are quiet.
Too quiet.
A twig snaps behind me.
I flinch violently, scrambling backward until my spine hits the tree trunk. My breath catches in my throat.
No.
Not again.
Not here.
I scan the shadows, heart pounding.
Nothing moves.
But I feel it.
The air shifts — cold, heavy, wrong.
My ears twitch.
A whisper curls through the trees.
"Feyri…"
My blood turns to ice.
No.
No, no, no—
The shadow figure steps between the trees, its form flickering like smoke caught in a breeze. It's farther away this time — but close enough that I can see the shape of its head tilt.
Watching me.
Judging me.
My breath breaks.
"Go away," I whisper. "Please… just go away."
It doesn't.
It steps closer.
My hands fly up instinctively, palms out, as if I could push it back with nothing but fear.
"Stay back!"
The figure doesn't listen.
It never listens.
It moves like a nightmare — slow, deliberate, inevitable. The shadows cling to it, swallowing the moonlight.
"You can't hide," it whispers.
"You can't run."
"You can't escape what you are."
My breath shatters.
"Stop," I choke out. "Stop talking. Stop following me. Stop—"
The figure tilts its head again.
"You think the woods will save you?"
"You think anyone will?"
"You think he will?"
My stomach twists.
Rowan.
The figure steps closer.
"You're alone."
I shake my head violently. "No—no, I'm not—"
"You are."
My vision blurs. Tears spill again.
"Please," I whisper. "Please just leave me alone."
The figure reaches out — a long, shadowed limb stretching toward me.
I flinch, curling inward, arms over my head.
"Don't touch me—!"
The woods hold their breath.
And then—
Through the trees, faint but unmistakable:
"FEYRI!"
Rowan.
Closer.
Desperate.
The figure's head snaps toward the sound.
I gasp.
The shadow flickers — once, twice — then dissolves into the darkness between the trees.
Gone. Again. Like everytime before.
Leaving only the cold wind.
The trembling in my hands.
And Rowan's voice calling my name again.
"Feyri! Please—where are you?"
I press my back against the tree, breath shaking, tears streaking my cheeks.
I don't answer.
I can't.
Not yet.
Not like this.
Not when I'm still breaking
The ringing in my ears pulses. My heart won't slow. My thoughts spin like a storm I can't outrun.
You lost control.
You exposed yourself.
They saw everything.
I squeeze my eyes shut, nails digging into the earth.
"Stop," I whisper. "Please stop."
But the panic doesn't listen.
So I reach for the only thing that ever has.
Mana.
Not to cast.
Not to fight.
Not to explode outward like before.
Just to feel.
I inhale—shaky, uneven—and let my awareness sink inward, past the fear, past the trembling, past the chaos. Down to the quiet place beneath my ribs where the mana lives.
It flickers at first, unstable, mirroring my panic. But I keep breathing, keep reaching, keep coaxing.
"Come on," I whisper. "Please… just help me."
The mana stirs.
A soft, cool pulse spreads through my chest—like dipping my hands into a stream at night. It flows outward, down my arms, up my spine, settling into my limbs with a gentle weight.
My breath hitches again—but this time, it's different. Less sharp. Less painful.
The mana cools me from the inside out.
My shaking slows.
My heartbeat steadies.
The ringing in my ears softens to a distant hum.
I press my palm to the tree trunk behind me, grounding myself in the rough texture, the steady presence. The mana hums in response, syncing with the rhythm of the forest—wind through branches, distant crickets, the soft rustle of leaves.
For the first time since the explosion, I can breathe without choking on it.
I let my head fall back against the bark, eyes half‑closed. The mana wraps around me like a second skin—cool, steady, protective. Not a weapon. Not a burst of panic. Just… me.
Just my magic.
My life.
My anchor.
Somewhere far off, Rowan's voice cuts through the night again. He keeps following me.
"Feyri!"
I flinch, but the mana steadies me before the panic can spike again. I draw it closer, letting it settle in my chest like a weight that keeps me from floating away.
"Feyri, please—answer me!"
His voice cracks.
He's close.
Too close.
I curl my fingers into the moss at my side, grounding myself again. The mana pulses gently, reminding me I'm here. I'm real. I'm breathing.
I whisper to myself, barely audible:
"I am in the woods."
"I am breathing."
"I am here."
The mana hums in agreement.
Rowan's footsteps crunch through the underbrush, frantic, uneven.
"Feyri!"
I press myself tighter against the tree, letting the shadows swallow me. The mana dims my presence instinctively—not invisibility, not a spell, just a quieting. A softening. A way of blending into the night like any other creature trying not to be found.
I don't want him to see me like this.
Not shaking.
Not broken.
Not barely holding myself together with mana and bark and breath.
So I stay still.
Silent.
Hidden.
Rowan's voice echoes again, raw with fear.
"Please… just let me know you're okay."
My throat tightens.
I'm not okay.
Not even close.
But the mana pulses again—cool, steady, patient. It soothes me... Why had I run so far... My legs ache but the mana makes them better.
I whipe my tears. Disgusting, I hadn't cried in a long time.
The owl's silhouette sits motionless on the branch above me, its round eyes reflecting the moonlight like two pale lanterns. For a heartbeat, my breath stops entirely. My fingers dig into the moss beneath me, nails scraping the damp earth.
No.
No, no, no—
Not again.
My pulse spikes, pounding in my ears so loudly it drowns out the forest. The owl shifts, feathers rustling softly, and the sound slices through my nerves like a blade.
It's watching me.
It's watching me.
My breath hitches, sharp and painful. My mana stirs instinctively, rising like a defensive wave beneath my skin. I press my back harder against the tree, trying to make myself smaller, trying to disappear.
The owl tilts its head.
My heart lurches.
The shadow creature tilts its head like that.
My throat tightens. My hands tremble violently. The mana inside me flickers, unstable, mirroring my panic.
"Please," I whisper, voice cracking. "Not again. Not here."
The owl blinks.
Just… blinks.
No shifting smoke.
No warped limbs.
No chorus of voices.
Just a bird.
A normal, living, breathing bird.
I exhale shakily, the breath leaving me in a trembling rush. My shoulders sag against the tree. My fingers loosen their grip on the moss.
"It's just an owl," I whisper to myself. "Just an owl."
The owl hoots softly, unimpressed with my fear. It flutters to a higher branch, rustling the leaves. The sound is gentle, natural — nothing like the creature's presence.
My breath steadies a little. Not fully. Not enough. But enough to keep me from spiraling again.
The mana inside me cools, settling back into a soft hum beneath my ribs. I let it wash through me, soothing the raw edges of my nerves. It feels like dipping my hands into a cold stream — grounding, steadying, familiar.
I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the tree. The bark presses into my scalp, rough and real. The forest air is cool against my skin. The night sounds — crickets, rustling leaves, distant wind — wrap around me like a blanket.
My body feels heavy.
Too heavy.
The adrenaline drains from my limbs, leaving them numb and trembling. My eyelids droop. My breath slows. The mana hums in rhythm with the forest, lulling me into a fragile calm.
Somewhere far off, Rowan's voice echoes again.
"Feyri!"
I flinch, but the mana steadies me before panic can take hold. I keep my eyes closed, letting the forest swallow the sound.
"Feyri, please—just say something!"
His voice cracks.
I curl tighter against the tree, pulling my knees to my chest. The mana wraps around me like a second skin, dimming my presence, softening my breath, quieting my heartbeat.
I don't want him to find me.
Not like this.
Not broken.
Not shaking.
Not barely holding myself together with mana and bark and breath.
I stay silent.
Rowan's footsteps crunch through the underbrush, frantic and uneven. He's close — too close — but the mana keeps me hidden, blending me into the shadows.
"Please," he whispers, voice raw. "Please be safe."
My chest tightens.
I want to answer.
I want to tell him I'm alive.
I want to tell him I'm breathing.
But the words won't come.
I stay still.
Silent.
Invisible.
Eventually, Rowan's footsteps slow. Then stop.
A long, broken exhale.
Then he turns back toward the academy.
His footsteps fade.
The woods swallow the sound.
The night grows still again.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
The mana pulses gently, cooling the last of the panic in my chest. My body feels heavier now — exhausted, drained, trembling from the inside out.
I curl into the roots of the tree, pulling my cloak tighter around me. The owl hoots once more, then settles into silence.
The forest is quiet.
Safe.
Dark.
My eyes drift closed.
And this time, I don't fight it.
Sleep takes me like a tide.
Birdsong wakes me.
Soft, scattered notes drifting through the trees. The air is cool and damp, carrying the scent of dew and pine. My body aches — every muscle stiff, every joint sore from sleeping curled against the tree.
For a moment, I don't move.
I just breathe.
Slow.
Steady.
Quiet.
The mana inside me is calm now, settled like still water. No panic. No ringing. No shadows.
Just… quiet.
I open my eyes.
Sunlight filters through the branches above, painting the forest floor in patches of gold. The owl is gone. The woods feel different in daylight — less threatening, more familiar.
I push myself upright, wincing as my muscles protest. My cloak is damp with morning dew. My hair is tangled. My hands are still trembling faintly.
But I'm alive.
I'm breathing.
I'm here.
I stand slowly, brushing dirt and leaves from my clothes. My legs feel unsteady, but they hold. I take a few steps, testing my balance. The forest floor is soft beneath my boots.
I look toward the academy.
The stone towers rise above the treeline, distant and cold in the morning light. My stomach twists.
I don't want to go back.
But I have to.
I take a deep breath, letting the mana settle around my ribs like armor. Then I start walking.
The courtyard is quiet when I return. Students are just beginning to stir — a few early risers heading to breakfast, a couple of instructors crossing the lawn.
I keep my head down, hood pulled low.
I don't want to be seen.
I slip through the side gate, avoiding the main path. My boots crunch softly on the gravel. My heart beats faster with every step toward the dormitory.
I reach the steps.
And freeze.
Rowan is sitting on the top stair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His hair is a mess. His clothes are wrinkled. He looks like he didn't sleep at all.
My breath catches.
No.
Not him.
Not now.
I back away slowly, keeping to the shadows.
He lifts his head.
My heart stops.
But he doesn't see me.
His eyes are red-rimmed, unfocused, scanning the courtyard like he's still searching for me.
Guilt twists in my chest.
I turn and slip around the side of the building, avoiding his line of sight.
I take the long way to the dormitory entrance, keeping close to the walls. When I reach the hallway, I move quickly, quietly, avoiding every student I pass.
I reach my room.
The scratches on the door are still there — deep, jagged, splintered. My stomach churns. I unlock the door with shaking hands and slip inside, closing it softly behind me.
The room is dark.
Quiet.
Safe.
I lean against the door, exhaling shakily.
Then—
Footsteps in the hallway.
Voices.
Selene.
Jori.
Caelen.
My breath catches.
"Do you think she came back?" Selene asks, voice tight with worry.
"She has to," Jori says. "She wouldn't just disappear."
Caelen's voice is quiet, steady. "She's avoiding us."
My chest tightens.
They stop outside my door.
Right outside.
I hold my breath.
"Feyri?" Selene calls softly. "Are you in there?"
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Please go.
Please go.
Please go.
Jori knocks gently. "We're not mad. We just want to know you're okay."
Caelen speaks last. "We're here when you're ready."
Silence.
Then footsteps.
They walk away.
I slide down the door, knees pulled to my chest, breath trembling.
I'm not ready.
Not yet.
Maybe not for a long time.