"Where did you get a knife?" I demand.

His lips twitch, suppressing his smile. "I found it in your bedroom."

I pause, puzzled. "What?"

"Before you disappeared in the castle, you said that room we were in was your bedroom, remember?" he asks.

I look back down at the knife in his hand and examine it more closely. It is mine. It's one of my daggers that I usually keep stashed away with my brother's compass and the other gifts from him. This dagger and the other three that come with it were gifts from my father though, not Atlas.

Knowing self-defense just in case magic can't save you is one of the Van Blake rules but so is knowing how to use at least one weapon. If a time was to ever come when they couldn't protect us, our parents wanted to ensure we could keep ourselves safe in every way possible. Knowing what I know now, I wonder if it was to prepare us to kill each other in the Moon Gathering, or was it because my father knew we would one day inherit his enemies? Nevertheless, I found success with the first weapon that I tried—daggers. I'm pretty good with a hatchet too. You throw them and don't miss. Simple. 

I opt for daggers, while Atlas, who is well-experienced in battle wields any weapon with ease but prefers his doubled-edged axe. And Orion, who's always been fond of hunting for sport, wields the crossbow like no other. Eros, with his gentle spirit, is still refusing to pick up a weapon. He'll join Orion on his hunting trips, sure, but he never kills anything himself. Then, there's Juniper who is still too young.

"How is this even possible? That wasn't my actual bedroom, just a copy. I mean, what happens if we take objects from here? Can we do that?" I ask in astonishment.

He tucks the dagger back into his pocket. "I suppose we'll find out. Now, do you want to heal me, or not?" he asks, cocking a blonde brow.

He offers me his blood-soaked hand, palm up. I cup one of my hands on the bottom of his and hover the other above the cut. Pausing, I look up at him expectantly. "What's the incantation?" I ask.

He suppresses a smirk, a welcoming sight after his initial anger. "There is no incantation. None at all. It's all up here," he says, tapping the side of his head with the index finger of his unoccupied hand. 

That's disappointing. Incantations are helpful when learning new spells. It boosts your focus and tells your magic where it needs to go, usually bearing better results. It also adds a kick to the spells you've already mastered, but it still isn't necessary to chant. More powerful and experienced Celestials, like my father, rarely use incantations as they don't need it as a crutch any longer. I'm certainly not my father by any means, but that doesn't mean I can't do at least one measly spell without a fancy word to lean into.

A sudden gust of cold air makes me shiver involuntarily. Maddox arches a curious brow at my silence. "Okay, well what do I do then?" I ask with a shrug.

He nods down at his hand. "Look at the cut. Closely, like reading a book... er, well the cover of one for now." I move my hand to the side to get a better look. In the center of his palm, a deep slice from my dagger stares back up at me, oozing red.

"Okay, now what?"

"What do you see?" he asks expectantly.

"A cut from a dagger." My answer sounds like a question.

He tsks. "Like a book, I said. Imagine you've just picked up a book. You can guess what lies in the pages when you observe the outside cover, can't you?"

"Your hand isn't a book, Maddox."

"You don't say," he remarks. I give him a flat look. He stoops down to scoop up Astrid's journal from the ground and holds it out between us. "Convenient that we have one right here. Look at it," he orders.

I purse my lips but look down. The bulky sunstone sewn into the leather catches my eye again. "I'm looking," I say after a long, silent moment of staring at the cover.

"What do you see? And don't say a book."

I raise an eyebrow. "A journal," I say smartly. 

H rolls his eyes. "Yes, it's a journal. But what makes this book different from any other book? What are the details? Describe all of it to me. But don't open it yet."

I sigh but look at the journal again. "The cover is made of leather—brown leather. It has straps that wrap around it to keep the book bound together. There's an orange crystal on the cover." I squint at the book, trying to find something else to point out. "Oh, there's the embossed sun surrounding the crystal too. Uh... er, I know the pages inside are written by Henrik O'Helio's daughter, but I don't know what they say yet. I... I think that's all."

Our eyes meet and he nods. "Good. Now, look at everything you just described to me and describe those details," he encourages.

I blink at him, confused. "This is stupid.," I mutter. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for."

"It'll make sense eventually... I hope." I purse my lips and he shrugs. "Just look at it. Study it," he urges.

I reach out for the journal to pull it closer to my face. Looking closer at the sunstone, I can see other colors blending in with the orange. "The sunstone is a deep orange color with tiny red flecks in it." My eyes dart across the cover to discover that the edges of the cover are wearing away. "The leather is fading at the edges. Um..." My eyes continue to search for more hidden attributes. "There are chips in the leather strings. Um..." This is ridiculous. What else is there?

I almost jump when Maddox's hand suddenly pops into my field of view, breaking my focus. Carefully, he takes my hand in his and presses it into the cover of the book. "Sight isn't the only sense you can use to observe things. Keep going."

I shake my head but play into his strange lesson anyway. Hopefully, everything he's making me do will make sense soon enough like he said. "Okay, well the crystal is cold to the touch and it's smooth." I trace a finger over the sun surrounding the stone and shrug. "The sun is slightly bulged out of the leather and it's soft." My fingers travel across the leather and down the edges of the book. "The leather is rougher in some places and has chips on the corners. The strings feel more like felt, rather than leather. And, uh, it feels like water made some soft spots on the back of the journal," I say, flipping the book over for a better look. "Yes, there are some dark spots. Definitely water damage. It's an old book that was probably stored improperly."

I look back up at Maddox. His expression tells me that I've noted something important, but his eyes are full of anticipation, signaling that I'm still not done. Sight, touch, and... 

Awkwardly, I bring the journal closer to my face and inhale. I feel like a fool. Is Maddox just messing with me? Because it's starting to feel like it. I take one more whiff to try and place the smell. "It isn't just one smell. I smell old leather, obviously, but there's also some kind of perfume. It smells like flowers, I think." I drop the tips of my fingernails onto the leather, one at a time, repeatedly. "Kind of clunky sounding because there's a lot of pages, maybe." My words sound like a question again.

He nods approvingly. "Great, now—"

"I'm not licking the book," I interject, giving him a pointed look.

He laughs loudly and it takes me off guard. It's not a forced laugh or a short chuckle, but a full, genuine laugh that reveals his perfect white teeth. I'm taken aback for a second. Has his smile always been so attractive? His contagious laugh is even more so, but I don't let myself laugh with him. I don't even want to offer him a smile. But the muscles in my face betray me, and I find myself grinning at him from ear to ear.

His laughter fades into a breathy chuckle as he says, "You don't have to lick the book, Love. I just want you to tell me what the first page of the journal says." I bite the inside of my cheek. Stop smiling, Calypso. He wants to kill you, remember? I shake my head, composing myself quickly as I start to lift the cover. Before I can get a good look at anything, Maddox's hand flies down on top of mine, keeping the book sealed. "Without opening it, tell me what it says," he adds sternly.

I frown up at him, retracting my hand from under his. "That's impossible. I have no idea what the page says because I've never read it."

"It is possible if you understand krymmeni magii."

"Who the what now?" I blurt, staring up at him like he has three heads. I swear, this guy has to be making some of this stuff up.

He glances down at the book in his hand, turning it over to observe the back cover. "It means hidden magic. Think of it like a sixth sense. It's how I heal people, but it can be used for other things as well." He looks up from the book, eyeing me expectantly. I'm at a loss for words, so I just stare back at him. Hidden magic? What? I always excelled in both book smarts and magic in school, but this man makes my years of knowledge look like a joke. I've never even heard of 'krymmeni magii'. I'm convinced he very much is a walking encyclopedia when it comes to magic. He clears his throat and continues, "For example, reading a book without opening it or looking into a memory that isn't your own, or even peering into another realm. Anything you can't experience with your natural five senses becomes discoverable with what I'm trying to show you. But if you're incapable of learning it, I can't teach you how to heal."

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. Maddox wasn't kidding when he said healing magic is complex. I don't know if I'll be able to help Orion at all now. There has to be an easier way. "But isn't the point of magic to just be able to do unexplainable things? I just... I just want to heal Orion. I don't have time to figure all of this out right now. Why can't you just tell me what you look for when you heal people?" I question.

He shakes his head, tossing the book aside. It lands softly against the leaves at our feet. "It's not something I can just tell you. You can either see it or you can't. It's an ability, not a spell. That's why there's no incantation."

"See what?" I ask, irritated. "Why do I need to—"

"Magic. You'll see magic, but I can't describe what it will look like because everyone is different," he says swiftly, cutting me off. "And you need to fully master this because if Orion's wound is infected as you say, there's a strong chance you'll only be able to heal the surface of the wound, and the infection would stay in his bloodstream. If you can't see everything that you're doing, it could cause more damage."

Discouragement floods through me, and I grit my teeth. "Well, you can't use your magic on the island, and I can't exactly bring him here. He's barely even conscious." I have to figure out something for my brother. I can't go back empty-handed. 

He nudges his hand in my direction, gaining my attention. "Look at my hand and tell me what you see."

I observe his palm. "Blood and an open cut. Obviously," I murmur bitterly.

"Good, but you'll have to think a bit deeper than that," he says. I blink up at him in confusion, and he nods his head to the book lying at our feet. "When you described the book, you only saw the more obvious aspects of it at first. But the more I made you look, the more details you were able to come up with. Do that again, but with me," he suggests.

I give him a dubious look. "I'm not smelling your hand."

He stifles a laugh. "I don't expect you to do that, Callie. Honestly, you didn't even have to use anything other than sight or touch for the book... but I enjoyed seeing you go that extra mile," he says with a wink.

I reel in my embarrassment, replacing it with a defensive scowl. "I'm glad you think this is funny."

He drops his smile for my sake, but I can still see humor dancing in his eyes. "The more and more you looked at the book, you were able to tell me...  more obscure details. That's what I'm trying to get you to do here."

"Obscure?" I repeat, confused.

He nods firmly. "For example, you were able to deduce that the book was old and stored improperly after observing the smaller details. The book doesn't tell you anything about how it was stored. You had to read between the lines," he explains, looking determined. I raise an uncertain eyebrow, still trying to understand his point. "Simply put, krymméni mageía is discovering the hidden details with the more obvious ones and eventually going even deeper than that. You just have to really focus."

"I... don't know if I'll be able to learn this in time," I admit, sounding defeated. Or at all, I think harshly.

His face softens, and he gestures for me to look at his hand again. I turn my head down, observing his bloodied palm wordlessly. "If I didn't know how this wound got here, I would think to myself, 'Based on the shape of the cut, a knife must've caused the injury. It was a slice, not a stab. And from the angle and depth of it, the wound is likely self-inflicted." He runs his other hand along his palm before pressing his hands together firmly. "Eventually, your magic will guide you the rest of the way once you find it," he murmurs solemnly. 

A yellow glow shines out from between the gaps in his fingers and when he separates his hands, all that remains is old blood. 

The cut has completely vanished.

My eyes wander between his hand and the journal next to my boot as his words sink in. Something clicks in me, and my eyes lock onto Maddox's. "I might know what you mean... about finding the magic. I think that's how I was able to use the sword to find you. That's how I got back here," I explain. Hope builds in my chest as the memory of the tiny white wisps from before fills my mind.

"That's great. Sounds like you're more than capable then," he says with encouragement. He retrieves the journal from the ground and hands it to me. "You can practice on the book while we look for that sword. Little tip, until I fully mastered krymméni mageía, it was easier for me if I closed my eyes."

"Hey, wait," I say when he starts to walk away. He turns to look at me. "I want my dagger," I declare.

He grins in response as he pulls the dagger back out of his pocket. He offers it to me, pointing the dark floral-patterned hilt in my direction, rather than the blade. "You know, finding a dagger in your room didn't surprise me for some reason, but the dresses and jewelry were an interesting contrast," he muses.

I pluck the dagger from his hand, narrowing my eyes. "And why exactly were you going through my things?" I ask, throwing him an accusatory look.

"Ah, it was for this." He reaches into his pocket and retrieves the silver compass Atlas gifted me when we were children, taking me by surprise. "I couldn't find the one you came to the island with, I'm afraid, but I was hoping this would make up for me losing the original," he explains sheepishly.

Eagerly, I grasp the chain and take it from his hand. Clutching the compass to my chest brings me immediate comfort. It reminds me of my youth and the bond I had with my brother before he became obsessed with war and power. It's painfully nostalgic when I look at the dainty trinket. The compass is something I never want to part with, so hopefully it makes it back to the island with me despite it being a part of this dimension.

Guilt makes my heart hiccup. I was considering never coming back for Maddox, all the while he was going out of his way to search for a silly little keepsake that means nothing to him to make me happy. This is the same man who supposedly murdered Leo, one of his best friends, in cold blood? This is what Dolion would have me believe?

"Are you coming?" Maddox shouts over his shoulder. I didn't even realize that he walked away again.

As I scramble after him, I awkwardly balance Astrid's journal in my arms while tucking away my dagger and compass into my pockets. I nearly drop Vivian's empty canteen from my shoulder as I chase after the accented man. 

He chuckles when I return to his side. "I'm not sure why you wanted the dagger so badly when you can't even carry what you have, Love." 

So you don't try to stab me with it, I think to myself, but I only say, "It's my dagger, and you shouldn't have taken it."

"Hmm, well I figured I might need it to survive, but I apologize nonetheless." The sarcasm in his tone is minimal, but not unnoticeable. I ignore it for now.

"I have a question," I announce. "If 'hidden magic' is all about looking for invisible details, wouldn't it make sense to practice healing magic on myself? I would know more about myself than another person, so why did you say it would be a bad idea?" I inquire.

He looks away, keeping his eyes forward. "I just said that so that you'd let me heal you. Practicing on yourself would be logical, yes, but truthfully I'd rather you not go around hurting yourself." His confession strikes my nerves. Well, he's a good liar, which is very concerning given the circumstances. "Besides, if you don't know what you're doing, you could do the opposite of what you're trying to do and hurt yourself. And if that happens, I'd rather it be me that gets hurt, not you."

I purse my lips, half-irritated, half-comforted. "Don't lie to me again, Maddox," I say stiffly.

He peeks over at me and frowns. "I'm sorry, Love... er, Callie."

I clear my throat and change the subject. "Thank you for getting the compass for me." His look softens, but I look away quickly, glancing down at the book in my hands with a frown. I can feel his gaze on me still, but I do my best to ignore it. 

Instead, I think about Orion and how I'm going to heal his wound. Will I have healing magic mastered before I find my way back to my brother? Of course I will—I have to. Failure isn't an option at this point, but I'll have to practice what Maddox calls 'krymméni mageía' when we're not on the move. I'll focus better when I can sit still, so for now, I tuck the journal back under my shirt, between me and my pantsline. 

"Looks like we're heading into more smoke, which means we're almost back where we started. Keep an eye out for the sword," he says.

I duck my chin and cover my nose with the front of my tunic to avoid choking down too much smoke at once. Maddox however, is still topless, so his only defense is his bare hand that doesn't fully cover his mouth and nose.

The larger, violent flames from last night have died down, making it easier for us to pass through. Our biggest enemy is the smoke so far. 

Once I spot the familiar burning buildings I saw last night, I turn to Maddox. "Do you see it anywhere?" I ask, my voice muffled from the fabric covering my mouth.

"Not yet," he responds with a cough.

Now that the sun is out, I can see that this is the village I saw that little boy in last night right before I woke up next to Maddox. It's hard to tell though because every single building that was in that strange dream is nonexistent now. In this dimension, everything has already burned. Except for a few partial structures, including the one the little boy ran up to, yelling for his mother. 

The tiny home reminds me of my grandparent's cottage in a lot of ways. From the pointy crooked roof to the rounded windows surrounded by chipped wood, it looks like this village was once beautifully simple. Now, parts of the wall are reduced to ash, the wooden porch is busted in, and the dying flames are still licking through the wilted flowerbeds out front. 

Although the home is quite damaged, it is the most prominent structure remaining. Everything else is barely recognizable from last night's dream... well, I don't really know if it was a dream for sure. That little boy looked too much like Maddox...

An unusually strong gust of frost suddenly whips past us, knocking both Maddox and me off of our feet. I feel like I'm running down that cold hallway with Maddox all over again. I shiver uncontrollably as snowflakes latch themselves in my hair. Why in the Moon's name did I cut the sleeves of my tunic? It would've been nice if Maddox had stolen a coat from my room while he was rummaging through my things.

Just as I sit up, another frigid blast of air dances across the forgotten village, blowing what remains of the forest fire in our direction. Maddox jumps to his feet and tugs me along with him before the flames can get too close. The wind, despite its chill, fans the flames, making the orange waves grow ever so slightly in size.

"We should give it another day," Maddox suggests once we're both back on our feet. "The flames will die down more with time."

Orion's unconscious body pops into my mind, followed by Nova's worried eyes. She must be terrified, out here all alone. "I'm not leaving until I find the sword," I declare. I've got too many people counting on me. Time is not a luxury for me or them right now.

"You won't be able to help anyone if you get yourself killed," he counters.

I'm about to argue, but a rain droplet splats against my forehead, distracting me, and more follow moments later. Once the rain begins to fall more heavily, I quickly realize it isn't just rain. Sleet is coming down hard, and the warmth from the threatening flames quickly diminishes. What remains of the wildfire is quickly extinguished by the ice and water, leaving me shivering.

I run my hands up and down my frozen arms, trying to nullify the numbness in them as I whirl around frantically. I don't see the sword anywhere. I woke up here, so the sword should be here, right? So, where is it!

The freezing rain begins to drown out any other sound, and the autumn air is threatening to twist into winter with each passing second. The rain is making it impossible to see much of anything too.

"Come on, we'll have to wait it out!" Maddox shouts. He's right. And if I'm being honest, I don't think the sword is even here anyway. It should be... but it's not for some reason. But that's alright for now; I have to master healing magic before I can leave anyway.

He offers me his hand and I hesitantly take it. He then guides me up the stairs of the same broken porch I found the little boy on last night, then tugs us both through the front door with ease. With so many openings burned into the roof and walls of the little home, there is hardly any relief from the cold, but at least we're not getting drenched anymore.

This place is much smaller than my grandparent's cottage from the inside.

Apart from the privacy of the small bathroom and the tiny closet in the back of the home, this place is just one mid-sized room with three beds. And a fireplace... with no firewood in it. All of the other furniture is burnt beyond recognition, and if there was a backdoor, it's gone now.

"Come here," Maddox urges. I cross my arms and try to stop my teeth from chattering as I trail behind him. He pushes the cracked door of the closet all the way open and reaches inside to search through the scarce clothing hanging along the wall. I stare at his bare back in awe. How is he not frostbitten right now? I have more clothes on than him, and I'm ready to curl into a ball and give up. He turns around after a moment and tosses a green tunic at me. "Put that on," he orders gently as he turns his back on me again. 

I throw the long-sleeved tunic over my sleeveless one, but my joints are still numb from the cold air. And the rain that stains my entire body is not helping. Everything feels ten times colder because of it.

Maddox tosses a plain black tunic over his own head, then he turns and reaches over me to drench a coat that is at least three sizes too big for me over my shoulders. Desperate for some relief from the cold, I shove my arms into the sleeves quickly. The thick wool inside of the brown coat feels nice. With my hands tucked away in the coat, I am starting to get some feeling back in them.

"D-Does the w-w-weather always change s-so abruptly around here?" I complain. Whether we're on the island or in the second dimension, Mother Nature does not seem to ever let anyone catch a break.

Maddox slides into a similar brown coat and turns to me with a sigh. "At least we have shelter and some clothes," he says without so much as a grimace.

I cross my arms and shuffle uncomfortably when the cold air breezes through the cracks and holes in the walls. "How are you n-not cold? I f-feel miserable."

"I am cold, but tiny people get cold faster," he says with a smirk.

"S-Shut up," I stammer.

He throws my hood over my head to shield my ears from the cold and grins. "Hey, well, at least the forest isn't on fire anymore."

"I hate everything," I grumble, tucking my nose inside the collar of the big coat. He merely chuckles in response as he brushes past me to observe the dormant fireplace. 

He sighs, shaking his head. "There's not much wood in here, and all of the trees outside are too wet to burn now," he prattles to himself.

Before I left this dimension for the first time, the environment had turned cold. Cold and dark. I left and Maddox was forced to battle fires, but now that I'm back, his fears and discomforts have been drenched and washed away by my own. 

He was that little boy in the village, I'm sure of it. Whether it was him in the past or some cruel nightmare, it was him. Everything is too coincidental for it not to be. He told me he was in a fire when he was young, and I woke up to a young version of him running through flames when I came back. I remember everything he said about the fire. How he lost the people he loved and learned to fear not just the fire itself, but the person who started it. At the time, I guessed that it was Cyrus who burned the village, but now I'm not so sure. 

"How did you know there would be coats in here?" I ask when my teeth stop chattering.

He shrugs and doesn't look at me. "I didn't."

"I told you not to lie to me," I say coldly.

He raises an amused brow, turning to gauge my reaction. "I'm not lying. I didn't know if there would be coats in there, or not." The way he answers me feels very careful. I get the sense that he's being honest while leaving something important out at the same time.

"Withholding information is the same thing as lying, Maddox."

He snorts. "Is it? Well, I'll stop when you do, then."

His sudden change in tone takes me off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?" I demand. What does he know about me? Does he know that I know about Leo? How he's the one who killed him?

"It's just obvious that you hide a lot about yourself. Painfully so, I'm afraid," he comments. "And you know, I would really appreciate it if you would just come right out and ask me whatever it is you want to know instead of hiding behind 'innocent' questions in an attempt to trick me into something." His candor stuns me. He pays more attention than I realized. "You can ask me anything, Callie. I know I pick on you sometimes and keep you guessing, but it's only because I know you're trying to test me for some reason, and I just don't like it."

I blink at him, silently wishing I could shrink away into the coat that is already swallowing me. "I'm just..." I don't know what to say. He's really intense when he's serious.

He takes a deep breath. "If you truly ever want to know something, I will tell you. And if for some reason I can't, I would tell you that. I have no reason to try and deceive you, so I wish you wouldn't make me feel like I'm the kind of person who would make someone feel like they have to hide behind such cowardly behaviors."

I swallow the lump in my throat. He really knows how to call someone out when he wants to. All I can do now is take him at his word. "Fine, you said you were in a fire when you were younger. You said a lot of people died because you couldn't save everyone. This is where it happened, isn't it?" I guess reluctantly, glancing over at what remains of the faded wallpaper.

"Yes," he admits with a frown. "This was my village."

I bite my lip, hesitating before finally asking, "Will you tell me what happened?"

--------- author's note

Hello! So, I have a few things to say. One: Happy New Year! Two: Sorry for the lack of updates the past couple of weeks, I was pretty busy with the holidays, and I got sick again :( But I'm starting to feel a little better. Three: THANK YOU FOR 1K+ READS! It means a lot that people read and continue to come back to this story. I look forward to finishing the book this year. Thank you all for joining me for the ride, and I hope you all have a fantastic 2024! xo