Besides his mother, there aren't many people Day looks up to. But somehow Gwendolyn Highmore, a ruthless consumer witch, that made Day nearly piss himself during his first lesson with her, has become almost a mother figure to him.

"Dayton," Gwendolyn starts. "You've come a long way."

Day looks up at his mentor in surprise. His head pounds

with a dull ache, and it takes him a second longer than necessary to process the witch's words.

"Thank you," Day answers, feeling a little awkward with the sentiment.

Gwendolyn Highmore strides towards the large windows, the purpose in her strides making Day nervous. Day has been training with the legendary consumer witch for over half a year now, and he is aware of her mood changes. Gwendolyn Highmore can be cracking a joke one second and then testing his emotions the other.

"How is your family, Day?"

Day tilts his head in confusion. "They're doing good actually, I went to visit them a few days ago."

"Ah, and I understand your mother doesn't practise magic anymore?"

The cord around Day's neck feels heavier at the mention of his mother. He never in the right of his mind, would question the older witch's ways but he can't help but wonder how she knows.

"Yes."

"Do you know why?" Highmore asks, finally turning around to face him. Her eyes are ablaze and Day has come to recognise that look on her face. She is reading him, and how he feels.

"My father is a Civisal, and he is not a fan of magic," Day replies, trying to brush the sentence of nonchalantly, as if it isn't making his stomach twist into knots.

"Did you know," she starts, walking towards the desk in front of Day. "if a witch doesn't use her magic, it can drive her insane."

Day's head snaps up. "My mother is not insane."

The older witch's eyes soften and she pats his arm comfortingly.

"I am very much aware of that. But it does make me wonder what she did with her magic. Where did it go?"

Realisation dawns on Day. "Because magic cannot be destroyed, just like energy."

He remembers his mentor saying those words when she'd come to see Sierra. Day had thought she'd just been referring to Sierra and Amisha's bond but now it seems that the witch had ulterior motives. Day watches as Gwendolyn perches herself into a chair, one leg crossed over the other, and her arm thrown over the back of another chair. If one didn't know better, they would say that Gwendolyn looks relaxed. But Day does know better. He notices that her body is tight with tension, her eyes still alert. Without using a spell or incantation, he can sense that she's about to drag him into a deep and philosophical conversation.

"Have you thought about your place in this war?"

'Ah, there it is,' Day realises.

Day doesn't say anything, instead he stares at her, wondering what she wants him to say. If he is to be honest, than he knows that the war is coming. He knows that it's more than likely he'll be chosen as an heir. But he still isn't sure how he's meant to save witch kind.

"It has started."

"What do you mean?" Day asks, wariness seeping into his voice.

"I can feel the darkness seeping into this academy. Can you?"

Day gulps. "The courtyard."

Gwendolyn smiles, but it is not a comforting one. "You're a smart boy."

Any other time, Day would've appreciated the compliment, but not now.

"You have a great journey ahead of you, Dayton. Do not forget your loyalties," Gwendolyn says, her voice all knowing.

A chill crawls down Day's spine. "You talk like a Seer witch."

"Not a bad witch to talk like, they're very smart," she replies, shrugging and her lips twitching up.

"I depart tomorrow, Dayton."

Day's eyebrows rise. "But our trainings?"

She smiles at him, this time, one full of pride.

"You have come an incredibly long way, Dayton. You no longer need my help." She pats his cheek and makes her way out of the room, the red dress flowing behind her. She halts in her strides and turns before speaking, "Do not forget to have hope, it may just turn the tides in this war."

Day remains frozen in his spot, his mentors words ringing in his head long after her departure. The dull ache in his head no longer the biggest problem.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Alana Cashore watches Nicholas Gilbert saunter around the room, gathering his clothing. For once she joins him, as she buttons up her own top that was discarded near his briefcase. Her fingers push the last button through, and her eyes fall onto the blue paper forgotten on the brief case.

"What is this?" Alana Cashore, her eyes scanning the paper.

Nicholas turns around, his hand halting on his brown sock. Any other time Alana would've appreciated how comical it is to see the Governor in a half buttoned shirt and pulling his socks on.

"That's the blueprint for the next task."

Alana stands up, making her way towards the man she loves.

"This is absurd and cruel, Nicholas. You can't possibly be thinking of going through with this."

The Governor's face loses all remnants of relaxation and happiness as he responds, "It is what it is, Alana."

Alana gasps. "How can you let this happen? How in the name of the Gods can you put some nineteen year olds through this?"

Nicholas Gilbert pinches his brows with his hand, trying to rub the frustration away.

"The heirs will need to make sacrifices bigger than this, Alana." He pauses. "And I do not ask for your approval."

"I cannot be with a man who will let this happen," Alana says, her eyes searching his for the man she fell in love with.

"Then so be it," he replies, shrugging his jacket on and stalking out of the room, leaving Alana standing there.

For the first time in her adulthood, Alana Cashore cries. She cries for the love that almost was. She cries for the man who's compromised with everything he believes in. Alana cries for her students who will have to sacrifice so much more than they should. Alana Cashore cries for what is to come that will leave everything in ruins.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

It is not often when the hallways of the academy are empty or as deserted as they are today. As Orion and Noah walk through the hallways, Noah is grateful for the lack of bustling students. His eyes move towards the rain, pounding down on the compound outside.

"You won't," Orion claims, nodding towards to the rain with a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

"You're right, I won't," Noah replies, shaking his head in bemusement. He watches as Orion starts walking backwards towards the rain.

"Come on," Orion cajoles, beckoning him closer with his hand.

Noah rolls his eyes. "You're going to get sick."

"Nothing some of Nurse Rochelle's infamous ginger and turmeric potion can't fix," Orion prods, jumping out in the rain.

Noah is momentarily stunned by how happy Orion looks. As if in a trance, Noah walks towards the pouring rain. Drop by drop, the cold of the rain seeps into his skin. Orion's gaze falls onto Noah's throat, where his Adam's apple bops nervously. The heat in the air is palpable, and despite the cold, Noah's skin warms with anticipation.

"You're ridiculous," Noah states, trying to not let their close proximity get to his head.

"You still like me," Orion says, as an afterthought he adds, "I didn't mean like that."

Noah stops in his path, and takes a deep breath. "But I do."

"What?"

"I like you, Orion Winders. Not just in the friend way," Noah confesses, his eyes searching Orion's, wondering if he's just embarrassed himself and ruined their friendship.

"Fuck," Orion swears. "Am I imagining this conversation?"

Noah raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to be?"

"Fuck no," Orion answers and leans down and kisses the boy who's been taking over his dreams. In that kiss, Orion brings Noah home, or at least to a place close. A place where cherry blossoms rain down on the roads and the sun kisses his skin. A place where the threat of Malefactors don't hang over his head and the vestiums on his arm don't poison his thoughts.

A place with hope.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Amisha Jeet is drowning in books and knowledge. Books on top of books are scattered around her and she realises that a friendship with Sierra Kingsley is costly to her mental health. She holds back the groan of frustration, as she reads paragraph after paragraph, trying to find even a clue about their bond.

Maybe it's the pent up frustration that makes her confess, "Alec kissed me."

"You're joking?" Sierra asks, her voice rising to a volume that is extremely inappropriate for the Reference section of the library.

Amisha looks up from her book. "I wish."

With a quizzical expression on her face, Sierra asks, "Why? I thought you liked him?"

Amisha looks at her in alarm. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, there isn't anything specifically, it's just a vibe. The tension between you two is crazy."

"I refuse to like Alec Bacani."

"You know that's not how this works, right?" Sierra needles, her voice teasing. "He's a good guy."

"I know, but I think he's just in it for the chase," Amisha replies, the uncertainty evident.

Sierra can't help the laugh that follows. "You're ridiculous."

"Says you," Amisha scoffs.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sierra asks, lifting her eyes away from the book in her hands.

"You and Day are doing this ridiculous dance around each other. Just fuck already," Amisha remarks bluntly, without a care for anyone overhearing them.

With wide eyes, Sierra says, "It's not like that. He was dating Raylene not long ago, and I don't think he feels that way about me."

"But you do?" Amisha prods, wondering if the controller witch had admitted it to herself yet.

"Stop reading into my words, and read into our bond instead," Sierra replies, brushing the topic away and diverting her attention back into the books.