Alyra froze, her eyes wide. A spy and a Warden stood in the same room, acting as if nothing were wrong.

  Isabelle should have arrested Sierelith the moment she saw her. The Isabelle who had led Alyra through the jungle would’ve dragged the spy before the Church without a second thought.

  And yet, they stood there, face to face.

  Sierelith’s violet-lit smile gleamed beneath the glow of the hovering sphere, calm and confident. Isabelle looked just as composed, arms crossed and posture steady, but her silence said more than words ever could.

  How could this be happening?

  Isabelle’s tone cut through the air. “I am not here to bargain with a heretic.”

  Sierelith blinked, feigning surprise. “Really? How strange. I could’ve sworn you needed my help.” She sighed. “Well then, I suppose our little meeting will be even shorter than expected. Can’t exactly talk business if there’s nothing you want from me, can we?”

  The spy took a step toward the door.

  “Wait,” Isabelle said, raising a hand.

  Sierelith turned, one brow arched. “Yes?”

  Isabelle unclipped a small dark pouch from her belt. The faint jingle of coins filled the air.

  Alyra’s face flushed. “Isabelle! You’re actually going to pay that spy?”

  Isabelle blinked, startled, then glanced at the pouch in her hand. Her eyes widened. “By Orbisar, what are you thinking, child? I would never pay her.” She tightened her grip on the pouch. “No. I need her to examine the residual traces of magic on these coins.”

  Sierelith arched a brow. “Oh, you will pay. Just not with those coins.”

  “What are you even talking about?” Alyra snapped. She’d had enough of this spy and her smug little games. “I only came because Varom said he wanted a Seer to check my chakras. He thinks there’s something strange about my aura.”

  Sierelith blinked, expression tightening. “Oh. That’s a problem. I told you to keep a low profile. What did you do this time?”

  Alyra shrugged. “Nothing... I just resisted Varom’s aura during a training exercise and—”

  “You what?” Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Do not lie.”

  “I—I’m not lying!” Alyra’s voice cracked. “Why would I?”

  “Exactly,” Sierelith said smoothly. “She’s not lying. And frankly, I’m not surprised.”

  A flicker of suspicion crossed Isabelle’s face. “Explain.”

  The spy tilted her head toward Alyra. “Her aura’s unusual. Dense, stable. I’d wager it’s tied to Stone magic. And if I’m right, it’s pure—remarkably pure.”

  Alyra’s stomach clenched. Her breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean? Stone magic? Pure? I… I don’t understand.”

  Sierelith rolled her eyes. “Jungle brat. Aren’t you supposed to be in a school now? Ask your teachers how it works.”

  Alyra narrowed her eyes. “You mean affinity?”

  The spy nodded. “So you’re not entirely clueless. Yes, little one, I’d say your affinity for Stone magic is exceptional. Your aura feels like solid rock—impenetrable.” She rubbed her chin, thoughtful. “That must be why even Death magic couldn’t spread from your chakras to the rest of your body.”

  Stone magic. Could that really be her affinity?

  If that was the reason behind everything—and if she could prove it—she wouldn’t need a Seer’s examination. She wouldn’t risk being found out.

  But how? How could she prove it?

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  A gentle weight settled on her shoulder. Isabelle’s hand. The Warden’s smile was calm, reassuring. “If the heretic speaks true, Orbisar has blessed you with a great gift.”

  “Oh yes,” Sierelith said, lips curving in mock sympathy. “Those with that affinity are destined to suffer in others’ place. Truly fortunate.”

  Alyra frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “What the heretic means,” Isabelle said, a crease forming between her brows, “is that your gifts will be endurance, stability, and defense. In battle, you may stand at the front line, shielding Ascendants with offensive affinities such as Lightning or Fire.”

  Her grip on Alyra’s shoulder tightened. “You will be their shield, and they your sword. It is a great honor.”

  Warmth welled up in Alyra’s chest. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. She had never been anything more than a village girl. Hearing the word honor directed at her felt unreal, almost impossible.

  And yet Isabelle had said it. And she hadn’t been mocking her.

  Sierelith yawned. “Yes, a great honor. But meaningless if a Seer examines you before your Ascension and finds your chakras tainted by Death energy. Getting expelled from school would be just the beginning.”

  She rubbed her chin, eyes narrowing. “Maybe if we can prove your strong affinity for Stone magic, they’ll back off from further analysis.” Her gaze sharpened. “Unless you’ve made more mistakes.”

  A tight knot twisted in Alyra’s stomach. “Well… um…”

  The spy’s tone dropped. “What else did you do?”

  “It’s not my fault!” Alyra blurted.

  “Out with it. I don’t care for excuses.”

  Alyra swallowed and cleared her throat. “Varom thinks I managed to pull off a Fulcrum Strike. On my first try.”

  Isabelle gave a short nod. “Remarkable, but hardly something—”

  “Second level,” Alyra cut in, cheeks burning.

  Sierelith blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Damn. When I told you to keep a low profile, you really took it the wrong way, huh?”

  Isabelle’s eyes widened. “An achievement most worthy of pride, Alyra. Yet now I see why your teachers want a deeper look into your aura and chakras.” She sighed. “They would not be good teachers otherwise. You are displaying talents far beyond the ordinary.”

  The spy bit her lip. “I wonder if Derek knew any of this. It would explain his interest in you.”

  Isabelle’s expression hardened. “Do not misjudge him. He knows nothing of Orbisar’s magic. His strange armor absorbs all kinds of energy without regard for affinity.”

  Sierelith tilted her head. “I don’t buy it. I’d have done the same. Pretend ignorance to hide my real motives.”

  “You do not know Derek,” Isabelle said firmly.

  “Oh? And you do?”

  They locked eyes. The spy wearing a mischievous smile, the Warden’s scowl deepening by the second.

  Alyra shifted her weight, throat tight. “Sorry, but what do we actually do? The only reason they haven’t examined me yet is because the Seers are swamped. But sooner or later, I’ll be summoned!”

  Sierelith twirled her fingers, and the violet sphere above her palm spiraled upward, scattering restless shadows across the storeroom walls. “I think we can arrange for a certain Seer to free up some time… to help us out of this little mess.”

  “Isabelle tilted her head. “You’re not thinking of repeating that little trick you used in the Council chamber, are you? Because know this: Varom will not be so easily deceived. If you try to take on the guise of a Seer, he will see through it at once.”

  The spy’s smile widened. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to make sure that, at the right moment, something forces Varom to step out of the picture.” Her gaze lingered on the Warden, sly and conspiratorial.

  Isabelle’s mouth parted in disbelief, her face flushing crimson. “What? No. Never. I will not… I cannot lie, nor could I ever deceive my old mentor. My respect for Varom forbids it completely.”

  Alyra’s gaze dropped to the floor. Guilt coiled in her chest like a living thing. She understood. Isabelle shouldn’t have to stain her honor for her sake. She didn’t deserve it.

  Sierelith sighed. “Isabelle, has anyone ever told you that you’re dreadfully boring?” She tapped her lip with a finger, pretending to think. “Maybe I can come up with a way for you to create a distraction without… technically lying.”

  Isabelle narrowed her eyes. “What schemes are rattling around in that spy’s brain of yours?”

  Sierelith waved a hand as if shooing away a fly. “Patience! And speaking of time, I think ours is running short. We’ll have to leave this charming little broom closet soon.” She nodded toward the pouch of coins still in Isabelle’s hand. “But not before we discuss why you came looking for me in the first place.”

  The Warden turned the pouch over in her palm, then held it out. “I have reason to believe these coins were used to bribe a tribesman into attempting Derek’s assassination. An attack on the Cashnar by the tribes is a grave matter. It could spark a war.” She drew a slow, steady breath. “If I can prove that someone within the Church—or at least outside the tribes—was the true instigator, perhaps I can stop this war before it begins.”

  Alyra’s stomach twisted. A Church member plotting to kill the Cashnar? That couldn’t be true. Isabelle would never believe something so insane. Maybe this was a trap to lure the spy into revealing herself.

  Sierelith snatched the pouch, eyes narrowing. “So, you want me to claim these coins belonged to a Church member before they ended up in the killer’s hands?” Her grin curved sharp and cruel. “Why not ask one of your Seers instead? Their judgment would sound so much more… official than mine.”

  Isabelle stiffened. “The truth is…” She cleared her throat. “There would be great risk in asking a Seer right now. I would only dare if I were certain of finding something.”

  The spy nodded slowly. “I see. You don’t know whom you can trust. If I gave you a lead on who ordered the hit, you’d know which Seer to rely on to push the investigation forward. Not all of them are equally loyal to the Council’s different factions.” Her lips curved into a faint smile. “You tread carefully, Isabelle. My opinion of you rises the more I get to know you.”

  Color rushed to the Warden’s cheeks. “I have told you before, I have no use for your compliments.”

  Sierelith burst out laughing.

  “And what is so amusing now?” Isabelle demanded, her voice tight.

  The spy waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing… it just strikes me as funny that, right now, I happen to be the one person you can trust most in your precious Church.”

  Alyra’s chest tightened. “So… it’s true?”

  Isabelle glanced at her, uneasy. “Yes, well… the investigation is still ongoing. Garath and I are pursuing it.”

  Sierelith’s brows shot up. “That pompous blowhard is helping you with this?”

  Isabelle nodded. “He is a thorough Inquisitor. I believe he truly seeks the truth.”

  The spy snorted. “You’re far too na?ve. Garath’s nothing but a dog on the Council’s leash. He’s surely reporting your every move.”

  Isabelle pointed to the pouch in Sierelith’s hand. “It was he who found those coins. When he insisted on investigating, he was ordered to stop. That is why he entrusted them to me.”

  Sierelith rolled the pouch in her palm, the coins jingling softly in the cramped storeroom. “If I didn’t know that Inquisitor was incompetent, I might almost think these coins had been tampered with to be tracked.”

  The Warden frowned. “To what end?”

  Sierelith shrugged. “To follow your steps. To capture me. Take your pick. Maybe both.”

  Alyra stifled a cough. The air in the closet felt thicker with every breath. “Sorry, but I think I’d better head back to my room. I’ve been gone too long already.”

  Sierelith sighed and nodded. “Of course, little one. I have another appointment tonight myself, so I must be off.” She turned to Isabelle. “I’ll keep these coins and see what I can uncover.” She looked back at Alyra. “As for you, stay calm. I think the Seer issue is manageable. Anything else you need to tell me?”

  The memory of Faela—and the Death energy she carried—pressed on Alyra’s mind like a weight. That strange girl had vanished before explaining anything. She’d only promised they would talk again and left her standing alone in the baths as if nothing had happened.

  Until she knew more, silence felt safer.

  Alyra shook her head. “No. That’s it.”

  Sierelith gave a small bow.

  A powerful voice thundered from beyond the storeroom door. “Whoever’s in there, come out!”