I like when the world holds its breath.

  I love to see the true shapes of clouds and flowers,

  and the bee so still it cannot sting.

  I don’t know where it comes from or where it goes—

  but thank you, Time-Master,

  for letting me borrow

  a little of my own peace.

  —Berdorf, E. Poems of a Wingless Princess. Unpublished manuscript, Summer

  Eura burst out of the Balma-Saat lake as if the water itself flung her. Cold air punched her lungs the moment her back hit the grass, sending a spray of droplets off her skin. She barely had time to cough before a hand flew across her cheek, so hard her vision blurred white.

  Her head snapped sideways. The taste of river and blood mixed on her tongue.

  A shadow loomed. Long, skeletal fingers clamped around her arm, digging in until she felt the sting beneath her skin. He wrenched her upright as easily as lifting a doll.

  Only then did she see his face.

  The Elven King.

  His grip tightened, thin knuckles like bone spikes pressing into her flesh, dragging her to her feet whether her legs obeyed or not.

  “Who do you think you are, you ungrateful, impudent child? Who gave you the right to defile the Green Mother’s waters?” His voice cracked like a whip.

  Another slap snapped her head sideways. The sting bloomed hot across her cheek.

  “I’ve had enough of your insolence!” he roared. “By the Green Mother, I’ll spank your insubordination out of your blue bones!”

  Eura braced for the next strike, shoulders curling in, breath locked tight in her chest. She flinched before his hand even moved.

  But it never landed.

  The Elven King froze mid-swing, fingers locked in the air like carved stone. His robes stopped fluttering. The nearby grass no longer brushed her wet ankles. Even the lake behind her fell silent.

  Eura lifted her eyes. The clouds above her held the same shape, the same softness, as if glued into the blue.

  Time had stopped again.

  And she didn’t waste the boon of stillness.

  Eura slipped from the garden, bare feet slapping against stone, then grass, then earth. Pollux’s frozen hedges vanished behind her with each breathless stride. For the first time she could remember, nothing chased her. Nothing held her.

  Wind tore past her ears. Branches blurred. She ran until her lungs burned sweetly and her legs tingled, her steps carrying her faster and faster, the palace growing closer with every heartbeat.

  And she couldn’t stop smiling.

  Maybe she had discovered something new. Maybe she could travel the world with one splash.

  Then she stopped short, breath catching in her chest.

  Where was Hex?

  “Wait—say that again.”

  Jaer’s boots carved restless lines into the carpet as he paced the length of the Magi office. His breath came tight as if the walls had suddenly shrunk around him.

  Lolth didn’t repeat herself. She only watched him, arms folded.

  “I heard you,” Jaer muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “I heard every damned word.” He stopped, stared at nothing, then resumed pacing. His shoulders twitched as if trying to shake a weight that wouldn’t lift.

  A stack of parchments toppled when he brushed past the desk too fast, but he didn’t look down. His steps kept faltering, uneven, like someone trying to walk on ground that no longer held steady.

  “Time stopped,” he whispered, barely audible. “Time… stopped.”

  His throat clicked on the swallow that wouldn’t go down.

  Not possible. Not anymore. Not after she—He shut that thought away before it fully surfaced.

  Jaer’s hands clenched into fists and unclenched again, useless, shaking. He pressed them against his eyes as though the pressure might force clarity into him.

  Danger, he could handle. War, he could face. But this, this was the kind of danger that didn’t stay in the world around him.

  It lived under Eura’s skin.

  “Not my Sunbeam.” His voice cracked on the last word, soft and raw. “Not her.”

  He turned to Lolth at last, but the fear in his eyes wasn’t for himself. It wasn’t even for the palace.

  It was for the girl who should never have been anywhere near a power like this. A power he thought was long gone with Yeso.

  “Time froze,” Lolth said, her voice level but too tight at the edges. “Everyone looked like carved statues. Nothing moved— not the maids, not the guards, not even the water in the pipes. I went to look for you so we could make sense of it.”

  She remained sitting.

  Jaer lifted his hand and made a small, irritated quotation gesture with his fingers. “‘Time stop,’” he echoed. “I haven’t seen anything of the sort, never. But I heard...”

  “It is what it is,” Lolth said. “I don’t know another word for it. I’m not Or—”

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  The name snagged in her throat. She swallowed hard, the last syllables dying before they touched air. For a heartbeat, the faintest flicker of a red-haired boy crossed her eyes, a ghost surfacing from a place she’d barricaded long ago.

  She straightened, pushing the memory back down. “I’m no scholar,” she finished.

  “So…” Jaer rubbed a hand over his mouth, replaying her earlier words. “You heard Eura screaming?” He took a step closer. “And your Spirit was trying to—what? Conceal her?”

  Lolth nodded once. “Yeah. She thought it could stop Eura from—”

  Her hands moved before the words did, fingers spreading, palms jerking outward as if miming the burst of something too bright, too violent to name.

  “When she gets angry, she calls winds, rain… storms,” Jaer said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But she’s never—never reached this. What—”

  “She was in pain,” Lolth cut in. “Bleeding.”

  Jaer’s eyes lifted. “So every Moon the world will be… in danger?”

  Lolth didn’t answer right away. The silence was heavy enough. “How did Yeso manage it?” she asked instead.

  “I don’t know.” Jaer’s laugh came out thin, almost brittle. “He wasn’t a little girl on her period.”

  He dropped into the nearest chair, elbows braced on his knees. His fingers laced together, squeezing until the knuckles lost their red colour.

  “This whole situation—” His breath hitched. “It sounds absurd. She can’t just… end the world. I mean, she can, but—there must be a way around it.”

  His gaze drifted to the far wall, unfocused, pulled somewhere Summers, Winters, Falls behind him.

  “I remember,” he said slowly, “Yeso had a few Magis trained to stop him. In case he would… flare.”

  “Flare?” Lolth echoed, the word unfamiliar on her tongue.

  Jaer didn’t look up.

  His foot tapped—once, twice—fast, uneven, the rhythm of someone trying to outrun a memory he didn’t want to revisit.

  “It’s what he called it,” Jaer said, voice low. “When the Sun burst out of him.”

  Lolth’s brow knit, but she didn’t interrupt immediately. “What happened to those Magis?” she asked after a long pause.

  Jaer’s jaw tightened. He leaned back, shoulders sinking into the chair as though the memory pulled him down with it.

  “Well… we did kill one of them, Lekutua. ” His tail drummed once on his knee, a small, restless tap. “The others… each went their own way. Once Yeso met Zonnestra, he couldn’t risk… being injured, otherwise she would be too. So he dismissed them.”

  Lolth eyed him. “You know where any of them ended up?”

  “Only one.” Jaer’s gaze slid toward the window, the kind of window creatures look through when they don’t want to see the room around them. “Regala Mess. High Council now. Think he is still in Whitestone.”

  “And the others?”

  A slow exhale. “Gone. Scattered. Lost track. Maybe dead.”

  Lolth shifted her stance. “So… Zonnestra was Yeso’s Hexe.”

  Jaer nodded once. “Yes.”

  The word landed heavily. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The entire room felt the word settle like dust on an old wound he’d kept shut for years.

  Jaer looked at Lolth.

  He didn’t move. She didn’t move.

  But the stillness between them tightened, the kind that said more than words ever could. Whatever Lolth saw in his face, it mirrored perfectly in hers—an unspoken thought neither dared to give shape to. Not here. Not with walls that had a habit of listening to secrets.

  The seconds stretched thin. Finally, Jaer broke it. “Did you know Zonnestra was a Time Master?”

  Lolth’s breath hitched. “But she died.”

  “She did.”

  Nothing in his expression softened. If anything, the lines around his eyes deepened, as if the weight of a truth he never wanted to revisit had settled squarely on his shoulders.

  “Eura needs to find…” Lolth began.

  “She needs her Hexe,” Jaer finished. “Like Yeso did.”

  Lolth’s jaw clenched. “We still have a dragon situation.”

  Jaer gave a dry, humourless laugh. “After what you just told me?” He leaned back, rubbing a thumb slowly across his temple. “The dragons are the least of my worries.”

  “How would we find the new Time Master?” Lolth asked.

  Jaer didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe.

  “Wherever the Howling Night is.”

  A knock snapped both Jaer and Lolth out of their thoughts. They froze, neither eager for witnesses to the conversation they’d just had. A full minute stretched before Lolth finally said, “Come in.”

  The door creaked open. Lamar poked his head inside first, wearing a smile that was far too hesitant for someone who usually barged in like a storm.

  “Uh… hi,” he said, voice pitched with forced cheer. “I, uh—I brought a new trainee.”

  He edged the door wider.

  A small girl stepped in. About Eura’s age, maybe younger. Short red hair, freckles scattered across her cheeks like spilt cinnamon, and both hands gripping a bamboo stick so tightly her knuckles were pale.

  She didn’t speak. She didn’t look around. She just stood there.

  “She says she wants to train as a Magi,” Lamar announced, gesturing at the girl as if presenting a rare species he wasn’t sure was safe to touch.

  The little redhead beamed, smile stretching almost to her ears.

  Lolth blinked at her. “…Right. Well. Could we know your name?”

  “I’m Zo—” the girl began, puffing up proudly.

  “Zo?” Lolth echoed.

  “Yes. Zo. Zo—Zo…” She nodded hard enough to shake her freckles. “Zozo!”

  Lamar’s lips twitched. Jaer looked as if he were deciding whether she was adorable or mocking them.

  “So where are you from?” Jaer asked.

  “I’m from…” Zozo’s eyes darted sideways. “Faewood. The land of the faeries.” She delivered the line with the confidence of someone inventing geography on the spot.

  Jaer leaned closer, tapping two fingers toward her face. “I like your eyes,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. “Pretty.”

  Zozo blinked once, then lifted her gaze upward as if trying to see her own eyes.

  “Yes,” she agreed solemnly. “Very pretty.”

  Jaer leaned toward Lolth. “Looks like we have a new cadet,” he murmured, trying to sound casual and failing.

  Lolth straightened behind her desk. “Lamar, you’re formally assigned to train this… ah—Zozo. Zozo right?” She squinted. “And what is with the stick?”

  Zozo perked up instantly. “Oh! This is from Jericho the Wise! He said one day I will fly on it. Isn’t that amazing? I think it’s amazing.” She hugged the bamboo stick like it was a treasured relic.

  Silence. Lolth’s face drained of colour. Jaer stopped breathing for a long minute.

  Zozo’s smile faltered. “Did… did I say something wrong?”

  Lolth’s voice came out thin. “Did you say… Jericho?”

  “Yes!” Zozo chirped. “He told me to tell you both he’s fine. He survived. It was a few Moons ago. I forgot to tell you both...” She tugged at her pant leg proudly. “He gave these too.”

  “He gave you… pants,” Lolth murmured, as if testing whether the word still made sense in the world. “And a stick.”

  She blinked at the girl as if the world had tilted off its axis.

  Jaer looked the same as reality itself had just undone a seam.

  Because Jericho the Wise was not simply missing. He was supposed to be dead during the Long Night.

  The girl didn’t answer. She simply turned her head toward Lamar, seeking his face.

  Jaer snapped upright, authority snapping back into his spine like a drawn blade.

  “If you want to fly on that stick,” he said, “you’ll need to master the Element of Air.”

  Lamar blanched. “Magi Jaer, I don’t control air enough to teach—”

  “Then you’ll learn,” Jaer cut in sharply, “with Eu—” His throat clicked mid-word. “Zozo. You’ll learn together.”

  He didn’t wait for a protest. He just turned his back, dismissive, final. “Now go.”

  Lamar swallowed, nodded, and ushered Zozo out. The bamboo stick thumped softly against her leg as the door swung shut behind them.

  The office exhaled.

  Lolth broke the silence first. “That was…”

  "Eura."

  "That was our little Sunbeam."

  “Those eyes don’t trick anyone,” Jaer said.

  Lolth’s gaze flicked to the closed door, then back. “Did Yeso ever change his appearance like that?”

  “No,” Jaer said. “No… he couldn’t.”

  A beat. His voice dropped even lower.

  “No—he could not.”

  "What the..."

  

  I have mentioned Alchemy several times throughout my notes and publications, yet I have never explained precisely how it works. In the present day, I do not feel comfortable doing so—and you will understand why as you continue through my work.

  However, I did instruct a small number of young scholars in the discipline. One of them, as you know, was Jericho.

  He showed promise from the first day I met him—burned nearly to a crisp on that hospital bed, yet still asking about reagent ratios. His recovery was remarkable, and so was his rapid mastery of Alchemy. With hindsight, knowing what I know now, his abilities make far more sense.

  He took a simple trinket, a pendant, for the Wingless Princess and turned it into an illusion spell with a level of refinement comparable to a Mere’s natural shapeshifting. An impressive achievement by any standard.

  However, there was one thing even a well-crafted spell could not conceal: the eye of a Sternach.

  I am still unsure why he never thought to include something as simple as contact lenses. Well—geniuses such as ourselves cannot be expected to think of everything.—The Hexe – Book Three, by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune

  First Edition, 555th Summer