Chapter 4

  River didn’t make it far in the book. The runes slipped through his mind like running sand. After a few dense pages of theory and tidy diagrams, he snapped it shut and let it drop beside him. He lay back and watched the stars instead. A Varoshan habit he still carried with him.

  Dawn thinned the constellations. Camp life woke: low voices, the soft clink of metal, boots in dew, canvas sighing as tents came down.

  He needed to be back in the tent— asleep or close enough.

  He pulled a thin veil over himself and Calira and slipped through camp. The magic blurred his edges, hushed his steps; but it tugged at his last reserves. Near his tent, measured steps approached: deliberate, close.

  William.

  He ducked inside, shed the robe, slid beneath the covers. Heart thudding, he pushed his awareness outwards, brushing the presence outside. Strong. Dense. Familiar.

  River opened his eyes before the man could speak. “Hello,” he said, voice even despite the thudding in his chest. “Did you need something?”

  A flicker of surprise crossed William’s face, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “No.” he said, clipped. “Gather your things. We leave in an hour.”

  River nodded. The flap fell. He breathed out through his teeth. More food. Great.

  As he dressed, flashes crossed his mind: roasted meat, warm bread, crisp fruit. Not memory. Not his. He turned. Calira watched him from the bedpost, eyes bright. She blinked once, deliberately. The images again: food, heat, sweet juice. Their connection was sharpening; her wants came clearer every day.

  “Fine,” he murmured.

  Breakfast mirrored dinner. He passed most to Calira and kept his head down; it was the best he could do for them both. An hour later, they were on the road. All that remained was a scatter of dull coals and the pressed ovals of boots in grass.

  Back in the carriage, the world blurred again: hooves on gravel, silence, glances that felt like questions no one dared ask with William there.

  The carriage lurched to a halt.

  River straightened. The door creaked; Maria appeared. “Sir, we’ve arrived at Dougan. Shall I arrange an escort to the school?”

  Dougan. River’s gut tightened. What would the Council decide they were today, survivors or traitors?

  “No,” William said. He looked out the window, voice gone almost distant. “I have this under control.”

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  They disembarked without being told where to go. They knew. The mountain doors loomed ahead, the same ones from their first arrival. The path felt longer now, weight settling in his legs as the approached.

  The doors opened on their own, again, and River stopped dead.

  Alerus waited inside. He wasn’t alone.

  Council members flanked him—senior faculty, high ranking mages their eyes found River first and held.

  Steel scraped somewhere within the school.

  River met Alerus’s gaze. A smile flickered and died; concern replaced it. He gave the smallest shake of his head.

  No message ha landed.

  Cold slid down River’s back. Calira stirred on his shoulder, feathers tickling his neck; a handful of images slipped into him—Varosha’s quiet sky, wind in the palms, the hush that meant safe. He touched her neck. “Thanks,” he whispered.

  Alerus moved quickly to him before the talking could start. “You’ll have to show them,” he said under his breath. “It’s the only way; they need a reason to believe you’re being hunted.”

  River tensed. He hated it. But he’d known the second Alerus shook his head. Words wouldn’t carry.

  For almost a year he’d done nothing but train. Maybe it would count now. They climbed to the auditorium. A long oak table now occupied the open floor. Councilors took their places, their gazes heavy and measuring.

  The door slammed shut behind them after students and faculty had been ushered away. Only council members, William, River, and his friends remained.

  William greeted them in low tones; River stood very still and reached inward.

  He let the essence drain from his eyes back into his core. Colors returned as pressure shifted; edges sharpened, sounds layered, motion left fin ripples in the air.

  Alerus spoke first. “As you know, I stand behind River. Philip, was working with the enemy. He ambushed River; they barely survived. The students who died that night weren’t the target.” His finger lifted, longer and older than River remembered. “He was.”

  A councilwoman, young for the table, leaned in. “You’ve said this, Alerus. There’s still no proof. Why would Philip attack? Why would the shadows target these three?”

  Agreement murmured around the table.

  Alerus didn’t argue. He only turned to River.

  This time they looked, really looked.

  He was pinned. If he revealed what he could do, he’d be marked, and if someone had helped Philip, they’d know where to find him.

  If he stayed silent, they’d name him a murderer.

  River stilled, weighing the mess. He drew half a breath and lifted his head. No choice. His eyes caught the light, iridescent, rain behind glass, and pressure gathered in the room, soft but real, as if the air knew itself.

  He exhaled and let go.

  Earth answered first: a shallow ripple under his boots. Moisture beaded in the air, trembling between his fingers. A fine crackle ran across his skin—electricity hunting for an escape. The light shimmered on his arms like a thin dawn; a breath of fire flared and went to ember in his palm. Whispers counted it off: “earth… water… nature.”

  Silence fell around the room. He reached into his pack and lifted Calira into the open. He set her gently on the oak. “And this is Calira, my phoenix.” Calira blinked at the room, chirped, and popped a neat tongue of flame that vanished almost before it existed.

  That was new.

  No one moved. Even William’s face—hard to read at the best of times—went stiller.

  The quiet felt huge. For once, River wasn’t just visible. He was seen.

  A senior councilor raised a hand. “By the holy light, for everyone’s safety.” The words shimmered as they landed; the air thickened as the essence flowed from him.

  William broke through the hush, echoing. “Enough. You have your proof. Now listen.” River knew it was his turn. Own the story. Keep it simple;. Keep it the same.