Dream walkers — four centuries dormant.
I’d heard of most before. Some had belonged to my ancestors, the first two, especially. But the others had emerged so long ago I barely remembered their stories.
“There are many more,” Marvek said, “but these are the rarest. Each of these traces has appeared only once or twice in our recorded history.”
“All the dormant traces seem to be the most powerful ones,” Radke remarked.
“Indeed.” The headmaster smiled faintly. “That is precisely the point I wished to make today. The Gods of Solvir and Lunareth grant magical traces with intention. Only they decide what the island truly needs and when.”
He turned to the board, the faint shimmer of runes flickering to life as he spoke. “Echoes, for instance, can mirror the magic of those they touch, limitless in what they might master. Shapeshifters can alter their form into anyone they wish, blending into the world unseen. And Dream walkers…” His voice dropped. “They can slip into another’s mind while they sleep, bending thoughts and memories when their walls are down. Most never even realize they’ve been touched.”
A murmur spread through the room until a student in the back raised their hand. “Couldn’t people just lie about their traces or never use them at all?”
“They could,” the headmaster admitted. “Which is why, by law, every citizen of Rionis must undergo a truthfinding ceremony by their twenty-first birthday. Each sit under a Truth Finder, who reads their magic and records their traces in the book of records. If a trace is deemed too dangerous or politically sensitive to reveal, the Court may classify it as confidential but even then, the throne will know. Such exemptions are exceedingly rare.”
A cold ache unfurled in my chest. I’d almost forgotten, I had only a few months left before my own truthfinding ceremony. Soon, the entire kingdom would know exactly what kind of magic I possessed or didn’t. There would be no hiding, no privacy, no room for weakness.
And as a Solenhart, my traces would not be confidential. They would be dissected, compared, and judged.
When the class ended, Radke turned to me quickly to introduce himself.
“I am Jan Radke, one of the ones asking questions. Hopefully, I didn’t bother you too much. I didn’t grow up with crazy, all the education Emberkeep does. I am from a family ofminers from Westfield, and for some reason, I am a truth-finder, and I was practically forced to come to Elarion.”
“Thea Solenhart, as you may have noticed. You are here to learn all that anyway.” Right at that moment, Camelia Aric approached us.
“Mister Radke,” Camelia Aric said sharply, examining him up close, not with disdain but curiosity. Then her gaze snapped to mine.
“At your service, princess, I hope I was not too straightforward with my comments in class,” she added while slightly bowing.
“No need to be so formal, Camelia, nor bow to me,” I replied, my tone even. Camelia hesitated for a moment and then nodded.
“And please do not hold yourself in class on my behalf. Speak the truth. Always,” I said and meant it. I didn’t want censorship; I believed in free speech.
Camelia grinned at me and left with a swift elegance, not being able to hide that she was raised by nobles.
“So uptight, well put together,” Jan said, not with judgment, just pointing out facts. “I never saw such elegance in the mines.”
“That is the court of Solenhart,” I said bluntly.
Chapter 10: Looking for Secrets
The first week at Elarion had nearly shattered me.It wasn’t the classes in Dragontail Legion I hadn’t been prepared for in Dragontail Legion, or even the humiliation from Marla Yung in the Hall of Mirrors, which weighed on me most. Everything else pressed in, all the changes, not just the obvious hardships.
The shift in my life came when I revealed my intentions to the Siren. The weight of my mother’s conviction that I’d still take the Rionis throne, that I had doubled the classwork of any other student. And the Siren’s words, quiet, but destabilizing: Solenharts hadn’t always belonged to Emberkeep. That truth had lodged in my chest, and I hadn’t been able to breathe right since.
One night earlier that week, I’d told Shakari what the Siren had said. She’d frozen mid-braid, eyes narrowing like I’d handed her a blade. There was a Solenhart in Dragontailonce, she’d said, and I was an idiot for not telling her sooner. She warned me, sharp and serious, to be careful, to keep my distance from anything that might connect me to that history. I’d promised nothing because I already knew I wouldn’t listen.
I was never alone again. I’d grown up in The Glass Castle, filled with silence and space; now I had a roommate. Soehl was kind, too kind. Always tapping, humming, offering me tea or her latest herbal salve. She meant well, but her constant presence chipped away at what little calm I had left. I couldn’t cry without someone asking if I was okay. Couldn’t think without feeling rude for wanting silence.
Shakari, at least, had drifted into her own world. She was fixated on Rowan, the red-haired twin with dramatic jokes and a flirty smirk. Most nights, I found her curled beside him in the common room, tossing pillows and laughing at his terrible impressions of our professors. She barely noticed when I started slipping out after curfew. That, honestly, was a relief.
But Thalen noticed.
He kept finding me, after class, in shadowed corridors, in spaces between. He thought just being near me could heal the rift he’d carved open. His silence scalded, his metallic eyes heavy with regret, burning holes in me as if I owed him forgiveness. I refused to pretend it didn’t gut me. It did.
I didn’t care what he said now. I remembered how easily he’d chosen someone else. Even if we were betrothed and he’d recently started caring about me again, I had met her. I had seen her with my own eyes. And now I could never forget.
So I escaped. Quietly. After dark, when the dorms went still, and the island exhaled. I didn’t come to the library for pleasure. Instead, I sought peace, a space to think, to breathe, to stop feeling as if I might splinter apart.