Rebecca is the first to answer. “The Guild. The elders insisted you be brought here after… after everything.”
The Guild.
Not the estate. Not the apothecary. The Witch’s Guild.
I glance around, suddenly hyperaware of my surroundings. The walls are stark white, lined with delicate warding sigils, their faint glow pulsing in a steady rhythm. The air purrs with residual magic, and the bed I’m in—too pristine, too much like a hospital—confirms it.
“They said it was the best place for you,” Nicole adds gently. “The elders have healers who specialize in magical depletion.”
Magical depletion.
It makes sense, but it doesn’t make it easier to process. My body feels stretched too thin, hollowed out and barely held together. The effort of breaking the relic—the sheer force of magic I channeled into it—left something raw and aching inside me.
I let out a slow breath, then force my thoughts to the only thing that matters.
“Lara.”
Lucian’s jaw tightens, and in that single movement, I know.
I sit up too fast, my vision swimming. “Where is she?”
Lucian is beside me in an instant, steadying me before I can collapse back against the pillows. His hands are warm, strong, anchoring me. “She’s still out there,” he says, his voice careful, measured. “We haven’t found her yet.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, frustration clawing up my throat. Of course. She wouldn’t have just been waiting around for us to come for her.
Nicole hesitates. “Sylvie… you need to rest.”
“No,” I say, sharper than I intend. “We don’t have time for that.” I turn to Lucian. “Tell me—did everyone make it out?”
Lucian’s expression shifts, something dark flickering across his face. “Yes. Viago, Kristoff, Dorian… all of them survived. One of the elders was taken down and is recovering, and Vada was also impaired, but she will be just fine.”
Relief surges through me, but it’s fleeting. “And Amara? Those she brought with her?”
Lucian’s hand drops from my shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Gone. Taken to a place they’ll never return from.”
I search his face, trying to decipher what he isn’t saying. A place they’ll never return from. It’s vague enough that I know he doesn’t want to tell me more.
But another thought sinks in, colder than the first. “That doesn’t mean Solstice is gone for good.” I try to adjust myself on the bed but every muscle inside of me aches.
Lucian exhales slowly. “No. There will be remnants. They’ll reband, eventually. But they’ll be starting from nothing. Without the Mirror, without the dark magic they relied on, they are nothing more than zealots clinging to a dead cause.”
I press my fingers to my temple, my head throbbing. “And Lara is still with them.”
Silence stretches between us.
Then a new voice—soft but firm.
“You need to stop.”
I glance up to see one of the elders, Calidora, standing at the foot of my bed. I recognize her immediately. She’s tall and composed, her brown hair perfectly pinned back, her eyes sharp despite the lines that age her.
“You’ve done something extraordinary, Sylvie,” she says, stepping closer. “But you cannot sustain this pace. You are not invincible. If you keep pushing yourself like this, there won’t be anything left of you to save your sister.”
My stomach twists, guilt and frustration tangling together. “I can’t just sit here. Not when Lara?—”
“She’s currently gone and is of no use to anyone in her state,” Calidora cuts in, not unkindly. “And if you want any hope of bringing her back, you must recover first.”
I grit my teeth. “How? The Mirror was our way to restore her. It’s gone. What do we do now?”