Page 45 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“It’ll take a lot more to impress me, Knox,” she replied, her words lacking their typical bite.
Dawson turned away first, snapping the tension between them. “Stay out of trouble, Firework.”
“Only if trouble stays out of my way,” she called after him.
Alaire slipped into the back of the lecture hall for her History of Magical Conflict class, her presence thankfully unnoticed. The scent of parchment and burning candles filled the room. Thick woven tapestries hung on the walls, their colors worn and faded.
Maps on large pieces of parchment were framed by dark wood. Rows of novices filled the seats, their attention fixed on the slight figure of Professor Elowen, who stood at the front.
Kaia nudged the empty seat beside her, and Alaire sank into it, relieved her lungs were clear, the pain finally gone.
Archer sat on Kaia’s other side, his features schooled into practiced boredom. Alaire jabbed Kaia’s arm, earning a sharptalk-laterlook. Her friend had some explaining to do.
Professor Elowen’s cloud of grey and white hair was pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, wisps escaping to frame her face. Alaire leaned forward, elbows on her knees, grateful that all novices had to take this class.
“The evolution of magic,” Professor Elowen said, gesturing at a series of illustrations of the seven houses’ Celestial Familiars, “was profoundly steeped in the bond between celestials and their bonded during the First Age. My job is to help you understand how our continent’s history, the evolution of magic, significant events, and influential figures all tie together. Analyzing the past is often our best tool to avoid repeating its mistakes.”
She tapped a nearby tapestry. “Consider the war of the vampires, influenced by the mythology of our gods, Lysia and Umbra.”
The room stilled. Elowen’s voice took on a reverent tone.
“Lysia, the Bringer of Light, and Umbra, the Wielder of Shadows. Opposites locked in eternal balance, one cannot exist without the other—light and darkness, life and death.” She swept her gaze across the silent students. “Vampires cannot walk in the sunlight, an affliction of their creation, whereas House Ashfyre’s phoenix celestial, before it fell, was a direct contrast, representing life and rebirth. It was rumored that an ancient artifact—the Star of Eternal Night—could shatter this balance.”
She leaned forward. “No one knows exactly why the vampires decided to attack Aurelia on that fateful night, but the delicate equilibrium represented by our gods is once again threatened. The question remains—can we unravel the mysteries of the past and ensure we’re not doomed to make the same mistakes?”
Alaire clenched her hands. This tale had haunted her through cold nights on the streets, woven into the bards’ melancholic ballads.
“Starfall,” Elowen said, the word hanging in the air like a death knell. “The night when shadows lengthened and the heavens themselves burned.”
At this, Alaire stiffened, her breath catching. Kaia shot her a concerned look, but Alaire’s face was a mask of calm.
Elowen’s voice softened. “Starfall was catastrophic, not just for the land it scorched but for the lives it altered, as you all know. Under the rule of their cruel and merciless leader, the Voidshade Sovereign, vampires sought to extinguish the phoenixes, the embodiment of Lysia’s light, bound to the Vallorian bloodline of House Ashfyre of Aurelia.”
“Professor, what did they want?” Archer leaned in, his earlier disinterest replaced by curiosity, his red hair burnished in the candlelight.
“Some believe they were searching for the Star of Eternal Night,” Elowen answered, pausing as her gaze swept the classroom. “Others claim it was a statement meant to instill fear in the other houses—a symbolic gesture to show that even a phoenix could be extinguished by the darkness they wield.” She clasped her hands. “Power, fear, revenge—potent forces that led to unthinkable actions. The Voidshade Sovereign set his sights on Aurelia, and no one saw it coming. None were prepared. House Ashfyre made impossible sacrifices that night to defeat the vampire leader.”
Alaire’s hands trembled, her hatred for the vampires visceral and all-consuming. They were responsible for slaughtering countless lives—Blake’s amongst them.
“When wielding magic, you will face impossible choices where the line between right and wrong blurs. Learn from the past. Let it guide you in making decisions you can stand by, even in the darkest moments. These are the choices that will define our legacy.”
Out of Alaire’s peripheral vision, she saw Archer lean over to whisper something in Kaia’s ear.
“That’s all for today’s class. Next, we’ll visit Elithian’s First Age and the magic wielded by each house,” the professor concluded.
As students began to pack up, Alaire remained seated, lost in thought. Kaia touched her arm lightly. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Alaire lied, plastering on a smile.
Sadness and loss for those who had died that night clung to her. Fire had taken away her family too. It was a grief she understood intimately. Though she had no memory of that night, fragmented images haunted her—fleeting visions more like shadows than memories.
The acrid stench of charred flesh and smoke clung to Alaire like a second skin she couldn’t shed. She wandered aimlessly, desperate to escape it, but the smell lingered, as if it had seeped into her very soul.
Twelve
Alaire’s ponytail swished as she walked the balance beam, eyes closed, relying on her other senses: the wind cycling through the open skylight, the faintcreakof wood as she gingerly tested her weight, and the thundering of her heartbeat in her ears.
Her injuries had long since healed, but the bruises on her pride still stung. She hated how often she replayed her failure—the way her vision had blurred and her lungs had burned.
