Lavender woke to the sensation of being evaluated. As if something had taken stock of her breathing, her pulse, her posture, and decided she was still usable.

  She did not open her eyes at first.

  The castle had a sound, she’d learned. A low, patient hum buried in stone, like a distant insect. It was there now, steady, almost gentle.

  Her scars were quiet. That was the confirmation that the dream was over. The second was the warm weight pressed against her ribs.

  Brute. She could tell by the scent invading her nostrils and the consciousness invading her mind.

  She cracked one eye open.

  He rose from her and padded softly off her and to the side of the bed. He looked like he’d been posted there and would rather die than admit he cared. His ears were forward, his gaze fixed beyond Lavender’s line of sight, and his tail did not wag so much as hover, poised.

  Lavender followed his stare.

  Reibella stood at the foot of the bed.

  Hands laid gently clasping the ornate footboard. Dark fabric draped around her like smoke. Her face was arranged into a mild expression: pleasant, polite, faintly amused. As if she were waiting to see whether Lavender would do something entertaining.

  Zemmal occupied the doorway. His massive head angled down to clear the frame. Wings tucked tight. Eyes luminous and steady, a storm held behind restraint. Lavender could feel him even without looking.

  She closed her eye again. “No,” she muttered. “Still asleep.”

  “You are not,” Reibella replied brightly. “I checked.”

  Lavender opened both eyes and stared at the ceiling, willing it to become something else.

  “Do you knock,” Lavender asked, voice rough.

  Reibella tilted her head as if considering the concept for the first time. “Why would I?”

  “Because,” Lavender said slowly, “most people…”

  “I am not most people,” Reibella replied, pleased. “That is the point.”

  Zemmal’s voice came from the doorway, You are awake.

  “Define awake,” she quipped, not moving. “Because my body is conscious, but my mind is still missing.”

  Brute sneezed.

  Lavender sighed. “And my privacy, apparently.”

  Reibella looked toward Zemmal. Zemmal looked towards Brute. Brute stared directly at Lavender as if daring her to make it weird.

  She sat up too quickly and immediately regretted it. The room turned in her vision. Brute slid but refused to vacate her sight. Lavender pressed her palm into his fur and breathed until the tilting stopped.

  “I dreamed,” she said quietly. The air changed. Became attentive like the castle itself leaned in.

  Reibella’s expression softened in a way that didn’t sit comfortably on her face, like it was an emotion she wore out of politeness. “I know.”

  Zemmal shifted, his eyes stayed on Lavender. Are you harmed?

  “I’m fine,” Lavender lied.

  Brute sneezed again, pointedly.

  Lavender glared at him. “You’re on my side.”

  “Yes, and you’re still lying,” was his only retort.

  Reibella clapped her hands once, bright sound in a quiet room. “Breakfast”.

  Lavender’s stomach twisted at the word, from the strangeness of routine returning after cosmic revelations. “Is that what you call it when Death feeds you?”

  “Yes,” Reibella replied, undeterred in her demeanor. “If I called it a ‘ritual of inevitable choices,’ you’d be less cooperative.”

  Lavender swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You don’t know that.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Reibella’s eyes glittered. Hints of galaxies freckled them for a moment again. “I absolutely do.”

  They moved through the castle together.

  Lavender noticed the way the corridors shifted as they walked. Subtle adjustments, ceilings easing wider for Zemmal, corners softening so his wings didn’t scrape. The castle accommodated him like it had always been built for him, and Lavender hated how natural that felt. Hated how quickly her mind accepted the impossible as normal.

  The dining chamber they entered was smaller than the grand hall, more like a private room carved into the mountain. A scarred table sat at the center with mismatched dishes laid out in a deliberate attempt at domesticity.

  Bread, eggs, fruit. Something steaming that smelled faintly of citrus and smoke. A bowl on the floor that Brute immediately claimed as his own.

  Lavender stared at the spread and lowered herself into a chair slowly. “This is going to be one of those mornings where everything is unsettling even when it’s nice, isn’t it?”

  Reibella poured juice without touching the carafe, the liquid arching neatly into cups like it had been trained. “Welcome to your new life.”

  Lavender’s mouth twitched. “I miss my old life.”

  Reibella gave her a sympathetic look. “You don’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  Reibella sipped the juice from her glass. “You miss the idea that you understood the world. You did not. Your old life was fear in a smaller cage.”

  Lavender held her eyes for a moment, then looked away and bit into bread because she needed something to do with her mouth that wasn’t screaming.

  The bread was good. Of course it was.

  “That’s unfair,” Lavender mumbled.

  Reibella smiled smugly. “Thank you.”

  Brute ate with the enthusiasm of someone who considered joy a moral stance. Zemmal did not eat, but he watched Lavender eat like it mattered.

  After a few minutes, Lavender set her cup down with deliberate care. “Magic,” she said.

  Reibella’s eyes brightened instantly. Zemmal’s posture shifted. Brute paused mid-chew.

  Lavender exhaled. “We’re going to talk about it eventually. I’d prefer that it be on my terms.”

  Reibella lifted a hand. “Agreed.”

  Zemmal’s eyes held Lavender’s. Speak.

  Lavender frowned at her own hands. The thin pale scars across her skin looked almost normal in this light, but she could feel the residue under them. Like a second skin made of potential.

  “You keep talking about elements,” Lavender said. “Fire, lightning, water, earth.”

  “Because they’re useful,” Reibella replied. “They’re accessible. Humans like categories.”

  “They’re training wheels,” Lavender reworded, because it mattered that it be said plainly.

  Reibella’s smile turned pleased. “Yes.”

  Lavender continued, words coming faster now that she’d found the edge of the idea. “They’re interfaces. Ways for human bodies to translate something bigger without tearing themselves apart.”

  Zemmal rumbled with approval in his chest.

  “But they’re not the source,” Lavender went on. “They’re expressions.”

  “Yes,” Reibella said softly. “Good.”

  Lavender looked up. “Which means I’m not learning magic. I’m learning how to survive proximity to it.”

  Reibella’s smile widened. “You are learning how to carry it.”

  She nodded slowly. “And the more I lean on elements, the more I force something wide into something narrow.”

  That is why it hurts, Zemmal said.

  Lavender’s mouth grew taunt. “It hurts because my body is trying to localize something that doesn’t belong inside me.”

  Reibella tilted her head. “You are not wrong. But you are also not entirely right.”

  Lavender’s eyes narrowed at her. “That’s ominous.”

  Reibella waved a hand. “Everything is ominous. Continue.”

  Lavender frowned, thinking. “Elements are the easiest access points because they’re already… familiar. Humans already understand them. The body reaches for metaphors it can handle. But if magic is bigger than that,” her voice grew quiet and steady. “Then elements are just …the first language. Not the only one.”

  Reibella’s expression softened into something almost fond. “Yes.”

  Lavender leaned forward. “So what else is there?”

  Death’s smile turned sly. “You want the vomit version or…”

  “There’s always a vomit version,” Lavender muttered remembering. “What else is there besides elements?”

  Reibella tapped her glass thoughtfully. “Intention. Elements are training because they create feedback you can feel: heat, pressure, weight, movement. They will help you learn the shape of your own limits. But the true axis of magic is not what you summon.”

  She pointed at Lavender’s chest with one pale finger. “It’s what you allow.”

  Lavender’s scars warmed faintly, as if recognizing the gesture.

  Zemmal’s voice entered Lavender’s mind, steady and low. The elements are doors. The deeper magic is the room beyond them.

  She swallowed. “And what’s in the room?”

  Reibella’s smile faded a bit. “Everything humans do not like to name.”

  Lavender stared at her. “That’s a riddle.”

  “It’s a mercy,” Reibella corrected. “If I give you the entire structure at once, you will either freeze or try to control it. Both are disastrous.”

  She sat back, exhaling through her nose. “Fine. Practical question, then.”

  Reibella perked up. “I adore practical questions.”

  “How do I train,” Lavender asked, “without burning out my nervous system.”

  Zemmal’s eyes softened slightly as his reply came, Slowly.

  Reibella nodded. “With boredom.”

  Lavender stared. “With what?”

  “With boredom,” Reibella repeated, clearly annoyed at the necessity. “Your kind loves drama. You associate progress with pain and spectacle. You do not realize how much of your growth comes from repetition and restraint.”

  Lavender frowned. “So you’re telling me the fate of the world depends on me doing… drills.”

  Reibella smiled. “Yes. Isn’t it humiliating?”

  Lavender huffed. “Great. The apocalypse is a fitness plan.”

  Brute made a sound that might have been a laugh, then sneezed.

  She dragged in a shaky breath. The humor helped. She hated it because it helped.

  Lavender asked again, “The deeper magic… what is it?”

  “It is death,” Reibella said simply. “Change. Ending. Transformation. The refusal of stasis.”

  Lavender’s scars warmed her palms, her hands trembling slightly. “That sounds like inevitability.”

  Reibella beamed. “You are so unpleasantly perceptive.”

  Lavender’s mouth twisted. “It’s a survival skill.”

  “It’s also why I chose you.”

  Her stomach clenched, “you keep saying that like it’s comforting.”

  Reibella smiled sheepishly. “I forget humans don’t enjoy being chosen by cosmic entities.”

  Lavender deadpanned. “Shocking.”

  Reibella laughed, bright and almost normal. “All right. Enough philosophy for one morning. You’re going to practice widening. Finish your meal and we shall begin.”

  Thank you for reading my story. I spent a long time working on it and am glad I get to share it with others. Not your speed though? Check out another cool author below to give a try!