Prologue: Chapter 2

Kyron sat down across from his younger sister, Faeria, who was already watching him with the barely contained energy of someone who had been waiting for an audience.

Faeria was a whirlwind given human form, with a wild mane of auburn curls that refused to be tamed, catching the light like embers. Her eyes, a bright hazel flecked with gold, sparkled with mischief and a restless energy that seemed to hum just beneath her skin. She had the sharp, delicate features of their mother, but where Elara was all grace, Faeria was all fire, her movements quick, her gestures exaggerated, as if she were perpetually on the verge of springing into action. Her dress, usually rumpled and stained with ink or grass, did little to hide the lean muscle in her arms and legs, a testament to her refusal to sit still for more than five minutes.

"Are you excited?" she asked cheerfully. "I think you might be a Dualite, Kyron. Just like Cassie."

His mother's water spiral wobbled almost imperceptibly at the mention of Cassie's name.

"I'm happy you think so highly of me, Fae," Kyron said, "but she was too special. I'll be happy with whatever I get. Water or fire, like Mum and Dad. I don't want to leave the village."

"But why?" Fae exclaimed, setting down her fork. "Whenever Cassie calls, she always goes on about how much she loves learning spells at the Academy."

Castra had always been fascinated with Owra in a way that bordered on obsessive. When the three of them were young, she'd spend entire afternoons teaching Kyron, and Fae spells she'd read in books borrowed from the village elder, walking them through the chants with the patient authority of someone twice her age, even though none of them had been old enough to channel Owra yet.

The channelling itself, everyone said, came naturally when the time was right. For humans, they have to be appraised by an Appraisal Stone, which activates the Owra channels in their body.

Owra permeated every atom of Xantria, an invisible and odourless presence as fundamental as the air itself. Every living thing breathed it in and breathed it out. It was the reason crops grew in patterns too perfect to be accidental, the reason healers' hands ran warmer than they should, the reason the world felt, on certain quiet mornings, like it was ever so slightly humming.

To channel it was simply to reach for what was already there. The chants weren't incantations so much as keys, specific rhythms of sound and breath that unlocked the door between intention and manifestation. A fire chant didn't create fire; it invited the Owra already present in the air to take that shape. The element that responded, however, was not something anyone could choose.

"Yeah, that's more Cassie's thing," Kyron said. "I can't see myself studying in the capital with all those stuffy nobles."

"Don't lie!" Fae's voice rose enough that their mother glanced over her shoulder. "All of us shared the same dream. To go to the capital, study at Mageth, and become dungeon seekers. I still remember all the made-up spells we used to chant at each other. Don't you?"

Kyron sighed. "Fae, you're still young. I just grew up when faced with reality."

"Don't start talking like you have a wealth of experience more than me. You're only a year older."

She straightened in her chair. "My dream hasn't changed, and it isn't going to change when I turn 18 in a couple of months."

He rubbed his forehead and finished off the rest of his breakfast, too tired to argue.

"Fae, my mind is already made up. Today's results aren't going to change that. I'm sure you and Cassie will have a great time next year when you join her, but I like my life here."

"It just won't be as fun if you're not there. Cassie hasn't been answering my calls lately, but when she does, I'm going to get her to **** you to come."

"What are the two of you fighting about now?"

Kyron turned to see his younger brother, Macwen, yawning in the doorway with his hair still pressed flat on one side, shuffling over to take a seat beside him.

"Mac! Kyron doesn't want to go to Mageth. Our older brother has apparently decided to become a hermit in this tiny village of ours."

"It's his life, Fae," Mac mumbled, uninterested, reaching for the juice.

"Not you too. What's wrong with the sons of this family?" Fae sighed dramatically. "Anyways, it doesn't even matter if Kyron ends up not having an affinity."

"There is absolutely no way that's happening. Cassie has two affinities. Clearly, our parents have superior genes."

"I'm not even going to entertain that with a response."

Kyron smiled at his brother, grateful for the redirected target. Despite being the youngest of the four, Mac had always seemed to exist slightly ahead of his age, as he'd quietly read the room before anyone else had noticed there was a room to read. He had just turned 15, but it was genuinely impossible sometimes to tell who was the younger one between him and Fae.

That same quality was what made Mac difficult to be around for Kyron, in the particular way that perceptive people were often difficult. Every time they spoke at length, Kyron had the unsettling sensation that Mac's dark brown eyes were cataloguing things he hadn't said, filing them away with quiet patience. He didn't push. He didn't have to. It always felt like Mac knew all the secrets and worries that Kyron was trying to hide.

Kyron did not doubt that Mac would end up at Mageth eventually, regardless of what he claimed. He was far too sharp to settle permanently for a quiet life on the outskirts of Swingen. He just liked letting Fae spin herself into frustration. It was a family hobby.

Fae slammed her palms on the table hard enough to rattle the empty plates. "You're both being ridiculous," she said, her usually bright eyes narrowing. "Since when did our family start settling for this?" She gestured toward the window, where Hubbard's muddy streets stretched lazily under the morning sun.

Mac sipped his juice, unbothered. "It's a nice place."

"Kyron, you weren't like this. Not before that happened. How long are you going to keep blaming yourself?" Fae muttered. "His **** was not your fault."

The table went quiet. Even Mac stilled.

Kyron glared at her. Not today. She could see it on his face, that particular kind of closed door, and to her credit, she stopped herself, retreating into her chair and pushing her toast around the plate in silence.

Mac sighed quietly and resumed drinking his juice.

The air sat heavy for a moment. Kyron didn't blame her. It was natural to be frustrated. The four of them had made a pact when Mac was 10, to become the greatest dungeon seekers in Xantria, to find the old war vaults buried beneath the earth and come back laden with ancient relics that kingdoms would pay fortunes for.

It was the dream that had fuelled years of imaginary adventures through the fields outside Hubbard, fake chants and dramatic battles in the tall grass.

Cassie had already forgotten that promise. She was poised to join the higher ranks of the Swingen military upon her graduation from Mageth Academy. Now, Kyron was telling Fae they didn't want to even go to Mageth anymore, and Kyron understood, in a way he couldn't yet say out loud, that she wasn't angry at him so much as she was afraid of being left to go alone.

"Kyron, you should head off soon. You'll be late." His mother's warm voice settled over the table like a blanket. She had stayed perfectly silent throughout the argument, as she always did, offering no opinions and suffering no pressure to give them. She crossed the kitchen and rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. "I love you, son. May Owra guide your path."

He smiled, set his plate aside, and kissed her on the cheek. He ruffled Mac's hair on the way past, which earned him a mildly offended look.

He glanced at Fae, who still sat unmoving and forlorn.