If someone had told me that within my first twenty-four hours at Emberthorn I would:
Accidentally summon a firebird,
Score "mysterious magical anomaly" in my evaluation,
Befriend a lightning delinquent named Riven,
And be personally haunted by a ghost in my dorm room...
…I would've packed more snacks.
✦ ✦ ✦
It started with whispering.
Not the normal kind—like students gossiping or teachers conspiring to make our lives miserable.
This whisper was… close. Too close.
"She burns. She remembers."
I sat up in bed, heart hammering.
The room was dark, except for the faint glow of the runes etched into the stone walls. My trunk rattled once. The air smelled faintly of smoke.
"Riven?" I hissed.
No answer.
The whisper came again. This time from behind the mirror.
I turned slowly.
The mirror over my desk wasn't normal. (Obviously. This is Emberthorn.) During the day, it showed reflections—kind of. At night, it shimmered faintly like a sleeping eye.
Now it rippled.
Then it opened.
A crack of silver light split down the glass. I scrambled out of bed, but before I could yell or cast anything useful (read: nothing), something stepped out.
It wasn't a person.
It wasn't a shadow.
It was… an echo.
A faint silhouette of a girl—my age, maybe a little older. Her hair floated like it was underwater. Her eyes were pale gold.
"Flame-Bearer," she whispered. "Beware the mirror. Beware the Thorned Flame."
"You're in my mirror," I managed.
She didn't blink.
"He's watching."
"Who's—"
The echo vanished. The mirror snapped shut.
Silence.
✦ ✦ ✦
"Okay," I told Riven at breakfast. "There's a ghost in my room."
She paused, halfway through a muffin.
"Full ghost? Or just a haunting?"
"What's the difference!?"
"Full ghosts moan dramatically. Hauntings are more like… magical migraines with opinions."
I dropped my forehead to the table. "Why is this my life?"
She leaned in, serious for once. "Jokes aside, if something came through your Soul Mirror, it's not just a haunting. That's old magic. You should report it."
I looked around. The professors all seemed very busy not noticing anything.
"…Or," Riven said, "we could sneak into the Archive Wing tonight and research it ourselves."
I raised a brow. "Won't we get caught?"
She grinned.
"That's the fun part."
✦ ✦ ✦
The Archive Wing was exactly what you'd expect from a forbidden section of a magical school library:
Dust. Glowing chains. Floating books with trust issues. A large gargoyle with a sign that read "NO ENTRY WITHOUT PERMISSION (OR SACRIFICE)"—we ignored that part.
Riven picked the lock with a spell that involved lightning, swearing, and a cookie bribe to a grumpy bookshelf.
Inside, it was… endless.
A maze of tomes, scrolls, enchanted ink, and shelves that rearranged themselves if you didn't greet them politely.
We finally found a section on Soul Mirrors.
One book in particular called to me.
It was titled: "Reflections of Flame: Echoes of Forgotten Magics."
I reached for it—And the room shuddered.
A magic pulse surged through the floor. Torches blew out. The air turned cold.
Riven froze.
From the far end of the archive, a second pulse followed—heavier, darker, and pulsing like a heartbeat beneath stone.
Then a voice boomed:
"WHO ENTERS WITHOUT PERMISSION?"
Riven grabbed my arm. "Okay. Time to run."
We sprinted. I clutched the book to my chest. The archive howled behind us.
A floating quill tried to stab Riven in the ear.
A scroll unrolled itself and screamed "THIEVES!"
Somewhere, a desk burst into flames.
✦ ✦ ✦
We made it out.
Barely.
Collapsed in a heap outside the Archive Wing, coughing and laughing and covered in ash.
And then—
"Midnight archive breach. Unauthorized flame surge. Confiscated text."
We looked up.
And standing there, arms crossed, magical cuffs glowing at her hip, was Professor Talwyn.
She did not look amused.
"Riven Solis. Elira Wren. Midnight detention. Congratulations."
We groaned.
She started to walk away… then paused.
"Wren," she said, "bring the book. I want to see what it thinks of you."
"Books don't—"
"It does."
And just like that, we were in trouble.
But as I stood there holding Reflections of Flame, I felt something.
Not fear.
Not dread.
Curiosity.
And something deeper. Like the book had waited for me.
And was now… awake.