The late afternoon sun cast a honeyed glow over the amphitheater at Transfer Beach, gilding the weathered concrete and the tranquil waters beyond. Ariella stood at the center of the semi-circle stage, her boots scuffing against the stone as she trailed behind Lily Rasmussen. The afternoon air carried the faint tang of salt, mingling with the rustle of ocean waves and the muted murmur of the thirty-odd people scattered in the amphitheater’s seating.

  Eleanor Beale sat perched on the edge of one of the middle rows, her fingers drumming nervously against her notebook. Her eyes darted to the empty seats more often than not. Ariella could almost feel the nervous energy radiating from her, as though the professor believed her reputation rested on the turnout. Lily, ever practical, leaned close and muttered something intended to soothe, though Ariella only caught the tail end.

  "...just scared," Lily said. Her ponytail swayed as she glanced over her shoulder at Ariella. "Can you blame them?"

  "Scared or not, they’re fools to stay away." Ariella folded her arms, her voice steady. Her eyes swept the sparse crowd. "The threat of feral magi alone warrants vigilance. Ignorance won’t protect them."

  Lily raised a brow, a flicker of amusement at the bluntness before the shift in her posture betrayed tension. Her gaze locked onto a figure approaching from the parking lot. “Oh no.”

  Ariella followed her line of sight. Striding up the path, a woman with an unnatural shade of white-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes moved as though she owned the amphitheater. The stranger’s tight trousers—jeans, Lily had called them—and fitted top were impeccable, a stark contrast to the easygoing earth tones of the crowd. Her posture radiated confidence, her steps calculated to draw attention.

  "Who is—" Ariella began, but Lily's muttered curse and the exaggerated toss of the woman’s hair as she entered earshot cut her short.

  "Kayla Winder," Lily said. Her jaw tightened. "Just... brace yourself."

  Kayla’s arrival was as theatrical as her appearance. "Lily!" she greeted, her voice saccharine. Her arms spread wide as though she was expecting a warm embrace. "It's been forever! You look... busy."

  Lily’s response was brittle. "Kayla. Always a pleasure."

  Unbothered by Lily's coolness, Kayla turned her focus to Ariella. Her gaze swept over Ariella, and she could feel herself being evaluated. "And this must be the famous local. Word gets around." She extended a hand. "Kayla Winder."

  Ariella hesitated before shaking it. Kayla’s grip was warm, her polished nails catching the sunlight. “Ariella,” she replied curtly.

  “Well, Ariella," Kayla purred, leaning in slightly, "we’re sisters now, you know. In a way. Magic and all.” She straightened, adding with a self-satisfied smile, “It’s got to be tough navigating all this alone. If you need my help with anything, please let me know.”

  Before Ariella could answer, Kayla raised a hand, her fingers splaying dramatically. A cascade of golden light swirled above her palm before dissipating in a shimmer. “A little light magic flair,” she said, flashing a dazzling smile. “Pretty impressive, right? I think they call it Luxmancy, but I just want to dazzle!”

  Ariella tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “It's... ambitious.”

  Kayla’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered. “Ambition is what separates the exceptional from the ordinary, darling.” She glanced down at the little device in her hand—her phone. Her thumb hovered over the screen. "Oh! We should take a selfie. Your first, right?”

  “Selfie?” Ariella echoed, frowning. “I don’t—”

  "Don't worry, I’ll show you." Kayla closed the gap, draping an arm around Ariella’s shoulders and angling her phone expertly. “Just look at the screen,” she said, tapping it.

  Ariella stared at the tiny reflection of their faces. The image distorted her features slightly, capturing her awkward tilt as Kayla’s perfect smile dominated the frame. It was... peculiar. Silly, even. How easily a moment could be snatched and frozen.

  Kayla lowered the phone, turning her attention back to Lily. “And you, Lily. What about your talents?”

  Lily’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Electromancy.”

  “Oh, of course. That’s so... practical.” Kayla’s tone was sweet as honey, but the sting lay beneath. “It's great that you’ve found your niche. I always said you'd do well with, um, the simpler things.”

  “Simple works,” Lily replied flatly, her gaze unwavering.

  Eleanor rose from her seat and approached as though sensing an impending storm. “Lily,” she said, her voice pitched low. “We should probably start. People are getting restless.”

  “Oh?” Kayla chimed in, her brow lifting. “What exactly is Lily’s role here?”

  “She’s been asked to head the Ladysmith Magic Society,” Ariella said, her voice carrying a hint of steel.

  For the first time, Kayla’s facade cracked. The corner of her mouth twitched, her polished demeanor faltering before she recovered. “That’s... wonderful. I think that’s a great solution until someone more suited to the role comes along.”

  Kayla’s words lingered as she offered a radiant, insincere smile and flounced toward the seats. “I’ll let you do what you need to do. So good to meet you, Ariella!” she called over her shoulder.

  As she disappeared into the crowd, Ariella leaned toward Lily. “I see what you mean about her.”

  “Yep.” Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  Before Ariella could respond, Eleanor stepped forward, clearing her throat as she addressed the group. Ariella shifted her focus to the professor, but a part of her remained on Kayla—the bright, garish outsider. A mirror, in some ways, to Ariella herself. But where Kayla reveled in her difference, Ariella could only feel the chasm widen.

  This place—these people—they weren’t her own. And perhaps they never would be, but for now, she had nowhere else to go.

  Lily stood to the side, her arms crossed loosely as her eyes scanned the crowd. She recognized Jace Murphy near the back, he was folded into a bench beside his older brother. Maggie Wyse sat farther down, her presence understated but keenly felt. The elder’s dark eyes seemed to absorb everything, and Lily guessed her curiosity outweighed any doubts about magic’s place in the town. Boomer had seated himself near the front, a notepad in his lap. He had the same slightly-bemused look on his face he’d always worn, but there was an edge of uncertainty and something else—determination—behind his eyes.

  Eleanor’s voice cut through the stillness.

  “I want to thank you all for being here,” she began, her tone crisp but inviting. “I’m Eleanor Beale, for those who don’t know me. Back home, I was a professor of history and ethics at Vancouver Island University. My career has been dedicated to understanding the past to navigate the present, and now...” She paused, her lips tightening. “Now, I find myself in a role I never anticipated. As a member of the Emergency Committee, I’ve been tasked with helping our community survive this... displacement, and that includes establishing guidelines for what many of us are only just beginning to understand: magic.”

  Lily felt a flicker of admiration for Eleanor’s composure. It had only been a day since the Blacklight turned their world upside down, and the professor had adapted with a determination that was nothing short of remarkable. Still, Lily couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor in Eleanor’s fingers as she gripped her notebook—a reminder that even the strongest among them were only human.

  Eleanor continued, her voice steady. “First and foremost, the Emergency Committee has established some initial guidelines for the use of magic. These are non-negotiable and meant for the safety of everyone.” She glanced around the amphitheater, her hazel eyes sharp behind silver-rimmed glasses. “Until we can confirm that all mantle-bearers have control over their abilities, magic is to be used only outdoors and away from crowds. Yesterday alone, we had six incidents of property damage and three injuries due to the manifestation of these mantles. We cannot afford more accidents.”

  A murmur rippled through the audience. Lily caught Kayla Winder’s raised brow and subtle smirk, her arms crossed in mock disinterest. Typical.

  “Second,” Eleanor said firmly, “magic is not to be used against others except in sanctioned training contexts. I don’t need to explain why that rule exists, do I?” Her gaze swept the crowd, silencing any potential dissent. “Finally, the Emergency Committee is calling for volunteers from among you to join the militia. I’ll be honest—this is against my better judgment. I don’t want to see anyone pressed into service, and I am firmly opposed to the idea of conscription. But if we are to survive, we are going to need every advantage we can muster.”

  Lily shifted her weight, her thoughts turning inward. The idea of using magic in combat felt both surreal and inevitable. Their world had changed, and Ladysmith had to change with it.

  Eleanor glanced toward her. “With that, I’d like to introduce Lily Rasmussen. Lily has been appointed to lead the Ladysmith Magic Society. Her role is to organize and guide us in understanding this new force in our lives. I have full faith in her abilities.” She turned slightly, gesturing to Ariella. “And Ariella Silverlyn, an experienced Terramancer from this world we find ourselves in. She has graciously agreed to share her wisdom and help us navigate this unfamiliar terrain. Lily, the floor is yours.”

  Lily stepped forward, her polished boots clicking softly against the stone. She paused, offering a small smile to the crowd. “Thanks, Eleanor,” she said, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest. “And thank you to everyone who showed up today. I recognize a few of you,” she added, her gaze sweeping the audience. She gave Jace a nod, which he returned with a slight grin. “The turnout might not be huge, but it’s a start.”

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  She clasped her hands in front of her. “What we’re dealing with is new, and I get it—some people are scared. But if you know anyone with a mantle who isn’t here, encourage them to come next time or at least share what you learn. This is going to take all of us working together.”

  Her gaze shifted to Ariella, who stood quietly at her side, her presence calm and steady. “I’ve only known Ariella for a day,” Lily said, “but in that time, I’ve learned just how much knowledge she has to offer. I think we’re incredibly lucky to have her here. Ariella?”

  She stepped back, yielding the stage. Ariella hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, her eyes scanning the crowd. The wind tugged at the loose strands of her hair, and she pushed them back absently.

  “My name is Ariella Silverlyn,” she began, her voice quiet but firm. “I come from a place called Shavi, a nation from the Pactlands beyond what you call the Blacklight Zone. In my world, all magi are required to study at the Deyish Academies, where we spend years mastering our mantles. I know you are not part of the Concordance of Aligned Realms, but I believe you deserve guidance nonetheless. The alternative would be… bad.”

  Her gaze softened. “I’m young, and there’s much I still have to learn. But I hope that by sharing what I know, I can help you avoid some of the mistakes I made when I was first discovering my abilities.”

  Ariella paused, taking a deep breath. “In the Pactlands, we believe the Ten Currents of magic were a gift—and a responsibility—bestowed upon us by the Broken Choir. These were beings who sacrificed themselves to hold back the Endless Maw, a force of destruction that threatened to consume the entire world of Elyndralis, over three thousand years ago. Whether you believe that or not is your choice. But what I know is this: your mantles are real, and they are powerful. Respecting them is not just important—it’s essential, and so to understand what the Broken Choir intended for us, we also understand our mantles.”

  She began outlining the currents, her voice steady as she spoke. “Pyromancy, the current of flame and temperature. Hydromancy, of water and moisture. Electromancy, of lightning and magnetism. Aeromancy, of air and gases. Terramancy, of earth and minerals. Luxmancy, of light. Vitamancy, of healing and life. Animancy, of souls and the unseen. Psychomancy, of mind and thought...” Her gaze flicked briefly to Boomer. He was attentive, but his expression was unreadable. “And Chronomancy, of visions and time.”

  She clasped her hands together. “Each current has its own risks, rewards and responsibilities. Some are more dangerous and unpredictable than others. Mastering them is not just about control—it’s about understanding. And it’s equally important to understand the other currents. Collaboration between magi with different mantles can achieve extraordinary things.”

  Ariella rolled up her sleeve, revealing the jagged scar on her forearm. “This,” she said, her voice low, “is what happens when you don’t respect your mantle. I was careless. You can’t afford to be.”

  She stepped back slightly, her expression resolute. “With that in mind, I’d like you to group yourselves by mantle. Find others who share your current and begin talking about what you’ve experienced. We’ll guide you as much as we can.”

  The crowd stirred, people beginning to shift and form clusters. Lily watched as the groups took shape, her initial nervousness giving way to a cautious optimism. Jace and his brother joined a group near the back. Boomer sat alone with his notepad, but still strained his neck to see if others would join him. None did.

  Lily felt a small shimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could figure this out. Together.

  —-

  Boomer leaned against the rough stone bench, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm against his thigh. Around him, clusters of magi were already forming, buzzing with cautious energy as they began swapping notes and tentative introductions. Yet he remained alone, the designated leader of Psychomancy town, population him.

  It figured.

  Ariella’s speech had struck a chord with most of the attendees—her earnest explanation of the Ten Currents and her warning to treat magic with respect had resonated even with Boomer. But for him, it came with the sting of isolation. Psychomancy, she had said, was dangerous. The most dangerous.

  He kicked at a stray pebble near his foot, watching it skitter across the ground. "Guess it’s just me against the world," he muttered under his breath, his words swallowed by the low hum of the crowd.

  A flicker of movement drew his attention. Ariella Silverlyn was walking toward him, her boots crunching against the gravel path. Her loose braid swayed slightly with each step, and her pale green eyes—flecked with gold, a detail Boomer couldn’t stop noticing—were fixed on him. He sighed, straightening up and bracing himself for another lecture. The last time they’d spoken, the Terramancer’s words had landed like heavy stones, all sharp edges and unrelenting weight.

  When she stopped a few feet away, her posture was measured, her gaze steady. “Boomer.”

  “Ariella,” he replied, trying for nonchalance but failing to keep the edge from his tone.

  Her expression softened slightly, surprising him. “I came to apologize,” she said, her voice low but sincere. “I was harsh yesterday. But Psychomancy is…” She paused, searching for the right words. “It’s a mantle with incredible potential—and equally profound risks. It demands caution, and my reaction reflected that.”

  Boomer blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected olive branch. “I get it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “No hard feelings. I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, actually. Figured I should start keeping notes—y’know, in case I ever start… losing it.”

  Her lips quivered with the barest hint of a smile. “That’s… reassuring.” She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. “But I still need to be wary. And I need you to understand something.” She raised a hand and tapped her temple lightly. “This is my mind. If you find yourself inside it—if you see or hear anything that isn’t yours to know—you will leave it alone. Do you understand?”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden, vivid flash cut through his thoughts: an older man with kind eyes and a knowing smile, someone Ariella clearly admired. An older woman, her expression gentle but tinged with regret, followed. Then came the image of a younger man, his face framed by a halo of sunlight, and a surge of warmth and love that wasn’t his own. He saw her pendant, the one Ariella wore around her neck, but it was more than decoration. It was heavily burdened with despair and guilt. And finally, the sharp, angular features of a wealthy man whose presence radiated disdain and hatred.

  Boomer recoiled slightly, shaking his head as if to clear it. Ariella’s sharp gaze locked onto him. She followed his line of sight to the pendant resting against her collarbone and clasped it tightly, her knuckles whitening.

  “Sorry,” Boomer said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to—look, I don’t know how to turn it off. It just… happens.” He hesitated, then added with a self-deprecating grin, “It’s wild, though. I know way too much about how Lily really lost her virginity. That’s going to be an awkward conversation.”

  Ariella blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. To his surprise, she let out a quiet laugh—a short, melodic sound that immediately put him at ease.

  “That laugh,” Boomer said, unable to resist. “You should do that more. It’s good for morale.”

  Ariella’s smile lingered for a moment before fading into something more somber. “I wish I could help you control it,” she said, her voice softer now. “But Psychomancers aren’t trained at the Deyish Academies like other magi. They’re taken by the Covenant of Wisdoms—deep in the lower chambers of The Eye, where the High Magus Council meets.”

  Boomer frowned. “And why’s that?”

  “Because Psychomancy has the potential to unravel the very fabric of society,” she said, her tone grave. “Imagine someone who can read minds, influence thoughts, uncover secrets. Trust, alliances, even governments could fall apart. The High Magus Council believes it’s safer to keep Psychomancers apart from the rest of the world—hidden, controlled. For peace to endure, some truths must remain buried.”

  Boomer let out a low whistle. “No pressure, huh?”

  “None at all,” she replied dryly, though her expression softened slightly. “I’m not ready to trust anyone yet—not here, not now. But…” She hesitated, her gaze flicking briefly to the crowd before returning to him. “Helping with the Magic Society gives me a purpose. A reason to stay, and I’ve been short on purpose for some time. And it’s been a while since I’ve had a warm place to sleep and food in my belly.”

  “Fair enough,” Boomer said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I can’t blame you for keeping an eye on me. But for what it’s worth, if I start feeling out of sorts, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Ariella studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Good.”

  “Back home,” he began, leaning over and reaching into his bag. “I was a student of psychology.”

  “Psychology?” Ariella repeated, unfamiliar with the word. “A study of the mind?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” he said. He passed her the book he pulled from his bag. “It’s actually pretty big back home, a lot of education and resources go into understanding the human mind.”

  Ariella turned the book over in her hand, caressing the cover with her fingers and reading the title. “The Undiscovered Self. I’ve never seen a book like this,” she admitted. She opened it up and looked at the words. “It’s… small. One of your machines made this, yes? These letters are too perfect to have been made by hand.”

  “Yeah the—” he paused. “Oh, I guess you guys haven’t figured out the printing press yet, have you?”

  Ariella tilted her head in curiosity. “Printing press?”

  “We’ll get to that,” Boomer said. “I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff we’ve figured out that could really benefit your world.”

  “I’m inclined to agree,” she said. “Not all might, though.” She handed the book to Boomer.

  “This book was written almost seventy years ago by a guy named Carl Jung,” he explained excitedly. “Jung was all about poking around the corners of the mind most people present don’t exist. He’s not afraid to tell people they’re not as in control of themselves as they think. Yesterday, after… well, after we talked, this book was all I could think about, what with the fact that my brain’s basically a leaky faucet of other people’s thoughts. See, he talks about this concept called the shadow self, basically the darker parts of ourselves, the parts we try to deny exist but desperately keep hidden.”

  He met Ariella’s gaze. “He presents this idea that it’s that very denial that gives that part of ourselves power. He advocates accepting and understanding it, so that we control it, or at the very least keep it on a leash, so it doesn’t take over. So it got me thinking about my own shadow. Last night, I admit it, I was mad. Like… you don’t know me from Adam, so how could you possibly assume I’d go crazy? It felt unfair. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that as much as I don’t want to believe I’d do something like that, that because I don’t yet fully understand that side of myself, I can’t say it’s impossible.”

  He let out a deep sign before continuing. “Jung doesn’t sugarcoat it,” he said. “He’s like, you’ve got work to do. Figure out your inner mess before it figures you out. That’s solid advice, even if it’s wrapped in a whole lot of fancy words.”

  Ariella took in what he said, then nodded. “That makes sense to me. I expect people on your world, like people on my own, have two sides to them.”

  “The duality of man,” Boomer acknowledged, then chuckled. He looked down toward the ground for a long moment. “I’m going to do what I need to to make sure I don’t lose it,” he said, then met her gaze once more. “But what if I can’t stop it? What if the worst happens?”

  Her expression darkened, and she let out a heavy sigh. “The tragedy that occurred at Eryshale two years ago is still fresh in the minds of the people all across the Pactlands, and we’ve only just begun to heal. Even here, far from the borders of the Aligned Realms, should it happen again, it would reopen those wounds. So, if it means avoiding another tragedy, then you must end it yourself.” Her voice was calm, but there was an unspoken weight behind her words. “And if you won’t, I will.”

  Boomer swallowed hard, the seriousness of her tone sending a chill down his spine. But he managed a lopsided grin. “Good to know you’ve got my back. In the worst way possible, but still.”

  Ariella’s lips twitched in something resembling a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I hope it won’t come to that.”

  “Me too,” he said, his voice quieter now.

  For a moment, they stood in silence, the sounds of the gathering fading into the background. Boomer found himself studying Ariella—not the flashes of memory and emotion he’d glimpsed earlier, but the person standing in front of him. There was a quiet strength to her, a resilience forged in fire. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration.

  “Hey,” he said, breaking the silence. “Thanks. For, y’know, not writing me off completely.”

  Her gaze softened, and she inclined her head. “You’re welcome.”

  And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Boomer alone once more. But this time, he felt less adrift—still isolated, but anchored by the seeds of understanding.