The sun bled over the horizon, gilding the training grounds in molten gold. Shadows stretched long before shrinking away, chased by the crisp morning air that carried the steady rhythm of movement—footfalls scuffing against packed dirt, controlled breaths, the quiet strain of exertion.

  Cassandra eased into a deep lunge, the motion fluid, effortless. "Flexibility is key," she said, her tone light but firm.

  Elias mirrored her stance—at least, he tried. His foot slipped, arms flailing in a desperate bid for balance. A second later, he hit the ground with a thud, dust curling around him.

  Laughter crackled through the group like dry leaves catching fire.

  Thorne extended a hand, amusement flickering in his storm-gray eyes. "Might want to stick to fighting instead of acrobatics."

  Elias clasped his wrist with an exaggerated sigh, letting Thorne haul him up. "And here I thought I had a future in contortion."

  The moment passed, and focus returned. Aiden and Thorne circled each other, their movements sharp, precise—testing, reacting. Lyric dropped low into a defensive stance, shifting her weight as she blocked Alice’s strike. Muscles tensed, breaths came faster, determination flickered behind their eyes.

  Cassandra moved through them, nudging an elbow here, adjusting a stance there, offering quiet corrections. Her gaze flicked toward Elias—his footing more secure, his focus unwavering. A slight nod of approval crossed her lips before she stepped back, watching the scene unfold.

  Her steps carried her toward the training ground’s edge, where Sentinel stood like a statue carved from resolve—arms crossed, his gaze cutting through the morning haze.

  "They're scattered," he muttered, barely shifting as Cassandra approached. "No unity. A team isn’t just bodies moving side by side—it’s instinct. Trust. Knowing when to step in without thinking."

  Cassandra's eyes tracked the shifting forms in the ground—the hesitation in Elias’s movements, the way Aiden and Thorne still calculated before reacting, the space Alice and Lyric unconsciously kept between them. Cracks in the foundation.

  "They weren’t raised under the same discipline," she murmured. "Walls like that don’t fall overnight."

  Sentinel’s scoff was quiet but sharp. "Time is a luxury we don’t have." His jaw set, gaze locked on the trainees like a blacksmith eyeing imperfect steel. "If they don’t learn to act as one, they won’t survive what’s coming."

  The morning stretched on, sweat soaking into fabric, breaths coming faster. Alice wiped a damp sleeve across her brow, her chest rising and falling in deep, steadying pulls of air. She strode toward the sitting stand, muscles protesting as she collapsed onto the worn wood. Water sloshed as she unscrewed the lid of her flask, taking a long sip, the coolness sliding down her throat.

  As the others continued their drills, she reached into her bag, fingers grazing the cracked leather of a familiar tome. She pulled it free, the gold lettering barely visible in the morning light.

  Codex of Infinite Power.

  Her thumb skimmed over the weathered edges as she flipped through its parchment-thin pages, the ink smudged in places, scrawled in a script both intricate and maddening. Some recipes were ancient, their formulas rigid with time, while others carried an air of reckless experimentation. Her gaze snagged on one in particular—an illusion potion.

  A slow crease formed between her brows. She traced the instructions again, lips pressing together. The symbols blurred in places, some characters curling into shapes she didn’t recognize.

  A shadow fell over her.

  "You look like you’re either unlocking the secrets of the universe or suffering a slow, painful death," Cassandra mused, arms folded, a smirk tugging at her lips.

  Alice sighed, slumping against the wooden stand. "Neither. Just deciphering this mess before my brain gives up and melts out of my ears."

  Cassandra leaned over, her breath warm against Alice’s neck as she peered at the text. Her fingers drummed against her arm. "An illusion potion. Tricky but useful—if you don’t screw it up. Otherwise, you might just make your enemies look more terrifying instead of less."

  Alice groaned, letting her head thud back against the post. "Perfect. As if I needed help making bad situations worse."

  Cassandra chuckled, her voice laced with amusement. "You do have a gift for disaster. Do you even recognize all the ingredients?"

  Alice flipped the page, trailing a finger over a particularly aggressive swirl of ink. "Most of them. But this?" She squinted. "This isn’t a word. This is just… furious handwriting."

  Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that tracks. Lucky for you, I have a talent for stopping people from poisoning themselves."

  Alice perked up. "So, you’ll help?"

  Cassandra plucked the book from Alice’s hands, rolling her eyes. "I’d rather not have our ‘chosen protectors’ running face-first into walls because you brewed something that turned the floor into quicksand."

  Alice snorted. "Okay, that would be hilarious. But no, I’d rather get it right."

  Cassandra’s smirk faltered the instant her fingers brushed the cover. A sharp breath hitched in her throat. The amusement drained from her face, leaving something tight and unreadable in its wake.

  Alice straightened. "Cass?" She waved a hand. "Why do you look like you just read a death omen?"

  Cassandra didn’t answer immediately. Her grip tightened on the book, her knuckles paling. "This book…" Her voice carried a weight Alice wasn’t used to hearing. "I know this book."

  Alice blinked. "Yeah, I’d be more concerned if you didn’t recognize a book when you see one."

  Cassandra ignored her sarcasm, flipping open the cover with careful, deliberate hands—like she expected it to bite. "No. I mean, I know what this book is."

  Her eyes darkened. "This is the Codex of Infinite Power—written by Eryndor Sagefall."

  A beat of silence. Then—

  Alice yanked the book back so fast the pages rustled. "Wait. What?!" She gawked at the worn leather, holding it at arm’s length like it might explode. "Why was this just lying around in my coven’s library?!"

  Cassandra shook her head, still staring as if trying to see beyond the ink and parchment. "No idea. But it’s your good luck that you found it. This thing isn’t just some dusty old relic. It holds powerful knowledge—spells, potions—things that could make or break a battle."

  Alice swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the weight in her hands. The inked words seemed heavier now, each letter pressing into her skin like an unspoken challenge.

  "So…" She wet her lips. "You’re saying I accidentally stumbled onto a lost artifact?"

  Cassandra exhaled, finally meeting her gaze. A slow smirk returned, but tension still coiled in her posture. "Looks like it. Congratulations. Just don’t—" she gestured vaguely, "—set anything on fire."

  Alice’s fingers curled tighter around the spine. A pulse of something new stirred in her chest—not fear, but something sharper.

  Determination.

  Her gaze dropped back to the page, the formula waiting.

  She would master this.

  No matter what.

  By midday, their bodies ached with the weight of training, but their spirits remained high as they spilled into the dining hall. The air swirled with the rich aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread, mingling with the soft hum of conversation. The overhead lights cast a warm glow over the long tables, where plates overflowed and laughter bounced between them.

  Alice leaned forward, her grin barely concealed as she stabbed a fork into her meal. “Did you see Elias fall? I thought he was going to start a new trend in training—floor exercises!”

  Across the table, Elias let out a groan, swirling the deep crimson liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip. His fingers tapped against the cool surface as he rolled his eyes, but the twitch of his lips gave him away. “Very funny, Alice. Just wait until I take you down in sparring later.”

  Alice waggled her brows. “Keep dreaming. I’ll show you what a real fighter looks like.”

  Aiden snorted, grabbing a roll from the platter. “More like what a real loser looks like!”

  Thorne, tearing a chunk of bread with lazy amusement, smirked. “Careful, Aiden, or I might just ‘accidentally’ knock you into next sparring session.”

  Lyric chuckled, twirling a strand of silver hair between her fingers. “At this rate, we’ll all be flat on our backs by the end of the week.”

  A tray thumped onto the table, and Maris swept in with a knowing glint in her eye. The heap of roasted meats glistened under the overhead lights, steam curling from golden-baked bread.

  “Don’t you worry, dear ones.” She winked as she placed the food down. “I’ll keep you on your feet. Now eat up—you’ll need the strength for what’s ahead.”

  As their laughter faded and the last remnants of their meal were cleared, Alice pushed back her chair and stretched. “Alright, I’m off. I have some work to do with Cassandra.”

  Thorne raised a brow, tearing off another piece of bread. “What kind of work?”

  Alice smirked. “Relax, it’s not dragon-related. Just a witch thing.”

  Thorne let out a low grumble, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth as a scowl flickered across his face.

  Aiden burst into laughter. “Look at him sulking! Guess the mighty dragons don’t like being left out.”

  Elias smirked, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Careful, Thorne. You’re pouting like a hatchling.”

  Thorne huffed, tearing off another bite with more force than necessary. “I am not pouting.”

  Lyric glanced at Alice, who was already preparing to leave, then pushed back her chair and stood. “I’m coming too.”

  The quiet chamber carried the scent of dried herbs and chemicals, a stark contrast to the liveliness of the hall. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with aged tomes and glass vials brimming with swirling liquids. At the center, Cassandra leaned over Eryndor’s codex, tracing the alchemical symbols with a practiced hand.

  Alice hovered over the potion station, fingers steady as she measured each ingredient with care. The mixture shimmered under the sterile glow of the overhead lights, a deep amethyst hue. Lyric stood close, eyes sharp with curiosity as she studied the delicate process.

  “This should stabilize the illusion properties, right?” Alice glanced up, brows pinched in concentration.

  Cassandra’s gaze flicked to the potion, her expression unreadable. “If the ratio’s right. Too much and—”

  A ripple shivered through the liquid, distorting its surface like a whisper of unease.

  Lyric leaned in, her voice thoughtful. “What if we added a drop of moonvine extract? It might smooth out the consistency.”

  Alice hesitated, weighing the suggestion, then nodded. “It’s worth a try.”

  A single drop slid from the vial and disappeared into the mixture. The potion flared—a pulse of light in the sterile room—before settling into a soft, opalescent glow.

  Cassandra’s lips curved, approval glinting in her eyes. “That’s much better. You’re both thinking critically. That’s the key.”

  Later, they gathered in the Conceptorium—the name they had given to their strategy chamber, where they studied the species of other realms and devised ways to counter them. The cozy, book-lined room was filled with scattered maps and notes pinned across the walls.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The large board at the room’s center displayed eerie charcoal sketches of the Gloomshapers, their twisted forms etched in sharp, jagged strokes. Shadows from the dim overhead lights stretched across the diagrams, making them seem almost alive.

  Cassandra tapped a diagram with the capped marker, smudging a dark curve. “Let’s dissect their strengths and vulnerabilities. If we’re going up against them, we need a solid plan.”

  Elias leaned in, his gaze sweeping over the sketches, his fingers trailing just above the paper. “They thrive in darkness, using illusions to confuse and disorient. Their strength isn’t in direct combat—it’s in deception.”

  Aiden’s fingers drummed against the table, a restless rhythm matching the tension in his posture. “But light magic weakens them. If we can harness that, we have the advantage.”

  His words carried weight, but his eyes flickered—just briefly—toward Lyric. An instinct, a silent expectation.

  Lyric caught it, though her expression remained unreadable. A test, or a demand? Either way, she refused to let it rattle her. “That would be an advantage—if we had the means to wield it effectively. We have to work with what we can do now, not what we should be able to do.”

  Elias nodded, rolling up his sleeves. “She’s right. We can’t fight on hypotheticals. We need practical counters to their trickery.”

  Thorne’s chair scraped against the floor as he shifted, arms crossing over his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking slightly. “And positioning. If they can vanish into the shadows, we need to cover each other’s blind spots. Light alone won’t win this fight.”

  Aiden scoffed, leaning forward, tension coiling in his posture. “Sitting back and watching won’t help either. If we don’t act first, we’re handing them the upper hand.”

  Thorne’s jaw flexed. “Rushing in without a plan makes us easy targets. That’s exactly what they want.”

  Aiden bristled, gripping the table’s edge. “And overthinking keeps us just as exposed. We should be preparing to take them head-on!”

  Thorne met his glare, voice sharpening like a drawn blade. “You think charging in makes us warriors? Battles are won with tactics, not reckless bravado.”

  Alice exhaled sharply, throwing up her hands. “Guys—”

  Aiden’s fingers curled into fists. “And you think hesitation will win? Every second we waste—”

  “Enough.” Cassandra’s voice cut through the rising tension, steady and commanding. The snap of a book closing punctuated her words, final and unyielding. “You’re both right in your own ways. But you won’t win anything by tearing each other apart.”

  Elias exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “Let’s find common ground. We train, we prepare, and we strategize.”

  Aiden’s shoulders dropped slightly, his glare easing into something less volatile. “Fine. But I refuse to wait until it’s too late.”

  Thorne gave a curt nod, his posture still rigid but relenting. “And I refuse to charge in without a solid plan.”

  Cassandra’s gaze swept over them, the sharpness in her eyes tempered by something softer now. “Good. Then let’s find a way to make both approaches work. We’re stronger together.”

  The third day opened with an even fiercer training session. The grounds thrummed with intensity, the crisp air alive with the rhythmic shuffle of movement and the muted scuff of boots against hardened earth.

  Cassandra stood at the edge, arms folded tight, her sharp gaze drilling into every misstep. “Focus on your technique!” Her voice cracked across the field, sharper than the snap of a branch underfoot.

  

  Aiden darted around Thorne, his movements quicksilver, his smirk curling with unchecked challenge. “Just because you’re fast doesn’t mean you’re good.”

  Thorne barely shifted his weight before feinting left, then swept a leg behind Aiden’s knees. Aiden staggered, his foot skidding in the dirt before he caught himself, breathless but grinning. “At least I’m keeping up.”

  On the sidelines, Sentinel exhaled slowly, arms clasped behind his back. His expression remained unreadable, though a crease formed between his brows. “They still don’t trust each other,” he murmured. “It’ll take more than drills to turn them into a team.”

  Cassandra’s fingers drummed against her arm, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “Then we push them harder. They need to stop thinking like individuals and start relying on each other.”

  Sweat clung to Lyric’s brow, her breath coming fast as she wiped a damp strand of hair from her face. “What if we face multiple threats at once?” she asked, voice edged with concern. “We need a plan for that.”

  Aiden rolled his shoulders, his smirk fading into something more contemplative. “We should have backup strategies.”

  The moment they stepped into the Conceptorium, the air shifted. The flickering lights painted the stone walls in restless shadows, the scent of parchment and ink curling in the corners. Tension settled thick between them, the weight of uncertainty pressing down like an unseen force.

  Alice traced idle patterns on the scarred tabletop, her gaze distant, thoughts threading through the silence. “We could splinter their formation—fracture their focus with diversions.”

  Thorne’s grin sharpened, a glint of mischief dancing in his gray eyes as his fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against the wood. “I’ll take the lead—pull their attention, dictate the pace. Keep them chasing shadows while we strike.”

  Lyric crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. “Instead of forcing them to scatter, what if we make them hesitate? A well-placed trap or delayed reaction could throw them off balance.”

  Elias leaned forward, fingers steepled, his gaze shadowed with calculation. “A solid opening, but if they don’t take the bait, we need contingencies. A fallback strategy. We can’t afford to rely on chance.”

  Aiden’s grin flashed again, this time tempered with determination. “Exactly. We cover each other’s weaknesses. That’s how we win—by fighting as one.”

  By the fourth day of training, frustration crackled in the air like static before a storm. Their movements were out of sync, their strategies misaligned. Thorne raked a hand through his hair, pacing in tight, agitated circles. “We’re trying, but it’s not coming together. We keep missing the mark.”

  Cassandra’s voice cut through the mounting tension like a blade. “Enough! Less complaining, more focus.”

  Elias stepped in before the frustration could spiral further, his tone even but resolute. “Pointing fingers won’t get us anywhere. We need to pinpoint the real problem—why aren’t we meshing as a team?”

  Cassandra’s gaze swept over them, taking in the exhaustion weighing on their shoulders, the hesitation still lurking in their movements. “It’s not about perfection. It’s about understanding your strengths and learning how to move as a unit. Until you trust each other, you’ll keep falling apart.”

  Meanwhile, in the Alchemical chamber, Alice worked in steady concentration, measuring out ingredients with careful precision. The warm glow of lights reflected off glass vials, their contents swirling in muted colors.

  “Again,” Cassandra instructed, nudging a vial of Duskroot extract closer. “Too much, and it all backfires.”

  Lyric leaned in, watching the liquid slosh against the glass. “Alchemy’s never been my strength, but if you need an extra pair of eyes, I can make sure the ratios stay exact.”

  Alice glanced up, offering a quick smile. “Absolutely. The more hands, the better.”

  As the days settled into a steady rhythm, their training became instinctive. Mornings were spent honing their abilities, each movement sharper, each strike more precise. Afternoons brought a welcome reprieve—laughter and shared meals around Maris’s kitchen table, the air warm with camaraderie. After lunch, Cassandra, Alice, and Lyric would disappear into the Alchemical chamber, perfecting their illusion potion with meticulous care. Evenings belonged to strategy, the Conceptorium echoing with quiet discussions as they fine-tuned their plans, anticipating the dangers that lay ahead.

  Now, after hours of careful mixing, Alice stood poised over their latest creation. The liquid in the vial lay still, a velvety purple that seemed to drink in the glow. With deliberate care, she added the final ingredient. The moment the droplet hit, the potion convulsed—twisting, writhing—before settling into a pulsing emerald green. The light caught the liquid’s surface, sending faint reflections dancing across the steel counters and the focused faces surrounding her

  Lyric exhaled, her breath feathering the surface of the vial. “Well, we did it” She wiped her hands on her pants, a satisfied grin curling at her lips. “Hard part’s over. Now comes the real challenge.”

  Cassandra leaned in, her sharp gaze reflecting the potion’s eerie glow. “Finding someone to test it on.”

  The three exchanged looks. A slow, wicked smile spread across Alice’s face. “Any volunteers?”

  Laughter rippled through the chamber, but Cassandra raised a single finger, her expression unreadable—except for the glint of mischief in her eyes. “Actually… I think we already have three perfect test subjects.”

  Lyric’s smirk deepened. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  With a shared glance, they gathered their materials. Alice carefully secured the vial, its glow pulsing faintly in her hands. The soft scent of herbs and scorched metal lingered in the Alchemical Chamber, the last remnants of their work hanging in the air.

  Stepping away from the workbench, they moved toward the arched doorway, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. The corridor beyond was dimly lit, the flickering sconces casting shifting patterns along the walls.

  At last, they reached the heavy wooden door of the Conceptorium. It loomed before them, the iron handle cool beneath Cassandra's fingers as she pushed it open. The hinges groaned in protest, splitting the quiet hum of conversation inside.

  Aiden, Thorne, and Elias halted their discussion, their attention snapping to the vial in Alice’s grip. The dim light glinted off the potion’s surface, making the liquid shimmer with an almost unnatural vitality.

  Alice advanced with measured steps, each click of her heels echoing against the stone floor. With a deliberate motion, she set the vial down on the table, the soft clink breaking the silence.

  The emerald glow danced in Elias’s narrowed eyes as he folded his arms, edging forward. His fingers drummed against his bicep, a rhythmic beat of unease. "Okay, seriously. What is that?"

  Lyric leaned forward, bracing her hands on the table. The wood was cool beneath her fingertips as she traced lazy circles, mischief glinting in her gaze. "This, dear Elias, is an illusion potion," she purred, stretching each syllable like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. "Made by none other than Alice herself."

  Alice lifted her chin, barely suppressing the smug curve of her lips. "And we haven't tried it on anyone yet."

  Cassandra, standing a little apart, crossed her arms with the kind of poise that suggested both patience and authority. A single brow arched as she regarded the boys. "So... we're looking for a volunteer."

  A heavy silence settled like fog.

  Elias moved first. A sharp step back, palms up as if the vial contained something venomous. "No way. I'm not falling for that."

  Aiden mirrored him, though his retreat came with a dramatic wince, as if even the suggestion of participating pained him. "Yeah, no thanks. I like my mind the way it is."

  Thorne, stiffening, squared his shoulders but took a subtle step toward the door, muscles coiled like a predator about to flee. His voice came low and tight. "You can't be serious. I value my life."

  Cassandra exhaled through her nose, amusement flickering in the curve of her mouth. Her eyes darted to Lyric and Alice, a silent exchange passing between them like an unspoken challenge.

  Lyric moved first, fluid as water, stepping toward Thorne with deliberate ease. The smile that spread across her face was slow, coaxing. "Come on, Thorne. Don't tell me you're scared of a little illusion."

  Alice matched her step for step, her expression the picture of innocence, though her eyes gleamed with something far less pure. "It's perfectly safe," she said breezily. "You know… as long as you don’t mind seeing things that aren’t really there."

  Thorne's fingers twitched. His throat bobbed. "What kind of… things are we talking about?"

  Cassandra tilted her head, her smirk widening just enough to be unsettling. "Oh, nothing too dramatic. Just a minor illusion. Enough to give us an edge when things get tough." Her voice was smooth—too smooth.

  Thorne's jaw tightened. Doubt flickered behind his sharp gaze, his stance losing its rigidity.

  Elias, sensing the shift, seized the moment. His grin was all too innocent, which meant it wasn’t innocent at all. "Come on, Thorne. It's for the team. If it works, we get to see what kind of illusion you'll get." He nudged Aiden, barely suppressing his amusement. "It's a win-win."

  Aiden smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. "Yeah, think of it as preparation. Don’t let us down, Thorne."

  Thorne’s glare swept over them all, but his resistance was crumbling like an old dam under too much pressure. He sucked in a slow breath, arms tightening across his chest. "You guys are evil."

  Lyric pressed a hand to her heart, sighing dramatically. "We only want to help, Thorne. You’re doing this for the team."

  Thorne pinched the bridge of his nose. "I really hate you all," he muttered. But the way his mouth twitched at the edges betrayed him.

  Alice beamed. "Perfect!" She spun toward the table, practically vibrating with excitement. "You're going to look great, I promise."

  Thorne let out a long-suffering groan, but a reluctant smirk tugged at his lips. "I regret everything," he muttered, sinking into the nearest chair as though accepting his doomed fate.

  Cassandra, however, remained still, her gaze slicing to the vial with calculated precision. When she spoke, her voice carried a weight that quieted the lingering laughter. "Not here."

  The room seemed to shrink at her words.

  She straightened, arms still crossed. "We need to go to the training grounds. The last thing we need is someone seeing things that aren’t real in the middle of the chamber and losing their grip on what is."

  Thorne stiffened, an unmistakable flash of dread darkening his features. "You’re joking, right?"

  His hand dragged down his face, voice strained. "I already have to deal with you all. Now I’m supposed to trust that this thing won’t make me see— I don’t know, a swarm of shadow creatures crawling toward me?"

  Lyric's lips twitched. "Don’t be such a baby. It’s just an illusion. Mostly harmless." She winked.

  Aiden clapped Thorne’s back, grinning. "Yeah, imagine seeing your worst nightmare come to life. Wouldn’t that be fun?"

  Thorne’s scowl deepened. "You’re all enjoying this far too much."

  Cassandra didn't give him time to argue. She turned sharply, her stride purposeful as she moved toward the exit. The others followed, their murmured laughter drifting into the cool night air.

  

  Darkness stretched across the sky, vast and unrelenting, devouring even the faintest stars. A thin ribbon of moonlight traced the landscape, offering little illumination. Trees lined the field’s edge in rigid formation, their gnarled branches clawing at the void. A biting wind threaded through the tall grass, carrying hushed murmurs no one could decipher.

  Reaching the heart of the field, Thorne’s stride slowed. Alice extended the vial, her fingertips grazing his as he accepted it. The contact lingered, fleeting but unmistakable.

  "Be careful," she murmured, tone calm yet firm. "A single breath, Thorne. That’s all it takes. Any more, and the illusion could get... intense."

  His fingers clenched around the glass. The liquid inside churned, shadowy and unsettled. For a heartbeat, he was certain it throbbed. "Intense how?"

  Cassandra’s gaze darkened. "Too much, and the illusion won’t just dance at the edges of your vision. It will sink in, burrow deep. Your mind won’t know the difference between what’s real and what isn’t."

  Lyric stepped into the dim glow, half-veiled in the interplay of light and shadow. A smirk teased her lips. "Trust me, Thorne. You do not want to spend the next hour believing you’re trapped in a pit of writhing hands."

  His shoulders stiffened. "You’ve seen that before?"

  Her head inclined slightly, amusement sharpening her expression. "Oh, countless times." A measured pause. Then, with an almost careless lilt, "And let me tell you, they don’t just grab. They pull."

  A restless wind slithered through the trees. Thorne’s grip tensed around the vial, the weight of unseen eyes pressing in from all sides.

  "If I start screaming at nothing," he muttered under his breath, "I’m holding all of you accountable."

  Alice’s previous playfulness had evaporated, her focus solely on him. "Thorne, I mean it. A little goes a long way."

  Aiden leaned in, amusement dancing in his gaze. "Just breathe like you normally would. One deep inhale. Anything more, and... well, we’ll do our best to pull you back."

  Thorne’s jaw tightened. A curt nod. A dry swallow.

  Elias finally spoke, tilting his head. "If this backfires, I’m not dragging you out of your own nightmares. That’s your problem."

  A sharp, humorless chuckle escaped Thorne. "Fantastic. Just the encouragement I needed."

  The vial rested heavier in his grasp. The substance inside appeared darker, almost alive in its stillness.

  A slow breath escaped him, steadying his nerves. "Alright," he murmured. "One deep breath. Simple."

  A beat of hesitation. A whisper of doubt.

  Then, he raised the vial to his lips.

  Moonlight skimmed the glass, igniting a cold gleam in the emerald depths.

  "Here goes nothing."