The Moonwell was older than the academy.
That was the only thing Aurora knew as she crossed the mist-thick path through the arboreal grounds just before curfew. The trees here were pale silver, their branches leafless and arching like skeletal arms. Moss glowed faintly on the stone, casting the world in violet-blue.
She shouldn't be here.
She shouldn't even know how to get here
But her feet kept moving.
The note in her pocket — unsigned, marked with a strange spiral-thorn seal — still pulsed faintly with magic. It hadn't burned. It hadn't vanished. It had waited.
Just like whoever sent it.
The Moonwell lay at the edge of the grounds, hidden behind a veil of soundless enchantment. The space beyond the trees opened into a small glade — circular, silent, and impossibly still.
At the center, a stone basin brimmed with shimmering liquid silver — neither water nor light. The well gave off no scent. No sound. Only an overwhelming sense of presence.
Someone stood at its edge.
A figure cloaked in black, a mask of pale bone covering their face. Long fingers brushed the rim of the basin as if in ritual. When Aurora stepped into the clearing, the figure turned.
"You came," they said.
Their voice was androgynous. Low. Slightly echoed, like it passed through a filter of wind and time.
"Who are you?" Aurora asked. Her voice trembled, but she held her ground.
The figure removed the mask.
Underneath was a face far younger than she expected — sharp, severe features, eyes the color of drowned stars.
"I am Negasi Valen," they said. "And I remember your name."
Aurora took a step back.
"Aestrael."
Negasi smiled faintly. "Not just your house. Your core."
She shook her head. "Everyone says that line was erased."
"It was."
"Then how do you know it?"
Negasi walked slowly around the Moonwell, the silver light dancing on their robe.
"Because I was there when they buried it."
Aurora stared at them, pulse quickening.
"That's not possible."
"Time moves differently near the Well," Negasi replied. "Memory lingers here. I've drunk from it. I've seen things not meant to be remembered."
They gestured to the basin.
"It still carries pieces of the Veil's early bindings. When the Aestrael line threatened the balance of magic, the Council made a choice — to seal it, erase it, and scatter the survivors across the mortal plane."
Aurora stepped closer. "You're saying I'm one of them?"
"No," Negasi said gently. "You are the last one. The one they couldn't erase."
The Moonwell shimmered as if reacting to the words.
"But why me? Why seal me away? What did the Aestraels do?"
Negasi's face darkened.
"They broke the rules. They used Veilfire to shape their souls. Not passively — not born into it like the rest of us. They forged power. Breathed it in and made it part of their blood. The Council feared it. Called it unnatural."
"And was it?" Aurora asked.
Negasi looked at her long and hard. "You tell me."
They reached into their robe and pulled out a small, flat stone etched with the same spiral-thorn sigil she saw in her dreams.
"This was your crest, before it was purged."
The moment they dropped it into her hand, the stone flared violet-gold — the same color her magic burned during the duel.
Aurora felt it sink into her skin. Not literally — but spiritually, as if it recognized her and carved itself into her again.
Negasi didn't look surprised.
"Take it," they said. "But be warned. That sigil will draw attention — not just from the Council. From the old bloodlines who think they killed your legacy. They will not be pleased to see it walking."
Aurora clenched her fingers around the crest. "Good."
Negasi's smile returned, sharp and strange.
"You've been asleep a long time, Aestrael. Don't let them lull you back."
When she returned to the Mirror Wing, it was nearly dawn.
She didn't sleep.
She stared at her hand, where the spiral-thorn crest still burned softly beneath the skin, visible only in the right light.
A memory flickered in her mind — from the relic chamber below the stair, from the mirror.
"You are the echo of a name that burned too bright."
She understood it now.
She wasn't born a monster.
She was made a warning.
And she was done being silent.