Elaria
Time is the most ruthless spell of all. Since that day in the Emerald Earth pack, I locked away every memory of Mary Ann.
I chose a quiet path, dedicating my life entirely to Lorkgard—the highest magical academy, the last stronghold of our magic’s purity. Here, I was no longer the weepy Elaria.
Here, I was Professor Vaelwyn, Head of the Composite Alchemy Department.
This morning, the laboratory hall reeked of lead and mercury—sharp, biting scents. Far better than the smell of damp soil and wolf fur that had nearly choked me to death back then.
“The crystallisation reaction won’t happen if your cauldron temperature is still below three hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit,” I said flatly, pacing between the rows of worktables. My shoes echoed against the cold stone floor.
“But,
