Hidden Wings

The Fractured Canvas

“Gentle, Ivy! Gentle!” Alzir’s voice barked across the training clearing, cracked with a rare, terrifying note of genuine panic.

“I’m trying!” I screamed back, sweat stinging my eyes.

I wasn’t struggling to find the magic—that was the problem. The suppression potion from Earth had worn off, and two centuries of locked-up Fae energy were tearing through my veins like a tidal wave. I had too much of it. It was volatile, suffocating, and screaming to get out.

I had tried to summon a simple breeze. Instead, the air pressurized in a fraction of a second. The grass beneath my boots exploded outward as a concussive shockwave, gouging a massive trench into the lawn and snapping the roots of a nearby oak tree like toothpicks.

“Stop! Drop the connection!” Alzir commanded, bracing his massive frame against the gale my panic was generating.

Think of the medium, I told myself, teeth grinding. It’s not a weapon. It’s graphite. If you press too hard, you tear the paper. You ruin the canvas. I forced my fists to relax, picturing my hands skimming the surface of a delicate sketch. Slowly, the howling wind died to a whisper. The air pressure dropped, leaving my ears popping.

Alzir exhaled, surveying the torn dirt. “You are treating your core like a floodgate, Ivy. The council needs precision. If you cannot control the flow, you will be deemed a liability and locked away.”

“I know,” I muttered. “It feels like painting a miniature with a house-painting brush.”

“Then change the brush,” Alzir snapped. “Picture the elements as the gentlest mediums. Watercolors. A single drop of ink.”

I closed my eyes, centering myself. I imagined a soft, translucent stroke of amber fire, wrapping around us like a light glaze. I opened my eyes. A controlled warmth bloomed between us.

Alzir nodded, a small smile appearing. “Better. You have the information in your blood, you just need—”

Alzir’s voice cut off. It warped into a deep, demonic drone that rattled my teeth. The warm air instantly froze into a biting cold that smelled of rotten copper.

“Alzir?” I whispered, stepping back.

Alzir wasn’t looking at me. His eyes had gone completely black, bleeding ink-like fluid down his cheeks. The field dissolved like wet paper, the sky bleeding into a chaotic swirl of toxic orange.

Did you think a few lines of paint could keep me out, Little Bird? The voice scraped against my thoughts like a rusted blade. A suffocating psychic pressure pinned me to the ground as the training field tore away, leaving me falling into a void of crushing darkness. Spiders of phantom heat crawled over my skin. The Dreamweaver was inside my head, ripping through my thoughts.

“Ivy! Break the connection!” A massive, golden spark shattered the dark.

The void cracked. I gasped, tumbling onto real grass. Alzir was on his knees, gripping my shoulders. He was breathing heavily, his face pale.

“I saw it,” he breathed. “His psychic signature was so volatile it bled into the physical space. I saw the shadows warp.”

I trembled, pushing myself up. “He’s adapting.”

Alzir stood, his expression grim. “This changes everything. If he can strike while you are conscious, this mission is suicide. Your mind is an open door.”

“I am not staying behind!” I snapped, my blood boiling. “If I stay here like a sitting duck—”

“Ivy, look at me,” Alzir interrupted, striding back toward the castle. “You cannot shield your own thoughts. Going to him is what the Unseelie King wants.”

“Then teach me how to shield them!” I demanded, jogging to keep up. The anger in my chest was a physical heat—heavy, sweet, and intimate.

He froze in the stone corridor. When he turned, his eyes weren’t just wide with alarm; they were clouded, his pupils dilated, a dark flush rising along his jawline.

A chill ran down my spine. The air smelled of jasmine and heavy rain. My succubus powers had surfaced, feeding on his energy to ground my panic.

“Stop,” Alzir rasped, his voice strained. He clamped his eyes shut, his knuckles turning white as he forced his mental discipline down like an iron shutter. When he opened his eyes, the cloudiness was gone. “Control your emotions, Ivy. All of them.”

Shame burned in my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t tell the Council. If they know the Dreamweaver got in, or that I’m throwing off succubus magic, they’ll lock me in a tower.”

“I am a Fae of action,” Alzir said grimly, reaching for the council doors. “The Council must be informed.”

He pushed the doors open. Queen Adele sat at the head of the table, surrounded by high lords.

“Alzir, Ivy,” Adele said, locking onto my trembling form. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Worse, Madam,” Alzir stated.

I tried to visualize a clean, empty canvas, but the static buzzed under my skin, ruining every mental line.

Adele stood, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Breathe, Ivy. Exhale the static.”

I took a ragged breath, but the volatile heat wouldn’t budge. I ripped myself from her grasp, pacing away. “I can’t just calm down!”

The Solitary Fae representatives watched with detached amusement. “The girl is a storm,” one murmured. “If she cannot be controlled, the treaty is void.” They rose and filed out.

“I’m not staying behind,” I repeated, my knuckles white.

Adele exchanged a look with Alzir. “There is another way. But you need to rest.”

She placed her palm against my forehead. A cold shockwave surged through me, forcing the chaos down behind a royal seal. My knees went weak.

“The seal will hold her emotional leakage,” Alzir said. “But she cannot return to the fields. My presence is a liability if her allure triggers again.”

“Where do we send her?” Adele asked.

“The Grand Library,” Alzir responded. “It is subterranean, reinforced by dampening stones. And there is someone there who can teach her what I cannot. My nephew, Seth.”

“Seth?” I asked, my eyelids heavy.

“He is rooted in an immovable stillness,” Alzir said. “Your alluring powers will not affect him. If anyone can teach you to quiet the storm, it is him.”

Adele looked at me. “Prepare the lower chambers. We begin her transition at dawn.”