The mirror reflected Aria’s face—or rather, the version she’d settled on after cycling through six different lip colours in as many minutes. A touch of glamour here, a subtle shift there. Makeup without the tedium of brushes and powders.

  Bellas stood behind her, working tension from her shoulders with steady pressure.

  “Did you know mortals have to do this by hand?” Aria tilted her head, examining the arch of her eyebrow. “Like, actually apply pigments. With little brushes.”

  “Sounds tedious.”

  “Right?” She shifted the colour again—deeper red this time. “Though honestly, I’d totally do it. I’d just complain the entire time.”

  The mental image surfaced before I could stop it—Aria hunched over a vanity, muttering profanities at a compact mirror while smudging eyeliner across her cheek.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I looked away. “Just picturing things.”

  Back when I was Liam, I’d never understood the appeal. Most women looked fine without makeup anyway. Spending an hour each morning to look marginally different seemed like a waste of time and effort.

  Two weeks in this body hadn’t changed my opinion on the logic.

  But I understood the impulse now. The way appearance became strategy, presentation became armour. How looking a certain way opened doors or closed them before you even spoke.

  Didn’t mean I agreed with it. Just that I could see it from the inside now.

  Aria spun on her stool, wings flaring slightly. “Okay. What do you think?”

  “You look fine. We’re going to the library, not performing in a club.”

  “I still want to look presentable.” She turned to Bellas instead. “What about you? Honest opinion.”

  “You’re stunning, mistress.” His voice carried the practiced sincerity of someone who’d learned the cost of wrong answers.

  She beamed, satisfied, then shifted her attention back to me. “So. Your mother.” Her tail curled lazily around the stool’s leg. “Who is she? Because anyone who gives their daughter a spatial ring is loaded.”

  My chest tightened. Just say what you rehearsed.

  “She’s a merchant.”

  “Oh, same as mine!” Aria’s expression brightened before turning knowing. “Though I’m guessing yours is a bit more successful than the owner of one boutique.”

  “Not by much.”

  “Lily.” She laughed, sharp and incredulous. “Don’t even try the humble thing. Your uniform alone is top-tier for commoner stock, and that’s before the ring. No regular succubus drops that kind of money on their daughter unless they’re seriously rich.”

  I didn’t have a good deflection prepared. Pivot instead. “You mentioned a boutique. Your mother runs it?”

  “Ugh.” Aria’s entire posture shifted—shoulders dropping, tail going slack. “Yeah. Small store in Ardorkeep. Specializes in clothes made from rare materials, expensive bullshit like that. The bitch only sent me here so I can make ‘useful connections.’” Her fingers made air quotes. “Useful for her, obviously. Not like she cares if I actually learn anything.”

  “Is it really that bad?”

  Lilith hadn’t seemed like that. Cold to most people, sure, but with the real Lily? Genuine warmth. Actual concern.

  “Bad doesn’t cover it.” Aria’s laugh had edges. “At least she didn’t throw me in the slums for being useless like one of my sisters.”

  The casual mention landed like a gut punch.

  “What about yours?” Aria leaned forward. “Why’d she send you to the Academy? I’m guessing it’s not just for the education.”

  “She wants me to make connections too.” Half-truth. Lilith had sent Lily here to find real friends, not political assets. Still connections, but a different kind that Aria expected.

  I sat with that thought—the strange contradiction of Lilith. How she’d held me that first day, the worry in her voice when she’d asked about my memories. How Aria talked about maternal affection like it was a foreign concept.

  “It’s always about connections.” Aria shrugged. “Can’t really blame them though. I’d probably do the same thing in their position.”

  The heels pinched as I stood—at least they weren’t that high, but I still would’ve preferred flats. Even though my legs insisted they were comfortable. Even though walking in them felt natural.

  “Let’s go before all the books we need disappear.”

  Finally. The library meant access to information beyond basic magical theory. Something that could help me find a way out of this body and back to my own.

  I pushed the thought down and headed for the door.

  * * *

  The library occupied the entire western wing—a towering vertical structure where books drifted through twelve meters of open space like leaves caught in lazy currents. Not quite the impossible architecture of the Palace Library, but impressive enough that I stopped just inside the entrance.

  Aria bumped into my back. “Whoa.”

  Floating platforms connected the various levels, accessed by brass ladders that looked like they’d corrode your hands if you grabbed them wrong. The shelves themselves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, packed so densely I couldn’t see how anyone found specific volumes without magical assistance.

  A handful of students occupied reading tables scattered throughout the ground level. Maybe a dozen total across the visible space.

  I’d expected more. This was a university library on the first week of classes.

  “See?” Aria’s whisper brushed my ear. “We didn’t have to rush.”

  A demon sat behind the main circulation desk—pale skin, goat horns, dark circles under her eyes. She’d been leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed, but they opened as we approached.

  “Quiet. It’s a library.”

  Her monotone carried across the empty space.

  “Sorry.” I kept my voice low. “We need the assigned readings for Introduction to Magic Theory. Fundamentals of Arcane Architecture by Therion and The Resonance Principle.”

  She waved one hand without straightening in her chair. Two books detached from somewhere in the upper shelves and floated down, landing on the desk with soft thuds.

  “There. Make yourselves comfortable.” Her eyes started to close again. “And be quiet.”

  I reached for the books, then stopped. “Can we take these with us?”

  Both eyes opened fully this time. She stared at me like I’d asked if water was wet.

  “Do what you want. Return them within a week or two.” She waved vaguely. “Or don’t. They’ll come back anyway.”

  Aria grabbed one volume before I could. We found a table near the windows. Gehenna’s red light filtered through, turning the wood grain crimson.

  I pulled the other book toward me and opened to the first chapter.

  “You’re seriously reading this now?” Aria’s whisper barely qualified as one.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve got a whole week.”

  The complaint tugged at a memory—Mark sprawled across his dorm bed, controller in hand, swearing he’d finish the quantum mechanics problem set “later.” Later meant three hours before the deadline, fuelled by energy drinks and panic.

  I wondered how he was doing. Whether he’d found work yet or if he was still coasting on charm and procrastination.

  When was the last time I’d contacted him? After graduation, maybe. A congratulatory message that he’d responded to with his usual lazy enthusiasm before the conversation died.

  That was three years ago.

  I pushed the thought down and focused on Aria. “We’re going to read the materials and prepare properly.”

  “Fine.” She slumped in her chair, wings folding tight against her back. “But we’re going out afterwards.”

  A sharp “Shh!” cut across the library.

  Meridia hadn’t even opened her eyes.

  I mouthed “sorry” and turned to the first page. Aria sighed dramatically, but she opened her book too.

  The text started with foundational theory—how arcane structures interfaced with mana substrates, the mathematical relationships between intent and manifestation. Dense material, but not incomprehensible.

  Engineering principles in different vocabulary.

  I pulled parchment from my spatial ring and started taking notes, copying key diagrams and formulas. Not because I needed them for Morrigan’s class.

  Because somewhere in these books might be information I was looking for. About how summoning circles actually worked, or what made teleportation gates function.

  * * *

  Three hours passed before I noticed Aria had stopped turning pages.

  She’d sprawled across the table, one cheek pressed to the open book, a thin line of drool connecting her mouth to the parchment. Her breathing had settled into the slow rhythm of deep sleep.

  I should wake her.

  Instead I turned another page, copying a diagram that mapped resonance frequencies across dimensional barriers. The mathematics looked almost familiar—wave propagation through variable mediums, just with mana densities instead of physical constants.

  Fundamentals of Arcane Architecture wasn’t about buildings despite its name. The “architecture” was structural—how spells were constructed, layer by layer, component by component. Visual casting encoded instructions directly into geometric patterns. Each line, each curve, each intersection point represented specific parameters. Circle radius determined power draw. Nested symbols created conditional branches.

  It read like a programming language rendered in multiple dimensions.

  Somatic casting followed similar logic, just internalized. The gestures traced the same geometric relationships through physical space and muscle memory, constructing the spell structure within the caster’s body rather than projecting it outward.

  Even verbal casting—what I’d assumed was mystical invocation—turned out to be structured code disguised as song. Pitch carried data. Rhythm encoded timing. The melodic phrasing wasn’t poetic; it was syntax optimized for accurate reproduction.

  My engineering background rebelled at the fundamental premise. You couldn’t just tell reality to be different. Physics didn’t care about your intentions or how prettily you drew circles in the air.

  Except here it did.

  And somehow I was already doing it. The glamour wrapped around me right now—making my horns appear smaller, my wings weaker—ran on these same principles I was reading about for the first time.

  I stared at my hand, watching the illusion ripple across my skin. Somewhere inside this body, mana was cycling through patterns I didn’t consciously understand, maintaining a spell I couldn’t explain.

  Morrigan claimed mana permeated everything. That it was the substrate of existence itself, constantly present in the atmosphere and within living tissue.

  I couldn’t feel anything.

  No tingle of power. No sense of energy flowing through me. Just the normal proprioception of flesh and muscle, the weight of my horns, the constant awareness of my tail curled around the chair leg.

  Yet the glamour held.

  What good is knowing the theory of dimensional travel if I can’t even consciously cast a spell I’m already maintaining?

  I needed to understand this. Not for Morrigan’s class or maintaining my cover as a common student. For survival. For getting home before this body finished eroding whoever I used to be.

  “Lily?”

  I looked up. Aria had lifted her head, blinking against the library’s crimson light. A parchment corner stuck to her cheek.

  “Are we done yet?” The whisper came out hoarse with sleep.

  I glanced at the stack of notes beside my books. Pages of diagrams, formulas, observations about how dimensions had to match up and what kinds of materials could work together.

  “Yes. We’re done.”

  Aria’s face lit up. She opened her mouth—then caught herself, eyes darting toward Meridia’s desk. The librarian hadn’t moved in three hours, still slouched in her chair with her eyes closed.

  Aria mouthed something that looked like “yay” without any actual sound, pumping one fist silently.

  I collected my notes and returned the books to the desk. They vanished from my hands before I set them down, floating back to wherever they’d come from.

  Outside the library doors, Aria’s voice exploded at full volume.

  “FINALLY!”

  I stared at her.

  “What?” She stretched, wings flaring wide. “I was tired of whispering.”

  “The entire building heard you.”

  “Good. They should know I’m free.” She grinned, grabbing my arm. “So now we go clubbing.”

  “I didn’t agree to that.”

  “Don’t care.” She pulled me forward. “You spent three hours drowning in theory. Now you’re going to remember how to have fun.”

  “Aria—”

  But she was already dragging me down the corridor, and my protests dissolved into the background noise of students heading to dinner.

  * * *

  Aria dragged me through the academy gates and into the streets beyond. The volcanic heat pressed down from above, thick enough to see in ripples across the obsidian buildings. Demons moved past in both directions—some winged, some not, all radiating casual menace that marked this place as fundamentally wrong.

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  “So where are we going?” I pulled my arm free from her grip but kept pace beside her. “Den again?”

  “Nope.” She grinned, tail swishing behind her in wide arcs. “I’ve got something way better in mind.”

  “What do you mean better?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I studied her expression for clues. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, wings held at a relaxed angle that suggested excitement rather than mischief. Still, the complete lack of information set off warning bells.

  Should I just leave? Turn around, head back to the dormitory, avoid whatever scheme she’d concocted?

  My tail coiled tighter around my thigh. Saying no would raise questions. Normal roommates went places together. Normal succubi trusted each other with spontaneous plans.

  I was supposed to be normal.

  We turned down a narrower street where the buildings leaned inward, creating shadows that the lava-light couldn’t quite reach. A cluster of imps huddled against one wall, their small frames barely visible in the gloom. Red skin marked them as Gehenna-spawn. One lifted its head as we approached.

  “Spare change, mistresses? Just a coin—”

  The imp lunged forward, reaching for my ankle.

  Revulsion hit me like a physical force. My leg moved before conscious thought caught up—foot connecting with the imp’s chest, launching it backward. The creature flew across the street and slammed into the opposite wall with a crack that echoed off the stone.

  It slumped to the ground and didn’t move.

  “Ugh, serves him right.” Aria stepped over another imp without breaking stride. “Touching a succubus without permission. Idiot.”

  I stared at the motionless form against the wall. My heart hammered in my chest.

  What the hell did I just do?

  The imp had been filthy, yes. Desperate. But that reaction—the instant, overwhelming disgust, the violent response—that wasn’t me. Liam wouldn’t have kicked someone that hard for reaching out. Liam would have stepped back, said no, maybe shoved them away if necessary.

  Not launched them across a street.

  My leg tingled where the kick had connected. No strain in the muscle. No aftermath of exertion. Just the lingering sense that this body had executed the movement exactly as intended, with power I hadn’t consciously summoned.

  The other imps pressed themselves flatter against the wall as I walked past.

  Aria kept talking, something about territorial boundaries and common courtesy, but the words blurred together. I focused on breathing, on matching her pace, on looking like someone who hadn’t just discovered another way this form was rewriting my instincts.

  We emerged into a wider plaza. Stalls stretched in every direction, packed with merchandise I tried not to examine too closely. Demons shouted over each other, haggling over prices. The sharp scent of brimstone mixed with something sweet and rotting.

  “Ta-dah!” Aria spread her arms, gesturing at the chaos.

  I looked at her. “Didn’t you want to go clubbing?”

  “Changed my mind.” She looped her arm through mine again. “Shopping is way more fun. And I’m sure my rich roommate wouldn’t mind sharing a few soul coins.”

  There it was. The real reason for asking about my mother’s occupation earlier.

  I sighed. Lilith had given me an allowance before I’d left the palace—a leather pouch heavy with coins in various denominations. Ten thousand souls total, she’d said. Enough for “incidentals and necessities.”

  I had no reference for whether that was generous or barely sufficient. The Academy provided meals and housing. Books were available in the library. What did a normal succubus student spend money on?

  “Fine,” I said. “But I’m not buying anything ridiculous.”

  Aria’s grin widened. “Define ridiculous.”

  * * *

  Shopping. Right.

  I hadn’t been into it as Liam. Still wasn’t particularly enthusiastic after Lilith dragged me through Emberweave buying an entire wardrobe I’d never asked for.

  But Aria’s energy was infectious. She bounced between stalls, holding up garments that ranged from revealing to anatomically improbable, chattering about cut and color and how each piece would look “absolutely perfect” on me.

  “Try this one.” She thrust another outfit into my hands—something in midnight blue with silver chains connecting strategic points.

  I looked at it. “There’s not much actual fabric here.”

  “That’s the point.” She grinned. “Come on, just try it. For me?”

  The tenth outfit felt easier to put on than the first. My hands knew where clasps belonged, how to adjust straps, which pieces layered over others. The mirror showed someone who looked comfortable in clothing that should have felt ridiculous.

  I stepped out from behind the curtain.

  Aria’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s gorgeous. The chains really work with your hair. Though…” She tilted her head. “The heels could be bigger.”

  “No.”

  “But why?” She gestured at my feet. “You’ve got the legs for it. Another three inches would be—”

  “I prefer shorter ones.” I kept my voice level.

  “Seriously? Most succubi would kill for an excuse to add height.”

  “I’m not most succubi.”

  The truth sat behind my teeth, unspoken. Even if this body moved naturally in heels, even if muscle memory made them feel normal, I needed something that was still mine. Some boundary, however arbitrary. An anchor to who I’d been before this nightmare started.

  Non-existent boundaries, maybe. But they were all I had left.

  Aria studied my face for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. Your feet, your choice.” She disappeared back into the racks. “Oh! You have to see this one.”

  She returned holding what looked like a costume from an eighties fantasy film—leather straps, strategic metal plates, a skirt that would barely cover anything if I moved wrong. Warrior princess by way of someone’s fevered imagination.

  I sighed. “Really?”

  “Really.” She pushed it into my hands. “It’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

  The changing continued. Outfit after outfit, each one more elaborate or revealing than the last. Somewhere around the twentieth dress, I noticed I’d stopped mentally cataloguing why each piece was ridiculous. Started thinking about how the fabric moved instead, whether the colour worked, if the cut flattered the body I was stuck in.

  When had that shift happened?

  I caught my reflection between changes—white hair tumbling over bare shoulders, crimson eyes bright against fair skin, the kind of figure that belonged in art rather than engineering offices. For just a second, the image felt right. Natural.

  Then my stomach twisted.

  This wasn’t me. This was never going to be me.

  I changed faster after that.

  We finally emerged from the shop an hour later, Aria carrying multiple bags filled with purchases. All hers. I’d paid for everything—soul coins flowing freely from the pouch Lilith had given me—but bought nothing for myself.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t get anything.” Aria shifted her bags to one arm. “Not a single piece.”

  “Nothing caught my eye.”

  “Seriously?” She stopped walking. “You looked incredible in that black dress with the open back. And the purple set with the—”

  “Just not my style.”

  “Then what is your style?” She gasped, tail swishing dramatically. “Oh Hells, don’t tell me you’re into latex.”

  “Certainly not.”

  She laughed. “Okay, but seriously, Lily. You should buy some stuff. I feel bad that everything here is for me.”

  The guilt in her voice sounded genuine. Strange, considering she’d been the one dragging me from stall to stall, insisting I fund her shopping spree.

  “Maybe next time,” I said.

  “I’m holding you to that.” She adjusted her bags again. “Next shopping trip, you’re getting at least three outfits. Minimum.”

  I smiled despite myself. “Deal.”

  “Good.” She started walking again, humming something under her breath. “Now let’s get back to the dorms before I drop all of this. These bags are heavier than they look.”

  We headed back toward the academy district, weaving between demons and market stalls. My mind drifted to the library, to the research that was ahead of me.

  Two weeks, maybe less, before the hunger became unmanageable again.

  I needed to be gone before then.

  * * *

  We returned to the dorm just as the crimson light through the windows began deepening toward evening. Bellas stood near the glass, hands clasped behind his back. He straightened when we entered.

  I reached into the spatial ring and withdrew the bags one by one, setting them on Aria’s bed.

  “You’re a genius,” Aria said, dropping onto the mattress beside the pile. “Carrying all those bags here would’ve been exhausting.”

  “Just practical.”

  “Still counts.” She pulled the first bag toward her, already rummaging through tissue paper. “Most people don’t think that far ahead.”

  I sat on my own bed while she unpacked, watching her hold each piece up to the light before folding it carefully into her wardrobe. The enthusiasm in her movements reminded me of Daniel showing off a new game he’d been waiting months to play—pure, uncomplicated joy.

  Strange, how that comparison came so easily now.

  She closed the wardrobe doors and stretched, wings flaring slightly. “Okay, that’s done.” She glanced toward Bellas, then back to me. “I need to relax after all that walking.”

  I recognized the tone.

  “Bellas,” she called. “Come here.”

  He crossed the room immediately, stopping before her with his head lowered.

  She looked at me, tail swishing. “Want to join?”

  “I’m going to take a bath.”

  “Your loss.” She reached for Bellas’s hand, pulling him closer. “But hey, if you change your mind, the offer stands.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I stood and headed toward the bathroom, keeping my pace measured. Behind me, fabric rustled. A quiet sound—Aria’s laugh, low and pleased—followed by the creak of bedsprings.

  The bathroom door closed with a solid click.

  I leaned against it, eyes shut.

  This was fine. Perfectly normal. Aria needed to feed, Bellas existed for that purpose, and I had absolutely no reason to care what they did out there.

  Except my pulse had quickened.

  Heat crawled up my neck—not hunger, something else entirely. Something that made my skin feel too tight and my thoughts scatter in unwelcome directions.

  I pushed away from the door and moved to the tub, sitting on the cool marble edge. The stone felt neutral against my palms. Grounding.

  Twenty minutes passed.

  I sat motionless, counting the seconds, forcing my breathing to stay even.

  A moan drifted through the door—muffled but unmistakable.

  My tail curled tight.

  I should have left the dorm entirely. Gone to the library, wandered the grounds, anything except trapping myself in here with only a door between me and—

  Another sound. Longer this time, rising.

  If I left now, I’d have to walk through that room. See them. And I didn’t trust myself to resist Aria’s invitation once I actually witnessed what was happening.

  The sounds grew more intense.

  I stood abruptly and turned the tub’s faucet. Water rushed out in a torrent, steam rising as it filled the basin. Maybe the noise would help. Muffle things.

  It helped. Slightly.

  I stripped and stepped into the water, sinking down until it covered my shoulders.

  Wrong decision.

  The warmth seeped into my skin, relaxing muscles I hadn’t realized were tense. That relaxation brought awareness of my body—every inch of it, every curve and sensitive point. The heat didn’t calm the arousal. It amplified it.

  I shifted position, trying to ignore the pressure building low in my abdomen.

  This was ridiculous. I was hiding in a bathtub from sounds in the next room like some mortified teenager.

  Except I wasn’t just hiding. Part of me wanted to understand what was happening to this body. Learn its responses so I wouldn’t be blindsided again like I had been with Bellas.

  No. That was rationalization.

  Yet my mind drifted to that memory anyway—riding Bellas, the alien sensation of him inside me, the way everything had built to something overwhelming and perfect.

  Maybe learning wasn’t a terrible idea. Understanding this body’s reactions meant I could anticipate them. Control them. Stay myself instead of being unmade by sensations I didn’t understand.

  Yes. That made sense.

  The moans grew louder beyond the door.

  My arousal spiked, but my thoughts cleared simultaneously. Weird feeling—body pulling one direction while my mind sharpened rather than fogging.

  I hesitated, then let one hand drift lower beneath the water.

  Just exploration. Clinical. Understanding the mechanics.

  My fingers found the place between my legs—already sensitive, already responding. I touched carefully, mapping unfamiliar territory. Different from Liam’s body in every way. No external presence, everything internal and hidden and strange.

  I pressed slightly. Heat flared.

  My breath caught.

  I tried again, adjusting pressure and angle. Each touch revealed something new—what made this body respond, where sensation concentrated, how different movements created different reactions.

  The clinical approach lasted maybe three minutes.

  Then exploration dissolved into something else entirely.

  My fingers moved faster, chasing the building pressure. I stopped thinking about understanding responses or maintaining control. Stopped thinking at all. Just sensation—heat and friction and the tightening coil low in my belly that demanded release.

  I braced my free hand against the tub’s edge, hips moving without conscious direction.

  The water sloshed.

  I didn’t care.

  Beyond the door, Aria’s moans reached a crescendo.

  My own climax hit simultaneously—sudden and total, erasing thought in a white-hot wave that crashed through my entire body. I bit down on my lip to muffle the sound, trembling as aftershocks rolled through me.

  Silence fell.

  I lay in the bath, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling.

  The heat had disappeared. Arousal gone, leaving only faint tingling and profound stillness.

  This was different than with Bellas.

  More deliberate. I’d made the choice every step of the way—no hunger driving me forward, no Aria guiding my actions. Just me, deciding to indulge.

  With Bellas, hunger had ruled. Even though I’d been the one moving, the one in control of the encounter, that initial drive came from something outside my conscious choice.

  This time I’d been aroused, yes. But I could have ignored it. Could have sat in the tub and waited for the sounds to stop.

  Instead I’d chosen to explore. Chosen to pursue pleasure.

  The distinction felt important somehow.

  I closed my eyes.

  The water had gone lukewarm.

  * * *

  I climbed out of the tub after the silence stretched beyond a few minutes.

  The mirror caught me again—white hair plastered to shoulders, water beading on curves that belonged to someone else. Still wrong. Still disturbingly perfect in a way that had nothing to do with me.

  But the wrongness sat differently now. Duller somehow. Less jarring.

  I grabbed a towel and dried off, hands moving across skin with confidence I hadn’t possessed two weeks ago. No hesitation when I reached my chest, my hips, the places that screamed female with every touch.

  I’d stopped fighting the muscle memory days ago. Easier to let the body handle basic tasks while my mind focused on actual problems. And it worked—movements flowed without conscious thought, even if those movements created an effect I couldn’t quite ignore.

  The towel traced down my leg in a slow glide that looked more like invitation than function.

  I tossed it aside and dressed quickly. Simple black outfit from my spatial ring—practical, flexible, nothing that would draw attention during a late-night library visit.

  Aria and Bellas lay tangled in her bed, breathing deep and even.

  Good.

  The clock read half past midnight.

  Time to find a way out.

  I’d wasted three days settling in, learning routines, playing normal student while actual answers waited in the library’s restricted sections. The feeding had bought me maybe two weeks before hunger returned. Two weeks to research dimensional travel, summoning contracts, anything that might reverse whatever had shoved me into this body.

  At least succubi didn’t require sleep—one of maybe three advantages in an otherwise catastrophic situation. I could sleep if I wanted, but that felt like wasting time when the clock was already running.

  I crossed to the door, stepping carefully around discarded clothing.

  Aria shifted in her sleep, one arm draping across Bellas.

  I slipped into the corridor and closed the door.

  The dormitory hall stretched empty, lit by dim crystal formations that pulsed with each breath. Most students were either sleeping or still out at clubs. Perfect conditions for uninterrupted research.

  I walked toward the main stairwell, my footsteps silent on stone floors.

  A distant laugh echoed from somewhere below—drunk students stumbling home, probably. I adjusted course toward the secondary exit, the one that led directly to the academic buildings.

  The night air hit me as I pushed outside. Warm, sulfuric, carrying the perpetual scent of ash from Gehenna’s volcanic substrate.

  The library tower rose ahead, its windows dark except for the eternal flame burning at the peak.

  I headed toward it.

  * * *

  The library entrance stood open despite the hour.

  I climbed the stairs and pushed through into the hollow vertical space, expecting emptiness. Instead, Meridia sat at her desk near the base of the tower, head propped on one hand, eyes half-closed.

  She glanced up as I entered. Her eyebrows rose fractionally.

  “Didn’t expect anyone besides myself at this hour.” Her voice carried the same flat monotone from the last time. “Something you’re looking for?”

  I approached the desk, grateful she didn’t seem inclined to ask questions. “Anything on mana. Souls. And the mortal realms.”

  Meridia studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable.

  Then she gestured lazily without asking why.

  Three books shot from different shelves across the library—one from near the ceiling, two from mid-height alcoves. They sailed through the air and landed on the desk with soft thumps.

  Mana and the Living Form. Essence, Soul, and Substrate. A Practical Guide to Planar Mechanics.

  “Say if you need anything else.” Meridia’s hand returned to propping up her head.

  “No, this is perfect. Thank you.”

  I gathered the books and found a table near one of the candles that burned without melting, their flames steady and smokeless. The light pooled across the pages as I opened the first volume.

  This library had something the palace’s didn’t, even if it was much smaller—a librarian who wouldn’t question my choices or report them to anyone who mattered.

  I started reading.

  The first book covered basics I’d already absorbed from Morrigan’s lecture, though it went into more detail about how living bodies processed ambient mana into something usable. Filtration through biological systems, conversion to what the text called Vital Essence, retention in creatures like me who had internal reserves.

  The second book discussed souls as anchors rather than containers. The terminology got dense in places—metaphysical binding points, consciousness links—but the core concept made sense. Souls connected awareness to physical form. Damage them and the connection weakened.

  I skipped ahead, looking for anything about souls inhabiting wrong bodies.

  Nothing.

  The third book started with basic planar theory before diving into practical applications. Transport gates, summoning circles, dimensional rifts. I copied diagrams into my notes, cross-referencing the geometric patterns with what I’d learned about arcane architecture.

  An hour passed. Then two.

  I flipped pages, hunting for something useful. The text described wards that blocked planar travel, rituals that anchored souls to specific locations, methods for—

  There.

  A section on scrying spells.

  “While major planar breaches require extensive preparation and resources, minor observation windows can be established with significantly less investment. Such spells allow the caster to perceive events in distant locations, including other planes of existence, without physically traversing the barrier between them.”

  I read faster.

  The spell required mana manipulation I didn’t currently possess—I could barely feel my own reserves, let alone shape them into the complex framework the diagram showed. But it was possible. Demons used these spells to peek into mortal realms, checking on contracts or monitoring targets.

  If I could learn to consciously access my mana…

  If I could master the basic frameworks…

  I might be able to see what happened to my body. Find out if Liam—if I—was still there, or if Lily had taken my place the same way I’d taken hers.

  I checked the clock on the far wall.

  Six thirty.

  Aria would wake in half an hour.

  I closed the book and stood, gathering my notes. The volumes floated from my hands toward Meridia’s desk as I approached.

  She took them without comment, gesturing once. They sailed back to their respective shelves.

  “Find what you needed?” Her tone suggested she didn’t particularly care either way.

  “Maybe. I’ll need to come back.”

  “Library’s always open.” She returned her attention to whatever document lay open in front of her.

  I left through the main entrance, descending into the pre-dawn darkness.

  The walk back to the dormitory gave me time to think.

  I’d found something. Not an immediate solution, but a direction. Learning to feel and manipulate mana would take time—probably weeks of practice based on what I’d read. But once I managed that, I could attempt the scrying spell. See London. See my apartment.

  See if anyone was living in my body.

  The dormitory loomed ahead, most windows still dark.

  I climbed to the fifth floor and slipped into room 413.

  Aria lay sprawled across her bed, Bellas curled against her side. Both still asleep.

  Good.

  I had research to continue, and now I had a plan.

  Two weeks until hunger becomes unbearable again. Plenty of time to master the basics of mana manipulation and attempt my first real spell.

  Plenty of time to find a way home.