Chapter 111: What the Water Wanted
[Unedited! Don’t buy!]
I met her gaze evenly. "Fairness has never governed this world."
Frustration flashed across her face, but beneath it lingered something else.
Fear.
Not of me.
Of herself.
I noticed the way her fingers trembled slightly near the edge of the table.
The way she kept glancing unconsciously toward the water pitcher nearby.
She was beginning to sense it now.
The pull.
I set the books aside before speaking again, my voice quieter this time.
"You are not alone in this, Iris."
Her expression softened just slightly.
And that was precisely the problem.
Because the more she looked at me like that—
The more dangerous this became for us both.
Night settled heavily over the academy.
The storm clouds had not returned, yet the sky remained dark, choked beneath a veil of silver mist that drifted across the towers and courtyards like wandering spirits. Lanterns flickered weakly along the stone paths, their glow swallowed by the endless quiet.
Iris stood alone on the balcony outside her chamber.
Sleep had become impossible.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the reflection in the basin staring back at her—not mimicking her movements, not belonging to her. Watching.
Waiting.
Her fingers tightened around the cold railing.
"You’re thinking too loudly."
She startled at the voice.
Vladimir stood near the doorway behind her, dressed in black as always, his presence nearly blending into the shadows themselves.
"You really need to stop doing that," she muttered.
"And you need to stop wandering alone at night."
"I’m on a balcony."
"In a world filled with creatures that do not require doors."
She rolled her eyes faintly, though the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The wind drifted between them, cool and restless.
"You went to the council," she said quietly.
I remained still. "Sebastian speaks too much."
"He worries too much."
"That as well."
She turned to face me properly now, moonlight catching the silver strands hidden within her dark hair.
"What did they say?"
I considered lying.
Instead, I answered honestly.
"They sensed a disturbance in the academy wards." My gaze settled on her. "They are searching for the source."
Her expression tightened immediately.
"They know it’s me?"
"No."
"But they will eventually."
The words landed harder than I intended.
Iris looked away first.
The mist curled through the balcony arches in soft waves, wrapping the silence in something strangely intimate.
"What happens when they find out?" she asked at last.
I studied her carefully before answering.
"That depends on who discovers you first."
A humorless laugh escaped her lips. "That’s not comforting."
"It was not meant to be."
She leaned back against the railing, exhaling slowly. "You know, for someone trying to help me, you’re terrible at reassurance."
"Iris."
The way I said her name made her glance up again.
"You are dealing with forces that have destroyed kingdoms," I said quietly. "I will not insult you with comforting lies."
Something flickered across her expression then—not fear this time, but understanding.
That, somehow, unsettled me more.
"You really think I’m dangerous," she murmured.
"I think you are becoming something this world has not seen in a very long time."
"And that scares you?"
My silence answered for me.
The wind shifted abruptly.
Cold.
Wrong.
Every shadow along the balcony darkened at once.
I moved instantly.
One second I stood several feet away; the next, I was directly in front of her, one arm braced against the railing as my eyes scanned the darkness beyond the estate grounds.
Iris stiffened. "What is it?"
"Quiet."
The mist below thickened unnaturally, curling through the gardens in slow spirals. The wards surrounding the manor hummed faintly beneath the stone—a warning vibration I had not felt in years.
Something was near.
Something old.
My expression hardened.
Not Daimon.
But connected to him.
A low whisper drifted through the wind.
Iris heard it too.
Her breath caught sharply.
"What was that?"
The whisper came again, distant and distorted, impossible to understand yet unmistakably directed toward her.
The mist stirred violently.
And then the fountain below exploded upward.
Water surged into the air in twisting streams, defying gravity as they spiraled toward the balcony. Iris gasped, stumbling back instinctively.
The water did not attack.
It reached.
Toward her.
"Iris," I said sharply, grabbing her wrist. "Do not answer it."
"What do you mean answer—"
The whisper intensified.
The moment it did, the water reacted to her panic. The streams lashed violently through the air, slamming against the balcony pillars hard enough to crack stone.
The wards flared bright silver.
Damn it.
"I can’t stop it!" she cried.
"You must."
Another surge exploded upward.
I pulled her against me just as jagged ribbons of water tore through the space where she had been standing moments before. The impact shattered part of the railing, fragments of marble crashing into the darkness below.
Iris trembled against my chest, breathing unevenly.
"Listen to me," I said firmly, gripping her shoulders now. "Do not fear it."
"How am I not supposed to fear this?!"
"Because it feeds from your emotions!"
The words struck her silent.
The water continued circling the balcony like restless serpents, violent but uncertain, reacting to every spike of panic running through her.
I forced myself to remain calm.
"Look at me."
She did.
Her eyes were wide, frightened, shimmering with barely controlled power.
"Breathe."
Another crash echoed behind us.
"Vladimir—"
"Breathe, Iris."
Slowly—shakily—she obeyed.
One breath.
Then another.
The water’s movements began to falter.
The violent spirals weakened, slowing their assault against the stone. The whispers faded slightly into the mist.
"That’s it," I said quietly. "Do not fight it. Guide it."
"I don’t know how."
"You already are."
The moment those words left my mouth, the water froze midair.
Completely still.
Even the mist seemed to pause around us.
Iris stared at the suspended streams in disbelief.
Then, carefully—almost instinctively—she lifted one trembling hand.
The water responded immediately.
Not violently this time.
Gracefully.
The streams curved around the balcony in slow arcs, moving like silk beneath moonlight. The shattered droplets hovering in the air caught the pale glow above us, turning the entire balcony into something dreamlike.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
Ancient.
I watched her closely.
Not the water.
Her.
The fear in her expression had begun to change.
Curiosity was replacing it.
And curiosity was far more perilous.
