Assumptions were like unstable elixirs—best not bottled until the ingredients were confirmed. First, I needed to verify if Viera even knew a Sasha. Her sect might’ve been a minor branch grafted onto the city’s ruling family tree, but even saplings could trip you if you ignored their roots. The upcoming birthday ball would undoubtedly swarm with high-society hornets, some from the very hive of the ruling cns.

  That turned the whole situation into a delicate bancing act. But what really gnawed at me was Sasha’s peculiar shopping habits. Tampering with Parda was banned for a reason. Throw in the cryptic mention of a teacher, and this reeked less of amateur dabbling and more of a cauldron left boiling unattended. Curiosity or conspiracy—either way, it demanded a chemist’s precision, not a bystander’s shrug.

  Still, I had to handle this with finesse. The st thing I needed was to send Viera’s suspicions scurrying in my direction.

  I reclined in my window-side chair, its adjacent apparatus snoozing like a dormant dragon. My eyes feigned interest in parchment while my mind rehearsed conversational gambits. Across the room, Viera perched on my bed, honeyed hair cascading over her shoulder as she dissected my research notes with the precision of a starved schor. Her murmured commentary—this is actually kinda insane (guilty), how’s this even possible in practice? (care to pce a wager?), this defies at least three natural ws (objection noted), who even tests these hypotheses? (volunteers welcome)—drifted through the air. I’d never admit it, but her scrupulous eye for detail made her the ideal beta reader, even if alchemical theory eluded her like a greased samander.

  We awaited Belle’s tea, which Viera now craved like a desert fern awaiting rain. My little badger had a gift, and I couldn’t help feeling proud every time someone praised her brewing skills. But enough distractions.

  Leaning back, I folded my arms and looked up at Viera. “You seem like you’ve got a lot on your pte these days,” I said, keeping my tone casual.

  Her gaze flicked up, curiosity cutting through the haze of notes. “Huh?”

  “Well, your birthday ball and all that. I hear those things tend to be about more than just the dancing and the food.”

  “Oh, that.” She sighed and set the stack of notes aside, organizing them with a precision that spoke to how much her father had drilled etiquette into her. “You have no idea. My father’s been breathing down my neck, making sure every detail is perfect. As if I don’t already have enough on my pte with my studies here in the tower.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Sometimes I wish I could just skip the whole thing. Not that I don’t want the ball, I just wish I didn’t have to deal with the prep.”

  “Sounds exhausting,” I said, watching her expression shift before shrugging lightly. “Personally, I wouldn’t worry about all the high-and-mighty guests. But I guess it’s nice to have friends to look forward to seeing, right? I bet they’re all buzzing about it.”

  Her eyes lit up at that, and she grinned, her earlier frustration evaporating. “Oh, Jade! Since you’re coming—”

  “I never said that,” I cut in smoothly, leaning forward just enough to catch her off guard. “I said I’m not opposed, but I haven’t decided yet.”

  "Well, you didn’t exactly say no, so that’s a win in my book. I know you’ll come.” She fshed a grin, quick and confident. “And about friends? You’ll meet them eventually. My circle’s pretty tight-knit—small, sure, but quality over quantity, right? You’d like them, maybe. I just wish I could spend more time with them, you know? But Father insists on packing every event with dignitaries and socialites. The people I actually care about? My friends? They’re not the ‘grand ball’ type.”

  I cocked my head, a b-owl feigning innocence. “Hypothetically, if I hypothetically attend… enlighten me. Who’s who in this menagerie?”

  She paused, her gaze narrowing as she absently rubbed her chin. “Well, there’s Rhys, obviously. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. Took different paths for a while—he’s training with the Iron Pact now. Then there’s Kara. She’s always busy these days. Something about discovering a ‘secret pathway.’ And…” Her voice tapered off, her brow furrowing like she was trying to dredge up a half-buried memory. “Sasha. Recent addition. Chatty, perpetually peckish. But she’s sharp—really observant. I like that about her.”

  Bingo. That didn’t take long. Theory confirmed.

  “Sasha, huh?” I kept my tone light, my mind already piecing together a picture. “Sounds like a solid crew. But you said she’s new?”

  Viera shrugged, brushing it off. “Oh, yeah. She’s Saryn—serpent-kin, if the name didn’t give it away. She’s got these incredible bronze scales—really striking. She’s still adjusting to city life, though. Comes from some extended branch of the Sablethorn Sect. Used to live deep in Skal’Vareth Forest, apparently. When she first got here, she couldn’t stop gawking at everything. It was kind of adorable.”

  Things were starting to line up. Sasha wasn’t pying dumb earlier—she genuinely seemed out of her depth. But innocence and ignorance weren’t synonyms. Time to dig a little deeper.

  “She sounds interesting,” I offered, leaning forward just slightly. “It must be refreshing, having someone like that in your circle. A grounding influence, maybe?”

  Viera chuckled. “You could say that. She’s a breath of fresh air, honestly. Still figuring herself out, but it’s endearing. Lately, she’s been borrowing my books. Trying to pick up a new hobby, I think—alchemy, maybe? She’s been cagey about it, but I’m pretty sure that’s it. She even mentioned a mentor. Honestly, I’m happy for her. Maybe she’ll whip up something to surprise me on my birthday.”

  Cute. The word curdled in my mind. Alchemical texts. A shadow tutor. Mirror-summoning supplies slithering into her satchel. Her forest roots expined the bck-market blunders, but not the why. Why Parda pollen? Why now? The equation refused to bance—yet.

  "That’s generous of you, sharing your books," I said smoothly, my tone light but carefully calibrated. “You must trust her quite a bit.”

  Viera blinked, tilting her head with faint curiosity. “Of course. She’s even helping with the ball—got her mentor involved too. Said I should let her shoulder some of the burden. So yeah, I trust her. Why?”

  The more she spoke, the more my suspicions twisted, tangling into a web that refused to unravel.

  “Oh, no reason,” I said quickly, standing and brushing nonexistent dust off my sleeves. My mind, however, raced. The moment she mentioned Sasha’s mentor being involved with preparations, arm bells rang loud and clear. It was too close to my theory—that someone was nudging Sasha toward a mirror summoning, or worse. “Merely making conversation. People rarely hold my interest, but yours? They’re… quirky.” I let the word dangle, harmless as a cobweb.

  Through my air sense, I caught the faint movements of Belle, bancing a tea tray on her back and beginning to approach. I flicked my gaze in her direction and shook my head subtly. She stopped immediately, retreating without a sound. Good girl.

  Meanwhile, my hands drifted toward the alchemy apparatus on the workbench, fingers deftly finding three vials in an open drawer. I let out a small, deliberate sigh. “What’s taking so long?” I called, faux irritation sharpening my tone, gncing toward the adjoining kitchen. Belle lingered there, waiting. “Belle, you brewing a novel back there?”

  The real reason for my caution? Mirror summonings weren’t just complicated—they were dangerous. For me, they’d been ughably simple because I’d offered my own dragon blood, which Lotte once compared to a thousand small sacrifices wrapped in one neat package. Plus, the ritual I used had been designed by Lotte herself, a masterstroke of efficiency and cost-effectiveness.

  But whoever was attempting one here? They wouldn’t have my advantages. They’d need a power source to sustain the ritual. If Sasha’s mentor was involved, and if my instincts about their intentions were right, they’d already started ying the groundwork.

  I moved toward the tea tray where Belle waited, pretending to inspect it. Viera, meanwhile, had returned her focus to my notes, her alchemical curiosity getting the better of her. Those notes were practically gold to someone like her—irresistible.

  Quietly, I uncapped the vials and added precise amounts to Viera’s tea. Quartz scale extract, charged in sunlight. One drop. Piezoelectric properties. Moonwater, three drops. Influences circadian rhythms. Lodestone liver extract, trace amount. Earth-aligned. Zero outer resonance.

  A simple concoction, but a telling one. This mixture was part of a project I’d been chipping away at—an attempt to study my own dimensional resonance, disrupted by my Dimensional Lamina’s sync with the Shadow Dimension. The instability allowed me to phase and become intangible, a true ghost dragon, but keeping physical objects intact during the process… Didn't work. The eventual goal? Clothing and charms that would stick with me during transitions. For now, the compound was experimental, but it worked well enough as a diagnostic tool for detecting resonance anomalies.

  Once the tea was ready, I stirred it gently and carried the tray out myself. “Here you go,” I said, handing Viera her cup.

  I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe a faint shimmer of instability, a flicker of irregur resonance at best.

  But the moment Viera’s lips touched the tea, the reaction was instant.

  Her teacup shivered, subtle, serpentine ripples skating across the surface. The air around her warped, a heat haze born of dimensional dissonance. My pulse spiked. Oh, this wasn’t supposed to happen. My compound wasn’t a litmus test; it was a goddamn arm bell.

  Viera’s resonance wasn’t just unstable…

  It was infected.