Leo sighed with relief as he sank into the plush cushions of the common room couch, the familiar scent of worn leather and faintly glowing candles wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. Jack plopped down beside him, a hint of triumph in his eyes despite having done little more than guide the Starlight into the bustling port of Nervanah. Outside, the salty breeze mingled with the sounds of the harbor—shouts of merchants and the clang of ships docking—a cacophony Leo found strangely soothing.
Flavio and Lutz were locked in their usual animated debate with the sentries over the ever-inflating docking fees, a dance of persuasion and irritation they had perfected over the years. Leo, Layla, and Jack were now in their third year at the academy, a tight-knit trio known not for their noble lineage but for their unwavering camaraderie and determination. Jack had worked some clever maneuvering to secure their positions in the same squad from their first year, and their bond had only strengthened since.
In the heat of their missions, Leo and Jack took on the roles of attackers, while Layla slipped into the shadows, her natural talent for espionage making her an invaluable asset. Maeve and Olympia rounded out their ragtag squad—Maeve, with her fierce brown eyes and robust frame that spoke of raw strength and earth affinity, and Olympia, the fiery short girl with striking purple hair and a temper to match, gifted in spellweaving.
Layla leaned against the wall, watching her friends with a mixture of pride and unease. Ever since the incident with her spirit animal, Khorpius, she had felt a hollow ache deep within her. The once-vibrant connection between them had dimmed, its life force flickering like a dying candle. Flavio and Lutz had suggested she seek Alaric's counsel, but the thought of sharing this burden with Leo, who still bore the scars of his friend Damian's departure, held her back. She knew her brother's anger would only deepen if he learned the truth about her spirit animal.
As night settled over the academy, Layla clutched a chair near her bed, the familiar dizziness washing over her. She fought to push through the occasional migraines that had begun plaguing her. Enchantments class loomed the next day, and she feared she wouldn't be able to attend. With a heavy heart, she crawled into bed, her dreams filled with visions of Damian and dragons, the line between reality and fantasy blurring.
The following morning, she awoke disoriented, her body heavy with an unshakable lethargy. It felt as though a dark cloud hung over her, a consequence of her spirit animal's deteriorating state. Desperate for help, she boarded the elevator disk and ascended to the infirmary, her heart pounding with a mixture of dread and hope.
Inside, a healer named Beth examined her with a furrowed brow, concern etching lines across her face. "Magdalena, come quickly!" she called, urgency creeping into her voice. "We have a serious issue—Layla's spirit animal is dying, and if we don't reverse the contract, she'll perish with it!"
Magdalena arrived in a flurry, her demeanor serious as she took in the situation. "We need Gus's expertise—now!" she ordered, her voice steady.
Moments later, Layla was placed under a gentle sleeping spell, her body resting on one of the many cots in the infirmary. As Beth and Magdalena stood vigil at her side, Gus entered, an unexpected burst of energy emanating from the jolly old man, despite his age. His thick white beard and balding head were familiar sights, and his many scars told tales of a life lived boldly.
He paused as he approached Layla, his brows furrowing in concern. "Ah, Layla," he muttered, recognizing one of his favorite students. "What have you gotten yourself into?"
With a swift motion, he raised his arms, the sleeves of his mantle cascading to his elbows. As he began chanting incantations that sounded like a blend of growls and hisses, dark runes flickered to life around his hands, swirling in a mesmerizing dance. He directed Beth to draw a small vial of Layla's blood, and she obeyed without hesitation.
As the blood touched the glowing runes at the foot of her bed, a massive serpent materialized above the patterns, its scales shimmering ominously. Layla's body reacted violently, her skin paling as she began to convulse, sweat glistening on her forehead. Time was of the essence; she was on the brink of losing everything.
Beth and Magdalena held her down, determination etched into their features. Thin threads of green runes appeared on Beth's forearms, snaking around Layla's head, calming her frantically racing mind. Vines twisted around Magdalena's legs, blossoming with bright yellow flowers that showered Layla with healing pollen, restoring some color to her pallid skin.
Checking Layla's temperature and breathing, Magdalena's expression shifted to one of alarm. "She's slipped into a coma," she announced, frustration lacing her voice. "I can't predict how long she'll remain like this."
"Poor child," Beth murmured, her eyes softening as she gazed at Layla's peaceful face. "To lose a spirit animal at such a young age—imagine the heartbreak. Does she have any family?"
"Yes," Gus replied, his tone somber. "A twin brother named Leo and a family friend, Jack—mischievous boys, both of them." He turned toward the door, resolve steeling his gaze. "I'll find a way to break the news to them."
With that, he stepped out, leaving a heavy silence in his wake, as Layla lay there, trapped in a dreamless slumber, unaware of the storm brewing just outside her door.