What If… SND [4] Failure of The Salstars

What is the What if?

These are non-cannon events that are alternate takes different chapters from book one and two. Maybe somebody died or survived, maybe someone made a different choice or maybe someone left the group. This ask the question “what if…” Freja wasn't a Shia and didn't have the Shaigaunt that removed her from the Salstars?

Freja felt as though she might faint as she turned from the door. She had to clasp her hands together to stop from shaking, her eyes glistened from unshed tears. The last time she saw Ulfar was four years ago when he sent her here to exile her from family affairs. The transition wasn’t pleasant nor easy as she was all but ostracized from everyone she had ever known.

The man, her father, Lord Ulfar Salstar, walked up to the containment that held Tindra. With every step his anger rose. His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched and his brow furrowed as his gaze locked onto Tindra. Without warning, he spun around and struck Freja across the face with an open palm. The blow sent her collapsing to the ground, blood trickling from her nose. His aura flowed from him which caused the light to bend towards him in a beautiful kaleidoscopic and unnatural way. It was as if everything bent towards him to the point he was all that was in the room that mattered.

“You summoned a drake? You have brought even more shame to my house,” Lord Salstar said, his voice uncomfortably calm for how angry he appeared to be. “Are you trying to embarrass us, Freja? I told you…”

“Lord Father, you said you would leave this to me.” A second, far younger voice said.

Ulfar took a breath straightening his suit as he turned to the door. His aura retracted and the room returned to normal. Freja followed his gaze as a small girl walked into the room. She was dressed in a black and red robe with the emblem of the Salstars emblazoned clearly on the sleeves.

Freja immediately recognized the person as her younger sister, Eira. They both shared the brown skin reminiscent of the Wooden Tails unlike the grey skin of their father. She bounded into the room though her gaze was sharp. 

“You are right, Eira,” Ulfar said with a gentle smile. “You may begin.”

To Freja the look seemed so alien on the face of her father. The man had only ever shown her his disapproval and wrath. She scanned their faces as she realized what this meant for her. She was going to be cast aside and removed from the family.

Eira looked at Tindra for a moment as the poison drake pup watched the evolving scene with interest. The young girl then walked up to her sister. 

“It’s been a long time, big sister,” Eira said with an unnerving smile. “I challenge you for the right to be the heir of the Salstar house. Should you lose, you will be permanently barred from challenging for succession. I promise that, as heir, I will ensure you are treated fairly. Do you accept my challenge?”

Freja lowered her gaze, her voice heavy with resignation. “I accept your challenge as you’ve outlined.” She then dropped to her knees, her head bowing to the floor. “I admit defeat, Heir Eira.”

“Oh, very good I didn’t have to explain that part.” Eira beamed as she turned to her father. “See, she can be trained.”

Ulfar rolled his eyes. “Very well, Freja. You are stripped of all rights to succeed as heir in the future. From this point forward, you are Freja Kol, no longer Salstar. You shall henceforth serve Heir Eira Salstar until such time as she deems you free.” He turned to Eira. “I will wait for you in the courtyard.”

As the door closed behind him, silence filled the room. Eira walked over to Freja’s bed and flopped onto it, kicking her legs idly as she surveyed the space. Freja remained on the floor, her head bowed, struggling to hold back tears. Though the sting of humiliation burned deeply, a small part of her felt relief, she hadn’t been cast out entirely, as she had feared.

“Big sister, don’t cry. Come on, get up and join me,” Eira said, patting the bed beside her.

Freja hesitated, looking up at her younger sister. Eira’s wide, kind smile was a sharp contrast to their father’s cold demeanor. Of her two younger siblings, Eira was the youngest, just twelve years old, four years Freja’s junior. Yet, the girl carried herself with an air of maturity.

Freja stood and moved to sit beside Eira, who immediately took her hand in hers. She took out a handkerchief with her other hand and wiped Freja’s face, cleaning her of the blood that had been there from her fathers strike.

“I’m so glad I got to see you again,” Eira said softly. “It’s been so long… I felt like I’d forgotten your face after so many lifetimes apart.”

“Heir Eira, it’s only been four years,” Freja replied, her voice weak.

Eira laughed, “Yes, four years. But it felt like a lifetime.” She pointed to a cluttered desk where an alchemy setup rested. “What’s that?”

Freja followed her gaze. “It’s for an assignment from Professor Mitus, my alchemy instructor.”

Eira stood, tugging Freja’s hand to pull her over to the desk. “Do you like alchemy?”

The question caught Freja off guard. Their parents had always kept them separated, and they’d never had the chance to truly know each other. Did it matter now, as a servant, she had no reason to hide her passions. Alchemy was her escape, the one thing that gave her purpose in a world that often felt suffocating.

“Yes,” Freja admitted. “It’s my passion. What about you? What are you passionate about?”

“Oh, many things,” Eira said, her tone light as she examined the notes and vials on the desk. “But alchemy was never one of them. We’re pulling you out of the academy. You’re coming home, but before that, let’s make sure you get more alchemy equipment. I think having a Kol alchemist would be very beneficial to the Salstars.”

“Eira, you would do that for me?” Freja asked.

“Yes. I’ve seen many things, Freja, and I think you deserve something good for once.” Eira words carried a weight that felt centuries old which was odd from such a young girl. “I know Lord Father said servant but it will be a job. Expect pay, regular hours, and housing until you can find your own accommodations. I really want to work together on something special with you. It just feels like I abandoned you so this time I want to make it up to you. So, get packed and say your goodbyes. Father and I leave today, but a carriage will come for you tomorrow.”

Freja hesitated, “Eira… what happened to Ragnar?”

“I challenged him too.” Eira’s expression darkened. “He didn’t forfeit like you did. He’s fine now, his pride is still hurt though, I doubt we will ever have the same relationship. If he’d become heir, he wouldn’t have cared what happened to you. I couldn’t let that happen.” 

She let go of Freja’s hand, turning her attention to the containment holding Tindra. The lizard’s predatory eyes gleamed with an unsettling awareness. 

“Oh, and don’t take her out of containment.” Eira said. “She’ll kill you. The bond isn’t strong enough yet, and I will kill you if you get yourself killed by an unbound familiar.” The sharpness of her tone left no room for argument, though it softened as she added, “We have a few days ahead of us, Freja. This time, I promise we’ll make the most of it. Together.”

Eira bounded toward the door, her youthful energy briefly dispelling the tension, but halfway through she stopped. Her gaze flickered back to Freja, and in a swift motion, she rushed back, pointing a stern finger directly at her startled sister.

“What is it, Hier Eira?” Freja asked cautiously.

“I’m serious about your familiar,” Eira insisted, her tone deadpan. “Until she’s fully bound—no hand-feeding, no touching, and definitely no taking her out of containment.”

Freja nodded, and Eira motioned for her to bend down. When Freja complied, Eira leaned close, her voice a soft whisper. “When we’re alone, just call me Eira. We’re sisters.”

Without waiting for a reply, Eira pulled her into an embrace, nuzzling against her in a rare display of affection for their kind. The warmth of it caught Freja off guard, tears welling in her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. Eira smiled at her one last time before darting out the door, her youthful figure disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. The door swung shut behind her but paused before it latched, a pale hand reaching out to hold it open.

Julie entered, her eyes wide with alarm as she scanned Freja. “Is everything alright? Your face is swollen—did they hurt you?” She rushed to Freja’s side. “I think I’ve got a healing potion in here somewhere.”

“I’ll be okay,” Freja reassured her, sitting down heavily on the edge of her bed. “My father was here.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Hard to miss the divines-damned dragon outside!” Julie gestured toward the window, where the faint shadow of the great beast still lingered. “You Salstars are insane to contract with creatures like that.”

Freja exhaled a bitter laugh. “I’m not a Salstar anymore. Apparently, I’m Freja Kol now—a member of a lesser house under the Salstar banner.”

“I don’t really know what that means, but you seem… okay with it?” Julie said cautiously.

“I thought I’d be sadder, you know?” Freja shrugged, “I just got kicked out of my family, but it’s not as bad as I expected. Honestly… I feel free. Is that weird?”

Julie dug into her bag, pulling out a small vial. “Not weird at all.” She handed the potion to Freja. “Here, drink this. And honestly? Good riddance. They’re a bunch of pompous assholes if you ask me. You’re better off without their ridiculous expectations.”

Freja took the bottle, turning it in her hands for a moment before drinking. 

“I’m not completely free yet,” Freja admitted after swallowing. “I’ll still be my sister’s servant for a few decades. But it’s a job—she promised me housing, pay, and more alchemy equipment. I can’t really complain.”

Julie’s brow furrowed. “A few decades? Freja, that’s a long time.”

“It’s not long for us,” Freja replied with a quiet laugh. Her smile faltered, a shadow crossing her face. “And it’s definitely better than the Shaigaunt.”

Julie’s breath hitched. “The Shaigaunt?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Freja said. “Let’s just say… I prefer this. I really think I’m relieved.”

“Well, then. Here’s to your new chapter as Freja Kol—alchemist extraordinaire.” Julie said.

Julie hesitated before offering a reassuring pat on Freja’s shoulder. Freja's laughter faded into a warm smile, her tension easing as the prospect of a new beginning crystallized in her mind. The knock at the door drew her attention, and Julie’s teasing broke through the quiet moment.

“I think I know who that is. Someone’s admirer came to check on her,” Julie teased, leaning back with a mischievous grin.

“Mat is just a friend, and you know that,” Freja replied.

“How did you know I was talking about Mat then?” Julie countered, her grin widening. “Could have been anyone.”

Freja shot her a sharp look, but the corner of her lips twitched upward. She opened the door to reveal Mat, his hair disheveled, his chest heaving as though he had sprinted across campus. His normally pristine appearance was replaced with a casual ensemble of colorful, flowing garments—an unmistakable mark of his Force Isles heritage.

“Oh... good,” he panted, bracing himself on the doorframe. “You’re okay. Good.”

“Ye-yeah, I’m fine,” Freja stammered, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in and sit down. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“Hey, Matty,” Julie chimed from her spot on the bed. “I’m doing fine, thanks for asking.”

“I was kind of hoping they took you away at least,” Mat quipped, collapsing onto the floor with dramatic flair.

“Hey!” Julie exclaimed, mock-offended. “You’d miss me too much. Die of heartbreak, probably.”

“Divines, I need to add more physical training to my studies,” Mat muttered, still catching his breath. He glanced up at Freja. “So what’s going on? Why was your dad here?”

Freja sat back down and recounted the morning’s events, her words flowing with surprising ease. She explained her new status as a member of a lesser branch of the Salstar house, the practical freedom it granted her, and the relinquishment of any claim to the main house’s title. As she spoke, the weight of the Salstar name seemed to lift from her shoulders. For the first time, the idea of living life on her own terms felt tangible. Dreams of an alchemy shop took root in her mind, a place where she could experiment, create, and thrive away from the shadow of family expectations.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Freja said, her voice steady. “Eira wants me back at the estate to start as soon as possible.”

“Tomorrow?” Mat shot to his feet, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. “Why so soon?”

“I don’t know, Mat,” Freja replied, startled by his intensity. “But it’s what she wants. Besides, it’s not like I can do much here at a magic academy with my level of ability.”

“It is awfully soon,” Julie agreed, her brows knitting together. Then her expression brightened. “We should throw you a going-away party—or at least do something fun. Why don’t we go into town? We can dress up and hit that place you like, the one that sells luminara venison.”

“You mean Serenata’s? That’s expensive.” Freja said.

“And?” Julie said, grinning like she’d already made up her mind. “This is a big deal. Your first step into freedom deserves a celebration. What do you think, Mat?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Mat said. “You deserve a proper send-off, Freja. Let’s make tonight count.”

Freja looked between them, a warmth rising in her chest. These two had been her constant companions, her chosen family, through all the chaos. If this was to be her last night at the academy, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.

“All right,” she said, a genuine smile breaking through. “Let’s do it.”

PART 2 GROWING CITY

Dorsehal Academy sprawled across the heart of Skjoldstad, a city pulsating with energy and ambition. Once a modest urban hub, Skjoldstad was now the third-largest city in the Salstar domain, rapidly evolving into a vibrant economic powerhouse. Its growth was fueled in no small part by the academy’s decision to open its doors to foreigners, a bold move that injected the city with a diversity of beliefs, cultures, and wealth that the Salstar Domain had never before witnessed.

The change was evident not just in the bustling streets but also in the very fabric of the city itself. Skjoldstad, once defined by the stark, functional architecture favored by the wendigo, was undergoing a colorful transformation. Traditionally, wendigo placed little importance on aesthetics, their philosophy rooted in practicality. Buildings were typically unadorned, their materials left in their natural state, with only the occasional rune etched into walls for reinforcement or utility. Such simplicity often rendered the cityscape a monotonous palette of greys and browns.

The influx of foreign residents—merchants, artisans, and scholars—brought more than just commerce. They brought their own styles, traditions, and tastes, leaving their mark on Skjoldstad’s architecture and streets. Brightly painted facades and vibrant murals began to appear, a stark contrast to the wendigo’s reserved sensibilities. Streets that once felt utilitarian now hummed with life, adorned with banners, flowering window boxes, and intricate carvings that spoke to the cultures of their creators.

For wendigo, whose diets consisted exclusively of meat, the culinary landscape had always been limited to eateries offering raw or minimally cooked fare. While this suited their needs perfectly, it left little room for species requiring more varied diets. Human and elf-owned establishments quickly found their niche, catering to the growing population of non-wendigo residents. Bakeries, breweries, and restaurants sprang up like mushrooms after rain, offering dishes as colorful as the city itself.

As the small group walked through the bustling streets, Freja couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the stoic, imposing wendigo buildings and the vibrant establishments that had cropped up between them. Foreign influence had turned the city into a patchwork quilt of cultures, each square adding its own unique flavor to the whole.

“Look at that!” Julie said, pointing to a corner café. “Must be new. I don't remember it being there last time we came this way.”

The building had intricately painted shutters and a sign that read Brewe & Bynd. A human server carried out a tray of steaming drinks to a group of elven students seated beneath a pergola wrapped in flowering vines. 

“Can you imagine? A café in Skjoldstad?” Mat said as they passed by. “I’d never have guessed it would happen in my lifetime.”

“It’s strange,” Freja admitted, her tone thoughtful. “But... nice. The city feels alive in a way it never did before.”

“I like it! The colors remind me of home.” Mat said, his colorful Force Isles attire blending effortlessly with the vibrant streetscape. “I think the place could use a few more yellows and reds though.”

“There it is!” Julie said. “Hope Gunnar is here.”

Freja caught the mischievous tone in Julie’s voice and grabbed her arm with a teasing grin. 

“Gunnar? I don’t recall hearing about him before. Care to share?” Freja said.

“Yeah, who’s this Gunnar?” Mat joined in, his curiosity piqued.

“He’s a guy in my class, okay?” Julie rolled her eyes, shrugging off their combined intrigue. “A pyrogeokinetic and the only person who’s beaten me in a duel. I haven’t had time to challenge him again because he’s been avoiding me.” She began rubbing her hands together, her mind clearly working on a plan. “But if I corner him at work, you two can block the doors, and I can formally challenge him.”

 “Wait, why’s he avoiding you?” 

“Because he’s a coward,” Julie declared dramatically.

Freja snorted. “I’m not helping you destroy a restaurant just because you have a thing for this guy.”

“I don’t like him!” Julie shot back, clearly indignant. “I just want to crush him.”

“Right,” Freja teased. “So why do you know exactly where and when he works?”

“And,” Mat added with a sly grin, “why did you dress up so nice today?”

 “I don’t like this line of questioning.” Julie huffed, tilting her nose up in mock offense. “I dressed up for my dear friend Freja, and if I happen to duel a magma mage or two, well, that’s just a bonus.” She wiggled free of Freja’s grip and turned with a devious smile. “And since you two are working so well together to accuse me...” Julie looped Freja’s arm through Mat’s, her grin widening. “There. Partners in crime.”

Freja and Mat froze for a moment, both blinking at each other in shock. Then, as if synchronized, they quickly averted their gazes, faces burning red.

Julie marched ahead, her smirk evident even from behind. Freja felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth in her chest as she walked beside Mat, her arm still hooked in his. She had been friends with Mat as long as she had with Julie, but this closeness felt different, almost electric.

She risked a glance up at him and caught him blushing, though he didn’t pull away. Her heart skipped a beat when his hand brushed against hers and, almost shyly, took hold of it. Her mind went blank, every rule and lesson she had learned as a noble flashing through her thoughts. She couldn’t be seen like this with a man in public. It was improper, scandalous even.

Then the weight of that old life hit her. She wasn’t a noblewoman anymore, was she? She was just Freja, no title, no constraints. A small smile crept across her face, and instead of pulling away, she leaned into him, letting herself savor the moment. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the feeling was... nice.

***

Freja was jared from her swirling thoughts by the restaurant’s overwhelming atmosphere. The cozy space buzzed with life, a stark contrast to the stoic streets outside. The air was thick with the mouthwatering aroma of smoked meats—sausages, bacon, and steaks mingled with a medley of spices that made her stomach rumble. Laughter and lively conversation echoed against the stone walls, interspersed with the clinking of mugs and the occasional shout for another round of drinks.

The goblin-run establishment was packed, with patrons of all species enjoying the hearty dishes the restaurant was known for. Freja caught sight of one of the goblin chefs behind the counter, expertly flipping cuts of meat on a massive grill, flames licking the air dramatically.

Julie was already at the front, her usual energy undeterred by the crowded space. She was chatting with an attendant when her sharp eyes locked onto someone across the room.

“There you are, you son of a—” Julie bellowed, pointing aggressively at a young server weaving between tables.

The young man turned out to be a human who saw her and dashed to the back. Before she could finish yelling at him, Mat leapt into action, disengaging from Freja and clamping a hand over Julie’s mouth. She flailed in protest, muffled shouts escaping as she tried to wiggle free. Mat grinned awkwardly at the goblin waitress, who stood nearby with a raised brow. 

“Sorry about her,” he said, his voice overly cheerful. “She’s just really excited to be here.”

The waitress gave him a long, unimpressed look, her face clearly conveying that she didn’t believe a word. 

“Yeah, right. Whatever. Your table’s this way.” she sighed, plastered on a fake smile and gestured for them to follow. 

Julie glared daggers at Mat as she was reluctantly dragged along, her arms crossed and her muffled words still spilling out beneath his hand. Freja trailed behind, stifling her laughter as she took in the scene. The trio followed the waitress through the crowded restaurant, weaving between tables filled with patrons laughing and digging into plates piled high with food. Freja couldn’t help but glance around, taking in the cozy yet chaotic atmosphere. It felt like a far cry from the structured, often somber dining halls she’d grown up in. 

The scents, sounds, and vibrant energy of the place were intoxicating in their own right. As they reached their table, Julie finally wrestled free of Mat’s grip, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. 

“You’re the worst!” she hissed, straightening her clothes dramatically.

“Hey, I just saved you from being kicked out before we even sat down,” Mat countered, plopping into his seat with a victorious grin.

Freja smiled, sliding into her chair. “If this is what happens before the food even arrives, I can’t wait to see what happens when Julie spots Gunnar again.”

Julie’s face turned a shade redder, and she pointed a threatening finger at Freja. “Don’t start.”

Freja held her hands up innocently, though the teasing smile on her face remained. She glanced at Mat, who was clearly holding back a laugh. She could have sworn he scooted closer to her but it must be her mind playing tricks on her.

***

As the evening deepened and curfew loomed, the trio made their way back to campus, the soft glow of lanterns lighting their path. The girls’ dormitory loomed ahead, its windows flickering with warm light. 

Julie stopped short, turning to hug Mat tightly. “See you tomorrow” 

She spun on her heel and went inside leaving Freja and Mat standing alone in the courtyard. For a moment, neither spoke, the quiet settling around them like a blanket. The remnants of the garden drew their attention—a once-lush courtyard now marred with deep gouges and churned earth, courtesy of Thrand, Ulfar’s dragon familiar, who had landed there earlier in the day.

Without a word, they began to walk, hands brushing until Mat laced his fingers with hers. It was a silent, shared understanding. The first lap around the garden was peaceful, the night air crisp and cool. By the time they completed the circle, they exchanged a glance and started a second lap, this time filling the quiet with memories.

Mat chuckled as he recounted his early days at the academy, struggling with the language, tripping over words and customs. Freja teased him gently, reminding him of their first meeting as nobles from different kingdoms, both hesitant, yet curious about one another. The shared laughter warmed the chilly night as they strolled, the conversation flowing until it quieted again. A comfortable silence hung between them as they began a third lap, their steps slower now, as if reluctant to let the night end.

“I…” Mat hesitated, his voice breaking the stillness. “I wanted to say something earlier. Well, I don’t know if this is the right way to do it. I asked some people, and they said I should… uh… well…”

 “What is it? Is it time to go?” Freja stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression curious.

“No.” Mat shook his head, his cheeks tinged pink. “Well, it is getting dark… but no, not that. I wanted to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a colorful ribbon. The vibrant hues were unmistakably from the Force Isles, a reflection of his home. “And… I wanted to ask if you’d be my antler-maiden.”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, but Freja understood their meaning perfectly. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the ribbon. Wendigo courtship rituals were steeped in tradition, a man offering an accessory for a woman’s antlers signified his intent to court her. As a noblewoman, Freja would have once required her father’s approval for such a gesture. 

Tje thought gave her pause, but then she reminded herself: she wasn’t bound by those restrictions anymore. Still, doubts crept in. Humans and wendigo couldn’t have children together. Their lifespans, their cultures—so much separated them. Could this truly work?

“Are you sure?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mat met her gaze, his blue eyes steady and sincere. “I know there’s a lot to figure out. How this would work, what it would mean.” He nodded, resolute. “But I’m willing to try, if you are.”

Freja looked down at the ribbon for a long moment, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the fabric.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, you know,” she said, her voice laced with hesitation.

“Are you not allowed visitors?” Mat asked seriously. “You said it’d be like any other job, right? That means you decide how to spend your time off. I’m patient.”

A small smile tugged at Freja’s lips. “Okay,” she whispered, taking the ribbon from his hands. “My tiara isn’t large enough to wear it yet. But when it is, your ribbon will adorn them, as my ribbon-bearer.”

Mat’s face lit up with unrestrained joy. He swept Freja into his arms, spinning her in a circle as their laughter filled the night. When he finally set her down, she cupped his face in both hands, leaning forward to nuzzle him gently.

“That’s the wendigo equivalent of a kiss, right?” Mat asked, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

Freja’s cheeks turned crimson as she covered her face with her hands. “Don’t say it like that!” she groaned. “It means more than a kiss when you do it this way. I-I don’t think kissing would be a good idea. I’ve seen humans do it before, and my teeth would probably cut off your tongue.”

 “Fair enough.” Mat laughed, his voice warm and full of affection. “How about we walk one more lap around this mud pit that used to be a garden?”

Freja peeked at him through her fingers, her blush softening into a smile. 

“One more lap,” she agreed, slipping her hand back into his. 

PART 3 Cleaning the Dorm

Freja sprinted back inside, hoping to make it before curfew. She didn’t. In the dimly lit lobby, Miss Dimii, the stern halfling dorm matron, stood waiting with arms crossed, her sharp gaze falling on Freja and the other tardy girls trickling in. Freja swallowed hard and quietly slipped into line with the others, bracing for the inevitable punishment.

Miss Dimii handed out brooms, mops, and buckets with practiced efficiency, her no-nonsense tone cutting through the hushed grumbles. 

“You’ll be cleaning the lobby and two levels of the dormitory every evening for the next three days.” Dimii said. “Maybe that’ll teach you to respect the curfew.”

The girls groaned but dutifully got to work, their protests fading into the rhythmic swish of mops and the clatter of buckets. Freja, however, couldn’t bring herself to care. She was too elated to let the punishment bother her, her thoughts lingering on the events of the evening. She hummed softly as she worked, her steps light even as the hours stretched on. A small, mischievous smile crept across her face as she wondered what kind of punishment Mat might be facing back at the boys’ dorm.

When the cleaning was finally done and the other girls trudged upstairs, Miss Dimii stopped Freja, her expression shifting from stern to concerned.

“I was looking for you earlier,” Dimii said, her voice softer now. “When Lord Ulfar and Lady Ingrid showed up with your sister, I was worried. Is everything alright?”

Freja hesitated, then nodded. “Oh, yes. Better now, I think. I’m going to be leaving the academy. I’m not a Salstar anymore.”

Miss Dimii blinked, startled. “What? How is that better?”

“We both know I wasn’t doing well here.” Freja said. “Now, I get to do what I’m good at. Eira wants me to continue my alchemy, so I’ll be working under her. Once I’m established, I won’t have to worry about family, politics, nobility, or magic.”

“So… you weren’t fully removed?” Dimii said.

Freja shook her head. “I’m a lesser house member now. The first of the Kol lesser houses of the Salstars. Still connected, but barely. It’s a tenuous link at best. I’m just a commoner now.”

“Kol?” Dimii asked, tilting her head. “That’s your new last name?”

“It is,” Freja confirmed. “Freja Kol.”

Dimii studied her for a long moment, her sharp eyes searching for something in Freja’s face. Whatever she found seemed to satisfy her, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Well, Miss Kol, welcome to commonerhood—like the rest of us,” Dimii said with a chuckle. Then her expression softened. “Now give me a hug before I start crying. After that, get yourself to bed.”

Freja laughed as she wrapped her arms around the diminutive woman, feeling a warmth she had come to expect expected. 

“Thank you, Miss Dimii. For everything.”

“Go on, now,” Dimii said, gently shooing her. “Big day tomorrow, I expect.”

Freja nodded and headed upstairs, her heart a little lighter despite the long night.

***

Freja approached her dorm room, her heart still racing with excitement. The door was slightly ajar, its edge casting a thin shadow in the dim hallway light, but the room beyond was dark. Julie must already be asleep, she thought. Too bad. Freja’s news was too good to keep until morning.

She stepped inside with a burst of energy, shutting the door firmly behind her. “Julie, get up! You won’t believe what—”

Her sentence cut off as her foot caught on something heavy in the middle of the room, and she pitched forward, landing hard on the cold floor.

“Ow! What in the infernal—Julie, did you leave something lying around?” She groaned, fumbling in the dark as a faint, acrid scent tickled her nose. “Julie. Julie?”

Pushing herself up, Freja staggered toward the window, throwing the curtains open. Pale moonlight spilled across the room, illuminating the still form sprawled on the floor. Freja’s heart plummeted as she recognized Julie’s lifeless body.

“Julie! No, no, no!” she screamed, dropping to her knees beside her friend. 

Julie’s skin was clammy, her lips tinged with a faint blue, and her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Freja pressed trembling fingers to Julie’s neck, searching desperately for a pulse. Nothing.

Her cries for help tore through the air, but no one came. Her eyes darted to the containment near the far wall, the one that had held her future familiar, the poison drake. The egg was there, its iridescent shell shimmering mockingly, but the drake pup was gone. Freja’s magic flared instinctively as she reached for the protobond and found nothing. Her connection to the creature had been severed. Broken. A cold dread settled over her as the realization hit her like a dagger: Tindra was loose.

The sound of movement and a faint hiss emerged from the shadows beneath her bed. Freja’s breath caught as her instincts screamed at her to run, but before she could move, the drake lunged. A flash of dark, glistening scales and needle-sharp teeth sank into her side, tearing through flesh like parchment. She screamed, shoving the creature off with a surge of panic-fueled strength.

Blood seeped from her wound, hot and slick against her trembling hands. Gritting her teeth, she dragged Julie’s body toward the door, her own vision swimming. The hallway outside was bright and full of voices—girls drawn by her screams.

Freja barely registered them as she pulled the door shut just as the drake charged again. The impact shook the wood, but she braced herself and slammed the door closed with a ferocity born of desperation. Tindra’s snout wedged into the gap, snarling and snapping. Freja gritted her teeth, throwing her weight against the door again and again, each slam eliciting wet, sickening crunches. The snarls grew weaker. One last heave, and the sound stopped altogether.

Panting, Freja stumbled back, the blood loss and venom sapping her strength. The girls in the hallway were speaking, their voices frantic, but their words blurred into incoherent noise. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, her gaze drifting to Julie’s lifeless eyes.

Why? Why had this happened? Tindra should have been safe. Contained. Eira’s words flickered in her fading consciousness, a vague warning cloaked in false reassurances. The promises of freedom, of a fresh start… had they all been lies?

Tears streamed down her cheeks as her breaths grew shallow. The edges of her vision darkened, swallowing the dim hallway, the terrified faces of the other girls, and finally Julie’s cold, vacant stare.

Her final thought was a bitter, fleeting whisper: I should’ve known.

***

Eira stood at the edge of the cobblestone driveway, her piercing gaze fixed on the approaching carriage. The Salstar estate loomed behind her, its towers silhouetted against the twilight sky. This moment, this life, felt different. A spark of excitement lit her eyes, an emotion she hadn’t felt in countless iterations. This time, she had decided to reclaim her position as Heir of the Salstar House. Unlike her previous lives, she wouldn’t leave Freja to fend for herself. She would bring her sister into the fold, shield her from the Shiagaunt, and perhaps finally come to know the girl who had always slipped through her grasp.

“Is the alchemy lab prepared?” she asked, her voice crisp but eager as she turned to the servant standing at her side.

“Everything is to your specifications, Heir Eira,” the tall elven man replied with a deferential bow.

“Oh good, I think she is going to be happy to see it, don’t you?” Eira asked as she straightened her robes.

“Indeed Hier.” The elf said placatingly. “I think she will be most surprised.”

Eira nodded, her anticipation growing. The carriage rolled into view, its iron wheels grinding against the gravel as it slowed to a halt. Yet something was wrong. The driver, a wendigo who had served the family for years, wore a troubled expression. The other servants exited the wagon, but there was no luggage. No Freja. A cold knot of dread twisted in Eira’s stomach.

The driver approached, his head bowed low. “Heir Eira, I have grave news—”

“She’s dead,” Eira interrupted, her voice flat, more statement than question.

The man flinched. “Y-yes. Her body is inside the wagon, along with a report from the investigators.”

Eira sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples as if to push back the tide of frustration. This wasn’t the first time Freja had died, but it was the first time in a while she was looking forward to something new in an iteration.

“Unhitch the horses and retrieve the report. Leave everything else inside.” Eira said as frustration rose. “I told her to keep that damn drake away from her.”

The driver hesitated but obeyed, unhooking the horses as the other servants quickly retrieved a sealed dossier. Once they stepped away, Eira’s wand materialized in her hand, a sleek rod of dark, starlit metal that hummed with power. She didn’t bother with an incantation; this life afforded her the luxury of unleashing her potential freely.

A beam of silvery starlight erupted from her wand, striking the wagon. The dry wood ignited instantly, flames roaring to life and consuming its contents in a matter of moments. Eira watched as the inferno blazed, her face impassive but her heart heavy.

“May the Forest Father guide you, dear sister,” she murmured, her voice barely audible above the crackle of fire. 

Turning away from the burning pyre, she took the report from the driver’s trembling hands. Her fingers tightened around the leather-bound dossier as a dark thought flickered through her mind. It would be nearly three hundred years before she would be able to try again. Her plans for this life were ruined.

 “Maybe next time,” she whispered to herself, “I should simply kill whatever she summoned. Yeah, I will have to remember to do that.”