There wasn’t much talk after such an alarming introduction. The musicians took their places on the wall behind where the guru stood, facing the students. She clapped her hands loudly, and the class commenced as usual. But Zara did not enjoy it this time. Dayana was too distracting to focus on dancing properly. What was she doing here? Certainly not to learn of course. The woman seemed decent at dance, her body movements graceful and effortless. No, Dayana wanted something from her. Zara had sensed this since they had their first meeting—surreal as it was. Zara thought she’d dreamt the whole thing, believing Dayana to have been nothing more than a strange illusion—a side effect of overwhelming herself with magic that night. But here she was again, making it clear that she was no illusion.

  The guru led everyone through a series of warm-up exercises. The soothing sound of classical drums filled the hall, the rhythm guiding each movement. But Zara struggled to keep up. Her mind raced, tangled in a web of confusion and unease. The memory of Dayana’s eerie smile, her strange time-altering proposition the night of the theater fire, and the horrific visions (plus the reality) accompanied with it, burned in Zara’s mind.

  “Focus,” she whispered to herself, trying to drown out her thoughts. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept drifting to the row in front of her. Dayana moved with an elegance that demanded attention. Each step, each fluid movement seemed almost magical, as if she were manipulating the very air around her. It was unnerving, out of place for a class of intermediate dancers.

  “Zara,” Saren whispered, nudging her gently.

  Zara jolted, realizing that they were on alternating twirls, but she had missed the first one. She nodded quickly, attempting to mimic the guru’s demonstration and make up for the previous misstep. The next sequence involved intricate footwork, balancing on the balls of their feet while twisting their upper bodies gracefully. Zara had done this before—she’d even been complimented on her precision. But today, her body felt disconnected from her mind, every step clumsy and offbeat.

  “Lift your arms higher, Miss Zara!” the guru’s voice cut sharply through the music, her tone laced with disappointment.

  Zara winced and tried to adjust, but her foot dragged awkwardly on the mosaic floor. She stumbled forward, losing her balance entirely. This distraction threw the rest of the row, plus the one behind them, off their places.

  Before she could hit the ground, Saren’s arms shot out, steadying her. “You are okay. I have you,” she said reassuringly, but worried.

  Zara flushed with embarrassment, quickly straightening herself. The music was ongoing, but most of the class had stopped what they were doing to stare at her. The commotion drew the guru’s attention, and she clapped her hands for full silence. The music ceased immediately.

  “Miss Zara,” the middle-aged guru said sternly, her thick black brows knitted in frustration. “You are one of my more eager students. I usually see you much better than this. Is something the matter?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m sorry,” Zara mumbled, her head bowed. “I’ll do better.”

  The guru sighed. “I hope so. Dancing requires focus. If your mind is elsewhere, you will not succeed. Now, everyone, back in position.”

  The class resumed, followed by a few curious whispers, but Zara’s humiliation lingered. She avoided Saren’s concerned glances and Dayana’s ever-knowing smirk, and forced herself to follow the steps, though her movements were stiff and mechanical.

  As the class came to an end, Zara found herself struggling to focus on the final moves. Her mind constantly wandered back to Dayana, who stood effortlessly among the other students, even ones younger than her. Zara knew she was much older than Revan, and her middle-age was beginning to show in the slight wrinkling in the corner of her eyes and mouth. Yet, the majority of her appearance remained youthful, radiant, and alluring. Zara couldn’t ignore it. She practically admired it.

  This woman…this was Revan’s instructor. His Master.

  The guru clapped her hands once more, signaling the end of the session. “Good work today, everyone,” she said, though her gaze lingered on Zara for a moment too long. It then flickered to Dayana, and a smile lit up her old face. “And magnificently done, Miss Dayana. You are as good as I am. I wondered why you chose to be a student. You could very well teach this class alongside me.”

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  Dayana smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. I haven’t danced in a long time. I thought I should refresh my memory.”

  The guru waved the notion away. “Nonsense! Dance is all but muscle memory. Do consider a higher course, or perhaps I would recommend instructing a class yourself. You can speak to me about that at any time.”

  Dayana put her palms together and gave a humble nod. “Thank you.”

  The guru addressed the rest of the class. “Remember to practice your footwork at home. The next class will focus on the 12th Prayer, and the coordination and transitions that go with it.”

  Zara barely heard her. She was too busy packing up her things, eager to leave the temple and put some distance between herself and Dayana. Revan had told her the woman was no real threat, but Zara just couldn’t shake her nerves away. Saren, however, lingered, her curious gaze flitting between Zara and their mysterious new classmate.

  “Ready to go?” Zara asked lowly.

  Before Saren could answer, Dayana approached them with a casual, yet firm, grace. She’d put on a violet drape which flowed like liquid with each step. Many gazes flittered her way, some of awe, others of suspicion and jealousy. Dayana ignored them all, her focus purely on Zara. Her smile was warm, but her piercing yellow eyes carried a weight that made Zara’s skin crawl.

  “Lovely performance, my dears,” Dayana said, her voice as silky as the night Zara met her. “You both dance beautifully.”

  Zara’s cheeks burned. “Um, thank you,” she said curtly, unsure of how else to respond. The way she’d performed today was terrible and everyone knew it. It was like Dayana was mocking her or something.

  “I dance for the hell of it,” Dayana continued like nothing was the matter, her smile widening. “Always have, always will. It’s a freeing thing, don’t you think? The body moving to rhythm, uninhibited.”

  “You are very good,” Saren offered cautiously, studying her. Her green amulet was beginning to subtly glow. “Have you been dancing long?”

  “Oh, on and off,” Dayana replied airily, waving a hand. “A few hundred years, give or take.”

  Saren nodded with a polite smile. “Right. Of course.”

  Zara didn’t respond.

  Dayana chuckled softly. “It seems you are aware of what I am. But yes, I danced. Different genres, different styles. From courtly dances in gilded palaces and temples to wild, unrestrained movements in taverns, stages, and the great outdoors. I’ve done it all.”

  Zara’s astonishment battled with her growing wariness. Dancing had always been a passion of hers, a sacred outlet for creativity and emotion. To hear someone speak so casually of mastering so many forms, over centuries no less, left her speechless. Yet, the undercurrent of unease remained. Dayana didn’t seem to be bragging; she simply spoke as though it were fact, and that made it all the more unsettling.

  “What are you doing here?” Saren asked bluntly, her brow furrowed. “I mean, why this class? Why now? Surely you are here for us, and more likely Revan. But this is quite a strange place to meet, as he is not here.”

  Dayana tilted her head, amused. “I wanted to meet you girls first—away from the prying eyes and ears of my former student. That is all.”

  “Why?” Zara blurted. “Do you mean to tell us something that you cannot tell him?”

  Dayana’s burgundy-stained lips pursed. “You are highly suspicious of me, dear. I cannot blame you for it. In fact, it is the smart way to go about meeting someone such as myself. I just want to get to know you for you, without the supervision of your Master. I believe Revan’s presence will only hinder me from truly getting to do that. You are but an interesting and remarkable young woman.” She acknowledged Saren as well, eyeing her amulet. “Both of you. I do hope that eases your worries, just a bit. I mean no harm to either of you.”

  Zara was intrigued, and if she was being honest with herself, she felt a little relieved as well. Dayana seemed to be telling the truth. Sort of. She did not believe the woman was trying to manipulate her feelings with magic. Without magic, however, was another story.

  It almost seemed like Dayana knew what Zara was thinking—she was so similar to Revan. But she simply hoisted her thin satchel over her shoulder and smiled sweetly.

  “I suggest we be begin our way home, shall we?”

  Both Zara and Saren exchanged bewildered looks.

  “Our way home?” Saren echoed.

  Dayana raised an amused brow. “Did Revan not tell you? Oh of course not. This is just like him. He invited me over to spend the night. I thought it only polite to accept. We have much to discuss after all.”

  Zara’s stomach twisted. Revan hadn’t said a word about this. He’d been tense this morning, but as usual, he never explained his moods truthfully. Now it made sense. She felt another wave of anxiety, unprepared for whatever this was. Since this was essentially Revan’s doing, she had no choice but to lead Dayana back to the house.

  “Shall we, then?” Dayana repeated, gesturing toward the exit. “It’s been a long day, and I imagine you both have questions. I’m more than happy to answer a few.”

  Saren hesitated, looking to Zara for guidance. Zara took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

  “Fine,” Zara said at last, her voice steadier than she felt. “Let us go.”

  Dayana headed out first, her stride as confident as ever. Saren fell in step beside Zara, whispering under her breath, “I believe what she is saying. I do not sense any malice from her either. But I do not like the way she was looking at us. There is something off about it. What do you think she really wants?”

  “I don’t know,” Zara muttered back. “Though I am sure we’ll find out soon enough.”