The courtyard was too quiet after the Curators left. The soft hum of their magi-transport faded into the dusk, leaving behind only the whisper of evening wind through the palace gardens and the heavy weight of the unspoken. The scroll in Albrecht's hand felt more like a verdict than an invitation.
My fingers found the mark on my forehead again. It was warm, a persistent, gentle pulse beneath my skin, like a second heartbeat made of light. A culling. The word Rik had used echoed in my head, cold and final. My parents, my village, the second village… all of it, because of me. Because someone was looking for this.
The old, familiar fear tried to rise, a cold knot in my stomach. But something else pushed it down. Something harder. It wasn't clever or complicated. It was just a simple, heavy truth: I was tired. Tired of being chased. Tired of not knowing why. Tired of watching others get hurt for being near me. This mark, this curse, was the reason. Fine. Then it would also be the answer. I would make it be the answer.
Lysandra broke the silence first, her voice a low, thoughtful murmur. "Beneath the Aethelburg Academy. Of course. It's the perfect cover. No one questions scholars digging through old bones and older books." She turned her crimson gaze on me, assessing. "They want to study you like a rare specimen. Are you prepared for that?"
"Do I have a choice?" I asked. It wasn't a whine. It was just a question. The only one that mattered. "They know things. If they have answers, I have to go. I'm done being the one things happen to."
"You always have a choice," Lilith said, her usual cheer subdued. She hadn't let go of my arm. "We could run. Find a nice, deep cave somewhere far away. And don't worry, I'm good with caves!"
"And leave the cultists to bring back the Demon Lord?" Lysandra scoffed. "Let the Empire burn in a war they helped start? This isn't just about your past anymore. It's a web that we're all stuck in."
She was right. Running was a dream for the girl I used to be. That girl was gone. The one left behind had a burning mark on her face and a hole in her past that needed filling, and she was done waiting for someone else to fill it.
"So," Lysandra said, turning to me fully. "The Aethelburg Academy. I've heard of it. The pinnacle of human magical education." She didn't sound impressed, but there was a flicker of strategic interest in her eyes. "My presence there will require certain… accommodations."
"You'll get them," I said. The certainty in my voice felt solid, like a stone in my gut. "If Radames agrees, he'll make sure of it. He needs to keep an eye on his investment, after all."
I was starting to see it. Not as a grand game, but as a series of debts and uses. The Emperor, the Curators, the cultists. They all wanted something. Fine. I wanted something, too. And for the first time, I was walking toward it instead of running away.
Lilith poked my cheek. "You're thinking like a courtier now, Master, weighing favors like that. It's creepy."
"I'm thinking like someone who wants to stop losing," I said. It was the plainest truth I knew. Though I she wasn't entirely wrong. The pieces were moving on a board I was only beginning to see. The Emperor, the Curators, the cultists, the war. I was in the center, but I refused to be just a prize to be fought over. If I was going to the Academy, it would be to learn how to fight back.
The next two days were a blur of preparation and goodbyes, each one a quiet tug on the roots I'd somehow put down in this chaotic place.
I found Elisabeth in the temple garden, tending to a plot of luminous moonblooms. When I told her, her gentle face fell, then quickly softened into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"The Academy," she said, brushing soil from her hands. "I… I suppose that's the best place for you now. They have better teachers than me, more experienced." She reached out, hesitantly, and patted my shoulder. "Be careful. Not all knowledge is good. And that mark… please, listen to your instincts."
I promised I would. The apology for Lilith's near-exorcism went unspoken, but it hung in the air between us, a shared, slightly hysterical memory that made her smile turn a little more real.
Malcom was in the orphanage refectory, telling an animated story to a circle of wide-eyed children. He excused himself, leading me to a quiet corner. His expression was graver than Elisabeth's.
"Aethelburg," he mused, his single hand rubbing his chin. "They'll be pushing you hard. The Curators have their own agendas, remember that. But," he leaned in, his voice dropping, "it's a path forward. A real one. Your parents would be…" He stopped, cleared his throat. "They'd want you to take it. Learn everything you can. Make your light so bright the shadows have nowhere to hide."
His words settled in my chest, warmer and heavier than any blessing.
The last goodbye was the hardest, and it required Lilith's particular skills. Under the cover of another invisibility potion (which she'd "borrowed" from Veylan's lab), we slipped back into the depths of the palace dungeon.
The door to Kael's cell was still broken, propped awkwardly against the wall. He was exactly as we'd left him, kneeling within the circle of glowing wards, a statue of quiet power.
"You're leaving," he said, his pale eyes opening as we let the potion's effect fade. It wasn't a question.
"To the Aethelburg Academy," I confirmed, my voice echoing softly in the stone chamber. "To learn, and to get stronger."
He considered this, then gave a slow, deep nod. "A worthy destination. Strength is not just in the core, but in the mind that guides it."
"I haven't forgotten my promise," I said, the words feeling too small in the face of his immensity. "When I'm strong enough… properly."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It was the first real expression I'd seen from him. "I will wait. This place does not mind the passing of seasons. Ensure your foundation is unshakable before you attempt to build upon it, my lady."
The title, spoken with such solemn respect, made my face heat. I just nodded, unable to find better words. As we left, the glow of the wards casting long shadows behind us, I felt the weight of his expectation settle beside Malcom's hope and Elisabeth's worry.
The morning of our departure dawned clear and cold. A royal coach, sleeker and quieter than the usual carriages, waited in the main courtyard. Seraphina was already there, dressed not in her military coat but in a tailored, dark grey travel ensemble that still managed to look severe. Her expression was neutral, a professional mask.
Arden and Sora arrived last. Arden was back in his usual dark attire, his glasses repaired, his demeanor once again that of a quiet, slightly bored observer. But the difference was subtle. He stood closer to Sora, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. Sora herself glowed with a quiet, happy energy. She smiled at everyone, her earlier fear completely dissipated.
"I packed some snacks!" she announced, holding up a small basket. "In case the journey is long."
Lilith immediately tried to peek inside. "What kind of snacks?"
As they loaded their minimal luggage, I caught sight of Heimer watching from a balcony above. He wasn't in his full armor, just a simple tunic. He gave Seraphina a single, firm nod. She returned it, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly before she turned and boarded the coach.
The journey to Aethelburg was swift and smooth, the magi-core of the coach humming as it sped along enchanted roadways. We passed from the dense urban sprawl of the capital into rolling, cultivated hills, and then into the ancient, forested region that housed the Academy.
Aethelburg wasn't a town; it was a mountain. Or rather, a university built into and upon a colossal, terraced mountainside. Spires of pale grey stone pierced the sky, connected by arched bridges and cascading staircases. Windows glittered like scattered gems. Waterfalls tumbled from higher cliffs, feeding streams that ran through manicured gardens and under footbridges. It was breathtaking, imposing, and utterly intimidating.
Our coach did not ascend to the main gates. It glided around the base of the mountain to a sheer cliff face, where an unassuming, heavy door of age-darkened wood was set into the rock. As we disembarked, the door swung open silently.
Rik stood there, no longer in traveling robes but in a simpler, dark blue academic gown, though the ornate golden mask still hid their face. Behind them, the space opened up into a vast, circular atrium lit by glowing crystals set into a high, vaulted ceiling. The air was cool and smelled of old parchment, ozone, and stone.
"Welcome to the Unseen Enclave," Rik said, their echoed voice warmer here.
But my attention was suddenly caught by their hands, which shifted as they gestured. The skin was a deep, coarse violet. My gaze darted to the other robed figures moving in the shadows of the atrium. Where their hands or the line of a jaw was visible, the same purple hue was visible. I'd never seen anything like it. Not beastkin fur or elven ears.
This was different.
Rik noticed my stare. "Ah. You are unfamiliar with the Mellets," they said, not offended. "We are a people of the deep places and forgotten light. The sun is… unkind to our complexion. Hence our masks and enclaves."
A whole race I never knew existed. The world kept getting bigger, and I kept feeling smaller.
They led us inside. "Your surface dormitories are prepared in Starfall Hall. You will attend standard curriculum lectures to maintain your cover as a special scholarship from a distant province," Rik said, glancing at me. "Your specialized training will occur here, in the depths."
The central hall was big and quiet, with several archways leading off into shadowy corridors. A few other robed figures moved in the distance, carrying books or weird glowing things. The silence felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath.
"Your guide and primary theoretical instructor will be Magister Corvin," Rik said, gesturing as a man stepped out from a side passage.
He was old, with a stern, lined face and eyes like stone behind silver glasses. His grey hair was cut short, and he stood perfectly straight. His robe was like the others, but with a deep blue trim.
"Magister Corvin is our foremost expert on anomalous magical signatures and divine-contact theory," Rik introduced. "He will oversee the foundational aspects of your training."
Corvin's sharp eyes swept over us. They lingered on Arden with a flash of pure disapproval before settling on me. "The marked one," he said, his voice dry and precise. "We begin with assessment. Follow me." He turned and walked off without another word, clearly expecting us to obey.
As we moved to follow, another person stepped into our path. A young woman with a friendly face, warm brown hair in a messy bun, and normal-looking skin. She wore a practical robe with a silver edge.
"And this is Apprentice Elara," Rik said, a note of something softer in their tone. "She will be your practical facilitator and assist with your integration. She is one of our most promising in applied barrier magic."
Elara beamed at us, a complete opposite to Corvin's frost. "Hi! It's so great to meet you all. Don't let Magister Corvin scare you; he's just very focused. I'll show you to your rooms and your schedules!"
The plan was obvious. Corvin was the cold, demanding teacher. Elara was the friendly guide. I saw Lysandra's lips curl; she saw it too.
Corvin led me, Arden, and Sora down one hall, while Elara cheerfully ushered Seraphina, Lysandra, and Lilith toward another, probably to the regular dorms.
The room Corvin took us to was large and circular, the walls lined with shelves full of strange instruments: crystals that pulsed with light, brass things covered in dials, glass orbs full of swirling smoke. In the center was a simple stone dais with circles carved into it.
"Stand there," Corvin instructed me, pointing to the center. He ignored Arden and Sora as if they were part of the wall.
Arden leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, watching. Sora stood close to him, her hands clasped tightly.
I stepped onto the dais. The carved lines glowed faintly under my feet.
"Channel your mana," Corvin said, fiddling with a device that looked like a complicated navigator's tool. "Not for a spell. Just the raw energy. Let it rise."
I closed my eyes and reached inward. The feeling was different now. Before, my mana had been a faint, stubborn trickle. Now, it was a deep, steady current, waiting. I pulled it to the surface.
The instruments around the room woke up. A low hum filled the air. Dials spun wildly. A large crystal near Corvin flashed a blinding, pure gold so bright it painted shadows on the wall.
Corvin went very still. He stared at the crystal, then at a glass panel where a line of light was climbing in a sharp, steep curve. He adjusted his glasses and leaned closer.
"Impossible," he muttered, not to me, but to the data. "The affinity… pure, undiluted Light. Theoretical grade. But the volume…" He tapped the glass. "Your reservoir is not just large. It is… expanding. In real time. The sigil is acting as a conduit." He finally looked at me, his stern expression cracked by something raw: not fear, but a hungry, blazing intensity. "You are not a pond. You are a well being drilled into an ocean."
"Can you teach me to use it?" I asked, opening my eyes. My voice was flat. It wasn't hope; it was a necessity.
"That is the imperative," he said, his voice tighter now, charged with a new urgency. "But power of this magnitude without control is a cataclysm. Your first lessons will be control, refinement, focus. Apprentice Elara will handle that. My task is to map the anomaly, to understand the mark's interaction with your core. Theory precedes practice. Do not mistake this for a leisurely study."
I wasn't a student. I was a live experiment. I could see it in his eyes.
"You," Corvin said suddenly, his flinty gaze cutting to Arden. "The relic hunter. The hoarder."
Arden didn't move. "Don't be mad because I found them first."
"You treat them like disposable tools," Corvin's voice was sharp with contempt. "The teleportation ring you shattered for a minor advantage. The resurrection rings you treat as spare change. The knowledge within those artifacts is irreplaceable, and you treat it as… convenience."
Arden raised an eyebrow. "The resurrection ring saved my li-"
"It is the definition of short-sighted waste," Corvin spat, cutting him off. He turned his back, a final dismissal. "Attend the surface lectures if you wish. I doubt you will find them 'useful.' Your presence is tolerated solely due to your connection to the subject." He waved a hand at me without looking. "Do not interfere."
Arden seemed unbothered, pushing off the bookshelf, eyes locked on me. "Done?"
Corvin answered for me, already lost in his readings. "For today. Report to Apprentice Elara tomorrow at the third bell for practical drills. I will summon you for further assessment." He didn't look up.
We left the chamber. In the quiet hall, Sora let out a small sigh. "He's… very serious."
"It's standard," Arden said, his voice low and matter-of-fact. "Scholars get like that when they find a once-in-an-era subject they can pick apart."
I looked at him, then down at my own hands. The word subject hung in the air. It didn't scare me like it might have before. It just felt true. "Because of the mark," I said, not asking.
Arden just started walking back toward the main hall. "Yeah."
Elara found us and, with unshakeable cheer, led us up a long, sloping tunnel that came out into sunlight at the base of one of the Academy's big towers. Starfall Hall was a beautiful old building made of pale stone, covered in ivy. Our rooms were a large, airy and simply elegant suite. It was a world away from a village hut or a borrowed palace room.
Later, as the sun set behind the mountain spires, painting the sky in violet and gold, I stood on the small balcony of my room. The mark on my forehead was calm. Below, I could see students in robes moving along the paths, talking, laughing. A normal world, just on the other side of a door in a cliff face.
Lysandra stepped out onto the balcony next to hers, adjacent to mine. She followed my gaze.
"A different kind of battlefield," she murmured.
"One with rules I don't know," I replied.
"We'll learn them." She leaned on the railing. "And then we'll decide which ones to break." Maybe she was right. But right now, all I felt was the sheer size of the place, and how small I was in it. Down there were rules and lectures and rivalries. Down in the enclave were equations and examinations and a Mellet scholar who saw me as a fascinating paradox. Both were mazes.
And somewhere, not in a maze but in the shadows between them, the cultists were still out there. They'd burned two villages to find me. They wouldn't stop for a fancy school. If anything, a place full of arrogant nobles and distracted scholars was the perfect hunting ground. I'd be a mouse in a gilded cage, with everyone watching the cage, not the cat slipping through the bars.
Inside our rooms, I heard Lilith complaining about the size of the wardrobe. Sora was patiently trying to organize Arden's single bag of possessions, which seemed to consist mostly of strange, smooth metals and empty potion vials. Seraphina was already at the desk, writing her first report in neat, sharp strokes.
This was it. The three days were up. The horizon had become a mountain, and I was standing on its first step, looking up at a climb I couldn't even see the top of. The Curators had their plans. The Emperor had his demands. And the cultists… they were a cold spot in my gut, a certainty. They weren't done with me.
I touched the warm, golden mark on my skin.
Time to learn, I thought, the words a quiet vow in my head. Time to stop being the one who is found.
The next morning found me in one of the Academy's countless marble corridors, completely lost. The schedule Elara had given me listed a room number and a building name that meant nothing. The maps on the walls looked like they were drawn by someone who enjoyed causing confusion.
I was just about to double back for the third time when I saw a familiar, tall figure standing at a junction, staring blankly at a signpost.
Arden.
He turned his head slightly as I approached. His glasses were back, the cracked lens repaired or replaced. He wore the Academy's uniform with an air of indifference that made it seem like a disguise: a dark blue tunic and trousers trimmed in silver. Yet beneath it, the glint of his rings was still visible on his fingers, and the faint outline of his necklace rested against his collarbone. The relics remained. The uniform was just another layer.
Outwardly, he looked like himself again; the same quiet, unreadable Arden. Not the man who'd rolled on the floor or buried his face in Sora's chest. But I couldn't unsee it. The legend of the Ghost, the fear in the Adventurer's Guild, the way Corvin spoke to him like a wasteful force of nature… it all felt like a performance now.
The person underneath was stranger, quieter, and somehow more human. He got lost. He made jokes that weren't quite jokes. He died and came back… not weaker, but less guarded, like something inside had been shaken loose and hadn't quite settled back into place.
I glanced down at my own uniform. The fabric was fine, the cut precise, but it felt alien on me, like wearing someone else's skin. It didn't fit the girl from the village, the one who'd worn tunics until they frayed. It fit a student of Aethelburg. Someone with a future. I wasn't sure I was her yet.
"Lost?" I asked, stopping beside him.
He gave a single nod, still staring at the sign. "Room 4B, Solaris Wing."
"That's where I'm supposed to be too. For 'Mana Channeling Fundamentals' with Elara."
He hummed, a low sound of acknowledgment. "Lead the way."
"I have no idea where it is."
"Neither do I."
So we walked together, a pair of lost causes in a temple of knowledge. It was… strangely normal. This was the man who'd contained a Lumenari, and he was just as bad with directions as I was. The thought almost made me smile.
I was so wrapped up in this new, quieter understanding of him that I didn't see the small figure barreling around the corner until it was almost too late.
A girl, no more than nine or ten, skidded to a halt in front of us. She had her hair in two messy pigtails, wore a miniature version of the Academy's apprentice robe, and carried a stack of books nearly as tall as she was. She glared up at us, her nose scrunched in annoyance.
"Hey!" she barked, pointing a stubby finger first at Arden, then at my head. "Monkey! And you, bird-nest! You're blocking the whole hall! Move it!"
I blinked, stunned. My hand flew self-consciously to my hair, which I'd barely bothered to comb that morning. Bird-nest?
Arden didn't move. He just slowly looked down at her. He didn't say a word. He didn't change his expression. He just stared from behind those dark glasses, his head tilting just a fraction.
His silence was immense. His sheer, quiet presence in the corridor seemed to swell. He wasn't threatening her, not actively. He was just… being Arden. And to a small, bratty kid, Arden being Arden was clearly the most terrifying thing in the world.
Her bravado vanished. Her pointing finger drooped. She took a small, involuntary step back, her eyes wide.
Then, Arden did the unexpected.
He brought a hand up and gave a half-hearted scratch under his own arm. "Ooh, ooh," he said, his voice utterly flat. "Aah, aah."
He let his hand drop and stood still again.
The corridor was silent.
The kid just stared, her mouth slightly open, all her anger replaced by pure, uncomprehending confusion. She looked from his blank face to mine, as if asking if she'd just imagined it.
I was just as lost. Was he… imitating a monkey? Because she called him that? Was that his idea of a comeback, or was he just genuinely, profoundly bored?
The kid, deciding the tall, weird man was more confusing than scary, finally scoffed. "Whatever," she muttered, hefting her books. She shoved past us, making a point to elbow my leg as she went. "Weirdos. Don't make me late for Elara's class." And with that, she stomped off down the hall, presumably knowing exactly where she was going.
I watched her go, then looked at Arden. Instead of continuing in our original direction, he turned and began following the kid, his steps unhurried.
"Where are you going?" I asked, hurrying to catch up.
"She knows where the class is," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious logic in the world. "She said she was about to be late for Elara's class. We have Elara too."
We trailed the small, stomping figure at a distance. She didn't look back, her pigtails bouncing with her irritated strides.
"So, what… was that?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
"A child," he said.
"I know she was a child. I mean… the… the monkey thing." I gestured vaguely.
He glanced at me. "It is useless to argue with a child. It is more amusing to make them at a loss for words."
I didn't know what to say to that. It made a strange kind of sense. Not polite sense, not heroic sense, but Arden sense. He hadn't been offended or defensive. He'd just… short-circuited her rudeness with something weirder.
Our tiny, unwitting guide led us straight to Room 4B in the Solaris Wing just as the third bell began to chime. Pushing the heavy oak door open, we stepped into a sunlit classroom with wide windows overlooking a courtyard.
Apprentice Elara stood at the front, her cheerful smile in place. "Ah, perfect timing! Please, find a seat."
But my attention was immediately drawn to the room's other occupants. There were perhaps a dozen other students. They weren't the uniform, polished noble children I'd seen in the halls. Each one was… unique.
In the back corner, a boy with hair the color of dried blood sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the window as if listening to a distant song. Near the front, a girl with faint, scale-like patterns visible on her wrists doodled intricate geometric patterns in the margin of her notebook. Another had eyes that seemed to shift color in the light.
They all wore the same uniform, but it couldn't hide what they were. These weren't ordinary students. These were the other "specials." The Academy's other interesting projects. The realization was a cold, clear drop in my stomach.
And there, in the front row, was our guide. The pigtailed prodigy had been whispering to a neighbor, a look of superiority on her face. Then she turned to see who had entered.
Her eyes locked onto Arden.
All the color drained from her face. Her smug expression collapsed into pure, unadulterated horror. She looked like someone who had just realized the strange, unpredictable man she'd taunted in the hall was in her class. And now he knew where to find her.
She whipped her head back around so fast one of her pigtails slapped her in the cheek. She sank down in her seat, her shoulders hunching, trying to make herself invisible.
Elara gestured to two empty seats near the middle of the room with her usual cheerful smile. "Please, sit."
I took my seat, the wooden chair groaning softly. Arden settled beside me, a study in absolute stillness. My fingers traced the coarse fabric of my uniform sleeve. Bird-nest, the girl had called me. In another life, I might have cared. But now, surrounded by strangers who all carried their own strange silence, wearing clothes that didn't fit the person I used to be, her words fell away into nothing.
A familiar, subtle warmth pulsed on my forehead, the sigil hidden beneath my bangs. This was the real uniform. This mark, this class, this path. I was here to learn how to stop being a target. To understand why my villages burned. To become more than a girl lost in a hallway.
I looked at Arden, sitting unnaturally still beside me, his relic rings catching the light. Then at the brat from the hall in the front row, now hunched and trying not to be seen. And finally, out the window, where the spires of Aethelburg cut into a sky that felt too big, too full of secrets I was now meant to unravel.
At the front of the room, Elara cleared her throat, ready to begin. The first lesson was about to start. And so was I.